[tomb125]

Irish I Wasn’t Naked, Part 2, Fin


*All characters are over 18 years old & thanks obo!*



The beautiful Bastermats float moved slowly along the parade route. Up front, Primrose, Brooke, and Edward, all richly robed as famous Irish legends, stood with arrogant reservation and haughty expressions, ignoring the cheering, and waving crowd. They were literally looking down their noses at all Puttyville.

To the rear of the float, Ernest Bastermats was having a field day pretending to drive off the many hissing and writhing animated snakes. In contrast to his company’s officers, he waved and smiled. Likewise, Annie followed the float in her ridiculous leprechaun costume, laughing and tossing candy to the children and handing out other themed trinkets and gifts from her cart to bystanders. She was determined not to let those prudes ahead ruin the day.

From her elevated position atop the float, Primrose spied her scout Buster Thompson nipping from a pint of green beer. She broke character and shouted while pointing at him, “Buster, I see you!”

He was so startled; he nearly dropped his glass.

“I KNOW your mother would be very unhappy to hear you’re drinking beer, so pour it out this instant. Otherwise, I’ll report you, and your mom will whoop you, butt-good!”

“Yes Ma’am” he replied, staring at his shoes. Suddenly, he looked up with an impish grin, and unceremoniously dumped his beer all over the float’s robotic control panel at the rear of the vehicle.

Primrose gasped to see a shower of sparks followed by a puff of gray smoke. The driverless Bastermats’s float started to malfunction badly, accelerating, and careening down the street. Prim and Brooke screamed in alarm as they clutched the safety rails at their positions.

Edward watched as the mechanical snakes suddenly became more aggressive and surrounded Saint Patrick. The serpents snapped and lunged at the elderly Mr. B who tried to use his crook to keep them at bay. One large snake coiled around the old man’s arm and he dropped his shillelagh. Determined to act, Edward leapt from his position to come to his company president's aide. Unfortunately, for all his bravado, he found himself tangled in a tugging match with a large snake chewing on his short fur costume while another wrapped around his leg.

The unguided float veered back and forth down the street. Nearby stood several groups of scouts who served as road guards to block traffic intersecting the route.

The rearmost Irish dancers stared over their shoulders, and remarked, “Hey, they're coming up pretty fast.”

Primrose, her stoic composure evaporating, screamed in panic as she wobbled while reaching for Brooke.

Brooke yelled, “Primrose, hold on!”

Primrose lost her balance and let go of her rail. Brooke leaned over to help steady Primrose, but only managed to grab ahold of her costume. Despite the chaos, everyone heard a loud ‘RRRIIIPPPING’ sound, which hushed the audience.

Brooke stared down disbelievingly at the garment in her grip, then at her falling fellow female company foil, flung from the float wearing only her crown, heels, and bright green undies.

Saint Primrose Dubois was defrocked!

Fortunately, before closing nearer to the dancers, the Bastermats float collided with a street lamp and lurched to a halt.

Brooke flew from the float minus her costume’s skirt, sadly snagged on the safety rail. She landed atop a series of large wooden tables in the Irish food court, face first in an enormous shepherd’s pie.

As she struggled up on all fours, she stared out at a sea of astonished expressions staring right back. Her face and whole front were covered in pie and gravy, her hair clotted with mashed potatoes.

“I see she found the food court,” a comedian dryly observed. Brooke’s mouth hung open in shock, as she realized she was now wearing only her sheer pantyhose, boots, and corset top.

She squealed when she felt a sharp spank suddenly land on her tight, upturned, nylon-encased tushy. Surrounded by dozens of inebriated festival fanatics growing hornier by the second, she protested, “Now lads, don’t get the wrong idea…”

But someone bellowed, “Let’s fatten her up!”

Another piped in, “Aye, with some fav comestibles from Eire!”

Brooke squirmed as she felt rough hands tugging on her costume, unlacing her corset top. In a wink, her perky tits were right out.

She spluttered, “Unhand me you cads! Get me out of this mess! Do you not hear what I am ….”

She was cut off with, “Hush and have a banger, missy!”

Brooke stared down in disbelief as a large sausage was pushed between her parted protesting lips, deep inside her mouth. She instinctively swallowed, and before she knew it, she gobbled up two more big bangers. Hauled up on her knees and feeling the pressure of many hands groping her, Brooke hiccupped while trying to scream for help. This was followed by a loud and most unlady-like belch.

