A very special bedtime story for our friends in RRAP.
I found the original in another NG, but it's perfect for RRAP reading
fer sure.

As I used to say on 20 Meters several years ago: "Enjoy, Ya've earned
it!!"

---- cut ---- begin . . . . . . . .

Goldilocks was a pretty, wide-eyed girl with the face of an angel
and the brain of a lungfish. Unemployed, stupid, and with Buckley's
chance of ever getting a real gig, she spent her days wandering through

dark and dreary forests looking for hot action.
There wasn't a lot of hot action to be found those days, so
Goldilocks would simply spend a lot of time stumbling around the forest

whacked out of her brain on Valium, Seconal and cheap gin that she'd
pinched from her mother's top cupboard, holding one-sided conversations

with trees.
But one day, Goldilocks got lucky. She'd stumbled down a path
that she'd never seen and was soon in the dankest, darkest, wierdest
part
of the dankest, darkest, wierdest forest she'd ever stumbled around in.

Before long, she came across a little cottage. It was very
pretty, with doors that looked like they were made out of gingerbread,
a
marshmallow chimney and window boxes made of red strawberry icing.
Goldilocks smiled and laughed as she skipped over to the house.

Well, part of the way to the house -- she was so out of it that she
tripped over a non-existent hedgehog and fell flat on her face, tearing

her pretty dress from neck to knee, revealing a ripe young body that
had
not yet had time to fall apart under the influence of her outrageous
drug
intake.
Picking herself up she staggered to the door, which was not
made
of gingerbread at all. In fact it was solidly constructed from 2-inch
hardwood planks and fitted with an electronic security system.
But, strangely enough, it was open, as Goldilocks found to her
surprise when she leaned on it and fell tits first into a stone
hallway.
"****!" she exclaimed.
The house was silent, so Goldilocks began to explore. She
wanted
a drink, but BAD.
In the cupboard over the sink were three gin bottles. One was
a
big, duty-free 2-litre job.
"****, I'm too off my face to mess with that. I'll drop it for
sure," she thought.
Next was a 25ml. miniature of Gordons.
"Farking ****weak..." she mumbled to nobody.
But in the middle was a 750ml. bottle of Tanqeray.
"**** hot!" she exclaimed, pouring herself three quick tumblers

and slamming them down.
Next she decided to look for some smoke. Atop a rather
suspiciously damp glass-topped coffee table she saw three pipes.
One was a four-foot Turkish harem hookah with four hoses.
"Too mind-****ing..."
Next was a tiny hash-spotting pipe.
"Too fiddly..."
Last of all was a bong made from an old orange juice bottle
with a
fat foil bowl packed with purple skunk heads. "Far out!" she said...

After she'd smoked herself beyond the point of human
comprehension, she went through the same stupid routine looking for a
place to crash. Upstairs she found three beds, the first of which was
actually a rack. Another was simply a set of wall chains and manacles,

but between them was an antique four-poster number, complete with
fluffy
pillows and a ceiling mirror.
"Unrool!" she gurgled, before climbing on top. The bed was so
comfortable, and she was so ripped, that before long she had drifted
into
an erotic fantasy and begun to masturbate.
Downstairs the door slammed shut as the Three Bares walked in.

The Three Bares were a hot lesbian strip act who'd moved into the
forest a
few weeks earlier to escape a charge of lewd and indecent performance
in
Bangkok.
"Who the **** left the door open?" demanded the biggest one,
Gretel.
"Aw, **** Gretel, I dunno," said Tina, the littlest one. "And I

