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My wife was out of town for the week, which left me without much to do besides watching TV or…

We had been lovers only a week when she revealed her true intent. “I want you to belong to me,…

My wife was out of town for the week, which left me without much to do besides watching TV or…

In a house with eight kids it’s hard to find time alone. Heck, it’s impossible. It’s hard enough just to…

There are laws, rules and morality in place to let a girl know and how to behave. The laws and…

My wife was out of town for the week, which left me without much to do besides watching TV or…

I meet this guy in a bar one night while on a business trip and we got talking we both…

Another year, another Wimbledon, another semi-final … another match point. Tina had heard it said that history repeats itself, but this was surely pushing it. How could she have been so stupid…? She knew exactly how, of course. Ever since that fateful day this time last year, women’s tennis had changed beyond recognition. The photos in the next day’s papers had won her immediate condemnation from a bunch of people she did not care about, while also earning immediate super-celebrity status as one of the world’s leading sex symbols. The fact that she had ended up losing the match made no difference at all. The job offers came rolling in, though she politely declined all requests that she pose nude for men’s magazines, and her bank balance grew and grew…This fact was not lost on her fellow tennis starlets. At last year’s US Open, a succession of tiny microskirts made their way out on to the courts, and soon Tina found herself facing stiff competition. One girl, in particular, seemed to have hardly any inhibitions at all – her name was Laura Lessing and she had won the hearts and loins of millions of male admirers across the globe. She had first made news by wearing bright red French-cut panties under her short skirt, and though she received reprimands from numerous umpires she continued to wear similar underwear in tournament after tournament. Her skirts were generally not excessively minuscule, but they were made of such a light material that they flew up around her waist at the slightest breeze, and she was not quick to cover her modesty. She obviously adored the limelight.As did Tina, who found herself driven to further exhibitionistic acts on the court just so she could keep herself in the media spotlight. In the French Open, she had worn a skirt that only barely covered her buttocks, with lacy panties beneath. The skirt was made of a stiff material that would neither fly up nor ride up, but whenever she bent over she knew she was showing her panties to the crowds and the cameras.Her fan sites doubled in number, then trebled. Fan mail poured in, as did the contracts, and she carefully ignored the vicious backlash from conservative groups. The people she had intended to thrill were thrilled.For this year’s Wimbledon, she had prepared well. The stretchy skirt idea had been a good one, but it had been flawed. Now, however, she had ironed out the problems. A skirt had been designed and made for her specially – one that would ride up as she moved, but not too quickly. Unlike her night-club skirt of the previous year, this one would not end up around her waist. Indeed, even after the longest, most vigorous points, it would uncover no more than a centimetre of the lower curves of her buttocks. Thus she could be sexy, but safe in the knowledge that she was in control.The dress code for this Wimbledon had been re-written. With new money pouring into the game, big name sponsors had put pressure on the rules committee to allow the female players a little flexibility. In short, the players could wear skirts of any length as long as they covered the buttocks while the player was at rest and standing straight, and the underwear rules had been relaxed to permit any kind of underwear except thongs and g-strings. There had been fierce opposition to these changes, and a few resignations had occurred. But the changes had stuck.So, on the first day of the Wimbledon fortnight, Tina had strode on to the court wearing a semi-stretchy white miniskirt that covered her buttocks with almost an inch to spare, with a pair of pale blue French-cut panties underneath. The outfit had gone down a storm. Every day for the last week and a half, she had graced several pages of each and every tabloid in the country. She practically received a standing ovation every time she walked out on to the court.And today she faced Laura Lessing. Laura had received a similarly rapturous welcome on her first day, as she appeared on court wearing not only her trademark ‘flying’ skirt, but also a tight tank top through which the outline of her bra was clearly visible. The tabloids contained nearly as many