V O L U N T E E R ,   A M E R I C A

                                       (to write sex stories!)

         �Ooooh!  Ooooh!  Teddy, please, stop poking me with your thing!� 
Bethany cried out.  Her finger worked greedily in her slit and her head was 
flung back.  Her eyes remained closed.  Did she dream about being fucked 
by her teddy bear?

                                             PARTY PUSSIES

          Available for downloading from:  ftp://members.aol.com/nnd6

                                      Andrew Roller Presents
                                              FUCK DECENCY
                                              Issue No. 253

                                   Naughty Naked Dreamgirls in 
                                               Cunt Castle

                                              Chapter Two
 
         Louis, moved to expose himself again, walked up behind Rose and 
prepared to jettison his load right in her lovely hair.  Andre did the same.  
         �No!� Bev and I cried, but it was too late.  They were highly excited, 
I could tell, by the stiffness of their erections, and even Polly, though 
fearing the night ahead, could not help but run up to Rose and begin 
frigging herself again, as if she had a penis just like the men did, except, 
of course, she didn�t.
         �Aghghg!� Andre shouted suddenly, and his spunk lavished itself upon 
Rose�s hair.  He served as an obscene inspiration for Louis, who jettisoned 
his load next, with as troubled a shout as Andre had just offered.  
Simultaneously, though longer in cuming, but climaxing just in time, Jack 
spurted into Rose�s face.  And little Polly, not wishing to be left out, 
despite being a girl, arched her hips forward, spread her legs, got halfway 
over Rose�s head, and peed on it.  In amazement I watched her little 
stream as it burst out of her and she tinkled right on our loving mistress, 
mingling her pee with the heady-smelling sperm of Andre, Louis, and Jack.
         When all were finished, Bev turned and found the tub almost full to 
overflowing.  She turned off the water, mooning us in the process with her 
glorious bottom.  Then we got out of our things, all of us, me and Polly 
keeping on only our collars and manacles, and we all went splashing into 
the tub.  When we were all ensconced within it, I heard a clinking bucket.  
The maid appeared, Maria, big in girth but otherwise silent.  She put the 
bucket under the sink, filled it, and then put it down on the floor and put a 
mop into it.  As we sat, luxuriating in the bubbles of the bath and savoring 
our spent loins, she mopped up the floor.
         In the intoxicatingly hot water, which made me, I confess, a little 
sleepy, after all my exertions, the men�s pricks arose again.  Polly spotted 
the first one.  Andre was lying back, his head against a folded, partly wet 
towel.  Rose had positioned herself adroitly between Andre and Louis, and 
I think was fondling their balls encouragingly under the water.  Polly had 
consoled herself to her bath by sailing the rubber ducky around the tub.  As 
she passed it by Andre, her titties scooping up foam as she glided amongst 
the bubbles layering the water�s surface, Andre�s penis suddenly stuck up 
like a periscope.
         �Oooh, don�t bump my ducky,� Polly reproved her lover, and seemed 
quite serious, saying it, as if she now preferred her childhood toy to his 
massive erection.  Andre was the youngest male.  I guess that�s why he 
recovered the quickest.  Just the sight of little Polly being herself, so 
innocent and pure, yet so �well-rounded,� as one might say, excited his 
loins anew.  Louis followed shortly, then Jack.  I guess we had a trio of 
rather stalwart men.  I figured Rose picked them precisely because they 
could serve so many cunts so well.  No nerdyboys were allowed at the 
castle, I don�t think.  You had to be able to get up and stay up, and cum 
repeatedly when asked to.  Boys who came to soon or men who couldn�t 
find the inspiration were kept away.  Although, no doubt, at times Rose 
trained even these males, if they could find the money to pay her.  But 
guys like Andre and Louis and Jack were what she preferred.  She liked to 
play with her guests; test them, provoke them, make them wait and then 
make them cum more times than they thought possible.
         Andre suggested that we have an orgy in the tub.  Rose placed a 
fingertip atop his penis, and Louis�s, rubbing their slits and feeling the 
first oozings of newly created pre-cum bubble up from them.
         �Not until after the girls have been whipped,� Rose said quietly.  
Andre�s cock quivered as he contemplated the fate of his little lover.  
Polly pretended not to hear.  Louis seemed unaffected.  I shrank down in 
the bubbles, instinctively, and felt back behind myself.  Was I really to be 
whipped?  Rose kept teasing Polly and I with the thought of it, so much so 
I no longer knew whether it was just to keep us under her thumb or 
whether she truly intended it.
         �Ah, I have been trained in the art of the whip,� Bev sighed.  To my 
surprise she lifted the riding crop I�d last seen in the bedroom from 
beneath the water.  Foam dripped from it as she held it aloft and twirled 
it.  Had Maria slipped it to her somehow, while I was watching Polly sail 
her duck?  Polly and I both felt our eyes riveted by the implement.  We 
knew that its most likely target was us.  Bev took the crop and kissed its 
looped tip.  Leather, made to bite and dig into the buttocks, or whisk 
across it, depending on the wielder�s skill and spite.  Bev extended her 
tongue and ran the leather stick across it.  The crop was longer than most, 
giving it an extra whippy spring.  �I began as a submissive, of course, a 