Brooke gasped as someone tweaked her nipples, and as she tried to slap the hands away, she felt a sudden draft. Her hose had been hauled back and everyone cheered to see her firm, bronzed cheeks divided by the strand of an emerald G-string buried deep in her cleft.

“HEY…, WTF do you think you are doiniiii…? AAAHHH!”

The offending reprobate poured his Irish coffee down over her tush, shaking the whipped cream between her glutes before releasing her hose to ‘SNAP’ back into place.

Brooke whinnied and arched her back as another bounder rubbed the mess deeply into her scalded ass. She leapt to her heels and hopped about shaking her bottom as she slapped her flanks, yipping in humiliation, “HOT…HOT…HOT!” while her rock-hard nut-brown nipples danced in the open air

Brooke screamed to herself, “I’ve GOT to get outta here!”

She turned to flee, but just as she bolted, her brazen barista insisted, “Let’s make an adjustment” and hauled her hose off her hips and down to her knees, effectively hobbling her.

Brooke then “MEEEEPed loudly,” shocked to feel an ice-cold key lime pie splattered against her bare backside, the frosty foam coating the insides of her thighs. She howled to be so undone, sploshed like a strumpet, fore and aft, wearing only her heels.
Brooke clapped a small cabbage leaf to her creamed crotch in a laughable attempt to obscure her brunette sn*tch from the laughing parade-goers. Her long, tanned legs made her embarrassment more acute as her knees knocked together and her toes pointed inward in a don’t-look-at-me-posture, attempting to hide her sex from the lustful stares from all sides.

With her free hand, Brooke tried to hide her boobies, bouncing enthusiastically with pointy nipples leading the way. These wobbled free in the sun as she frequently had to wave her arm about to maintain her balance as she minced along.

With a miserable expression on her face dripping gravy and her shapely bare bottom cheeks smeared with pie, and completely exposed above her lowered hose, Brooke drew the crowd to hysterics as her bum jiggled and shook with the sway of her hips and the bounce of her step. The crowd hooted and whistled as they made out the writing on the front panel of her G-string now at half-mast. It read, They’re Magically Delicious!

Brooke saw Edward French ahead on the route and realizing she was going to have to run naked, shrieked, “Oh, OH NO, No no NOOO! EDWAARRRD!! Wait for me!” as she hurriedly clicked after him to the delight of the everyone.

Edward however, was not only similarly dis-dressed, he was experiencing a more mordant mortification.

The snarky snakes had stripped him of his fur cloak and now completely naked save for his socks and shoes, he fled down the street waving one hand in front of him and the other trying to cover his bubbly bare buns. While all the girls laughed and pointed, the menfolk winced and tried not to look.

Edward screeched a soprano much higher than his normal baritone, because a sinister cyan cyborg culebra was painfully clamped on his thick pink snake. He tried to pull it off, but it proved too painful for his erect penis.

Beside himself with humiliation, he ran screaming while the malicious mamba munched on his maximized member.

The opportunity this denuded hunk presented for the dozens of women watching was not lost on any of them for a second.

They quickly surrounded the dishy, priapic Eros and shouted, “What’s this, no green, laddie?” “Ahhrrgg…Huh?”

Edward wondered; his eyes filled with apprehension.

“The snake doesn’t count, sweet buns!”

He spun about, but women surrounded him on all sides. Before he could protest, they mobbed the embarrassed naked executive.

Many young women, MILFs, a few grandmamas, and some certain males, all reached out and provided the prescribed painful posterior pinches for not being in the prescribed verdigris vestige of the day.

From within the female flesh pile, Edward howled, bayed, and yelped like a banshee. He felt female fingers everywhere; in his hair, ears, mouth, chest, arms, legs, nipples, between his cheeks, and all over his boner.

He finally managed to break free, and staggered out, gulping for air. The nude sweat-sheened Adonis was covered in lipstick marks, his hair was mussed, and his bubble butt had been pinched so much it was the same tomato color as his hot face.

While the snake had been removed, the hands of three females now replicated its death grip on his engorged manhood. Slowly as many cameras flashed, Eddie wrested each woman’s digits from his dingus.

He looked up and saw the crowd laughing at him, so he clapped his hands against his throbbing wiener and ran away up the street like a madman, drawing away from the approaching Brooke.

She screamed to no avail for him to wait, and had to settle for the image of his marvelous reddened ass bouncing away. Despite her matching mortification, Brooke was further ashamed to be so aroused while naked in public. She felt her teats tighten and the cabbage leaf rubbed now against her sopping wet snookie between her legs as she raced after Edward’s marvelous spanked ass.

