---------------------------------------------------------------
PROBLEMS? Please try viewing this with Netscape Navigator.
---------------------------------------------------------------
THE MILLIONAIRE IN YOUR (E-) MAILBOX ! ! !
�Many people who live in expensive homes and drive luxury cars do
not actually have much wealth. ...Many people who have a great deal of
wealth do not even live in upscale neighborhoods.�
- Stanley and Danko, The Millionaire Next Door, pg. 1.
Yep, that�s right. Remember when you tried to have me arrested for
walking past your luxury home? You thought I was a bum, simply because I
live in a dumpster. But now the truth is out. I don�t live in a luxury home,
because I�m a millionaire. There�s another thing I wisely refrain from
owning: a car. While you�re busy destroying the environment with your
Ford Aerostar, I�m walking. Tell your precious children to thank me if
they find they�re living on a habital planet 30 years from now.
I suppose it took two Ph.D�s to convince America of the facts about
money. After all, how could I, a mere pedestrian, convince America of
anything? (Stanley and Danko are both Ph.D�s.) Now that The Millionaire
Next Door has rocketed to the top of Business Week�s bestseller list,
however, perhaps the businessmen of America will listen to me.
So let me address them. Do you want to read a 258 page book,
businessmen of America? You�d like to, I�m sure, but your time is
valuable. So let me assist you in finding out more about us wealthy dudes
in America.
How do you sell to someone who has 1 million dollars, but refuses to
spend it? Frugality, after all, is the number one reason most millionaires
became millionaires. Let me tell you the key to selling to people who
refuse to buy. You only need to remember two words: Free Samples.
Perhaps your mother scolded you when you were young, for reading
comic books. But you read them anyway. Remember Walt Disney�s Uncle
Scrooge? He didn�t just wander into wealth. He was the richest duck in
the world, because he was a skinflint. And now, thanks to The Millionaire
Next Door, we see that�s an apt description of most of America�s
millionaires.
So let�s get down to this business about providing free samples.
Take me, for instance. You probably wish I�d buy a car. But you know, if I
ever do buy a car, I�m going to want to get my money�s worth. I don�t want
it to lose its paint, or look bad. I want it to last and last. So, obviously,
I�ll need a Rolls Royce.
Rolls Royces cost a lot of money. I�m not going to pay all that money
unless the car is as good as the Rolls Royce people say it is. So,
obviously, I�m going to need to test drive it. And don�t think driving it
around the block, with a salesman yapping at me the whole time, is going
to constitute a �test drive.� Uh-uh. I�ll need to give that car a full
workout. Mountains, deserts, crossing streams, and lots and lots of
highway driving to make sure everything�s ship-shape. But don�t think I�m
trying to keep it forever. I figure I�ll need to test it for no more than a
year.
Oh, yes. Please include a driver. Wealthy people like me don�t drive.
Next I�ll address myself to the real estate salesmen of America. Do
you think you�re going to take me to three houses in one afternoon? I know
your tricks, guys. The first house looks like shit. But it�s a bargain. The
second house meets my budget, and looks okay. The third house is more
than I can afford, but I can just make the payments, if I �stretch�. The
third house is beautiful, and it�s the house you expect me to buy.
Well, Realtors. As a millionaire, let�s skip the crap, okay? I�m
willing to stretch my budget, so let�s proceed straight to the third home.
Don�t waste my time, and I won�t waste yours. We�ll see three top-of-
the-line homes. They�ll need to all be worth at least 10 million dollars, if
I�m going to �stretch�. And plan to leave me there for a year or so. I don�t
expect to put myself in hock to the tune of 10 million only to find out 6
months later that the roof leaks.
Next up, girls. I know, I know. Every girl loves a millionaire. But in
today�s world, who wants to get stuck with some gold digger? I have to
be sure you really love me, girls. So stop by, hang out with me for a year
or so, okay? Of course we�ll have lots of sex. That�s necessary, if we�re
ever to marry. I don�t want to get stuck with a frigid wife. So, after a
year or so of hot sex, just ask me if I�m satisfied with your performance.
I�ll either say �Yes,� by giving you a big diamond ring. Or I�ll give you a
sapphire ring instead, and bid you goodbye. (Us rich guys can afford buying
lots of rings.)
Girls, I don�t want you to feel sad if I reject you. So, if you have a
kid sister, bring her along too. That way, if you don�t work out, I might
marry her instead, and then you�ll still be able to know me!