photos of Laura as they did of Tina. In fact, over the last couple of days Tina had been incensed to discover herself almost marginalised by full-page spreads of Laura’s latest gimmick – a pair of French-cut panties that had been judiciously altered to turn them almost, but not quite, into a thong. And the committee did not object! This angered Tina. Laura was flouting the new rules and getting away with it!So last night, Tina had decided she was not going to be outdone in her own match. She had summoned her tailor (she never went anywhere without him these days), and given him the job of ‘editing’ her own panties. She showed him the picture of Laura’s bottom adorning the front page of The Quasar. “I want you to make mine even skimpier than that,” she said, “while still not being a thong.”Gerard’s eyes nearly popped out of his head. “That … will be tricky,” he remarked. “But I’ll give it a try.”And so he had. The following morning, Tina was impressed with the result.“That will surely slip between my buttocks,” she observed critically.“It will, after a short while,” agreed Gerard. “But it’s not a thong – not quite. And I’m sure you’ll get a kick out of pulling it out of your arse every few points in front of the cameras.”Tina considered this, and a smile came to her lips. “Yes…” she said.“That will be fun.”But Martin, her manager, was outraged when he saw the garment. “You cannot wear that!” he exclaimed. “It’s hardly any bigger than the thong you wore last year! And just remember – you almost got banned from Wimbledon on account of that little stunt.”“It wasn’t a stunt!” objected Tina. “But that’s academic anyway. They’ve relaxed the rules since then, as well you know.”“But there are still rules,” Martin insisted. “And one of them is that thongs aren’t allowed.”“This isn’t a thong,” said Tina.“It virtually is. And when it’s bunched up between your butt cheeks, who’s going to know the difference?”“Who indeed?” Tina smiled wryly. “But I can easily prove to them that it isn’t.”Martin frowned, then turned on his heel and walked away.“He’ll get over it,” Gerard told her. “Now, about this top…”“Oh yes! Do you have it?”“It’s in your bag,” said the tailor. “Check it out – I think you’ll like it.”Tina hurried through to her room and placed the almost-thong on her bed next to her equipment bag. Opening the bag, she smiled as she spotted a white cut-off t-shirt folded neatly on the top. She smiled to herself.This was her latest gambit – exposure of the midriff. She pulled it out and held it up, giggling naughtily. Then she pulled out the miniskirt and sighed happily as she imagined the whole combination. This was going to be a good day. Finally she went through the rest of the equipment in the bag, making sure it was all present. She was not going to make the same mistake she had made this time last year!Placing her racquets in the bag first, she re-packed everything, leaving her clothing until last. She hesitated for a moment, then resisted the temptation to try the clothes on before packing them, too. She laid the panties and the skirt side by side on top of her track suit, then placed the t-shirt on top.“Tina?”She turned around at the sound of her manager’s voice. “Yes Martin?”“Waldo’s here – he wants to talk to you about tonight’s do.”Tina frowned. “Couldn’t he have phoned?”“He was in the hotel,” explained Martin. “Thought he’d ‘just drop by’ or something.”“Okay, I’m coming.” Tina stood up and went out to meet her agent.Waldo was a tall man with a thick crop of wild grey hair that always looked as if he’d been out in a strong wind. He had a habit of finishing every other sentence with “don’t you know” and his eyebrows bobbed up and down as he talked. Tina found him rather intimidating, but he was the best agent she’d had.“Ahem, well Tina, good morning and how do you do,” he pronounced sternly.“I’ve been chewing the old fat with the blokes at the press office and they happened to bring up the subject of interviews, don’t you know. So I thought to myself, as I am wont to do, ‘now here if I am not greatly mistaken is an opportunity old boy’ and …”Tina only half-listened, fascinated by his eyebrows, as Waldo trundled on through a terribly one-sided conversation at the end of which he paused, awaiting her response. She shook herself. “Ah, whatever you think is best, Waldo,” she said. “I trust your judgment.”“Most gratifying I am sure, well I’ll be tootling off now if you’ll pardon my flying visit – oh and I have another advertising contract I need to discuss with you, but it can wait until tonight, what? Or even tomorrow don’t you know. Toodle-pip.” And with that he swept out of the room.“We should be leaving,” said Martin, coming back into the room. “Are you ready?”