As for Primrose, her fall was fortunately arrested by a group of scouts near the float. They caught their airborne leader in their arms using the six-scout cradle rescue carry they recently learned working on their lifesaving badge. Their scout master was reduced to a scandalous bright green demi-bra, a matching garter belt topped with a pair of hipster bikini panties, nude stockings, and matching green heels.

Primrose looked around to see a half dozen youthful grinning faces mere inches from her unmentionables. She screaked in shock to see them staring at her shapely legs, stocking tops, bare thighs, panties, then up to her blushing face, then back down at her jiggling tits.

Prim’s eyes popped open and her jaw dropped forming a large O as she suddenly felt the formerly secure, helping hands, begin to roam her naked flesh.

The scouts began to explore their scoutmaster much to her astonishment.

“I’m being FELT UP!” she screamed to herself.

Hands caressed her bottom and cupped her brimming bra cups. She felt fingers pluck her delicate brassiere and garter straps and snap them back against her quivering flesh.

Primrose barked, “Unhand me this instant! Put me down immediately!”

The patrol leader replied, “As you wish, ma’am,” but one scout’s neckerchief slide caught Prim’s panties and unfortunately gave her a snuggie.

“AHHHHhh!” She wailed as the entire back panel of her bikini panties was quickly buried deeply in her butt crack.

She clicked around in a circle on her heels, showing everyone her stuffed cleft and the globes of her creamy lush bottom as she publicly picked her wedgie free. In doing so, she mooned her bare ass around back and most of her brown bush up front.

A rude observer loudly announced, “Well, the curtains certainly don’t match the d****s, do they?”

Now completely red-faced, Primrose wrapped her arms around her breasts bulging from her brassiere and bolted from the groping spectators along the parade route in her undies, shrieking in shame.

Pursued by the horny mob, Primrose deftly climbed atop a platform to escape.

Alarmed to see them jump up after her, she shimmied up the neck of a large golden harp mounted on this stand.

Sitting on top of the harp and now beyond the reach of the leches, Primrose squirmed, now nearly naked as her lingerie was not meant for such gymnastics. Prim’s tatas were hanging out of the cups of her demi-bra and her panties were bunched up around the tops of her thighs, mercifully half-hiding her non-blonde bush, but the globes of her bare pink ass, bisected by the harp, trembled deliciously in the morning sun.

She squealed in despair as she was forced to hold on with both hands, completely unable to conceal her tits and ass. Then, her heels fell from her feet and her crown slid down over her eyes effectively blindfolding her.

The loosened harp began to rock about. Now Primrose was high above the cheering crowd, and like a gone-wild spring-breaker on a mechanical bull, she bucked wildly around with her plump ass shaking and her big tits thrusting upward to the cheers of the spectators.

Primrose was finally pitched off but unfortunately splashed into the giant pint of green beer, plunging through the bright jade-colored head, head first.

Thrashing in the see-through dunk tank the vessel had suddenly become, Primrose gasped as she felt her nearly bare body immersed in the icy ale.

A poor swimmer, Prim frantically dog-paddled, her bra ripped and drooped down around her waist, while her panties slithered off her hips, down her thighs, and right off her feet.

Screaming like a siren, she bumped the rim of the pint and unknowingly pressed her big bare fanny against the glass triggering a round of cheers. She then turned around, and mashed her fat hooters against the glass.

Exhausted, Primrose threw her arms over the lip of the glass and spewed out green beer coupled with a coughing fit.

While some wanted to help her, they were mesmerized by her topless tits under glass, her plump stockinged and gartered thighs, and her green bush waving like seaweed.

She finally came to her senses, and screamed, “Don’t just stand there grinning! GET ME OUT OF HERE!”

A dozen eager volunteers jumped to pull her from her lime-colored bath.

Primrose now stood dazed and burping in only her soaked hose and garter belt. Her spluttering face was flecked with green foam and the silly crown askew gave her not the dignified look of a matriarch, but rather the visage of an Gorean silk girl, sprayed with an extraterrestrial’s aquamarine essence.

Slowly, she lifted the crown from her eyes and looked down.

Primrose eyes widened to see her heaving bare breasts were no longer a rosy pink, but now were a faint beryl hue, stained by the dyed beer. Further down, below her sexy belly pressing deliciously against the garter belt, she saw her subtle auburn panty hamster was now a bushy bright verdigris Vee.

Horrified, she realized what must have happened and shrieked even louder as she pulled the soaking ropes that formerly comprised her blonde coiffure fit for a queen, before her eyes and saw her treasured tresses were now bright green as well. Primrose screamed so loudly the pint began to crack.

