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From: bradley_stoke@hushmail.com (Bradley Stoke)
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NNTP-Posting-Date: 15 Apr 2003 17:56:38 GMT
Subject: {ASSM} Escape From Buggery Ch. Three (3/20) {Bradley Stoke} {MF}
Date: Tue, 15 Apr 2003 16:10:02 -0400
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Title: {ASSM} Escape From Buggery Ch. Three (3/20) {Bradley Stoke} {MF}
Author: Bradley Stoke
Part: Chapter 3 of 20
Keywords: MF 
Short Summary: Sharon and Tracey are on 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

Previously
==========

Sharon and Tracey are enjoying their holiday in Buggery, at a famous
sex tourist resort.


Chapter Three
=============


To be able to afford their holiday in Buggery, both Sharon and 
Tracey had told several white lies about their financial wealth: 
lies that they hoped wouldn't catch up with them while they 
were on holiday. Perhaps the lies weren't that small, but the 
girls were somewhat naive as to what they were likely to get 
away with. At first these lies didn't worry them while they were 
enjoying so much themselves in Throb.

Throb was an aptly named resort they found, as this was 
exactly what their cunts did all the time after each day. They 
soon got used to days of sex on the beach, in the night clubs, in 
the hotel and in the bar. They soon stopped wearing any 
clothes at all: carrying all they needed in shoulder bags. There 
was no theft in Throb, which was good as they often had to 
drop their bags wherever they happened to be. Total nudity 
began to seem a little too innocent for two such worldly girls, 
and so it wasn't long that like many other tourists and many of 
the residents of Throb they got their nipples pierced and rings 
put through them. It didn't stop there. They also had their 
vulvas pierced in several places. Soon little rings dangled from 
between their legs to go with the rings through their nipples, the 
bangles on their arms and the earrings. A pleasing jangle 
accompanied every step as they walked around. When they 
raised their arms, a cascade of bangles followed in chorus.

Every morning, they'd wake up with at least one man sharing 
their beds, ready for a quick fuck before breakfast. Then after 
that, some more sex as the day progressed, wherever and 
whenever it took their fancy. Their vaginas were constantly 
bruised, they always felt like they were exhausted, but the sex 
was so very good, they just couldn't turn down any chance for 
more.

One evening, they had two young boys in their bed who'd 
they'd picked up on the beach. "This is fucking paradise!" 
mused Sharon as a penis thrust in and out of both her arse and 
her cunt, while Tracey greedily gobbled on the two adjacent 
set of balls. "This can't be real! Sex wasn't supposed to be as 
good as this!" In fact, it never had been before. This was real 
fucking: intense, continuous, not a limp dick in sight. The men 
back home just had nothing to offer in comparison. They'd 
never be satisfied like this again.

The two boys were expert in sharing the attention of the two 
voracious friends. While one thumped away mercilessly at 
Sharon's arse, the other was simultaneously fucking Tracey's 
cunt. And then while the girls were in ecstasy, they'd somehow 
alter positions: the first boy taking Tracey's arse while the other 
transferred his attention to Sharon's cunt. And then as Tracey 
gulped in paroxysms of delight, the one took his prick out of 
Sharon and pushed it into Sharon's arse, giving her again that 
full feeling she so craved where inside her she could feel one 
prick sliding against the other: giving her dual stimulation on the 
skin dividing one orifice to another. She'd thought that now, 
after the fucking she'd got at least once every few hours, that 
by now the pleasure would be diminished. That in some way, 
she'd lose interest from familiarity. But, no, it was like a drug to 
her. The more she was fucked, the more she craved it. The 
soreness of her arse was lessened  by the usage, but the desire 
for it certainly did not. Nor did it for Tracey, who took the 
opportunity to crawl over the mattress and apply her tongue to 
the two sets of rock-hard testicles bumping against each other 
as they pushed and pushed into Sharon. Before long, it was 
too much for her, as she greedily pulled one boy off her friend, 
and motioned his erect prick into her cunt. And somehow, like 
so many times and so many lovers before, the boys knew 
when they had exhausted the girls and released streams of 
semen which spurted onto the girls' breasts and flowed onto 
their  bellies.

