Chapter 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 fuckingcheap!"

"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.