Next, I�ll address myself to the drug dealers. Sure, you�d love to get
me hooked, wouldn�t you? Think how much you�d make if you had a
millionaire hooked to your �product.� But remember, I�m wealthy. Don�t
think you�re going to get me hooked on crack. Nothing but pure heroin will
do for holy joe! As with the abovementioned items, I�m not going to get
involved in anything until I�ve had lots of free samples.
So, let�s discuss delivery. As you know, it�s dangerous to deliver
drugs to a customer. You might be spotted by the police, and arrested. So,
since I�ll need a year�s worth of heroin, why not deliver the whole
shipment at once? Probably a ton or so of pure heroin should be enough for
me to fully test its quality.
I know what you�re thinking. �I�ll see that damn holy joe standing
outside a school in the morning, selling my drugs to kids.� You figure a
smart millionaire like me won�t use the heroin, but will instead sell it, to
make yet more millions!
Not so. When you see me standing outside a school, I�m not going to
be selling that heroin. But do you think I can store a ton of heroin in my
house? Of course not. But I do want to protect you. So, after you deliver
the heroin, I�m going to spread it around. I call this �strategic
disbursement.� What kid wouldn�t want to brag to his friends, �I have a
pound of pure heroin under my bed!� See? Kids will pay to be cool like
that. So you deliver the drugs to me, in one delivery, to protect yourself.
Then I�ll spread the drugs around our community, so kids can be cool. Of
course I�ll give them a �Keep Kids Off Drugs� pamphlet, to warn them from
using any of it. Then, when I need the drugs back, I�ll simply call them up.
Meantime, there�s hardly any drugs in my house, and all the kids can be
cool, �renting� my heroin. (And if they use some, don�t worry. That just
gives you more customers!)
So, there you have it. Millionaires are frugal, and to reach these
tough customers, you have to give them free samples. I have one more
secret to impart. Where do you think the REAL millionaires of this world
live? Not in expensive housing, we know that. But I�ve found, based on my
own independent research, that the wealthiest people of all have
abstained, like me, from buying any home at all. Half the guys you see
walking in and out of the homeless shelter are multi-millionaires! Think
of it. They can live free at the homeless shelter. All of their meals are
free. In the daytime they go hang out at the library, where they read the
Wall Street Journal. (For free.) They dress shabby, of course, because
clothes cost money! And they always carry around a paper sack, with a
bottle inside, because if people knew they were millionaires, they might
get kidnapped and held for ransom. Also, as an extra precaution against
kidnapping, they don�t take baths. You might kidnap a wino, after all, if
you suspected he was wealthy, but would you kidnap a guy if you couldn�t
stand his smell?
So, next time you�re driving down the road in your luxury car
(purchased on credit), and see �some fucking bum� standing in your pretty
neighborhood, holding up a cardboard sign that says �God Bless,� don�t
scoff. He really MEANS �God Bless.� He knows he�s a millionaire. ANY
money he gets, he�s able to keep. All his food and lodging are free, and his
time is his own. You, on the other hand, are a poor wage slave. You work
all day. Your lifestyle costs a lot. And all night you worry about how
you�re going to pay for it all. Worst of all, you have to take a bath before
you report to work. But the �bum� has no job, and hence needs no bath.
(He�s not corrupted by the marketplace, like you. He, like your child,
knows what a pain it is to have to take baths.)
You might say, �If this fucking bum is a millionaire, Joe, why is he
asking me for money?� Well, remember Uncle Scrooge? Don�t you think
HE�D take free money from people? And if you told him, �Just put on this
old coat, and then you�ll maximize the amount people will give you,� I
guarantee you he�d be DELIGHTED to put on an old coat.
So get going, businessmen of America! I expect to see you down at
the homeless shelter first thing in the morning, handing out free Rolls
Royces. Don�t delay! After all, we could buy a Porsche instead. Perhaps if
they beat you to us, we will. After all, we�re not impervious to flattery,
even from a Porsche dealer.
Andrew Roller Presents
FUCK DECENCY
Sponsored by: JOE CAMEL
Issue No. 295
Naughty Naked Dreamgirls in
Pussy Playland
Chapter Three
�These chains are going to slow us down and make us have to work
harder,� I said to Sherry.
�I know, dear. That�s why Jeff made us put them on. Don�t fall
behind,� she added, with a quick glance at Jeff�s dangling whip. He�d let
the tip dangle over our bottoms as a warning.