“Sure,” said Tina. “Let me grab my bag.”She walked back into her bedroom and reached down to zip up her bag. Then she stopped. Something was not quite right. Her eyes narrowing, she slid her hand down the side of the bag and pulled out a white object that she had just glimpsed the corner of. It was a pair of conservative white panties.Annoyed, she flung them on to the floor. “Thought you’d try to convince me of the error of my ways, did you Martin?” she muttered.She said nothing to Martin as they left the hotel, and only in the car did she finally break her silence. “Honestly Martin,” she reprimanded him.“Sometimes you act just like my mother.”“Huh?” Martin looked puzzled.“The panties?”“Oh.” Martin flushed and responded defensively, “Well I’m sorry, but there are limits, you know.”“Just forget it,” said Tina.In the Centre Court changing rooms she met up with her arch-rival, and today’s opponent, Laura Lessing. “Hi,” said Tina rather coldly.“Hi Tina!” Laura gushed. “Wow, I’m so happy to be playing against you at last! You are my absolute hero, you know.”Tina was utterly disarmed, and found herself rather flustered. “Well, I…” she began. “Thank you! That’s nice of you to say so.”“I think it’s great what you’ve done for women’s tennis,” continued Laura.“You’ve possibly seen my, um … tributes … to your groundbreaking stunt last year…”“It wasn’t…” Tina began, before changing her mind. “Well, I guess I always figured you were trying to outdo me,” she said. “You must admit you’ve become rather popular yourself…”“I know!” Laura’s eyes were like saucers, as if she could barely comprehend the idea. “Isn’t it amazing? I mean, I’m nowhere near as pretty as you – I’m just overwhelmed at the attention I’ve got.”Tina chuckled. “Have you ever thought of, you know, toning it down a little?”Laura looked surprised. “Why, no,” she said. “Have you?” But she did not wait for a response before continuing in a conspiratorial whisper, “I just love to go a little further each time, you see. I know sooner or later I’ll get into trouble, but isn’t it amazing what they’ll let you get away with this year?”“Yes, it is,” agreed Tina. She sighed and began to undress. “Guess we’d better get into our skimpy outfits then.”Laura giggled. “Ooh yes,” she said.Tina pulled her t-shirt and skirt out of her bag, then stared into her bag in horror. Her heart plummeted into her shoes. “Oh my God!” she exclaimed.“What is it?” asked Laura in alarm.“My panties! They’re not here!”“What? Are you sure?”Tina suddenly realised with a shock that Martin had not only placed a conservative pair of panties in her bag, he had removed the other pair at the same time! “I don’t believe it!” she said. “My manager’s taken them out!”“Can’t you wear what you’re wearing now?” inquired Laura. “As I understand it, that’s what you did last year.”“I’m not wearing underwear,” hissed Tina sharply.“Ah,” said Laura. “Oops.”“Hey, are you wearing panties?” asked Tina on a sudden thought.“Yes but…”“Great! Can I wear them?”“No! I’m wearing the ones I’ll be wearing on the court!”“Oh.” Tina was crestfallen. “Good grief, what a fix.”“What skirt have you got?” inquired Laura.Tina showed her.Laura nodded. “Ah yes, I know that one. It doesn’t ride up much, does it?”“Not much,” conceded Tina. “But enough, probably.”“Maybe not, if you’re careful. And won’t it be awesome? Think of it – the first woman to play tennis at a Grand Slam tournament without panties!” Tina groaned. “I suppose it’s possible I might get away with it,” she said. “But I’ll be giving you the advantage.”Laura waved her hand dismissively. “Nonsense,” she said airily. “You’re the better player – you’ll have no problems.”Tina stared at Laura, perplexed. “What kind of pep-talk do you give yourself?” she inquired. “Are you expecting to lose?”“I don’t mind.” Laura shrugged. “I’m just out to play my best and have a good time. I don’t have any illusions.”Tina shook her head in great puzzlement, then sighed as she considered her position. Eventually she decided to bite the bullet, and changed into her miniskirt, sports bra and cut-off t-shirt. The latter item caught her by surprise – it was far tighter than she had imagined.Laura whistled. “Wow, sexy!” Tina chuckled. The top really was tight – it clung to every curve of her breasts and the bra beneath made highly visible ridges in its fabric. She decided she rather liked the effect.But then she noticed what Laura was wearing. She gasped. “Oh my goodness!” Laura had really pulled out all the stops, knowing she was up against the woman who had started the whole revolution in women’s tennis wear. Her light skirt had been drastically reduced in length – it barely covered her buttocks – and she was wearing a tight lycra crop-top that made Tina’s t-shirt seem almost conservative. “How do I look?” she asked.“You look … naked!” exclaimed Tina.Laura giggled. “Why thank you!” she said.The two girls donned their track suits and walked out to meet the crowd, to whistles and cheers and great applause. They lapped it up. Then Martin arrived.