Escape From Buggery Ch 02

II

When the tour arrived at the King Richard the Sixteenth Airport at Throb, they were carefully segregated from any local passengers who were arriving. They saw very little of the Airport, in fact, but felt cheated by having to pay Entry Taxes they hadn't anticipated. They were then bundled with all the other tourists onto a coach which drove them from the Airport to their hotel, the Second Honeymoon. On the journey they could see through the coach windows what Throb had to offer. This was a tempting array of long sandy beaches, towering marble hotels, ornamental parks and billboard advertisements for night clubs and cinemas. The people they glimpsed had also, like the girls, left their underwear behind. And almost everything else from what they could tell. It would have been difficult to determine who was a tourist and who was a resident in most cases, except that the tourists had the tell-tale sign of white patches of skin which hadn't got properly sun-tanned yet.

The Second Honeymoon was a grand institution in marble which slightly intimidated a couple of girls like Sharon and Tracey who weren't at all used to luxury. Or anything really approximating to it. Without exception though, the staff there were naked except for little paper hats pinned to the women's hair and little tricolour ribbons tied to the men's penises. They were met by a young female receptionist who had very tanned skin and little rings pierced through her pert little nipples. She asked them if they wanted two double beds or an extra large double bed - "for foursomes." Being essentially conventional girls, Sharon and Tracey opted for two double beds.

"All the staff are at your disposal, including myself," smiled the receptionist, "and we all swing both ways."

"Thank you" assured Sharon who wasn't sure she wanted to take up the offer, but was very attracted to the cute little bum of the porter who carried their bags to their room.

"Let's try him out," suggested Tracey as they walked behind him.

When the porter had put their bags on the shelf, Tracey offered him a tip. "No thank you," he said. "We're not allowed to accept gratuities. On the other hand," he smiled, "if you want sex I am fully at your disposal."

"Well, of course!" giggled Tracey. "But what about Sharon?"

"Oh, I can manage the two of you, but you can always call room-service if you think you need more."

This was the girls' introduction to free sex on demand in Throb. An introduction they accepted with no extra prompting. They had never had such a virile and obliging sex partner in all their previous life. His prick was rock hard and stayed that way for almost all the love-making, taking both of them in turn and together, both front and back, only releasing his semen when both of them were fully satisfied. Sharon couldn't believe her luck as it penetrated her cunt while she lay back on the vast bed which she also could hardly believe was to be hers on their stay there. A sickly grin filled her face and wouldn't leave. Tracey took his balls into her mouth as he thrust energetically if mechanically back and forth into her friend. Fuck! They were hard. Like fucking billiard balls. How come she'd never licked balls like that before. There was no way she could allow her friend to have all the fun, so on the first opportunity, she positioned herself so that the porter could easily slide his prick out of Sharon's cunt and transfer it to her own. Wow! It felt good. It was only one prick but it filled her like it was two. So this is what fucking's really about! All the rest of her life had just been preparing her for that moment. And what a body! Those muscles, the lines of tension on his chest, and, above all, the cock. It was big and long and throbbed with warmth and potency.

As they lay on the beds afterwards, pale viscous liquid trickling from their sore cunts and smiles which betrayed they still couldn't really believe their luck, he discreetly discharged a final and still monstrous globule of semen that was distributed evenly on their sweaty white skin and glistened in the brilliant sharp sunlight that flooded into the bedroom; followed by two or three relatively smaller spurts. He then carefully replaced his blue ribbon on his prick, stood up with a polite smile and left the girls exhausted on the bed. Their hangovers were now thoroughly forgotten and the only pain they now felt was as a result of their vigorous fucking.

Although it was far more luxuriously appointed than any room they had previously slept in, their bedroom was still not quite as perfect as the brochure suggested. It faced onto a building site where the girls could see some work-men at work, wearing only hard hats and boots, and of course the ubiquitous ribbon on their pricks. The bedroom balcony looked down from several stories onto a wide road along which there were many restaurants, a night club and a small supermarket.

"It looks like we can buy all the fucking groceries we want," commented Sharon, "And I fancy the look of those hats. They look fucking top."

