It is winter 1966. When five couples find themselves stranded at a remote high-class inn by extreme weather conditions, they amuse each other by relating stories of an erotic nature, as well as taking part in all kinds of private and group sexual activities.
After a torrid affair with their leading actor, Emma, the Theatre Company Manager is stranded with an actor new to the company and is soon in his bed, after the host has related the tale of a wild bisexual birthday party. Emma's tale the next morning, involves her rise in the Company by bending to the sexual whims of those with influence.
Chapter Seven - Anne & George's fantasies
And still it snowed! When everything had been cleared away after lunch on the second day of their incarceration in the Travellers Rest Inn, the hostess, Julie, invited the men to change into the clothes they would find in their bedrooms and to assemble in the bar. Meantime, the ladies were invited to move into the lounge, where they would find other costumes, which they were asked to change into.
Mary dispensed cups of coffee to the men when they returned, whilst Anne, the chief waitress at the inn, and Julie provided refreshments for the women. Anne was in her standard waitress outfit, black blouse and skirt with the top corners of the bib of her white apron pinned to the blouse with small brass safety pins.
Since she had lost her husband in the war, Anne had not re-married. She had found out during her first marriage that she enjoyed sex to be varied, being too curious about the male body to be tied to one man. She wasn't obsessed by sex but had a healthy appetite for it when it presented itself. Working at the Travellers' Rest provided her with whatever opportunities she wanted when she felt like it.
Of average height, Anne's body was on the plump side and often sought after by those who liked some flesh to press. Her legs were shortish and well padded.
After the coffees were distributed, Julie took Anne to one side. 'Anne, I wonder if can you spare a moment? The men need a little help in there. Would you mind helping out?'
'OK!' Anne nodded.
Julie took Anne through into the bar where she was stopped in her tracks at the sight of six men in dog collars, dressed in black suits, sipping coffee. They wore identical, white half-masks and black hats, each carrying a rolled umbrella. Leaving Anne looking rather aghast, Julie took George by the arm - she recognised him by the colour of his shoes - and beckoned him to follow her into the lounge.
Anne remained standing still as the chatter stopped, the men turning to look at her. She had walked straight into the scene of one of her fantasies! A group of anonymous vicars!
No one spoke. One of the men stepped towards her, pointing to a low coffee table, gesturing that he wanted her to step up on to it. Slipping off her shoes, Anne nervously got onto the low table with a feeling of some apprehension. The man hooked the tip his brolly under the hem of her skirt, pushing it up high to reveal her white frilly knickers, which were too small to hide the bushes of dark hair emerging from either side of them.
With her heart beating fast, Anne's mouth had turned dry. The five 'vicars' put down their coffee cups and gathered round the front of the table to stare at her. Two of them came either side of her, hooked a fore-finger into the top of her knickers, slowly easing them down to her ankles, revealing her pubic hair in all its glory. Anne was excited, if a bit scared, wondering what they were going to do to her.
The man gestured to Anne that he wanted her to step out of the knickers. No one moved as she lifted first one foot, then the other, out of the white frilly pants. She looked at them all staring at the mass of dark luxuriant curls covering her navel. She was asked to part her legs to display the thick covering of glossy hair on her genitals, spreading down her inner thighs, through to the cleft between the cheeks of her bottom.
For some curious reason Anne blushed deeply when one of the men who had removed the knickers leaned towards her, to peer closely into the plump swelling of her vulva.
'Yes, gentlemen. There you are.' The first man spoke softly. 'You see an example of the hirsute female in her natural state. A fine example. Turn round please,' he asked Anne politely, 'and I'd be most grateful if you'd remove your skirt.'
She did as she was told, the skirt dropping to the floor behind her, exposing the rounded cheeks of her firm bottom, drooping seductively over the tops of her thighs.
'Would you mind bending forward, please.' he asked, flicking the skirt to one side with his umbrella. He then pointed with his brolly. 'There you will notice, gentlemen, the way in which the hair grows thickly between the tops of the legs. There is a large tuft in the valley of the anus, with hair spreading well down the inner thighs, and a lush covering around the orifice itself.
'This is a really wonderful example of the hirsute female. It is rare to find one these days in which none of the hair has been trimmed or, indeed, removed entirely. In its natural state, the hair also grows thickly in the armpits and, in some cases, around the nipples. To some gentlemen, this is a very erotic condition.
'We shall see shortly whether or not this specimen has more body hair, or whether she has committed an act of folly by removing it? But before doing so, we must examine what lies hidden in this undergrowth.'
He groped into her groin, parting the hair on her vulva to reveal the brown, crinkled lips. With his thumb and forefinger, the man held open the lips to show the coral-pink flesh, glistening with her honey.
'Ah! There we are! The entrance to the lady's soft inner flesh and the reproductive system. And there you can see the juices beginning to exude from the orifice. That means that the lady's vagina is now overflowing with her lubrication, ready for penetration by the male penis.
The men muttered and murmured amongst themselves, eventually turning and nodding their approval.
'Would you please stand up and remove your blouse?' Anne was asked with studied politeness.
The man had allowed the hem of her dress to fall back into place, as Anne stood upright, turned, still wearing the pinafore, which hid the hairy navel. She unfastened the brass safety-pins to remove it. Her blouse followed, the garments falling to her feet.
Her full breasts, set high on her chest, were topped with stiff, swollen, dark-brown nipples. Her belly was well rounded, with the curly hair peaking at her navel. There was no hair sprouting from her nipples, but evidence of hair-tufts could be seen sprouting from her armpits.