Audrey's Naked Dare

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Status: In Progress  |  Genre: Humor  |  House: Naked and Funny

Audrey caught out in a naked dare


Since her adventure in the hotel when her naked streak had gone catastrophically wrong leaving her in the most embarrassing naked display she could have imagined, Audrey had become dreadfully excited at the thought of another naked dare. She had come across a site on the internet called; on this site a number of naughty dares were posted and participants had to carry them out and post either descriptions or even pictures of their exploits. They then won points for how daring they had been. Once you got a thousand points you were ranked as a ‘daredevil’. For some strange reason Audrey was struck with an intense desire to be a daredevil herself.


She was particularly intrigued by one dare which was worth a hundred points. You had to leave the key to your house some distance away then return, take all your clothes off and lock yourself out naked. Then you had to go and retrieve your key. She tried telling herself not to be stupid, to forget about it, but the idea kept coming back to her. It would be such a thrill.


She didn’t dare do it at home but when she was on holiday in a cottage in the country it was a different matter altogether. The cottage was in the beautiful village of Moreton on the Water in the Cotswolds – the very Heart of England. What an exciting place for a really naughty dare!


It was early July and it got light at four in the morning. If she left the key a mile away she could get there and back before anybody was up. There'd be no risk really and she couldn't sleep for the excitement of thinking about it. At three o'clock she gave up the struggle, put the cottage key in a tin and set off on the footpath across the country. She would walk about a mile along, leave the tin and return to the cottage. She didn’t have to make the final inevitable step yet.


She left the key under a hedge and at four o'clock she was back at the cottage. She had told herself all the time that she would decide when she got back, but as soon as she was in the door she started taking her clothes off. She knew she'd have to do it. She'd never get any peace if she didn't. Naked she slipped out through the door. The sun was already up and it was quite light outside, but even in July the cool breeze on her bare skin brought her out in goosebumps. It was now or never. Before she could change her mind she set the burglar alarm so that she couldn't break back in without bringing half a dozen neighbours out to see what was happening and slammed the door shut.


With a gulp she realised what she had done. She had to walk two miles in broad daylight through the open countryside stark naked to retrieve her key. She set off at a trot and hadn't gone a hundred yards before she realised her first mistake. She was completely naked. No shoes! Two miles barefoot and the soles of her feet already sore. She hobbled on. What had she done!


After fifteen minutes she had made it to the wood. Her feet were sore but she reckoned she was half way to the key. But it all looked so different and when she came to a fork in the path she didn't know which way to go. She didn't remember any fork in the path. In desperation feeling horribly naked and wishing she was wrapped up in bed she plunged along the path.


After ten minutes she knew she had gone the wrong way. She recognised nothing. It all looked so different. She looked up at the sky. The sun was coming up; it was getting later and people would soon be up and about. She turned round and started running back. There were endless forks in the path and in fifteen minutes she knew she was hopelessly lost.


Alone and naked she sat down on a tree trunk and put her head in her hands. Slowly her hand slipped between her legs and she opened them wide. It was her favourite way to cheer herself up when things were going wrong.


Professor Inigo Pauperhaugh enjoyed his early morning walks. Although now only enjoying emeritus status in the department of ancient Greek philosophy he still liked to walk in the woods meditating on the profound beauty of ancient Greek. At least that was what he told his wife. What he actually liked to meditate on was the profound beauty of the naked female body. He pulled out of his pocket his special magazine containing meditating material and was about to find a quiet spot to meditate in earnest when he came upon a most amazing sight. A naked girl was sitting on a tree trunk meditating furiously. He stared open mouthed. It was Audrey Smithers who was staying at Rose Cottage.


For Professor Pauperhaugh this posed somewhat of a problem worthy of the ancient Greek philosophers themselves. Should he reveal himself and cause her distress at being surprised in the midst of meditation? Indeed not, he thought, that would never do! Better to keep watch over her until she had completed her meditation, then slip quietly away. He kept watch from behind a tree, with watch being the operative word, the Professor taking the opportunity to indulge in a little meditation himself. He kept watch diligently until Audrey meditated herself to a state of transcendental ecstasy at which point unfortunately any thoughts of slipping away quietly were lost. He let out an involuntary cry of ecstasy himself.


Audrey looked up startled, slamming her legs together and automatically hiding her naughty bits with her hands. My God! Had somebody been looking at her! She turned beetroot red as a shambling figure emerged into the clearing trying to look as if the sight of a naked woman was a matter of total indifference to him. The Professor had decided that now he had given himself away his best course of action was to act as if Audrey wasn't naked at all.