However, it was sex, not groceries, for which the two friends had come so far on holiday. And sex was clearly readily on demand. As the literature left by the side of the wide screen TV made clear, if they wanted it, all they had to do was ask. And since the most attractive people they saw always turned out to be citizens of Throb under instructions to be constantly obliging there would never be a problem in deciding who it was they fancied. There was no doubt in the girls' minds that this was a holiday where they would be well and truly fucked.

After unpacking their few belongings, they ventured out into the hotel foyer to see what Throb had to offer them. Quite a few guests were already congregated around the hotel atrium and the swimming pool who made the girls seem positively overdressed in their bikinis and sandals. Most of their fellow guests had taken a tip from the natives and had chosen to wear no clothes at all. In fact, the hotel was one mass of naked flesh, some well-tanned and some, like Sharon and Tracey, a kind of unhealthy pale colour. However, this was a shortcoming they fully intended to correct.

Although normally brazen and unabashed at home, the class difference between themselves and the other guests made the girls feel awkward and uncomfortable. The few other guests they tried talking to were clearly not that enthusiastic about talking to them. Indeed, it was almost too obvious that were taking every opportunity to avoid conversation, or to keep what they felt obliged to acknowledge as short, polite and inconclusive as they could. However, there was one woman, somewhat older than themselves, and consequently with a rather more heavy frame, who was much more friendly.

"I'm Lil," she told them with an accent that betrayed her working class origins. "I'm here with my hubby. He's off fucking somewhere, and I'm off to do the same. You wanna join me?"

"Fucking A!" Sharon agreed. "A fuck's just what's needed."

Although Lil might have been born working class, she was clearly not poor. Although totally naked, she was nicely tanned, her pubic hair was neatly shaved off, and the prominent nipples of her heavy round breasts were discreetly pierced with gold rings. There was also a prominent gold ring through the lips of her labia. She sported an armful of silver bangles, prominent rings on several of her pudgy fingers and her nails were manicured and professionally painted.

"We come here every year, my hubby and me. It's the best fucking fun in the whole fucking world. Buggery's got everything. And the fucking. It does my fucking head in, and my cunt feels like a fucking motorway it's been driven so fucking hard."

The three girls went out together into the eponymously vibrant atmosphere of the streets of Throb. There were very many other tourists: many undressed and most of the others in various states of partial dress. Along the streets and avenues, there were clubs, bars, restaurants and other hotels, where they could see naked men and women advertising their sexual delights. Lil escorted the girls down some narrow roads, past windows where residents sat proffering their naked genitals for show, up some steps, past a small park and to a large club surrounded by palm trees and above which flickered an enormous blue neon sign . They walked boldly through the door, past naked doormen with perpetually erect penises. Sharon was pleased to see they didn't have to endure the unsubtle interrogation they would have expected from plush clubs like that back at home. And inside to an enormous dance hall, illuminated by bright strobing lights, and where there were countless floor shows.

These were not the tame strip tease floor shows the girls were accustomed to at home, although there were the poles and bars which were the normal accoutrements of such places. There were men fucking men. Women with dildos fucking women. Men fucking women. And suitably adorned women fucking men. There was penetration from behind and in front. And even areas where the participants were peeing and shitting on each other. Sharon and Tracey were spellbound.

Tourists were also joining in the fun. Fat women, skinny old ones with drooping breasts, men with sagging guts and equally flaccid pricks, bald men and scraggy women were also fucking or being fucked. And even being peed and shat on.

Lil took no time waiting before she joined in the action. Within minutes, a prick was up her arse and another was in her mouth. Sharon and Tracey were more shy. Usually there was a little bit more to do before their evenings culminated in that kind of action. They sat together at the bar nursing their cold beers watching with fascination, disgust and a warm sexual appetite.

"Hey, girls," said a young naked man whose erect penis had with a red ribbon tied across the middle its length. "Do you want some fun?"

"Do we look like we don't?" asked Tracey. "Give us your cock, you darling."