�bottom,�� Bev laughed, using the term of the S&M trade.  �It began one 
night in a nightclub.  I was dancing with this guy, a little bored.  He knew 
the owner.  There was a spare room.  My boyfriend, a different guy from 
Jack at the time� (she smiled at her new love) �invited a woman to hold 
me.  The three of us, plus the owner, went into the room and the next thing 
I knew my boyfriend and the woman volunteer were bending me over the 
pool table.  I didn�t know what to think.  Beyond the door, everyone else 
was still dancing, the music was still playing, drinks were still being 
served.  The woman, going round in front of me and holding down my 
wrists against the surface of the table, told me to scream freely.  No one 
would hear, with the music blasting away out on the dance floor.  Or if 
they did, just a little, they would think it was something mixed in with 
the endlessly segued songs.
         �Then my boyfriend whipped me, using his belt.  I�d done nothing 
wrong.  He was just bored, that�s all, and I was too, until I�d realized what 
I�d gotten myself into!  The owner snapped pictures of my gasping face for 
my boyfriend to keep as souvenirs.  I shouted for him not to, but he ignored 
me.  The woman bent forward over the table and kissed me and told me not 
to worry.  When it was over she helped me replace my dress and straighten 
it.  Then we went back out onto the dance floor, and my bottom couldn�t 
keep still!  Everyone must have thought I�d taken lessons, in that back 
room.  In fact I�d learnt my lesson.�
         And it was, ultimately, according to Bev, that a sound thrashing 
could be fun.  I doubted that.  Louis told of the differences he�d discovered 
between using a paddle with a hole in it and one without.
         �It swings faster if you drill a hole in it, but the splat from a 
completely solid paddle is somehow more satisfying,� Louis commented, 
and Bev agreed.  
         �Don�t forget a good bedroom slipper,� Jack offered.  �I find that�s 
best sometimes.�  Bev exchanged a knowing glance with him.  �Sometimes 
she�ll come to bed in the sexiest nightie after I�ve been slaving away all 
day at work.  I mean, how can I service her if she�s that much hotter than I 
am?  I do a lot of outdoor work.  It keeps me fit but it can be backbreaking 
sometimes.  So I give her a good whacking with a bedroom slipper, just to 
burn off some of her energy.  I lay her across my belly and pull her panties 
down so her bottom is unprotected.  Then, while I�m just relaxing, lying 
back and watching the Tonight Show, I give her repeated whacks on her 
ass.  Whenever I feel like it, you know?  If Leno tells a stupid joke, 
WHACK!  If a dumb commercial comes on, WHACK!  And I don�t spare her 
none, no.  I want her bawling her head off by the end of the broadcast.  
Then, when she�s weeping and feeling sorry for herself, I mount her and 
make slow love to her, at my own pace, with her underneath me quivering 
and crying.
         The conversation continued like this, each participant in the tub, 
while enjoying the silky smooth water, telling of a favorite experience 
with the whip.  I didn�t really have any, and Polly had none at all.  I offered 
my Abandon Gardens story, then wished I hadn�t, because Rose seemed 
more determined than ever to outdo what had been done to me there.  
Polly, sometimes sailing her ducky, sometimes listening raptly, said 
nothing at all.  Except, at the very end, she admitted she�d been paddled 
once at school for not doing her homework.
         �Three swats,� she said.  �My teacher told us he�d spank us if we 
didn�t bring our homework.  So, the next day, guess who forgot hers?  Me.  
So he took me outside and made me bend over and he paddled me with all 
the other kids listening.  He got in trouble, though.  I think they took him 
to jail or something.  Mommie said he shouldn�t have done that.  So when I 
told her she called the school and he got in lots of trouble.  At least I hope 
he did.�  Polly ended her story and we all sat looking at her.  She was so 
darling, with a little frosting of bubblebath on the tip of her nose, 
unnoticed by her, making her look even younger than she usually did.  I was 
but a year older, but I felt much older.  I�d had adventures.  While I tried to 
be my most mature, Polly seemed to relish playing a spoilt baby.  I could 
never entirely figure out whether she did it deliberately, or by accident.  
         We were quite a bunch, lying there in the tub, on our backs, two 
grown women and two girls, with Maria mopping up and then changing the 
sheets in the bedroom next door.  Rose with her dark hair, loosed in the tub 
so she could wash the men�s sperm from it.  Andre picked up a nearby 
bottle of shampoo and dunked Rose under the water as we talked.  Several 
times, to get her hair wet.  Then he squirted the shampoo on her and began 
slicking it through her hair with his hands.  He seemed to enjoy it.  Louis 
plucked at Rose�s nipples and commented on the beauty of her glistening 
white breasts.  They bobbed like marshmallows on the water, half-
submerged.  Rose shut her eyes and let the two men admire and play with 
her.  Louis found her clit and made her gasp with little gasps of pleasure 
as Andre played bathtub beautician with her hair.  Bev took to necking 
with Jack, leaving me to Polly.  I asked her if I could sail her duck and she 
let me, just a little, all the while telling me I was not doing it right.
         �Ducky doesn�t go in reverse!� Polly scolded me, watching intently.
         �Ducky is made of rubber.  He can go any way I want him to,� I 
answered.
         �Ooooh!  I don�t like my ducky going backwards!� Polly said.  
         �It�s not yours.  It belongs to Rose,� I reminded her.  And so on.  Tit 
for tat, until Polly grabbed her duck back from me.