�Ready girls?� Jeff asked.
�No,� I admitted.
�Kelly, you get a head start,� Jeff told me. �Since you�ve never done
this before. But at the halfway mark I�m going to start encouraging
whoever is behind.�
�Okay,� I gulped. It was all I could think to say.
�Ready, set, go!� Jeff shouted. He lashed his whip against the back
of the hot seat chair to let us know we�d better get moving.
I yanked and pulled at the front of my bolster. It slipped easily
along the mat. But keeping my pussy pressed down to it meant my tail
was holding me back. It felt wide and open behind me, but I knew just
crawling on all fours and dragging the bolster without lying on it would
get me an instant whipping.
I pulled and pulled and pulled at my bolster. I quickly found out that
keeping my belly pressed down to it meant my cunny was getting rubbed
each time I pulled on my bolster. I gasped at the pleasure. I�d be
screaming by the time I got to the other end! This was a kind of self-
masturbation!
�Go!� I heard behind me. Sherry had been given permission to start.
Like seals we bobbed nude on our bolsters trough the sea of cream. My
head bounced up and down as I slid along, doing a kind of breast stroke
with my legs, the chains holding me back, making me struggle more. I
yanked at the front of my bolster and Jeff, appearing beside me, watched
with pleased amazement as my boobies flung themselves all around, twin
little beach balls caught forever in a juggling crosswind.
Sherry came up alongside me. �Halfway!� she breathed. But she was
tired from working so hard to catch me. Her pace was forced to slow a
little and we bobbed along, neck and neck. I was getting the hang of this
now and I found I could just keep pace with her. Then, suddenly, I saw her
head pass mine. I felt a stinging rebuke on my bottom.
�Yeeeowwww!� I screeched.
�Go, Kelly! You�re my girl!� Jeff laughed. Squirming atop my bolster
I tried extra hard to catch Sherry. I did, and she hollared as the whip
landed on her. Mightily we struggled then, each of us almost neck and
neck. Whenever one of us fell even a little behind Jeff gave us his
�encouragement,� flaying our bottom with a stroke of his whip.
Howling, panting, swooning from the rubbing of our clits against the
bolsters, Sherry and I raced down the length of the mat. She arrived at her
pillow just before I did and I felt Jeff�s whip strike hard into my
asscheeks to make me be sorry.
�Owwwwoooo!� I yelped. But I just as quickly forced myself to take
the big hot dog waiting over my pillow. I stuffed as much of it into my
mouth. I gobbled at it like I�d never eaten anything in my life. Beside me,
Sherry greedily ate at hers. Neither of us wanted to lose. At the same
time, to keep ourselves from cheating, we reached back and spread our
flaming asses for Jeff. I felt quite fearful doing it, sure he would whip
me right on my pussy. But he waited, seeing now who would win.
I ate my hotdog right down to the cock ring in the wall. I licked the
ring clean. I looked for the whistle between our pillows, and saw Sherry
doing the same. �Please, God, I MUST have that whistle!� I begged Jesus. I
saw Sherry�s tongue sticking out. She almost had it! We went at each
other then, fighting with our tongues, each of us trying to push the other�s
mouth back. The whistle was right between us, just above our noses. It
was hard fighting and keeping my ass open for Jeff, but I dared not let go
of my behind. He let his whip�s tail dangle and lick at my bottom just to
make sure I remembered it.
�Tweeet! Tweeet!� I heard in my ears. Did I have it? No! That
momentary remembrance of the state of my bottom had let Sherry steal
away with the whistle. She blew on it like a madwoman, still keeping her
bottoms apart with her hands to show she hadn�t cheated.
I began crying. I had tried so hard, and I�d lost. Now I was naked in a
dungeon with just a whipped ass and nothing else, save the chains that
weighed down my feet and the manacles locked to my wrists. And my
heels, of course, with heels so high I risked breaking an ankle walking in
them. And, on top of that, I was up to my legs and elbows in whipped
cream. My pussy ate hungrily at me. I�d rubbed it on the bolster so much
it felt like it had some sensual fire burning within it. Bravely I kept my
hinds open to show I�d at least tried my best. I was sure Jeff would flay
me alive with his whip but instead he just knelt down behind me and
kissed me. On my ass, of course. I let go of my fanny and grabbed my
pillow with my hands and bit into it. He licked and licked and licked at me
right on all the marks he�d given me with the whip. Pressing my face into
my pillow I bit it, hard. I prayed he decided to fuck me, anyplace, instead
of beating me more with that awful whip. It was a devil�s bargain, but I
still didn�t want to be spanked, even now, even with my chains on and my
bottom bare.
