The Au Naturel Girls

The Au-Naturel Girls

  By John D

  Copyright 2012 John D

  Credits and License

  Codes: MF, exhibitionism, viol, minimal sex

  Copyright © John D 2012

  John D has asserted his right to be identified as the author of this work in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1998. All rights reserved.

  The characters in this story are fictitious and any similarity to any persons, alive or dead, places or situations is purely coincidental. The actions described in this story are not endorsed or condoned by the author.

  This piece of work is fiction and is adult entertainment, and therefore contains some material of an adult, explicit nature. If you are under the age required to view this legally in your jurisdiction, or are easily offended by sexual explicit content or language do not continue reading.

  This work is released under the Creative Commons license Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License. (CC BY-NC-ND), the full text of which can be obtained from the Creative Commons website.

  The story may be freely distributed electronically and unmodified and with all sections attached by non-profit organisations or websites. The story may not reproduced for commercial purposes, or for profit, without explicit permission from the author. The author has already distributed the book to a number of eBook stores and on-line sites.

  The front cover for this book is from Wikipedia Commons and can be found at: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Panties_around_ankles.png

  The photograph was taken by JS-23 and released under a CC-license. The photographer does not endorse this work.

  Note from the author

  Inspiration for a story can come from many strange places and none more so than this one. I asked a question of a forum I am a member of about a grammatical construct and used a sentence to illustrate it. I was then asked what the rest of the story was, so I wrote a 4,000 word erotic tale to satisfy the questions – a prudish girl finding out her new boyfriend was a nudist by turning up one day at his house unannounced and finding freedom. I have added that story at the very end of the book; it's certainly no masterpiece and was written overnight when I had had a little too much whisky – but it is a reasonable giggle!

  So the thought process went like this – imagine that there was a naturist house of young ladies who had a rather intolerant young man hoisted upon them, how would he and they react?

  It also got me thinking and wondered if there were people who lived in Britain with other nudists as “nudist houses” - surely there must be a community out there. There is also a little bit of a personal interest, as my wife has consented to us going to a naturist village this Summer for our family holiday (if anyone is going to La Jenny in Bordeaux for the week starting Bank Holiday Monday in August say “hi” to a pasty-white and slightly nervous British family!) as it is something I have always wanted to do and she is prepared to humour me (she is exceptionally brave and tolerant!) So apologies to real nudists and naturists if they think I have misrepresented you; I certainly didn't mean to if I have and have always admired your lifestyle so I have tried to be respectful!

  I would like to thank my wife for her understanding while writing all of my stories; she laughs at me as I can leap up from doing anything (well, almost anything) to scribble something away for “processing” later.

  I would especially like to thank Turbo, Gary and Louise for proof-reading this book and pointing out any errors I had made. Please note that the book is written in British English, so “apologise”, “dialled”, “colour”, etc are not spelling errors.

  This eBook, has been released to be freely downloaded and I would ask my readers to drop me a line and let me know what you think of the story; I cannot hope to improve as an author if the readers don't tell me where I succeeded and where I failed! I can happily accept criticism, but I do need feedback. So please, even if you hated every word, I still do like to be told; I am a big boy, I can take criticism!

  Kind regards, thank you for reading and until next time,

  John D

  Feedback: [email protected]

  Website: https://www.johndstories.co.uk

  Twitter: @johndstories / #johndstories

  Chapter I

  “What ya havin'?” A voice bellowed across the pub. The source of the drunken cacophony groaned when the intended recipient failed to hear him and answer, and he put his hands to his mouth. “Oi, Adam. You deaf tosser, what ya havin'?” Two heads turned to look at the overweight man at the bar and he shrugged. “The Old Goat's off.”

  A tall, black-haired gentleman, dressed in a garish blue and white football shirt got up from the table and sauntered over, surveying the pictures on the pumps and muttering to himself.

  “Yeah, fuckin' hurry up mate. Game's gonna kick off in an hour,” the rotund man joked and Adam pointed to another beer being offered, before the two of them carried three drinks and a small assortment of bar snacks to the table containing a third gentleman.