                                         MAGAZINE REVIEWS
                                                by holy joe

Mayfair, Volume 32, Number 2, $6.99.  E-mail:  mayfair@pr-org.co.uk

         Review:  What is it about Claire Cass?  She�s back again, in another 
issue of Mayfair.  Once again she�s the centerfold.  Despite all the other 
gorgeous girls in this issue, I�m once again jacking off to Claire.
         Why is this girl so fantastic?  I really can�t explain it.  Her eyes are 
too small.  Her breasts are too small.  Yet there is something truly 
marvelous about her.  I could probably spend the rest of my life buying 
Mayfair and looking at her.  Of course, if I saw her walking down the 
street, I assume I�d pay her no attention.  I�d just say, �Ho hum, another 
girl with no tits.�  (Cause they�re quite small.)  Yet, in the magazine, I�m 
utterly infatuated with her.  
         I�ve been masturbating over new Claire Cass pictorials for so long, I 
feel like I�m married to her!  Every month she appears, and every month I 
go running down to Tower.  I always want to be sure to get a good copy.  
This month�s issue came out early.  It was almost sold out when I 
wandered into Tower, looking for other magazines.  I barely avoided 
getting the last, heavily dented copy of Mayfair.
         Can someone explain why I like Claire so much?  I always thought I 
had very rigid standards of female beauty.  They determined precisely, 
with dispassionate scientific accuracy, how much I liked a girl.  Cute 
face, big (but not enormous) bosoms, long legs, etc.  Points were awarded 
for each.  There were various �fudge factors� built in over the years, 
depending on which asset appealed to me at the moment.   But despite the 
�fudge factors� (Einstein�s theory of Relativity has them too), everything 
was exact and precise.  Simply add up the qualities on a girl, and you�d 
find out exactly what my opinion of her was.
         Yet here is Claire.  She doesn�t meet my standards.  And this is her 
umpteenth pictorial.  You�d think, even if I liked her, that I�d be getting 
bored with her by now.  But I�m not!  I love this month�s pictorial of Claire 
very much!  When I got home from Tower I bent down on my knees and 
prayed to God.  I thanked Him for sending me to Tower on a day when I 
mightn�t have gone, enabling me to purchase this very important Mayfair.  
When this month is over, I�ll probably decide, once again, that of all the 
pictorials I saw this month, Clair�s was the best.  Sorry, Playboy!  Sorry, 
Penthouse!  Sorry, Hustler!  Sure, I�ll probably cough up the dough for your 
issues too, and enjoy them, but I know I�ll remember Claire most.
         This month Claire plays a bride.  We see her all dressed up for her 
wedding.  She�s standing, though, in front of a bed.  You know this is going 
to be a GREAT wedding ceremony, because the vows are going to be skipped 
entirely!  
         Turning the page, we see Claire begin to undress.  What a wonderful 
shot there is of her!  We see just a bit of her bra strap showing, as she 
unzips her wedding gown.  Now, this is a great photo!  Bob Guccione would 
say, �Where�s the cunt?  You�ve got to be able to see her cunt!�  Don�t 
worry, Bob.  There is a cunt shot coming up, but how delicious it is to see 
Claire just beginning to undress.  Too many porn publishers think the 
customer is only interested in gynecological shots.  Yet here we have a 
pure, simple bride, showing just a hint of her bra, and already I�m rigidly 
excited!  (More so, indeed, than by any number of �show everything� 
Penthouse photos.)
         Soon Claire is baring her bottom.  Is there a tradition in England of 
whipping the bride on her wedding night?  It seems a good idea.  Then she 
knows who�s boss in the marriage.  Up the dress, lower the panties, and 
break the bride in properly!  There will be no more talk about hubby doing 
dishes and diapers after that!  And I sense, looking at Claire, that there 
are others watching, to make sure the groom does a good job of teaching 
her marital discipline.
         Finally, there is a gorgeous cunt shot.  As you know, I rarely stress 
cunt shots.  I�ve never fancied them much, for some reason.  And every 
time you open a porno magazine, what do you see?  The cunt.  It�s sort of 
�de rigueur,� I guess.  
         For once, though, I am deeply impressed by a cunt shot.  This is a 
wonderful, stupendous cunt shot that Claire offers us.  Why do I like this 
cunt shot so much?  Is it Claire, or her cunt?  I�m not sure.  But if you�ve 
ever dreamed of fathering children in the perfect bride, here she is.  Open 
and ready!  
         Ooops!  Now I�m NOT ready... anymore.  
         (Sorry, Claire.)
         I hope Mayfair puts Claire Cass in every one of their issues for the 
rest of eternity.  I have no idea why I like her but, month after month, it�s 
Claire Cass I look forward to FAR more than any other girl. 