"I hope we can do this forever!" remarked Tracey as they 
wandered down to the foyer, licking traces of semen from their 
lips. There they saw Lil dressed for the first time since they'd 
first met her. At first they didn't recognise her in her tight-fitting 
skirt and top, as up to then, they'd only seen her nude. She 
wasn't a nudist, as she'd told them many times, and they were 
keen to reassure her that they weren't either. It was just that 
clothes were such an unnecessary encumbrance in Throb.

Lil seemed quite upset. She was standing by herself holding an 
invoice in her hand. "Look at what the bastards have charged 
me!" she shrieked when the girls greeted her. "Every fucking 
drink, every fucking night club and every fucking fuck. All on 
the bill. Nothing's escaped them at all! How'd they know all 
this?"

She showed an itemised bill, which went on for several pages. 
It listed every drink she'd had, every night club she'd entered 
and every meal she'd eaten. In addition, it included an itemised 
account of every sexual encounter she'd had. So much for oral 
sex, so much for vaginal sex, a bit more for anal sex and a lot 
more for having someone to spend the night with her. Group 
sex and lesbian sex were charged at a further premium. Tracey 
gasped with shock as she glanced at the total and made a 
rough estimate at what it meant converted back to their home 
currency. Not only was it a large sum, far more than she'd ever 
expected, a little extra arithmetic (not something for which she 
had a native skill), told her that Sharon and she had actually 
been rather more active and indulgent than Lil (despite her 
boasts) and that their bill was likely to be several times larger.

"And it's not just what I've been doing, we'll get charged for. 
My hubby's been enjoying himself. I don't know the details but 
from what he's told me we're gonna have the world's most 
fucking horrendous headache paying for all this. We might be 
well-off, but haulage don't make millions. I don't think we'll be 
able to afford another holiday here for a lo-ong while."

"Are you leaving now then?" asked Sharon.

"Yeah! We are. Another day here and we'd have to re-
mortgage the house. I can't believe the bastards. Every fucking 
cock and every fucking cunt!. I'm surprised they didn't charge 
us by the weight of sperm. And there weren't no hint of this till 
we settled up. The fucking smile on that bastard girl's face." 
She nodded towards the demure but naked receptionist, who 
with a broad imperturbable smile was serving a bill to another 
white-faced couple. "I bet she enjoys stinging the fucking 
tourists! That's how this country makes it money, I reckon. 
They get us in with a promise of dawn-to-dusk sex (and then a 
bit more!) and nothing passes them by. Not a single fucking 
tiny insignificant orgasm. What fucking cheek!"

"What are you gonna do about it?" wondered Tracey with 
genuine interest.

"There's fuckall we  can do. We'll just have to pay by credit 
card and hope the limit's big enough. Hey, here comes hubby!"

Her husband, a large man in a suit and tee-shirt wandered 
towards them carrying a small case and holding his bill in his 
hand. His stubbled face did not look well pleased. "Fucking 
cunt bastards!" he exclaimed, mirroring his wife's comments. 
"That orgy on Friday cost us nearly a month's income!"

Tracey and Sharon retreated to the beach, the only place they 
knew where they wouldn't be charged for going, and spread 
themselves out, naked as always except for the jewellery that 
adorned them . They stared towards the sea where the waves 
crashed onto the shore and where several other tourists were 
fucking and being fucked on the fine-grained sand.

"What are you thinking about?" asked Sharon, knowing full 
well why Tracey was so untypically quiet.

"I don't think we can afford the bill."

"Yeah, but we got plastic. That'll cover it, won't it! What the 
fuck's plastic for, anyway?"

"Yeah, we got plastic. But we also got, - whatchayoucallit? - 
credit card limits. That's the most you can put on plastic. The 
absolute tops."

"Yeah, well?"

"Yeah, well. It's not gonna be enough. Not nearly fucking 
enough! Those cunts have got us. You saw what Lil's paying. 
And you saw what she's paying for. Not even half a dozen 
fucks a day."

"She always said she'd done more than that."

"Well. She's old, ain't she. She can't do it as much as we can. 
And anyway, she ain't had our practice. I always thought she 
were a bit light-weight. We've done two, three, four, I dunno, 
much more fucking than her."

"She can't take it, can she?"

"Yeah, but least she can pay for it. We can't! We're fucking 
screwed! I don't know what the fuck we're gonna do!"