  Adam's two friends, looked very similar – overweight, shaved head and wearing bright football shirts but Adam turned to the gentleman who had bought his drink. “So, what's this march ya on, Carl?” Adam asked and drank a gulp of his beer.

  “S'over Manchester way. It's tomorrow, you know the effin' Council have stopped some playgroups usin' the local 'alls 'cause they ain't got enough Darkies and Mussies using 'em. Some do-gooder from the Council came 'round and counted 'em. Said it twere'n't equal or owt. But they give all the 'all time to some filthy Mosque thing.”

  “Sounds fuckin' outrageous,” the third member replied and Carl nodded.

  “T'is. James. Ya know what we sayin'? This country is going to fuckin' dogs. All those ethnics comin' in, feckin' awful. Local branch wants a rally down there. Gonna tell those Council people where to fuck off 'cause good British, good white British people ain't standing for it, no more.”

  Adam bit his lip and nodded. “But ya ain't get arrested, right?”

  Carl shrugged. “Dain't care if I do. Some fuckin' lefties'll be there, trying to 'cause shit, but last time we kicked their fuckin' 'eads before pigs turned up,” Carl boasted drunkenly. “Fuckin' Communist cunts. Should fuck off back to Russia, dain't want 'em round 'ere.” Adam took another gulp and Carl looked at him. “Ya gonna come? Can pick ya up on way through.”

  Adam stretched. “Rioting's not my thing,” he said instantly. “I ain't forgiven ya yet for getting me nicked at Deepdale.”

  Carl pursed his lips together and sneered. “Twas fuckin' last year. And twas me who ended up in Court. Got banned for three effin' years, fuckin' judge, who does he think he is?”

  “A judge,” James teased.

  “Yeah, and I bet he was a effin' Tangerine,” he moaned, alleging that the Judge Malloy supported his team's bitter rivals. “Anyway, I got in the other week, banning order's means jack shit when ya buy tickets in cash.”

  “Ya get caught ...” James muttered.

  “I ain't gonna get caught,” Carl interrupted. “And we ain't going rioting. Just a peaceful demo.”

  Adam sniggered and nursed his pint. “I'm movin' into my new gaff tomorrow. Gotta be out of my current place by Thursday 'cause got to give the keys back.”

  “Shit, yeah,” Jamie muttered. “Repairs done?”

  “Yeah. Been there today, all looks well nice. Two bedroom and massive lounge. Big telly and PlayStation gonna be sweet. All brand new.”

  “Some students, weren't it?”

  Adam nodded. “Yeah, totally wrecked the place. It's taken three months to get it all sorted, landlord's paid a bloody fortune but it looks like the dog's whatnots.”

  Carl snorted. “Fuckin' students. I 'ate fuckin' s
tudents. Lazy, dirty, workshy bastards,” he ranted as the young barmaid collected their empty glasses from the tables. Adam looked at her apologetically as she rolled her eyes and took the glasses, gently shaking her head as she went.

  Carl took a handful of peanuts and threw a couple in the air, catching them with his mouth and nodding towards a teenager at the bar. “Ya wanna join us, love? For game?”

  The girl shook her head and tugged her jumper down. “No,” she replied derisively and Carl shrugged. “Waiting for someone.”

  “Fuckin' lesbian that one. Or a fuckin' student.” His two companions looked at each other as he leant back in his chair “Waiting for her girlfriend the muff muncher, you'll see.” Carl was almost disappointed when she embraced a tall man and they retired to another part of the pub. “Where's ya new lodges?”

  Adam gave a vague description, moving his hands around wildly to illustrate the roads and he took a swig of his beer. “Love to see it. Ya going well,” James told him.

  “It's work,” Adam replied non-specifically. “Got pay rise with that promotion. It's 'ard work but I can afford bigger than a tiny flat now.”

  The three men remained in the pub all afternoon, watching the football on the “big screen” before falling out of the pub and looking up at the November sky; it was threatening to rain and Adam pulled his coat tighter. “Let's see ya new place,” James asked and Adam checked his pockets for the keys.

