The Cosmos, The Arrivals Book 1 Chapter 15, Molly & Steph: The Bachelor Party, Day 9. Section 2. Molly: Streaks to the Bachelor Party.

This will not be easy, Molly says to herself as she pads her way across the Backyard. She avoids the Mudpit and threads her way through the Post Henge. I’ve already given my panties to Steph. But if streaking is what Gamers want from me then I’ll either get to the Party or I’ll get f*cked in the process. And I will beg to Pledge naked and c*m be a Stripper next Term. First chance I get. Molly pauses at the edge of the alley. She knows. Once I step into the alley I’m no longer just naked in the Backyard. Molly glances up and down the alley, shudders, and acknowledges, I have to seriously streak now. This is not like walking across a loading dock at the Figure Drawing Class or hobbling from the van across an industrial parking lot to and from my so-called Medical Exam. This is a long run. I am out here without anyone to help. Molly steps carefully forward, moves along one side of an alley, and quickly discovers herself bruising her feet. “Ouch!” She controls her utterance; she finds she must move carefully. She chooses grass and sidewalks for ease on her feet in exchange for concealment. Must she move and gain cover quickly, bruising her feet is her only option. A car crosses ahead of her, and Molly her naked body into the bushes. Branches scratch her mammaries, briars stick in the muff, and thorns mark her rearward-facing Hottentot mounds of flesh. Molly considers the bright sunlight and full shadows. I pulled my mooe wide open and m*sturbated on a beach in bright sunlight last Term. For a video sh*ot. She shivers. But streaking is different. I’m outside by myself, naked, unauthorized, and no crew. If I get caught I won’t be m*sturbating myself to climax; I’ll be gang-banged. Strapons, c*cks, f*cking machines, you name it. Molly keeps moving, even if it is hard on the feet. She picks out steps carefully. I wonder if paparazzi have been clued in and stalk me? She darts through a park, moving quickly, but observes nothing suspicious. She runs across the gravel along the edge of a small parking lot when two guys in a truck, turning in with a delivery, spot her, and she must crawl under a chain link fence to escape. I can’t take any chances. Molly checks her swinging mams and hanging belly and confirms that they are getting scratched up. Streaker getting spotted doesn’t necessarily mean streaker getting caught, but streaker caught means streaker jailed. And Jail is a place for penalties, punis hments, and . Molly assesses her situation as she darts and runs in fits and starts. I have to assume Gamers have my movement under control, Molly breathes to herself, because I am way over-extended out here. The Cosmos House and the Bachelor Party and are my only safe havens, and I’m somewhere in between them right now. If I wanted to escape there would be no place to run to. Molly gets down on her belly to crawl in the dirt under a hedge. The dirt streaks down her body and feels like worms. I sure hope Babs knows what she’s doing, me to volunteer to streak. Because I was taught long ago that “Babs ordered me” is no defense. I’m the one who put myself here. I “volunteered” to streak, so I’m the one who invites a capture. I haven’t been and then abandoned naked after my ransom got paid.

Molly clenches her majonkers in one hand, keeps her head down, and runs the length of a hedge. Once again she fits herself into the hedge so she can see out. She discovers that she is closer to her goal than she realized. My last bit of streak, but the most dangerous. Molly brushes thorns off her gluteus maximus. Yes, I know about streakers who have made it. Like Penny and Coco, who made it to the Nugget. And Ginny and Lee streaked... although I don’t really know if they made it at all. But to each her own. I saw a streaker who got caught get handcuffed to the flagpole, get fed their handcuff key, and left to await its return so they could unlock themselves and return to their House. Molly’s hairy arms and legs reduce the scratchiness of the hedge she hides inside. Still, she shivers, and once again she confirms the number on the building across the street. There is a sign on the front with the name of a restaurant, but the neon is off and the windows are curtained. Cars have been parked behind. Molly distinguishes the side door to the building, halfway between the front and the parking lot. “Through that door is my destination,” she affirms. Molly considers her own body and the final dash, a traverse of high risk. Gamers know when I left, and they know I have to p*ss through this space before I can p*ss through that door. Once I p*ss through the door I am no longer streaking. And I’ll be safe. Getting caught streaking isn’t as severe as trying to escape, but it’s not a scene I wish to step into! Molly discovers that her nipples have erected. My mammae, my minarets, she inventories. And could it just be the cold air? She watches the building for signs of movement. She observes the arrival of whom she suspects to be the Groom and Best Man. Patience has virtues. Molly tries to rub dirt off her chest; she brushes her mammaries and combs her hair with her fingers. I don’t know how long I can go without a shower. But if I sneak a shower Babs and Gamers will know instantly. Molly closes her eyes for a long second. Why oh why do I keep doing this? Then she ponders, Doing what? Jeopardizing my health? Or playing the Game? OK, so what’s not to love about dancing nude in the Nugget? I love the guys looking at me. I like feeling their hardons during a lapdance. I like letting them smell my muscovado. I can shower and eat as much as I want. I’m free, and anyone is free to watch me. Life couldn’t be better. But being dirty and naked outside like this? In order to get back to that? No problem. Molly drops down onto her knees to rest for the final sprint. She maps out a pathway. On an impulse she touches her mooe and draws her finger to her nose. I’m wet already. She touches herself again and worms her finger inside herself until she h*ts her g-spot and salves her maraschino with fresh muscovado. Gotta love the Game! Perhaps being outside nude is even more revealing, more exhilarating, than being naked inside the Nugget. What if streaking gets into one’s ? No maybes; Molly launches herself into the final, lumbering dash.

Mandy Cat Kitana Reading Naked The Cosmos Arrivals 15-02 PXPC1152-002