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From: bradley_stoke@hushmail.com (Bradley Stoke)
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Subject: {ASSM} Escape From Buggery Ch. One (1/20) {Bradley Stoke} {MF}
Date: Tue, 25 Mar 2003 20:10:06 -0500
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Title: {ASSM} Escape From Buggery Ch. One (1/20) {Bradley Stoke} {MF}
Author: Bradley Stoke
Part: Chapter 1 of 20
Keywords: MF 
Short Summary: Sharon and Tracey plan a holiday in Buggery

Escape from Buggery
===================

Synopsis of whole novel
======================

Sex tourism is an adventure, but for Sharon and Tracey their 
trip to Buggery was rather more of an adventure than they'd 
anticipated. And certainly more than the brochure advertised. 
This is a dark disturbing novel in a world the sex tourist 
would rather not know about.


For More : http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/Bradley_Stoke/www



Chapter One
===========


Sharon and Tracey were two very close friends. They danced 
to the same music. They liked the same kinds of films. They 
both bleached their hair and dyed it the same outrageous 
blonde shades. They even dressed much the same: very tight 
short skirts; tee-shirts or tank-tops that clung tightly to their 
chests; and teetering stilettos that threatened to throw them off 
balance. And neither of them ever ever wore knickers. 

They weren't the two prettiest girls you could ever have hoped 
to meet, but they may well have been the randiest. Every 
Friday and Saturday Night (and other nights besides) was a 
night to score. And if they didn't score much more than once, 
they were terribly disappointed. 

What were the girls' attractions to the boys who came inside 
them perhaps once or maybe twice in their acquaintance? Well, 
they weren't fat. In fact, they might be considered skinny. This 
was might have been because of the exercise the girls got. Or 
the cigarettes they always smoked. Or because they were 
always on one diet or another. Certainly all the sperm they 
swallowed can't have been that fattening. Their skin wasn't 
tanned at all: it was very pale. Nearly white. But of course they 
didn't necessarily wait until they were out in the sun till they 
took their clothes off. And when they did, it would be mostly in 
the heat of the action. Their breasts weren't especially large 
either. Sharon's were the largest: shaped like apples with rosy 
pink nipples. Tracey's were more pointed and she probably 
had almost as much nipple as breast to support them.

However the girls were pretty much always available. They 
didn't cost you anything, though you would probably worry 
about what illnesses you'd picked up (not that that ever 
bothered the girls!) 

The best fun Sharon could imagine was having two pricks up 
her - one in her cunt and the other up her arse - and another 
prick in her mouth. She loved the taste and sensation of a 
throbbing warm sperm-secreting prick as she took it from the 
tip of her lips and eased it towards the back of her throat. The 
extra sensation in the other two orifices just added to the 
pleasure. 

Tracey preferred just one man after another. That way, she 
would say, you get through more men in an evening. And they 
didn't get worn out so soon.

In whatever way, they got their hearts' desires most weekends. 
They didn't care if it was early in the evening or late. Whether it 
was in the night club, at the back of the bar, on a bed or 
amongst the rubbish down an alley-way. A good fuck was 
always welcome, and if you were too fussed about where you 
had it, well, then who knows what fun you might have missed. 

They found out about the existence of Sex Holidays in the 
Sun in Buggery during an evening back at the home of a 
married man who'd just picked the pair of them up. Buggery, 
as they were to find out, was a small country squeezed 
between the two republics of Sodom and Gomorrah. Their 
host was just getting into action. His trousers and underpants 
were thrown off and lying somewhere near the scattered parts 
of a motorcycle. His prick was fully erect and straining in 
anticipation of fucking Tracey, who'd volunteered to go first. 
Sharon was still shagged out after her earlier fuck against the 
toilet cubicle door at the night club they'd just been to. She still 
had traces of urine streaks down her legs from when her drunk 
lover had somehow confused the activities of pissing and 
fucking. Tracey had eagerly tugged up her tight boob tube and 
the folds of her cunt throbbed with the same eagerness as the 
veins of her host's penis. She wedged her arse on the seat of 
the ragged armchair and curled her legs on either side of the 
armrests. 

The room was in a fairly dingy state. The rugs were worn, the 
ceiling was yellow with cigarette stains, and the television 
supported a weight of magazines and ash trays. Not even the 
dusty film posters on the wall and the clutter of cheap china 
ornaments on the cupboards added any real relief to the 
drabness of the place. There was no evidence that the place 
had been vacuum cleaned or dusted for at least a year. Not 
that either Sharon or Tracey would have thought it at all 
unusual. They didn't bother cleaning up their own flat much 
more often than that themselves.

"Daddy! Daddy!" cried a little girl in a stained night-gown 
clutching a threadbare teddy bear. She was standing by the 
living room door rubbing her eyes with the back of her fist. 
"Where's Mummy?"

