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These are the Voyages of the Starship Denterprise.
Providing Dental Services Throughout the Galaxy...
Andrew Roller Presents
FUCK DECENCY
Sponsored by: Crab the dog
Issue No. 324
Naughty Naked Dreamgirls in
Nudie Nursery
Chapter Four
�Yes, darling, you�re a cocksucker and I want you to come over and
suck Brent�s cock right now!� Leslie told her.
�Ohhh, goody! Can I bite it too?� Missy asked. �He�s the one who
ordered me spanked, isn�t he?�
�Yes, darling,� Leslie replied. She untied Missy�s wrists. �We girls
would never do awful things to each other unless these evil men made us.�
She kissed the girl�s cheeks. They walked hand-in-hand to the lamp table.
�Uh, hi Missy,� Brent said. The girl looked at him, wide-eyed, and
then broke into giggles.
�You look stupid!� she teased.
�I feel stupid,� Brent admitted. �Would you be kind enough--�
�Don�t, Missy. He�s to be experimented on,� Leslie whispered.
�Yes!� Missy agreed. But she had to stop a moment and rub her
bottom because it still hurt quite a bit from her spanking. I, meanwhile,
was being put on par with her, Jasmine whisking in another stroke to keep
my tears coming.
�Oh, please don�t hurt Brent!� I begged when I could speak coherently
again. I sniffled and held back a sob and tried not to cry. But my fanny
was really hurting now! I wished there was some way I could free my
wrists and get Brent�s big organ out of that awful vise and escape with
him. But it was not to be, I realized, as Jasmine touched my bottom with
her fingertip, testing my temperature, she said, and making me howl. I
was afraid, I had to pee, and I couldn�t stop wiggling my ass. Kerri delved
within my slit, making me wet. She bit my nipple, a clamp made of teeth
and tensing and relaxing at will. I was captured, caught, burning and
burnt. Jasmine gave me another whippy blow and I howled anew.
Like a trapped snake, Brent�s penis flexed and wiggled within the
vise. He was fiercely hard. Urgently he flexed his buns, in and out and in
again. He was desperate to fuck and that, indeed, was his undoing. Had he
been gay, he might have softened, and been able to escape. But, being fully
male and full of himself with seed, he was captive to his own need, to his
own desires. All about him was nothing but firm, bouncing female bosoms
and wriggly bottoms. We were all beautiful; there was not one among us
who could not have posed for Playboy (although two of us were too young!)
Brent seethed with passion and, as a result, he was forced to stand
trapped and watch as Leslie and Missy laid evil plans for his penis.
Missy picked up the sugar thermometer. It was a slim glass
thermometer, like mommies used to take a sick child�s temperature.
Leslie had stuck a big rubber stopper on the back end of it to prevent it
getting lost inside Brent�s huge male organ.
�Now Missy, I want you to be the mommie,� Leslie, nurse-like,
instructed her little friend.
�Okay,� Missy murmured.
�I have been thinking, mommie, that our friend Brent here must have
something wrong with him. Look how big and swollen his penis has
become!�
�Oh, why yes! I don�t remember boys looking like this in my anatomy
textbook!� Missy observed.
�And see how he shakes--he is practically foaming at the mouth!�
Leslie continued.
�Mmmm, he must need his temperature taken!� Missy concluded.
�Indeed! But he is SO big and fierce! I wouldn�t dare try to stick our
little thermometer into his big mouth, would you?� Leslie asked.
�Oh, no! He would bite it in two! Or he�d misbehave and not hold it in
his mouth like he�s supposed to for a full three minutes!� Missy agreed.
�Then we must find some other hole to stick in it, Missy,� Leslie
mused. Her fingers passed lovingly along Brent�s giant organ, caressing
the shaft and circling the head and finally touching his pee hole. �My,
here�s a hole!� Leslie said happily. �We can put it right in here, Missy,
unless you�d rather stick it up his hairy butt?�
�Oh no,� Missy said. �Look how Brent is flexing his ass! If we put
this fragile sugar thermometer up his ass he�d break it in two, just by
squeezing it with his iron-hard cheeks!�
�Well, then we must slip it into this little hole,� Leslie reasoned.
�Yes, his pee hole should be okay,� Missy agreed. She reached out
and touched his penis with her fingertips. It flexed, and she drew her hand
back, frightened a little, I think. Brent truly did have a penis that looked
like a venomous snake. Then, regaining her courage, Missy poked at Brent
with her thermometer. There was no need to grease it. Brent�s cockhead
was leaking gobs of precum. Leslie slipped a lace doily under the head of
his penis to try to catch some of the drips. The lamp table was made of
precious hardwood. There was no need to stain it.
�Ooops! There it goes!� Missy said. Brent watched with love-filled,
horror-stricken eyes as the girl poked her thermometer into his cock. Its
tip slid into his pee hole and the rest quickly followed, gliding up inside
him like a needle.