  “Yeah OK. It's only a ten minute walk,” Adam told them and strode confidently down the road in the twilight. “Opposite direction to you two cunts though.”

  James snorted. “Teri be glad of that. Says you two always swear and stuff when ya come 'round.”

  Carl grunted and held his hands out. “Ya gotta sort that bitch out Jamie. She'll be stopping ya playing football soon.”

  “Yeah,” Adam agreed. “Since the wedding she's been running ya life.”

  James shook his head. “Nah,” he dismissively said. “And ya two singletons, ya wouldn't know would ya?”

  “She's bad news for ya,” Carl told him and James puffed up. “She ain't giving ya shit.”

  “Just 'cos ya ain't getting any at the mo, don't reckon I ain't getting any.”

  Carl raised his eyebrows. “Ya married mate, ya ain't getting owt either.” He jabbed his finger into the chest of his friend and Adam patted him on the shoulder.

  “You did say that last week in pub,” Adam said with a grin. “Said you hadn't had any for months.”

  “Well it's the baby,” James replied. “She is too tired.”

  “Always a fuckin' excuse with birds. Bang out of order.” James snorted and went to reply when a loud noise descended upon them. There was a siren as a fire engine, followed by a second shot past them. “Bet it is a student set fire to a tree or owt. I fuckin' hate students. Nasty, dirty little fuckers,” Carl ranted. “Best thing could 'appen to this town is if those two Universities burn down.” James laughed and Carl looked at him seriously. “With all the fuckin' students inside.”

  Carl vaguely checked over his shoulder and sneered, walking out in the middle of the road to get to a traffic island as there was a loud car horn and the screeching of car tyres as brakes were hastily applied. The drunken Carl leapt out of the way as the battered vehicle missed him by inches and he gripped the bollard. “You OK?” James called out and Carl nodded, his ashen face shocked.

  “You,” he bellowed as the car door opened. “What the fuck were you doing?”

  Carl wiped his reddening face, his shoulders slanted back and expression sparkling with anger. His eyes nearly popped out of his sockets when a black girl, dressed in garish clothes got out and gripped her car. “Me?” She shouted. “You stepped out into the road. You trying to get yourself killed?”

  Carl's face burned a deeper red. “Me? Listen Thicklips, this is my fuckin' country and you come over here and ya think ya can drive like shit. Well fuck you. You should have ya license taken off you, filthy Wog.”

  The girl stared at him open mouthed and Carl started walking towards her. “Get away from me,” she shrieked and looked at Adam and James watching the scene unfold. “Stop him.”

  “Carl,” James called. “Don't start owt?”

  “What's he doing? Get away from me?”

  Carl opened his arms out and glared at her. “Or what? Come on then, nigger? You want to kill me, come on then. Should string you up.” He reached a couple of yards from the car and the girl jumped back into her vehicle, turning the key in the ignition as fast as she could.

  “Mate,” Adam called but Carl was focused on the car, throwing his hands against the back window and hitting it hard.

  “You ain't even said sorry, fuckin' cunt.” The girl's Ford Fiesta refused to start first time and Carl pushed his hand through his jacket and smacked the back passenger window to a cracking sound. “Fuckin' go home, ya nasty nigger cunt,” he yelled. The car fired itself into life and the girl dropped the clutch and the tyres span, just as Carl punched a dent in the side and then kicked it as it snaked off down the road. “Fuckin' dirty whore.” He turned to see his two companions, watching him in shock. “Did you see that?” He shouted in annoyance. “The effin' cheek of it.”

  “Yeah,” Adam muttered and spoke to James under his breath. “He must be having a really shit day.”

  James shook his head. “Prob'ly,” he drunkenly muttered. “He gonna get 'imself locked up soon.” Adam quietly agreed and they crossed the road to join their drunken friend. Adam guided them, in silence, down the road and around the corner into a small cul-de-sac.

  “This road is proper quiet, no students or kids or owt 'round here.”

  Carl grinned. “Fuckin' 'oped not. That flat ya in now, students fuckin' everywhere.”

  “Yeah,” Adam muttered and looked up to see a small crowd of people at the end of the road. “What the …?” Concerned, he ran down it, to see not one, but two fire engines next to his new house.