"How the fuck should I know!" her father replied angrily, his 
penis still sticking out and twitching with desire. "Probably out 
fucking drunk again."

"I can't get to sleep!" moaned the girl. "Take me to bed, 
Daddy!"

"What the fuck! What do you fucking take me for?" shouted 
her father. Then remembering the two girls and perhaps 
wanting to retain some semblance of gallantry, he said: "OK! 
OK! Let's go upstairs!" He wandered over to his daughter with 
his erection slowly drooping away. "I'll be back in a second, 
girls."

"What the fuck!" echoed Tracey. "My twat's as itchy as 
pepper!" She lifted herself up on the armchair and pulled her 
boob tube back down over her crotch. She gazed around the 
room in boredom and frustration and noticed that Sharon was 
reading a tabloid. "Oi! Sharon! What's with you! You got all 
fucking literate or something?"

Sharon looked up. "Ever heard of Buggery?" she asked.

"Fucking hell, Sharon! What are arses for, 'cept for shitting and 
fucking?"

"No, you pillock! The country called Buggery. This article 
here's all about it. There's great holidays you can have there. 
Sex holidays. Loads of hunky men all ready and waiting. It's 
true! It's like a fucking fuckathon. And look at the fucking 
price. It's cheap! It's fucking cheap!"

"There must be a catch?"

"It says here that there's cock every-fucking-where! And it's 
always gagging!"

"Yeah! But there's cock here! What do we need to go to 
fucking Buggery for?"

"Yeh, right! But look at the cock on the hunks in these pictures 
in here. Just fucking look at them! You don't get that at the 
Kaleidoscope on a Saturday night!"

Tracey lifted herself out of her seat and leaned over Sharon's 
shoulder to look at the article. It featured pictures of fairly 
ordinary girls like themselves in the company of some lush 
naked men with great looking cock. And there were some 
average looking blokes with the kind of women you didn't 
normally see except in calendars.

"Yeah! You're right! It looks fucking great!" 

"Well, Tray. What d'you think? Sounds like a fucking laugh!"

"Yeah, Shar. Fucking great!" Tracey smiled. She looked up as 
their host returned with a limp dick and a cheesy grin. "Well, 
here's lover boy back!"

The subject of Buggery frequently returned to their 
conversations in the following days, and the girls soon found 
themselves planning a holiday there in earnest. Their jobs were 
winding up at the call centre, and they felt like a good break 
before looking for the next ones. They took some glossy 
brochures out from the travel centre, and with the aid of the 
travel centre staff, they started examining all the options. 

Buggery was advertised in the many different brochures as 
variously 'Sperm in the Sun', 'Cunts in the Country' and 
'Specialist Tastes Catered For'. The brochures featured tasteful 
pictures of hotels, beaches and fucking. Some of the fucking 
was fairly standard. Some wasn't even fucking at all: 
masturbation, fellatio and voyeurism featured highly. The 
brochures made great play of the variety of sexual pleasure 
widely available (particularly homosexual) and the constant 
reminders that under-age sex was strictly illegal only made it 
seem that much more prevalent.

The holidays did seem really cheap, although there didn't seem 
to be much that would be free when they got there. The 
enormous hotels were equipped with swimming pools, night 
clubs and bars. And the brochures had hardly a picture which 
didn't feature a naked man or woman: and the men! Tracey felt 
hot just looking at the pictures. "I want that cock in me!" she 
announced, pointing at the attributes of one smooth chested 
man daintily carrying a drinks tray, and wearing a welcoming 
grin and nothing else.

'Don't bother to bring any underwear', said the blurb for the 18 
to 30 Centimetres Holiday that Sharon and Tracey opted 
for. This was in Buggery's most developed resort. Night Clubs, 
Sex Bars, Hard Core Porn Theatre and Cinemas on every 
street. A glorious sun-drenched sandy beach. Sexual Couriers 
and Sex Guides promised. The name of the resort was Throb. 
This sounded very promising. 

The girls' normal fucks in the car parks, toilets and broom 
cupboards just lost their lustre. They became humdrum and 
routine, if not even dull and characterless. As also did the men 
who did the fucking. They just couldn't compare with what 
Buggery promised. And the homes they normally visited, 
whose fag-end, beer-stained floors Sharon stared at between 
her fore-arms while being fucked from behind, were just no 
comparison to the swanky classy hotels of Buggery. Instead of 
the grime and mess with which the girls were mostly 
acquainted, they offered twin double beds, balconies facing the 
sea, and the promise of constant sex. All this with the bonus of 
style, grace and massive pricks. Tracey grew increasingly sick 
of the sight of stubbled chins, beer-guts and drunken 
boorishness. She wanted to be fucked like a lady. And Sharon 
didn't care if she'd never got the imprint of a damp brick wall 
on her arse again.