�We must leave it there for at least three minutes,� Leslie told
Missy.
�Okay,� the girl replied. She let go of the thermometer. Its end
stuck out of Brent�s penis.
�Now, let�s assume he has a temperature. What shall we do?� Leslie
asked Missy.
�Hmmm, I�m the mommie, but I don�t know. Please tell me, nurse
Leslie.�
�Well, I have here some Binaca Breath Spray,� Leslie said. �Would
you like to see a trick?�
�Okay,� Missy said. Leslie picked up a Bic lighter and flicked on it
flame. Holding the Binaca next to it, she depressed the head of the Binaca
and flame shot out of its pin-like hole!
�YIKES!� Missy howled. She leapt back from Leslie. The Binaca had
been turned into a miniature flame-thrower! Leslie drew closer to Brent
and squirted the Binaca again. More flames shot from its tip.
�Don�t!� Brent gasped.
�You don�t want your hot dog roasted?� Leslie asked.
�No,� Brent breathed.
�Wow! That�s some trick!� Missy said. �If I�m ever bothered by boys
I�m going to use it on them!�
�It works even better with WD-40,� Leslie said.
�Don�t get stupid on me,� Brent declared. His chest expanded and he
glowered down at the girls. �That Binaca could explode right in your
face!�
�Yes, daddy,� Leslie said.
�Daddy�s right,� Missy agreed.
�I�m glad our big Daddy�s here to tell us when we�re being truly bad,�
Leslie said to Missy.
�He�s just trying to protect us. Let�s not play with the Binaca
anymore,� Missy said.
�Well, I won�t make it into a flamethrower, that�s for sure. It�s
silly, anyway,� Leslie said. �Binaca is meant to soothe and cool your
throat. It can make your temperature go down if its used properly, did you
know that?� Leslie asked.
�Noooo,� Missy said. �Maybe Brent needs some on his penis?�
�Yes, that would be a good idea,� Leslie said. �I can�t find
Peppermint in my purse. I hope this Spearmint flavor works just as well.�
�Well, let�s try it,� Missy said.
I�d had a little experience with Binaca (not as a flamethrower!) and I
knew Brent was in for a painful experience.
�Oh, please don�t squirt Binaca on his dick!� I begged. Tears ran
down my cheeks and I squirmed as I stood flat-footed in my chair. Kerri,
who had licked my honey-coated nipples clean, was now tonguing in my
belly button, cleaning my tummy of honey and chocolate drips. Her fingers
probed my slit and tickled my clitty. I was hungry to mount Brent and
didn�t want to see his glorious penis abused.
Leslie turned to me and laughed. �You�re in no position to give
orders,� she said.
�But Brent�s MY boyfriend!� I sobbed. I really did love his penis. She
was a lesbian!
�He may be your boyfriend, but WE own his dick,� Missy said. She
was forever a brat, always finding some way to taunt me, to ruin my lunch
with Brent, to keep his attention on the limo ride back, and now to prance
around him, Indian-like, playing naughty games with his penis.
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I heard a little spraying sound and Brent groaned. As if he were in
need of perfume, Leslie began squirting Binaca all over his cock. The head,
its tip and its flange, the shaft, all over the many veins that ran through
it, and along the underside, the most sensitive part of any man�s penis,
especially where the shaft met the head.
�Mmmm, wow. Whoa, that stings!� Brent shouted, as the sprayed-on
Binaca transformed itself into a stinging, biting gloss. �Yeeech! That is
REALLY stinging now! Wipe it off!� Brent begged.
Leslie touched the tip of his cock with her finger, just underneath
where the sugar thermometer poked in his peehole. �You�re being prepared
for surgery, sir. You need to be circumcised,� Leslie said.
�I already AM circumcised!� Brent howled. He tossed his head back
as the Binaca worked its will on his dick. He was used to whipping out his
dick and plunging it into a girl�s soft pussy. Never, I think, had he been
clamped and presented in this way, made to wait and to suffer and to
admire his hardness even as girls played tricks on it. Was he proud of his
manliness? I knew, deep down, he must be. Despite the Binaca, or the
awful thermometer. We were just girls. He alone possessed a penis. All
of us stared at it like children, aware of it every moment, of its hugeness,
its power, and its potential for spurting at any moment, of flooding the
room with the scent of male seed released, into this parlor where,
without Brent, we would just be girls having a tea party.
The stinging gradually transformed itself into a rich, warm glow.
Brent gazed anew at his cock, watching it, looking at it, feeling the
strangeness of having it bathed in breath spray. �Wow, that�s some shit,�
he grunted.
�Wait til you feel it on your balls, love. It stings quite awfully
there, I�m told by men, much worse than on their penises,� Leslie said.