                                           ATTENTION, GIRLS!

         Have you petted a penis today?  Each man carries a penis around with 
him in his pants.  Believe it or not, this big schlong-type thing is alive!  
Just like your dog or cat is.  And it needs love, more in fact than your dog 
or cat does.  
         Penis responds quickly and easily to all your needs.  It can do tricks 
for you -- just ask.  Or you can just sit and pet it.  But be careful, 
sometimes white stuff shoots out of it if it gets really excited.
         Penis can be put in your mouth.  Feeling hungry?  Pop a penis in your 
mouth!  (You can�t do that with your dog or cat, can you?)  Penis will fill 
you right up.  But don�t suck too hard -- you don�t want any of that white 
stuff shooting into your tummy.  You�ll be too full for dinner and mommie 
will be angry.
         Do you ever feel empty inside?  Down there?  Guess what -- when 
you�re feeling empty between your legs, the man tends to be feeling quite 
full!  Happily, God has created a way for both to be satisfied.  When you are 
full in that empty place, you will be happy.  (Trust me on this.)  And the 
man is happiest when he�s just been emptied.  (It�s strange, I know.  Maybe 
God made a mistake.)  In any event, just put the man�s penis into that 
place where you feel empty.  (You�ll need to take your panties down first.)  
Then, when penis is inside, just say this simple sentence:

�Please fuck me.�

         That will do it.  Afterward, you�ll be full and happy.  The man will be 
empty and happy.  Penis might get a little small then.  But don�t worry.  
He�s just resting.  He�ll be back soon!

- written by a pervert, to annoy non-perverts  

                                             AND IN THE END...

                                       THE PERVERT�S PRAYER

                                   Our Claire, 
                                   Who art in Mayfair,
                                   Hallowed be thy bod.
                                   Thy cunny cum,
                                   Thy will be done,
                                   In my bedroom,
                                   As it is in Mayfair.
                                   Give us this day our daily jack,
                                   And flog us for our trespasses,
                                   As we have dreamt of flogging thee.
                                   And lead us into temptation,
                                   Delivering us into ecstasy.
                                   For thine is the cunt,
                                   And the boobs,
                                   And the 12-year-old face,
                                   Forever and ever,
                                   Amen.


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-END OF 253 EMISSION
    

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