"Yeah, so what! It's on plastic, ain't it?"

"Course it is. But when we come to pay, our plastic's gonna 
bounce. It's gonna bounce worse than a fucking beach ball. It's 
gonna bounce. And we're gonna be well and truly fucked."

Sharon frowned. She stroked the rings in her labia, the cost of 
which she was now bitterly regretting. "So, what they gonna do 
to us?"

"They're gonna lock us up and throw away the fucking key. 
We're gonna spend the rest of our lives in some fucking jail. 
And the fucking ambassador's not gonna bail us out. Not a 
couple of tarts like us."

Sharon's face visibly paled in the sun. She chewed on a 
fingernail. "I'm scared, Tray. You think that's what they're 
gonna do?"

"Well! What do you fucking think? This ain't home, is it? They 
can do what they fucking like here. I don't fancy our chances 
at all."

After further discussion, they decided that the only option open 
to them was to try and make a quick get-away from Throb to 
avoid paying the bill. It wasn't a thought uppermost in their 
minds the last week or so, but now it seemed like the only 
sensible option. It wouldn't be the first time they'd absconded 
without paying, but this looked like being the most risky. 
However, before planning an escape, they first had to survey 
the lie of the land. One thought they had was that if they left 
from a different border from the one they arrived they might 
get away without the Royal Government of Buggery 
demanding the money that would soon be owing. How to get 
to this border was the big question. 

Throb was not that large a resort. It was perhaps ten miles 
along the coast and went two miles inland. Inside the town's 
perimeters, all was sex and sun. Hotels, night clubs, bars and 
beach. However, the two friends found that if you walked far 
in any direction you came across a wire fence guarded by 
fierce looking men or women with curious rubber truncheons 
and snarling dogs. Even the furthest reach of the sandy beach 
was lined with a row of sharp spikes and barbed wire to keep 
tourists in. And possibly, also to keep other people out. 
Beyond, this was a kind of wilderness with battered shacks 
and the odd grazing goat. Although this containment seemed 
strange to the girls, it essentially meant that it was nowhere as 
easy to leave Throb as it might at first have seemed.

"So, do you know of a way out?" Sharon asked Pru in the bar 
that evening, after having explained their dilemma. She seemed 
extremely uncomfortable with her knowledge of the girls' 
circumstances, if not even rather embarrassed/

"Well, in any normal place, I'd suggest you just come clean," 
she answered, "but, here, and don't ever tell anyone I 
suggested this to you, have you ever thought of going on a day 
trip? At least you can get out of Throb and maybe you can find 
your way to another border from there."

It had never crossed the two girls' minds to leave the holiday 
resort. After all, everything they wanted was close at hand. 
Why go anywhere else?  Sharon and Tracey couldn't care less 
about ruins or museums or anything cultural. They couldn't 
think of anything more piss-poor boring. But reluctantly, and 
with a little help from Pru, they had a look at what day trips 
were available. These were all displayed in a quaint looking 
Tourist Information Centre near the beach.

Almost all the day trips were to parts of the country where the 
main raison d'^tre was the sex that was on offer when you got 
there. One which seemed suitably remote and seemed 
comfortably close to Sodom, with which Buggery was not at 
war, was a small place called Pederasty. Besides the promise 
of "immature love", there was a medi`val castle and a 
particularly large monument to King Peter the Fourteenth, the 
current ruler of Buggery.

The two girls left almost all they had at the hotel, except 
money, jewellery, passports and bikinis for the airport which 
they tucked into their bags. They didn't want to arouse 
suspicion by taking things out of their room like toothbrushes 
or clothes. They got on to a bus full of other tourists heading to 
Pederasty, which mostly consisted of middle-aged or older 
men. Many of them were still clothed, but one or two had got 
into the spirit of life in Buggery and wore nothing but hats to 
keep the sun off their eyes. These were the men with the most 
leathery skin and the most lined faces.

There were only two other women besides themselves. One 
was a tourist, in her late thirties wearing only glasses and red 
skin peeling painfully from exposure to the sun. She told 
Sharon and Tracey that she was keen in getting a boy one-
third her age inside her cunt, as it was a life-time ambition of 
hers. "I've got a son that age, and I often wonder what it's like. 
What about you?" 