  “What's going on?” He called out and pushed past a small throng of people.

  A fireman put his arm out as he reached the penultimate house. “No further please, sir?”

  “What's going on?”

  “Number 24, sir. It looks like a chip pan left unattended.”

  Adam stared open-mouthed. “But I am number 22,” he muttered and the fireman shrugged.

  “I'm sorry. It did spread, sir. But we stopped it before it did too much damage.”

  “Shit,” Adam swore, sobering up quickly. “I better ring my landlord.”

  * * * * *

  “Sarah, how are you love?” The slight girl was hugged by her mother and she tucked her brown hair behind her ears.

  “I'm fine,” the girl replied and smiled at her mother fussing over her clothes.

  “It's not warm enough to just wear a T-Shirt you know. It's November, and you are not eating enough, I can tell. Look at the state of you. You need to get a proper Sunday roast inside of you.”

  “Mum, I am fine,” Sarah barked in an exasperated voice. “And it is fine, honestly. I only had to drive a mile to get here, even if the ring road was chocca.”

  “But if you break down …”

  “If I break down, I could trek,” Sarah teased. “Through the snow and ice that we don't have, and struggle through the Arctic Winds Lancaster is not famous for, to a phone box and call the AA. Or I could just use my mobile. Or walk home. Or even scrounge a lift of a passing malevolent being…”

  Anne Dayton scowled at her daughter's witticisms. “Yes OK. But you should have a coat at least.”

  “I'm twenty-three not three,” Sarah moaned and walked into the large lounge containing her father and brother. “Happy birthday, Liam,” she cooed at her sixteen year old brother,” and passed the teenager a small gift-wrapped present and card. “Sorry about the wrapping, Tabitha's been in hospital.”

  Her father looked up. “How is she?”

  “Ahh she's fine now. Just quite a lot of sickness so she was dehydrated. Doctor
said baby is OK and they discharged her yesterday but it was a bit mean to ask her to do wrapping after all she went through. Especially after she did my marking. And I can't wrap presents.”

  Her brother surveyed the poorly wrapped gift and scowled at it. “You've covered it in sellotape.

  “Yeah, I know. How else do you get paper stuck on to things?”

  He sighed and tried to peel away at the red paper and then looked back at her. “No seriously, ya covered it in tape. There's no way into it.”

  They laughed at his confused face and Sarah sighed, pointing at his garish red shirt. “Who the fuck got you that disgusting thing?”

  “Oi,” called a fatherly voice. “Don't use that language.” Sarah muttered an apology and then looked expectantly at her brother, expecting an answer to her question. “Olivia,” the female voice of Anne Dayton said from behind them and Sarah screwed up her face.

  “It better be for a bet, bro. It's proper disgusting.” Sarah sat down on the couch and looked at her mother. “And what've I gotta do to get a drink 'round here?”

  Anne sighed. “Tea or coffee?”

  “White wine, please.”

  “You're driving.”

  “Oh you noticed,” Sarah replied with a smirk. “That big blue thing outside your house, there was me thinking it would just blend in and you wouldn't notice.”

  “Don't be facetious,” her mother warned and Sarah grinned.

  “Why not; always been told to do what I do best,” she said with a gleam in her eye. “I can have one.”

  “You can have a small one,” her mother told her. “When we get the Fish 'n' Chips.”

  “I could have two and walk back.”

  “Not without a coat,” her mother snapped. “Now, tea or coffee?”

  Sarah sighed and asked for a cup of tea, and then turned back her brother, still unable to get into the present and was resorting to using the tip on a discarded ballpoint pen to get some leverage on the tape. She looked at his shirt, it was bright red with a dragon on the front and flames at the hem; it was as garish as a Hawaiian shirt but considerably more tasteless in her opinion. “So why has Olivia got you dressed up as a muppet?”

  “Oh leave him alone,” her father told her. “And I have a bone to pick with you, missy. What was wrong with Alicia?”

  Sarah hummed. “Alicia, Alicia,” she muttered as she though and pursed her lips. “Oh the girl who wanted to live with us?”