“Where have you been?” Tina hissed.“Getting a drink,” he said. “What’s up?”“What’s up??” Tina fought to control her anger. “Martin you idiot, I didn’t realise you’d taken my panties out of my bag!”“Huh?”“Those ones you put in there – I threw them away! Now I have nothing!” Martin gasped in shock. “Oh … my … God,” he managed at last.“Tell me about it. Now do you think you can go and get me some?”“Well, I’ll try,” he said, “but you know what the traffic’s like. Remember the last time?”“You don’t need to go all the way back to the hotel,” she told him. “Just find a clothes shop.”Martin nodded. “Okay,” he said, and hurried off.The sky was overcast as the two girls took off their track suits to rapturous applause. Cameras snapped in their hundreds. Tina had stomach butterflies as she began her warm up with a few serves from the right-hand side of the court. But her skirt stayed put (pretty much), and she made sure its hem stayed well below her buttocks. The breeze on her naked pussy made her feel terribly uneasy, but she forced herself not to think about it, and tried to concentrate on serving well.Meanwhile, Laura was getting all the attention. She was leaping high in every serve, her skirt flying up to reveal a pair of white silk panties that were almost as small as the ones Tina had been planning to wear. And they looked as if they were several sizes too small. Already the material at the back was creeping between her buttocks, and she made no attempt to rectify the situation. And she took her time about bending over (with straight legs) to pick up balls from the grass.Tina was a little relieved not to have all the cameras scrutinising her, but also rather annoyed that the crowd was watching Laura and not her.Nevertheless, she did not dare to let her skirt ride any higher than it was doing already, so she forced herself to ignore her opponent’s exhibitionistic antics and the crowd’s response.The match began. As expected, Tina’s skirt did not ride up much, and she began to relax a little. She was careful not to allow any point to go on for too long (sometimes this meant giving Laura the occasional point, but she could afford them), and gradually she began to feel that she was, after all, in control. After four games, the score was 3:1, and Tina was about to serve in the fifth when it began to rain.It was just a light drizzle, but after only a couple of points the grass was beginning to get slippery, and after a meaningful glance from Tina, the umpire ordered the covers to be brought out. Tina was relieved – it would buy her some time before Martin got back.But the covers were not on for long. Five minutes later the rain had ceased, and the players were cleared to resume the game. This they did, but this time Laura had the advantage. The damp grass caused them both to slip on several occasions, but whereas Laura took this in her stride, relishing the opportunity to flash her panties yet again, Tina could not afford to let her skirt ride up at all. So she played it safe, taking only small steps, while Laura capitalised on the opportunity to break serve for the first time.The drizzle began again in the next game, but stopped after only a couple of minutes. Tina was by now getting rather frustrated. She lost to Laura’s serve, then lost her own serve after that. Things were not going well. On the positive side, the rain was causing her t-shirt to cling even tighter to her chest, and the material was even easier to see through now that it was damp.Laura could not help but notice this as she came all the way up to the net to slam home a winning cross-court volley. She realised that her own crop top was not the type of garment to turn transparent in the rain, and she wished she had thought to wear a thin t-shirt like Tina’s. But perhaps there was something else she could do…At the beginning of the ninth game, with the score at 5:3 (to Laura), Tina bounced a ball in front of her, glancing occasionally at her opponent. She watched as Laura hopped from one foot to the other, bouncing on the spot, and then frowned. Laura seemed a little more … bouncy? than usual.And then she realised the startling truth: that her opponent had taken off her bra! Laura’s crop top was now bouncing under the influence of a pair of decidedly unfettered breasts (and Laura’s chest was fairly large for a tennis player).