"Audrey my dear," he announced, trying not to sound like a man who has just meditated himself to the point of ecstasy, "how lovely to see you... I mean meet you... I don't mean see.. I mean..."


His voice tailed off; better not to say anything more.


Audrey was struck dumb. The Professor thought he'd better say something.


"Would you like to wank with me... Er sorry I mean walk with me... Round the back side of the… I mean round the rear of the… I mean around behind.. er that is not a round behind… oh dear!..."


Why had he said that! He was so much of a flutter he couldn't keep his mind off what he had seen.


Audrey shook her head violently.


"That's a real tittie... Er. I mean pity," oh dear! He was only making things worse. He tried again.


"Such a lovely view! Never seen a count... count.. count..." Oh no! Now his stammer had come back, "countryside like it," he blurted out eventually and ran off down the road. (Sorry about that joke folks but if it's good enough for Shakespeare it's good enough for me!)


Audrey sat back down on the tree stump and put her head in her hands again! It took five minutes for her to be able to face the world again, then she looked up.


"Pull yourself together Audrey,” she said out loud, "things could be worse!"


But she couldn’t for the life of her think how! She got up and glancing fearfully around set off down the path in what she hoped was the right direction.


In fifteen minutes she was out the wood and looking over fields green with ripening corn. In the distance was a small neat cottage. The sun was getting high in the sky now and country folk would be up and about. And embarrassing as it was she would have to go and beg for help.


Hobbling now on her sore feet she made her way down to the cottage, and there in front of her. Glory be! A sight to bring her hope. Out on the washing line were hung a motley collection of lady's undergarments: voluminous bloomers, liberty bodices of such stout construction as to repel all boarders, and armour plated brassieres which would have sunk a battleship.


Audrey thought she was saved. She could 'borrow' some of these and respectably, if comically, dressed ask for assistance. She made her way over to the washing line.


Peeking from behind her lace curtains Miss Ermintrude Wiggins watched the figure approaching her nether garments. She had read in her weekly copy of The News of the World (which, as she explained to her brother, she only bought for the racing results) of the propensity of some men to purloin ladies' undergarments and had become convinced that she was the victim of such larceny. Her brother had scoffed, but she knew, and now she was vindicated. A man dressed strangely in pale pink was creeping up to the washing line. It was such a pity she had broken her spectacles, but she would certainly not spend another £5 on a new pair, not on her pension, she wasn’t a spendthrift, not like that brother of hers, as she would have liked to have seen who it was. She suspected that mad professor, but she would have liked to have been sure. In any case she would see him off. She went to fetch her twelve bore.


The first Audrey knew was when the first barrel went off. She was just stretching out for a particularly voluminous pair of knickers when she heard a loud bang followed by the whistle of lead shot flying over her head. Turning she saw the terrifying figure of Ermintrude dressed in a white nightgown and waving a large shotgun.


She turned on her heels and ran - quickly, but not quite fast enough. In fact she was nearly but not quite out of range before Ermintrude let off the second barrel just as Audrey was trying to clamber over a five barred gate; an enterprise which left her bottom a very inviting target at which Ermintrude, glasses or no glasses, took unerring aim.




Audrey felt the sting of the pellets as they struck her bare behind. She was over the gate in a flash and running as fast as her legs would carry her. She didn't stop until she was sure she had left all pursuit behind. She rubbed her bottom ruefully. It was peppered with little red spots where the shot had struck it, fortunately far enough out of range to bounce off.


"Thank God," she thought, "escaped!" At least that was what she thought.


Back at the cottage Ermintrude had picked up her Bakelite telephone and was dialling her brother.


Major General Septimus Wiggins (very late of the Scots Guards) felt a moment of deep despair on hearing his sister's voice again.


"There's a man been stealin' me knickers," Ermintrude yelled as if she believed she was still using the speaking tube back at the Manor.


"How many times have I told you, Ermintrude, nobody is trying to steal your underdrawers," really the woman was quite exasperating.


"But I tell you I just saw a man in the garden. He was about to steal me knickers. Cleared him orff though. Gave him both barrels of the twelve bore."


"You what!"


"Gave him two barrels of the twelve bore! We need to catch him before he does it again. Your the MFH. Get after him"


"Good heavens," the Major General was impressed. There really was a knicker thief in the area. Mention of being the MFH though filled him with gloom. Life had not been the same since they stopped him foxhunting. Damn cheek. He blamed the Common Market - he didn't really know what the Common Market was, but if it had anything to do with the French it must be to blame.


