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Escape From Buggery 1

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 cafés 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.

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 who could hardly have been more than fifteen years old. 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 children's programs, children would be shown how to perform fellatio and masturbation. 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. Sometimes this was quite odd, where an advertisement quite clearly showing a man's prick up a seven year old child's bottom was used to emphasise that this was proscribed behaviour - like bestiality, genital abuse and sadism, which was similarly treated.

The news programs were also very bizarre. Sharon and Tracey couldn't easily compare their content as they didn't watch many news broadcasts at home, but it did concentrate rather a lot on the comings and goings of the King. He was almost always featured in very flattering shots and almost no film was shown of what was supposed to be happening, only the places where it was happening surrounded by large numbers of other people in the shaven nudity standard on the station. All other news, especially foreign news, took a much smaller role and was generally only accompanied by still photographs of the head and neck of the people involved. Or by a still photograph of where it was supposed to be happening. Very graphic details were given of the atrocities perpetrated by the Gomorrans in the war, and this was the only international news items where there were any moving pictures of anything other than the newscaster. The pictures featured the naked citizens of Buggery enduring graphic mutilation, and pictures of what purported to be Buggery soldiers (although they looked glamorous enough to be actors and actresses with guns) shooting fairly indiscriminately at their targets.

One children's program showed the curious standards of Buggery society. In this program, a boy was shown getting ready for school but being persuaded to have sex with his father before leaving. This apparently was not proscribed behaviour. After this, which didn't appear to be that enjoyable for the child, there was further humiliation when the child arrived at school late, was diagnosed as having had sex from the marks on his rear and was further punished by being caned. What moral there seemed to be to this tale was not at all clear, except that one had to accept arbitrary cruelty as an everyday fact of life.

How could the films in the Hard Core Cinemas possibly beat that? wondered the girls. They had a look at the billings to see what there might be, but the cinemas all seemed to specialise in specific perversions. There was one for bestiality, one for male homosexuality, one for female homosexuality, one for child sex, and so on. They all promised films interspersed by live acts. Sharon wondered what would be screened in the cinema specialising in bestiality but she didn't really want to find out.

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