There wasn't that much severance pay, and the girls hadn't 
saved that much. Night clubs and booze didn't come that 
cheap. But they had credit cards and from the sums they did it 
it all seemed affordable at a pinch. The girls didn't bother 
packing any underwear. Well, they wouldn't have done so 
anyway. It was tempting not to bother bringing any clothes at 
all, because no one in the brochure pictures ever wore very 
many of them. But, of course, they needed clothes just to get to 
the Airport. 

Which was where they joined other people on the morning of 
their departure. Sharon was feeling slightly sick from lost sleep 
and the booze from their last celebratory night out. Tracey had 
already puked up noisily and messily before leaving home. 
Most of the other holiday-makers were men and women 
somewhat older than them and seemed generally rather less 
wasted; but in their current state, Sharon or Tracey were really 
not bothered what their companions were like. Many of the 
men were quite clearly gay, which would normally have 
bothered them. No opportunities for them there. And some of 
the women were just as clearly lesbian, which although both 
Sharon and Tracey were occasionally game, (even, on 
particularly bad nights, with each other), this wasn't really what 
they were after. It was the local talent that they were after; or at 
least that which was like what the brochures promised.

There were two Couriers: a very young girl and a hunk who the 
girls were most keen on. He was much more like what they 
were looking for. Both Couriers were from Buggery and 
seemed quite game for anything. Big John, the male Courier, 
flirted with almost all the women and many of the men. Tracey 
and Sharon took every opportunity to get close to him and 
revel in his sexual aura.

The other Courier wore a very short skirt from which her 
buttocks were perpetually just about to pop out as she moved. 
Her breasts probably would have done much the same if she'd 
been better endowed in that department, but she didn't have 
very much on top (or nothing to speak of). She wore ineptly 
applied make-up and her hair was tied in a curiously childish 
pair of plaits with bright yellow ribbons tied to each. She was 
very friendly with many of the men and some of the women. 
One apparently wealthy woman in her forties indulged in 
tongue-to-tongue kissing with the girl for what seemed liked 
ages.

In fact, most of the girls' fellow travellers seemed to be 
wealthier than either Sharon or Tracey. They hung around 
aimlessly in the international lounge feeling out of place amongst 
the expensive shops and restaurants. They tottered on their 
white stilettos, flicking ash from their ciggies and stroking down 
their skin-tight skirts as they rode up their thighs. They knew 
they had to kill some time, so they headed for one of the many 
caf,s spread about the concourse. They were not even too 
sure what all the types of coffee on sale might be. They 
plumped for something that turned out to look like oil dripping 
out from under a car and tasted like shit.

When the two girls got on the plane, just from the appearances 
of the airline hostesses, they knew they were on a very different 
type of holiday. In fact, half the airline hostesses were men, but 
neither gender dressed much differently from each other. All the 
men wore was a little ribbon in the design of the Buggery 
National Flag (a very boring tricolour) tied to their penises. The 
women, who were similarly naked, had their pubic hairs cut 
into the shape of the official national emblem of Buggery: which 
was a fairly undistinguished leaf, probably ivy or oak. They did 
wear make-up however, not just on their face but on key parts 
of their anatomy. The nipples were made more aureate by the 
use of lipstick, and the vulvas seemed unnaturally red.

The couriers continued to be very attentive to their guests on 
the flight. They both took their clothes off in a very public 
gesture which involved them actually physically tearing them to 
pieces. They then made love which each other in a very 
frenzied way. Big John's penis was quite unnaturally large and it 
had difficulty entering little Pussy's cunt, but he persevered and 
made a lot of noise while doing so. At the climax, Big John 
withdrew his penis and showed everyone all the semen 
shooting out in a quite beautiful arch. At this stage, one of the 
male hostesses came along and licked the remaining stains off 
his still twitching prick. Another hostess cleaned off the traces 
of come off Pussy's face and breasts. She was a woman with 
very large breasts who had earlier rubbed them in the face of 
several passengers on their request,.

After this entertainment, Big John announced that a film would 
be shown. The lights went off and a very explicit sex film was 
shown. The story concerned a young boy who seemed to 
always succeed in getting raped whatever he did or wherever 
he was. He started off going to school in school clothes, but 
first his mother and then his father seduced him and he was 
persuaded to have sex with both of them. Then on the way to 
school, a girl who seemed younger than him (possibly younger 
than Pussy) started talking with him. This led to full explicit sex, 
involving things that surely such young people wouldn't know 
about. Even if they were as the credits declared well over legal 
age. This sexual encounter was joined in by a passing 
policeman. The film continued through more scenes of either 
rape and seduction at school and elsewhere, and finally ended 
with quite a long orgy sequence where most of the characters 
reappeared (from where and why it was never explained) and 
indulged in as explicit action as was physically possible.

After the on-flight entertainment was over, Sharon and Tracey 
could only congratulate themselves for their choice of holiday 
and steel themselves for the pleasures to come. 




For More : http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/Bradley_Stoke/www

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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