Now the hounds were all gone, except for faithful old Betsy.


Suddenly an idea came to him. They wouldn't let him hunt foxes any more, but there was no law against hunting knicker thieves. He made a sudden decision.


"Timpkins!" he called for his ancient retainer, "Saddle the filly and fetch me ridin' crop."


Timpkins appeared, his dolorous face taking on a look of even greater dolorousness than usual, "I'm afraid Sir that your good lady is at her ablutions."


"Not that filly idiot! Too early for that sort of thing. I'm goin' huntin'! Saddle the horse."


"What horse sir?"


The Major General groaned. He'd forgotten that he'd had to sell his hunter. "Oh yes. Fetch the ridin' crop then. I'm huntin' on foot."


Audrey was running as fast as she could back towards the wood when suddenly turning a corner she came face to face with a florid looking man dressed in hunting pink waving a riding crop. It did not look good. She turned and ran back the other way.


The erstwhile MFH looked at the retreating backside in amazement. It had clearly been peppered by a twelve bore. There in front of him was the mysterious knicker thief of Moreton on the Water. Immediate action was required, raising his riding crop high, and the faithful Betsy at his side he set off in hot pursuit.


They made a strange sight: the naked Audrey, blistered feet hobbling, pink bottom wobbling, followed by a purple faced major general in full hunting pink puffing and blowing and waving a riding crop, and bringing up the rear an elderly foxhound giving sufficient tongue to wake the neighbourhood. None of them could go much faster than two miles an hour.


Rounding a bend Audrey was confronted by a daunting site. The path was blocked by a large locked gate. The path into demesne of Lord Moreton himself. There was no way through it. There was no way over it. She would have to go under. She flung herself down on her hands and knees and tried crawling beneath the great wrought iron gate. Half way under she discovered that she was stuck. Well and truly stuck. On elbows and knees. Head one side - bottom on the other. A round, pink delightfully bare bottom, it was sticking up presenting a target too tempting for any man holding a riding crop in his hand.


At least the shock of receiving the stroke across her buttocks had one good effect; her reaction was so strong that she propelled herself under the gate and into Lord Moreton's park. Beyond she could see the village and safety. In desperation she set off in as much of a run as she could manage.


Major General Wiggins watched the retreating bottom with a sense of satisfaction. There was a neat red horizontal line blazoned clearly across it.


“Come on Betsy,” he said, “seen the blighter orff!”


Audrey ran across the park towards the village and her cottage with only one thought in her mind to reach the cottage and break in. There was however one further obstacle; the gate back out onto the road was shut and there was no way of squeezing under it. The only way out was through the neatly cared for garden of the lodge house. Audrey glanced round. There was nobody about. Time was getting on. It was now or never. She leapt over the garden wall.


Old Man Rainbow lay contentedly in his bed in the lodge staring at the ceiling. His marrow was safe. No-one knew how old Old Man Rainbow was. He had been Old Man Rainbow for as long as anyone could remember. His true age and true name forgotten he could have been anything from ninety to a hundred and ten.


His marrow was his prize possession. Every year since time immemorial Old Man Rainbow had won the biggest marrow competition at the annual fete. The fete that was to be judged today! There were those he knew who would stop at nothing to destroy his marrow, but he had taken precautions. His marrow was safe.


It was a pity he hadn't been able to renew his mantrap. The stupid wench at the ironmongers had told him they were illegal. Illegal! What did she know! How could it be illegal to protect your own property? It had to be something to do with that Mrs Thatcher. Old Man Rainbow didn't hold with women being in charge, indeed he didn't hold with women in general. They were only good for one thing. And since he had learned how to make a cottage pie himself he didn't even need them to do that. He made an exception for the Queen of course. He always stood for the national anthem. Anyway he would confound their knavish tricks. He had set his own trap. His marrow was safe. It would still be there when the judges came to judge his marrow. He closed his eyes and happily went back to sleep. The judging panel would wake him up when they came, being led as they were by the Morris dancing group and followed by the brass band and the whole of the village who always turned out for this event.


Audrey was hanging upside down from the branch of a tree. How she had got there she didn't know. One minute she was walking towards a large vegetable marrow in the middle of the garden and next moment a rope had tightened round her ankles, a tree had sprung back upright and there she was dangling stark naked upside down. The morning was getting on. Rather irrationally she wished that she didn't have red stripe on her bum. In the distance she heard the sound of a Morris dance group. They were playing, rather appropriately she thought, 'Woman tossed up in a blanket’, and they seemed to her to be getting nearer.

Submitted: August 16, 2020

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