�Jeff,� Sherry whined beside me. �You�re supposed to fuck the
winner!�
�Well, I changed my mind,� Jeff said behind me. I felt a rude bump
against my tail and realized it was his cock.
�Ohhhh!� Sherry glowered. She got up and found she could do little
with the heavy chains weighing her down. She kicked my arm with her
open-toed shoes. �You�re the loser! You�re supposed to get whipped!�
Sherry shrieked at me. I wanted to tell her that I was going to steal her
house and her husband too, but I knew taking Jeff in my ass wasn�t going
to be easy. I felt a slick wetness bump into me again and realized he�d
lubed himself up. A quick spooning of his cock on the tarmac would have
taken care of that. I bit my pillow and waited. He rimmed my hole with a
finger that felt like it had been scraped on the tarmac. It was greasy and
he tested my hole with it.
�God, she�s tight,� Jeff said to his wife. She knelt down beside him
and looked at my fanny as if she were a nurse.
�Don�t spare her, Jeffie,� she said. �Make her take all of you.� She
was vengeful.
�This is going to hurt. But if you prefer it to a whipping, it�s what
you�re going to get,� Jeff told me.
�It�s what you WANT her to get,� Sherry said.
�So it is,� Jeff replied. I felt his hardness knock against my ass.
Squeezing my eyes shut I tried not to squeeze my cheeks. I knew I�d have
to be as open as possible to take his monster thing. Sherry, feeling a
little less put out now at seeing how I�d have to suffer to accept him
within me, rubbed my bottom. Then she parted my cheeks with her hands.
Jeff pushed himself forward. In the cream, his knees sliding, he didn�t
have much to purchase himself on. I felt his cockhead press hard against
my sphincter. For a moment it was just his penis tip and my hole, doing a
kind of pole dance, with his pole trying to sink into my hole. I could feel
his weight bearing fiercely down on me as he shifted his hips forward to
fuck me. His knees slid out from under him and I found his body atop mine,
his pole pressing unbearably hard. I gasped. I bit my pillow and prayed to
God. Sherry yanked my cheeks wider apart and, suddenly, thinking of
myself as nothing but openness, and mischievously hoping to poop out a
turd, I suddenly found him up inside me. I was plugged! Not by much, just
the first half of his cockhead, but it was a start.
For the next hour he worked over me, slowly, getting deeper and
deeper as the seconds ticked by. I cried and wept into my pillow. Sherry
bent down, letting herself sprawl in the cream, and licked at my pussy.
Jeff worked like a stallion breaking in a new mare until, at last, I had
enough of him inside me to let him do his work. Back and forth he shunted,
and when he let himself go I felt a huge spurting of his cum deep into the
very depths of my bowels.
AND IN THE END...
�Napoleon Hill didn�t write �Think and Grow Rich.� He wrote �Stink
and Grow Rich.� (Read the above article to find out why.)
�(Yes, some politically correct editor changed the title.)�
- Howard Hughes.
-------------------------- Fuck Decency! ------------------------
-Free e-mail subscriptions: No longer available due to mailbombing of
my Internet account(s) by right-wing Christians.
-Currently I am: roller39@mail.idt.net
-formerly I was andrewroller@sprintmail.com, roller66@inreach.com,
roller666@aol.com Read my complete works under these names by
going to: http://www.excite.com (Click on �newsgroups� and search
under my various former screen names). (Also you can read irrelevant
bullshit posted by right-wing Christians.)
-Recent back issues at Usenet newsgroup: alt.sex.stories.moderated
-For all back issues, send e-mail to: file.request@backdrop.com
- Free plug: http://www.netusa.net/~eli/erotica/assm/
-Free minicomics: send a stamped, self-addressed envelope & age
statement to: Jim Corrigan, P.O. Box 3663, Phenix City, AL 36868
- JOIN the world�s greatest organization! Send $35.00 to The North
American Man/Boy Love Association for a one-year membership.
NAMBLA, P.O. Box 174, Midtown Station, New York, NY 10018.
-Naughty Naked Dreamgirls (Library of Congress ISSN: 1070-1427) is
copyright 1997 and a trademark of Andrew Roller. Work by others
copyright 1997 by the respective copyright holder.
-END OF 295 EMISSION