"And I want your little friend!" exclaimed Sharon, taking the also erect and pleasantly warm prick of a young boy to the side of him. And all about them throbbed and thundered the sound of loud electronic dance music accompanied by the flashing swooping lights which somehow seemed to keep to the exact same rhythm.

The girls were guided, arm in arm with the two men, to a darkened room on the floor of which was an immense futon-like mattress. And, then, with little ceremony they were horizontal in the midst of it, surrounded by not only its luxurious softness but also the grunts and groans of other tourists who were also having sex. It was now that they realised that the porter whose company they'd only enjoyed a few hours earlier was really not exceptional in any way. Their two lovers were at least as expert and just as completely lush. Sharon grinned face to face to her friend: only hers was upside down and she could see straight into Tracey's nostrils. The men pushed and thrust and pummelled at the girls' cunts and then their arses, and the girls could only grin (and occasionally grimace). This was sex! This was what sex was all about!

"Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!" shouted Tracey as her lover continued fucking, not lessening the power of his thrusts. She let forth a more inarticulate yell, sure that the entire night club could hear her and was sharing in her joy and ecstasy. This was highly unlikely, however, as the grinding trance music thundered and rumbled at a volume many times louder than she could ever yell. And if it were that anyone had heard her, they would have assumed it was a sampled extract cross-faded into the music by the energetic and shadowy disc jockey high above the dance floor.

And from then on, the two girls enjoyed an almost perpetual orgy of sex with the constantly tumescent men around them. Not just the other men at the night club who they later joined on the mattress, but later that day and on the days following. There was the waiter at the pizzeria, the coast-guards on the beach and a trio of attractive men they met in a bar. They soon got used to being fucked wherever and whenever an opportunity came along. Ad it wasn't just them who took advantage of this cornucopia of copulation. Indeed, a frequent sight the girls got accustomed to was seeing couples and groups of people fucking all over the place.

Sometimes it was an older man shoving his prick up the backside of a small boy. Sometimes it would be a group of men buggering each other. Sometimes it would be an older woman with her tongue firmly inside the mouth of a younger woman. Sometimes they would see a man beating girls in the street with a stick, whilst an assistant held a further choice of sticks like a caddie carrying golf clubs. Was there no variety of perversion or predilection not available in Throb?

However, it did seem a little strange that all these encounters featured a tourist and never did you see citizens of Throb indulging amongst themselves, except for the entertainment of the tourists.

Sharon and Tracey became frequent visitors of many Night Clubs, not just the one Lil took them to, but to many others. Their inhibitions dropped sufficiently for it not to seem at all surprising for Sharon to be kissing a woman while Tracey wiggled her fingers inside Sharon's cunt whilst sucking the prick of a young boy they'd just met. When they weren't having sex, they would be drinking or dancing, but even there sex seemed not too far away.

The dance floors were scattered with couples and groups people fucking on the ground while others, mostly residents from Throb, would dance around them and hardly be drinking at all.

"How come the men's dicks are always erect?" Sharon asked another friend the two girls had met.

This was Pru, a skinny woman in her forties who kept her breasts covered although she always displayed the worn brown hairs of her cunt. She also always wore her turtle-shell glasses and kept her greying hair tied back in a bun. "I know the answer to that," she said with a sad voice.

"Why's that?" wondered Tracey.

Pru simpered and stroked the coarse hairs of her vagina. She wasn't the sort of woman Sharon and Tracey would have got to have known back home. She seemed quite posh to them, and the girls suspected that the reason she came here for her holidays was that back home it would have been really quite difficult for her to get the sex she quite obviously craved.

"I was talking to this boy one evening," she explained. "He was a sweet lad. Really quite innocent, despite all the sex he'd had. We'd had sex in my room, and afterwards we got talking. You know how most of the time the people here don't talk about much at all. Just the weather, and nonsense about how wonderful we are. And that's when they can be persuaded to say anything. But I like a bit of a talk you know. I don't get a chance to talk to such good-looking chaps back home, so I like to talk whenever I can. I like the sex but I also like a talk."

"Well, yeah!" said Sharon, getting bored. "But what about their stiffies? What makes them so fucking horny all the time?"