“Two can play at that game,” thought Tina to herself, and she clenched her teeth in a new resolve.Determined to pull herself back into the match, Tina began to take a few more risks. She managed to win her serve, but then had a nasty fright in Laura’s service game. While running at full-stretch to intercept an attempted pass, she slipped and abruptly did the splits (almost) on the damp grass. She squealed in horror and immediately closed her legs, pulling her skirt down to cover her neatly-trimmed pubic hair.There were one or two puzzled stares from the crowd, but the glimpse had been too brief for them to be sure about what they had seen. Tina could almost hear their comments: “Did you just see what I saw? Well, I’m not sure… it looked like she’s not wearing panties… Of course, I could be wrong…”She got to her feet, somewhat rattled, and returned to the baseline. The next couple of points went badly, and soon she found herself facing the wrong end of a set point. Biting her lip in anxiety, she was almost wrong-footed as the ball came hurtling down the court to her right-hand side. She launched herself towards it.Her foot slipped, and shot backwards. She sank to the floor as the ball whipped past her unmet. Her skirt had ridden up again and she hastily pulled it down as she got to her feet. Again, the whispers…“Game and first set to Miss Lessing,” announced the umpire.Tina sighed unhappily and prepared to serve. The lack of a bra certainly had not severely handicapped her opponent’s game. In fact, she seemed to have acquired a new confidence and was making very few errors. Still, her serve was not strong and could be beaten.By serving well, and taking some judicious risks, Tina succeeded in winning her service game. Smiling to herself as she sat down, she decided to up the stakes in the battle for the press’s attention. As surreptitiously as she could, she unclasped her bra and slipped it off, pulling it out through the left arm-hole of her t-shirt and dropping it into her bag. Immediately the damp t-shirt clung to her bare breasts, and with an involuntary shiver she realised she could just make out her nipples through the thin material. She was sure that the press cameras would also be able to see them.Without bra or panties, she walked out on to the court in just a cut-off t-shirt and a microskirt. Feeling naked and vulnerable but also rather aroused, she winked at Laura before her opponent served. The sensation of playing with no restraints on her breasts, however, was too unfamiliar and her return went wide. Laura’s next serve she pounded back into the net.Cursing to herself, she prepared to try again. She was annoyed with herself for having so much difficulty playing without a bra, when Laura seemed to be managing just fine.‘She probably practices without a bra all the time,’ she thought to herself suddenly. ‘Oh heck, what have I let myself in for?’ She lost that game, and then her own service game. Now 2:1 down, she watched as Laura prepared to serve once again. Her nineteen-year-old opponent’s crop top seemed a little skimpier somehow, and Tina frowned.What had the dratted girl done now? A brief rendezvous at the net in the next point answered her question.Laura had folded over part of her top, so that not only was it now more revealing, but it was also serving to keep her breasts in place more effectively. This was a clever plan, but it was risky – too much bouncing and Laura’s breasts would pop out from underneath the crop top. No doubt that added to the girl’s thrill.The drizzle began again, but not before Tina had broken serve, and then held on to her own serve, to bring the score to 3:2. As the two girls sat down in their respective places, the umpire leaned over to speak to Tina.“Miss Hathaway?” he said.Tina looked up guiltily. She folded her arms across her chest, convinced he was going to reprimand her for removing her bra. But she was mistaken.“How’s the court?” he asked. “I’m considering abandoning play, but it’s up to you two. Miss Lessing is happy to continue, so it’s your decision.”Tina thought for a moment. Martin was not back yet, but he surely would be soon. And she was beginning to play better now. Finally she was back in the lead, and she was becoming confident she could stay ahead until the end of this set. Furthermore, she was enjoying the way the drizzle was making her t-shirt more see-through every minute. “I’m okay for the moment,” she said. “It’s not that bad out there.”“Very well,” said the umpire, nodding.Tina took a swig from her water bottle, then got up and returned to the court.Two lost games later, she was regretting her decision. The drizzle had stopped, but the ground was still rather wet and slippery. She no longer felt she had an excuse for requesting that play be abandoned, and her t-shirt was not getting any more transparent. Facing what could possibly be her penultimate game of this tournament, she decided to go all out in her efforts to win the publicity battle. If she could not win the match, at least she could still steal the next day’s headlines from that upstart Laura.Carefully and deliberately, she poured the remaining contents of her water bottle over her chest, making sure she covered both breasts equally. The material quickly turned almost completely transparent, and despite herself she gasped at the sight of her breasts staring back at her. The wet t-shirt clung tightly to every contour and concealed nothing.Holding her head high (while trying not to meet anyone’s gaze), she marched out on to the court once again. Laura did the same, but then her jaw dropped as she saw Tina’s transformation. Tina saw her giggle and then hold up a thumb in admiring support.