couldn't care less. Let's get a drink. I'm ****in' ****ed."
The medium sized one was already at the cupboard. "Hey, some
****'s been hitting my gin!" she squealed, her tremendous teats
quivering
with indignant rage.
"Aw, shut yer fat trap, Kylie. Youse is always crapping on
about
us gettin into yer grog. Youse don't complain when we get into yer
PANTS,
eh?"
"Go **** yourself..." mumbled Kylie, as she picked up her
favourite bong from the coffee table.
"This is getting beyond a farking joke!!" she roared.
"Someone's
been at the dope!" and just as she turned to scratch the eyes out of
her
"friends" for getting amongst her greens, they all froze...
"Errgle...UMPHHH...oh yeah, yeah, YEAH! **** me! Do it to me
baby!
Harder! OohhhARRGGH!"
It was Goldilocks bringing herself to a shattering climax
upstairs.
"Some slag moll is tossing off up there, and I'll bet she's
doing
it in MY BED!!" screamed Kylie. The Three Bares ran upstairs, and into

the bedroom. Goldilocks was so off her face and so deeply involved in
beating her beaver that she didn't see or hear them, and continued
pleasuring herself as the Bares stood and watched.
"Cute piece," said Gretel, to nobody in particular, but there
was
a general nodding of heads.
Kylie's anger had already disappeared, and she had grabbed
Tina's
hand and was rubbing it across her own breasts. Tina was already
breathing heavily, and had begun grinding her clammy thighs together.
"ErrAWWWWW! Please, please yes yes YES! ARRGGH!!!" said
Goldilocks.
"Christ, I can't stand much more!" said Gretel, tearing off her

tight cut-off denim shorts. "I've gotta get myself some of this!" And

with that she hurled herself onto the bed, landing with her face right
on
top of Goldilocks' hungry gungly bits. Goldilocks didn't miss a beat.
"Err YOW! Oh, no, no, YES YES YES ARRGGHH!!"
In seconds Kylie and Tina were in the bed as well, and for the
next two hours the whole forest rang with the ecstatic cries of a
loin-busting lesbian orgy.
In fact, it still continues to this day, and somewhere in a
forest
far, far away, there is still a little gingerbread house where lonely
nubile young girlies can go for strong drink, good smoke and sexual
understanding.

The House Of The Four Bares.

THE END.

wrote:
A very special bedtime story for our friends in RRAP.
I found the original in another NG, but it's perfect for RRAP reading
fer sure.

As I used to say on 20 Meters several years ago: "Enjoy, Ya've earned
it!!"

---- cut ---- begin . . . . . . . .

Goldilocks was a pretty, wide-eyed girl with the face of an angel
and the brain of a lungfish. Unemployed, stupid, and with Buckley's
chance of ever getting a real gig, she spent her days wandering through

dark and dreary forests looking for hot action.
There wasn't a lot of hot action to be found those days, so
Goldilocks would simply spend a lot of time stumbling around the forest

whacked out of her brain on Valium, Seconal and cheap gin that she'd
pinched from her mother's top cupboard, holding one-sided conversations

with trees.
But one day, Goldilocks got lucky. She'd stumbled down a path
that she'd never seen and was soon in the dankest, darkest, wierdest
part
of the dankest, darkest, wierdest forest she'd ever stumbled around in.

Before long, she came across a little cottage. It was very
pretty, with doors that looked like they were made out of gingerbread,
a
marshmallow chimney and window boxes made of red strawberry icing.
Goldilocks smiled and laughed as she skipped over to the house.

Well, part of the way to the house -- she was so out of it that she
tripped over a non-existent hedgehog and fell flat on her face, tearing

her pretty dress from neck to knee, revealing a ripe young body that
had
not yet had time to fall apart under the influence of her outrageous
drug
intake.
Picking herself up she staggered to the door, which was not
made
of gingerbread at all. In fact it was solidly constructed from 2-inch
hardwood planks and fitted with an electronic security system.
But, strangely enough, it was open, as Goldilocks found to her
surprise when she leaned on it and fell tits first into a stone
hallway.
"****!" she exclaimed.
The house was silent, so Goldilocks began to explore. She
wanted
a drink, but BAD.
In the cupboard over the sink were three gin bottles. One was
a
big, duty-free 2-litre job.
"****, I'm too off my face to mess with that. I'll drop it for
sure," she thought.
Next was a 25ml. miniature of Gordons.
"Farking ****weak..." she mumbled to nobody.
But in the middle was a 750ml. bottle of Tanqeray.
"**** hot!" she exclaimed, pouring herself three quick tumblers