Sharon lied that she also thought that little boys' pricks were 
the best. "Oooh! I just can't get enough of them!" She 
exclaimed unconvincingly, although she'd always preferred her 
pricks as thick and long as possible.

The other woman was a travel courier and barely a woman at 
all. She was perhaps thirteen and her breasts were mere 
bumps with puffy nipples. She wore nothing but a little flower 
in her cunt which she encouraged the other tourists to tweak. 
She waggled her bum as she passed by and giggled 
appreciatively if anyone pinched it. After sucking off a man just 
opposite them on the bus, Tracey ventured to ask "If we really 
like it in Pederasty, can we stay the night?" The girl, who called 
herself Little Pussy, wiped the semen from her mouth and 
looked a little alarmed.

"Are you likely to do that?"

"It sounds like a paradise on earth to us, this Pederasty place, 
dearie. We'd just love to stay all night."

Little Pussy, who had been hard selling the underage delights 
of Pederasty was put in a difficult position. "Well, it sure is a 
wonderful place, but are you sure you won't want to go back 
to Throb?"

"Can't we just book into a hotel and come back on a bus later, 
dearie?" suggested Sharon.

"I'll check with Big Hunk", Little Pussy said referring to the 
driver.

This came back with a reserved affirmative, but both Little 
Pussy and Big Hunk seemed very uncomfortable with the two 
girls from then on. Little Pussy was very insistent on having sex 
with the two girls in the apparent hope of changing their minds, 
but although Sharon let her, and had to admit she was very 
good at it, that couldn't have been sufficient. In any case, 
although she liked the attention of Little Pussy's fingers and 
tongue on her vagina, not to mention her nipples and mouth, it 
was men she preferred. Both she and Tracey had always 
preferred a good cock: though given the choice between the 
pleasant firm body of the little girl and the flabby, unpleasant 
looking bodies of the male tourists they were with, she couldn't 
be sure that her interests were really so gynaecological rather 
than aesthetic. She took pleasure, as she lay back on her seat 
next to Tracey, with the small girl between them, fingers and 
tongues sharing their sunburnt bodies equally, at the stares she 
was receiving from the other tourists. Fuck you! She thought 
with pleasure as she saw one overweight man uncomfortably 
stroking his tiny penis, trying to get more life into what little of it 
there was.

Certainly, the girls became aware that although in terms of 
sexual activity they had a freedom impossible at home, their 
freedom was circumscribed in other ways. As they passed 
through the town limits of Throb, the guards were very insistent 
in looking at passports and at the things the girls were carrying. 
"Why the bikini?" asked one border guard, a very muscular 
woman wearing leather boots and shoulder pads but nothing 
else but well-built muscles. 

"Too much sun", suggested Tracey. The guard sniffed. It was 
the couriers, not the tourists, who got most attention from the 
guards and none of it very friendly. Little Pussy had her legs 
prised open while one guard shoved his fingers inside her cunt 
as if he were looking for something. She smiled weakly at the 
rest of the bus during this obvious humiliation, while the guard 
licked the come off the fingers of one hand, but continued 
probing with his other hand. 

It was a relief for the girls, but even more so for Little Pussy, 
when the bus finally drove out of Throb and travelled through 
the countryside of Buggery. This was the first time the girls had 
seen so much of Buggery outside of Throb, and it was not 
especially beautiful. The countryside consisted mostly of 
parched farmland with pot-holed roads, lined at intervals of 
every hundred meters by large posters of King Peter XIV. In 
fact, there were rather more reminders of his rule outside 
Throb than they'd ever seen inside. Every small village had a 
statue of him and of previous monarchs. Every lamp post and 
every telegraph pole had a portrait of him attached to it. The 
impression given from the pictures and statues was that he was 
a genial and dignified person. His favourite pose was to stare 
into the half-distance, with a grim smile, surrounded at his 
knees by a coterie of seated attractive naked women whilst 
brutal looking men stood just beside him looking towards him 
with proud admiring gazes. 

In the fields were peasants in various degrees and types of 
undress. They stopped briefly at one village, which appeared 
to operate entirely for the benefit of tourists, where they were 
allowed to stretch their legs and buy drinks and snacks from 
some makeshift stalls. This had an ambience very similar to the 
small markets of Throb, but didn't offer nearly enough other 
distraction to encourage anyone to stay.



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

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