She bent down and reached underneath Brent�s shaft. She eased her hand
back until she was between his thighs. He could have shifted his legs
closed and crushed her hand, but he left them open. He felt bold.
�Ready?� Leslie asked.
�Damn, now you�ve got me curious,� Brent said.
�Be a man,� Leslie warned. She sprayed. Brent waited, then felt a
sudden, prickly stinging on his balls, grimacing, baring his teeth at the
pain. Leslie looked up at him. �It�s just breath spray, darling. Keep your
legs apart.�
�Unnngh!� was all Brent could manage to say in reply. But,
courageously, he kept his thighs open. Leslie squirted him again, on
another part of his balls. Then in a third place and a fourth, until his big
hanging testicles were gleaming with Peppermint spray. Missy had found
the Peppermint in Leslie�s purse. They agreed that was the better choice;
it was reputed to sting more than any of Binaca�s other flavors.
�How does that feel?� Leslie asked Brent. She withdrew her hand
from under his balls and gently stroked his big prick. Brent tossed his
head and clamped his jaw.
�It feels... terrible...� Brent breathed.
�Well, you�re getting it shot up your butthole next,� Leslie said.
�God, NO!� Brent begged.
�Poor boy, if you�d shoot you might escape from my vise,� Leslie
offered.
�Stroke me! Make me cum, please! I�ve suffered enough, you bitch!�
Brent told her.
�My, such naughty language. I do declare he sounds like he�s talking
out his butthole when he speaks like that!� Leslie said to Missy. �Here,
darling, which flavor do you prefer for his a-hole? Peppermint?
Spearmint? Wintergreen, or Cinnamon?�
�Which one hurts the worst?� Missy asked. Four little Binaca sprays
were laid out on the hardwood table now, each tempting her fingers.
�Probably peppermint, although spearmint�s almost as bad,� Leslie
said.
�Well, I�ll try Wintergreen,� Missy said. �That�s my favorite flavor!�
�Okay,� Leslie said. �Spray his ass and wherever else you think he
needs it. I�m going to get some Mountain Dew for his final treatment.�
�Alright,� Missy replied. Leslie walked to the door of the parlor and
let herself out. It was strange, watching her leave, her hips moving with
an ethereal, jiggly motion, her legs long and walking swiftly. She looked
like a businesswoman going on break, yet she wore only a shirt and her
heels, nothing else. She had the perfect job description, I guessed: �To
torture men�s penises, especially the boss�s. Skills needed: blowing,
sucking, knowledge of Binaca breath spray, and the ability to teach
younger girls how to do same.� Jasmine kept me busy with more slicing
blows to my bottom while we all waited for Leslie. Kerri�s mouth
descended to my bush and began licking up all the little droplets of honey
that had collected there. I was caught between pain and pleasure. The
pain bit into me from behind while the pleasure circling around my button
in front never gave me the satisfaction I wished. Missy, her hands free,
played with her clitty. She was no stranger to frigging herself, I guessed,
and she did it with a freedom that made me weep. I was so hungry! I
prayed God to loosen my hands and let me down from the chair and put me
on top of Brent�s pole. But it did not happen.
�Hmmm, it�s kinda smelly back here!� Missy observed, prying apart
Brent�s ass with her fingers. �This place definitely needs some breath
spray! Take that, you big smelly a-hole! And that! And that!� She
squirted Binaca into Brent�s ass.
�Yeeoooch! Stop!� Brent pleaded.
�Consider this to be my introduction for possible future purposes.
Hope you didn�t think that this was an X-mas card,� writes Tim Hempfield.
Toxicoendendron
- a poem
by Tim Hempfield
HE rubbed his arms;
He shook his waist;
He cooed softly like a dove.
A shiver ran thru his slender form;
And as she approached he began to squirm;
His eyes blinked wildly, -she thought �What charm?�
He rubbed his legs together;
He stroked his neck above;
And then he gave his elbows a shove.
He began to whisper incoherent blather;
His hands folded in a pleadful matter;
And she giggled �Oh, with me he�s in love!�
�Not really, Nurse, -� said the doctor,
�-But I guess you did not know;� ...
�You see, -Timmy has Poison Oak from head to toe!�
AND IN THE END...
AMERICA REVEALED !
�Hell, boy, what you thinking! It don�t take no fancy reporter to
work it out. Pickups run this land. I ain�t hauling hog-shit in a car.�
- The Economist, December 20, 1997, pg. 29, quoting an American pig-
farmer on why he drives a pickup.
(now you know why we have an age of consent of 29. - h.j.)
-------------------------- Fuck Decency! ------------------------
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-Naughty Naked Dreamgirls (Library of Congress ISSN: 1070-1427) is
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copyright 1997 by the respective copyright holder.
-END OF 324 EMISSION
- �A truck, as one cowboy put it, �is a 12-foot bed you don�t have to
make.�� (Ibid.)