and slamming them down.
Next she decided to look for some smoke. Atop a rather
suspiciously damp glass-topped coffee table she saw three pipes.
One was a four-foot Turkish harem hookah with four hoses.
"Too mind-****ing..."
Next was a tiny hash-spotting pipe.
"Too fiddly..."
Last of all was a bong made from an old orange juice bottle
with a
fat foil bowl packed with purple skunk heads. "Far out!" she said...

After she'd smoked herself beyond the point of human
comprehension, she went through the same stupid routine looking for a
place to crash. Upstairs she found three beds, the first of which was
actually a rack. Another was simply a set of wall chains and manacles,

but between them was an antique four-poster number, complete with
fluffy
pillows and a ceiling mirror.
"Unrool!" she gurgled, before climbing on top. The bed was so
comfortable, and she was so ripped, that before long she had drifted
into
an erotic fantasy and begun to masturbate.
Downstairs the door slammed shut as the Three Bares walked in.

The Three Bares were a hot lesbian strip act who'd moved into the
forest a
few weeks earlier to escape a charge of lewd and indecent performance
in
Bangkok.
"Who the **** left the door open?" demanded the biggest one,
Gretel.
"Aw, **** Gretel, I dunno," said Tina, the littlest one. "And I

couldn't care less. Let's get a drink. I'm ****in' ****ed."
The medium sized one was already at the cupboard. "Hey, some
****'s been hitting my gin!" she squealed, her tremendous teats
quivering
with indignant rage.
"Aw, shut yer fat trap, Kylie. Youse is always crapping on
about
us gettin into yer grog. Youse don't complain when we get into yer
PANTS,
eh?"
"Go **** yourself..." mumbled Kylie, as she picked up her
favourite bong from the coffee table.
"This is getting beyond a farking joke!!" she roared.
"Someone's
been at the dope!" and just as she turned to scratch the eyes out of
her
"friends" for getting amongst her greens, they all froze...
"Errgle...UMPHHH...oh yeah, yeah, YEAH! **** me! Do it to me
baby!
Harder! OohhhARRGGH!"
It was Goldilocks bringing herself to a shattering climax
upstairs.
"Some slag moll is tossing off up there, and I'll bet she's
doing
it in MY BED!!" screamed Kylie. The Three Bares ran upstairs, and into

the bedroom. Goldilocks was so off her face and so deeply involved in
beating her beaver that she didn't see or hear them, and continued
pleasuring herself as the Bares stood and watched.
"Cute piece," said Gretel, to nobody in particular, but there
was
a general nodding of heads.
Kylie's anger had already disappeared, and she had grabbed
Tina's
hand and was rubbing it across her own breasts. Tina was already
breathing heavily, and had begun grinding her clammy thighs together.
"ErrAWWWWW! Please, please yes yes YES! ARRGGH!!!" said
Goldilocks.
"Christ, I can't stand much more!" said Gretel, tearing off her

tight cut-off denim shorts. "I've gotta get myself some of this!" And

with that she hurled herself onto the bed, landing with her face right
on
top of Goldilocks' hungry gungly bits. Goldilocks didn't miss a beat.
"Err YOW! Oh, no, no, YES YES YES ARRGGHH!!"
In seconds Kylie and Tina were in the bed as well, and for the
next two hours the whole forest rang with the ecstatic cries of a
loin-busting lesbian orgy.
In fact, it still continues to this day, and somewhere in a
forest
far, far away, there is still a little gingerbread house where lonely
nubile young girlies can go for strong drink, good smoke and sexual
understanding.

The House Of The Four Bares.

THE END.


Faggot morkie bull****

You slut. You didn't forward it to Hustler this time!