"It's drugs, I'm afraid. They take these drugs all the time to keep them sexually aroused. The women as well as the men. And they get training as well. There are many more applicants to work her, especially among the chaps, than there is anyone here. And judging by how many there are here, that's a jolly large number of chaps who want to be here. And do you know why they're so keen?"

"It's 'cos they want to fuck, ain't it!"

"Well, Tracey, it's not just that. It's that if they don't make the grade they're off to fight in the war. I don't know about the women, although there are as many of them as the chaps, but the chaps, it's because they don't want to die in the war."

"What war?" wondered Tracey, who got most of her news from watching television, and then only when by mistake she found herself watching a news broadcast.

"You must know. Buggery's been at war with Gomorrah since forever. Or at least when they're not at war with Sodom. It's a pretty vicious one by all accounts, though Western news crews don't get to film it. Anyway, even if by coming here they escape it for a while, that's where they all end up when they get too old or they can't keep it up or they break the rules or whatever."

"What rules?" wondered Sharon. "There don't seem to be any fucking rules here. You can fuck who you like, how you like, where you want, when you want, all the fucking time."

"There are rules. This lad told me all about them. There are rules about saying things to tourists. There are rules about falling ill: they don't treat them if it's bad, they just kick them out. There are rules about refusing tourists' requests. Or for not being sufficiently eager in offering themselves. And there's no question about turning down sex with someone of the same sex as them. They've just got to do it. Up the arse, during a period or when they're feeling under the weather. It's really quite organised here, despite the apparent freedom. And there's another thing he told me…"

"Yeah," said Tracey, who wasn't really too keen on this conversation. She didn't want her holiday spoilt by feeling sorry for people. She didn't come all this way, just to feel sorry for the people of Buggery.

"The way they charge for all of it. None of it's free. After each encounter, they have to keep a strict tally of what they've done, who with, where, etc. It all gets added up and put on your bill at the end. Nothing's free here. It just gets charged at the end. The night clubs aren't free. The alcohol's not free. And the sex isn't free either, except when tourists do it with each other. It all seems free because they never ask for money and they don't expect you to carry any around with you. But they all seem to know who you are, where you come from, what your hotel room is, and everything. I don't know how they do it, but they do."

"Fuck! You mean they follow us wherever we go?"

"I don't know if they follow us, Sharon. But nothing passes them by. And it's a pretty punishable crime if someone pretends that there was more sex than there was, or, for that matter, less. There must be some kind of surveillance system. God knows how it works! And it's not as if any of the people get anything for it. From what this lad told me, they sleep wherever they can. They don't have their own rooms or beds. That's one reason why they all want to sleep in our beds at night. And the food they eat's only as luxurious as we ever give them if we feel like it."

"Oh fuck!" Tracey exclaimed. "This is fucking gloomy! I don't want to think these people are suffering. I'm no fucking charity."

"Yeah!" agreed Sharon. "Let's change the subject…"

"Or better still," suggested Tracey. "Let's go to the pool. There's some real gorgeous hunks there I wouldn't mind creaming my cunt, I can tell you!"

In their hotel room, there was a wide choice of satellite sex channels but only one television station originating from Buggery. Although it wasn't explicitly advertised as pornography it might as well have been as it was more explicit in many ways than pornography at home. One feature of it that became fairly clear was that none of the presenters or fictional characters on Buggery Broadcasting Corporation Television wore any clothes at all. They were never older than their mid-thirties. Not only that, they shaved off all their bodily and pubic hair, wore very little jewelry and had very long hair if they were white women (or shaved heads if they were black or oriental). This was only strange insofar as the citizens of Throb didn't necessarily shave off their body or pubic hair and rather a lot of them had pierced nipples, vulvas, noses and ears.

The content of the television programs was also bizarre. None of the films or programs were advertised as containing explicit sex, but they almost all did. In the interview programs, a remarkable amount of sex occurred between interviewer and interviewee. The advertisements all seemed to have a sexual content, although generally the advertisements were more public announcements for donating money to the government's war with Gomorrah and instructions for approved codes of conduct.