Sobbing, she climbed down from the float, giving everyone a great parting shot of the frog hair between her trembling green thighs, and heard a drunk slurring, “Bravo! Those d****s now match that carpet!”

With an “EEEK,” she quickly clamped her wet legs together with a delightful smack, thrust one hand across her now-mossy mound, and threw her other arm across her chest, marvelously squeezing her green melons.

Trying to make herself small, Prim foolishly stooped forward. Her broad booty pressed outward quivering, as she awkwardly shifted from foot to foot, oscillating her plump moist globes, looking at the amused onlookers, not sure what to do next.

Highlighted by the green foam dripping from her face, Primrose blushed green-purple like a ripe avocado as her lower lip trembled with trepidation.

With the flash from a camera, Primrose snapped back for a moment to regain her composure despite the multiple indignities she was experiencing.

“I look like a fu**ing MARTIAN!!” she screamed.

“Someone cover me this instant!”

Just then Annie walked up pulling her cart.

“Allow me, my dear Primmy!” she quipped with a wink and a smile. She took from her wagon of Gaeilge giveaways and offered the drenched and denuded Dubois, a small bouquet of flowering primroses.

“Your namesake holds a unique place among Ireland’s native flowers and in the country’s folktales. It was considered a talisman for safety and protection.” “Let’s see how it works hiding your dyed hoochie.”

Primrose scowled and sn*tched the small plant against her permed pussy, now resembling a green tribble. In doing so, she pushed her magnificent mammaries right out like lush green hillocks, capped with scrumptious hardening lime nipples.

“Let’s see to these, shall we?” Annie continued, pulling Prim’s free arm back, then securing it behind her with her ruined bra.

As Primrose stared at her outthrust boobies cross-eyed in astonishment and shook her head in denial, Annie carefully fastened two small shamrock appliqués atop each of Prim’s pointed trembling teats.

“No Annie, don’t be such a naughty bitc*, this is not what I meant…. Listen, please, give me your jacket.”

Annie smiled and shook her head.

“STOP IT ANNIE, I demand you give me your jacket right now!”

When Annie continued coyly, Primrose roared, “THAT’S AN ORDER… ARRGgggHHHh.”

Annie cut her boss’s rant short, “You are NOT in the position to be giving orders.”

She produced and pushed a large green bar of Irish Spring soap between Prim’s pursed lips.

“A bit manly, but I like it too, so they say.”

Primrose could only gurgle her outrage as Annie spun her around and pushed her over to access her lush bottom. Primrose’s eyes nearly popped from her head when Annie thrust a large, stale, slice of Irish soda bread between the cheeks of her plump rounded tushy.

Primrose grunted at the uncomfortable abrasive intrusion.

“Alright, lassie, you are all covered as you demanded. Now get going, you've got a parade to win!” And with that, Annie drew back and delivered a resounding smack to the glistening green right glute of Primrose’s bulging buttocks.

Primrose, with muffled squeals of shame, hopped down the street as Annie ordered, now sporting a green-purple handprint that glowed on her fat ass.

She sucked on the green soap and swallowed scads of suds as she clenched the prickly primroses to her pussy with one hand while the other was pinned uselessly to her back.

Her heavenly breasts bounced in time to the blossoms as she scampered along pigeon-toed, slipping on the soapy mess dripping down her chest to the road, causing her to pitch forward flashing her green-tufted nether lips, then back, her orbs oscillating skyward, repeatedly.

With her teats topped by the silly shamrock stickers and her ruined mop of clownish bright green hair plastered to her head, Primrose looked utterly foolish, yet as one scout observed, “She’s kinda hot!”

As she slowly shimmied by the hundreds of spectators lining the streets, they all clapped, cheered, and raised their glasses to see Prim’s delectable derrière divided by the big piece of Irish toast, chafing the tender area between her cheeks. The crusty bread slice bobbed with the roll of Prim’s plump derrière as she tried to catch up to Brooke and Edward far ahead.

Needless to say, and after each of the mortified naked executives ran past the judges in the reviewing stand, the Bastermats Chemical Company won the grand prize for best float this year yet again by a huge margin.

As the president along with Annie stepped up to be recognized by the mayor of Puttyville, Mr. B wondered aloud. “How in the world could we have won with a disaster like that, Annie?”

Annie shouted in response, “With the luck of the Irish of Course! Erin go brách!” She and Mr. B exchanged high fives to the crowd's thunderous applause.