“Miss Hathaway…” came the umpire’s voice over the loudspeaker.Tina trotted over to speak to him.The umpire leaned over and said, “Enough is enough, Miss Hathaway. This is not a wet t-shirt contest, it is a tennis match. The new rules regarding the dress code are there to encourage freedom of expression, not indecent behaviour. Do you have another shirt?”“I’m afraid not,” confessed Tina.The umpire sighed. “And where is your bra?”“It broke,” Tina lied.“All right, but one more lewd act on your part and I will disqualify you and ban you from the tournament. The whole tone of this event has dropped through the floor, and I’m damned if I’m going to take it any more.”Tina nodded. “I understand.” Rather subdued, she returned to the court.The game went badly. Tina found her t-shirt highly distracting, and with every bounce it rode higher and higher and threatened to expose her breasts to the world. Soon it was revealing as much flesh as Laura’s crop top.Nevertheless, she liked the effect and did not attempt to replace it, until she heard a warning cough from the umpire. She hastily pulled it down.She lost that game, and prepared to serve to stay in the match. She served well, but a good return surprised her and she failed to clear the net with her follow-up shot. Then she noticed that her vigorous serve had resulted in her t-shirt being hoisted up high on her chest. Only a half-inch of material extended below the lower curve of her breasts. Rather reluctantly, she pulled the t-shirt down.The next few serves had similar effects, but a longer point almost resulted in her breasts popping free of the t-shirt entirely. She won two points, but also lost two.So now she was at match point, again, and this time her predicament was even worse. What could she do? If she preserved her modesty and lost, was that any better than going all out and perhaps being banned from the rest of the tournament? Probably not.She served, and at once felt her t-shirt climb up again. But she ignored it and concentrated on trying to predict where Laura’s return would end up.It was short – that was good. Tina raced forward and whipped the ball over to the far corner. But Laura, realising the danger, was already almost there. She hammered it back down the line, and Tina had to lunge to reach it. She made it, just, and the ball bounced high off her racquet – a mis-hit.Laura was quick to take advantage, her chest bouncing as she ran around the back of the ball. She attempted to fire it down the right-hand line, but Tina caught it at the net with a drop volley. However, it bounced harder off her racquet than she had intended, leaving Laura with an easy opportunity for a lob. Tina raced backwards, only to find to her horror that Laura was not going for the lob at all. She was responding with a drop shot of her own.Tina sprinted forwards, just reaching the ball in time. But as she dug her feet in to brake herself, they slid on the wet grass, shooting right under the net. Tina yelped as she fell to the ground and slid forwards on her back. Her skirt, caught by the net as she passed beneath it, was yanked up to her waist. Her t-shirt was pulled up by sheer friction, both on the ground and on the bottom of the net, until it was wrapped around her neck.At this point Tina came to an abrupt halt, with her head on one side of the net and her rather unclothed body on the other.The crowd fell into a stunned silence, then erupted in a cacophony of wolf-whistles, cheers and thunderous applause. The umpire’s announcement of “Game, set and match to Miss Lessing” went completely unheard. Laura, meanwhile, walked over to where Tina was lying with her pussy and breasts fully exposed to the crowd and to the world’s photographers. She looked down at Tina and smiled.“You win,” she said.THE END

My clothes were neatly laid out on the bed. Red silk blouse, black ankle length wrap around skirt, lacy white bra and matching string. “Well, it may be another boring promotional party, but at least I’ll look good,” I thought to myself. I hated these things, always having to be on your guard against the other P.R. bitches, all of them looking to fill your shoes and their most direct route is via your jugular. This one was for some new product that we’d just finished the marketing strategy for. They were launching it at the Barbican Centre. A hail of floodlights and champagne and then a quick look at the commercial, followed by more champagne and then home to my nice warm bed and my loving husband. Josh, my husband, never came to these bashes. He couldn’t stand the morons and their patronising talk, but he always made himself available to ferry me to the venues and back home again after it was over. I stood in front of the mirror and admired myself. “Not bad for a thirty-five-year-old with two kids,” I thought as the door opened and Josh said, “Come on love, I want to be back in time for the match. You’re looking good.” “I’m ready now. Shouldn’t be a late one tonight.” I kissed Josh on the cheek, closed the car door and made my way up the steps. They were really going for it this time, no expense spared by the look of the posters and glitter that adorned the hallway. Then I noticed my boss and the client. “Irene, hello. You’ve met John Frazer from the Promo Dept at Majorhost haven’t you?” “Yes, of course I have,” I said as I stretched my hand out. “My dear, so nice to see you again, and what a lovely outfit,” the old man said. “Enjoy the show.” I walked into the function room and looked around the usual faces. Most of them worked for either the client or us but there were a few I didn’t recognise. A glass was pressed into my hand and I looked around to meet the eyes of an extremely handsome man I definitely hadn’t met before. “Don’t you just hate these things?” he said in a quiet voice. “They’re not that bad when you get used to them. I’m Irene Ross from Heath Ross and Associates,” I said inquisitively. “Forgive me, Steve Daly from Majorhost. I work in the Promotions Department. Come on let’s have a drink.” I followed him to the bar as I downed the contents of the glass he’d given me only moments before. We talked for a while long while before he said, “Let’s have a dance.” Normally I wouldn’t dance at these functions but the jealous stares of some of my colleagues had me feeling a little mischievous. “Right, let’s do that.” I said as headed towards the music in the main hall. We danced for a long while, then the commercial was shown to ingratiating and rapturous applause and then it was time to go home. Steve said, “Want a lift?” “Thanks Steve but my husband is expecting me to call for him.” “Let him stay with the TV, give him a ring and let him know that you’ve got a ride home,” he said as he plopped his mobile into my hand. “I’m not ready to let you go just yet.” I rang Josh while Steve’s beautiful piercing eyes shone at me. What was I thinking? It all seemed so naughty, it was like being on a date again. Josh was fine about me taking a lift from one of my friends, besides, his match had gone into extra time and he was more interested in that. We drove across London in the right direction for home when Steve said, “I live just there,” as he pointed at the docklands. “Nice place, you should see it. How about we stop off for a nightcap?” “No, really, I shouldn’t,” I said in my assertive tone but Steve was having none of it. “Come on, just a small one. It has one of the best views on this side of the river.” He was persistent and I capitulated. “OK, but we’d better be quick,” I said.nude young girl sex photosHis building was one of those old warehouses. Smart enough too. He stopped by a door and pressed some code into a metal box, there was a click and he turned the handle. He stepped back and gestured me into the room. As I walked past him the sound of a TV was clear and as I rounded the corner into his living room I was greeted by the sight of two men sitting on a sofa. One was a young lad, about nineteen, and the other was older, easily in his sixties. “This is my old man, and the other is Kevin, my cousin.” “I thought we were having a nightcap Steve?” “Yeah, what do you fancy?” he said. “Well, I didn’t expect company,” I said trying to get to grips with the situation. “Oh, don’t worry about them, they’re family,” he said in a patronising tone. “Whisky alright for you? Sit down and make yourself comfortable.” There were two sofas and I started towards the unoccupied one when the old man patted the cushion between himself and the young lad, “Come and sit here, my beauty,” he said. I felt too uncomfortable to be rude and did as I was told. They moved slightly apart to give me room. I can feel the young lad’s eyes on me all the time as I sat between the two of them. “Lovely lad my Stevie, isn’t he?” said the old man. “Got a lot more about him than young Kevin here. Kevin’s still a virgin you know. Got his fingers into some bird last week but that’s about it, so far.” I felt like screaming but managed to stop myself. “Do you mind if I just give my husband a call, he’ll be worrying about me.” That assertive tone again, but it had as much effect on the father as it had had on his son. “Phone’s not working love, but my Stevie’s got one of those mobiles, he’ll be back with your drink soon, dare say he’ll let you use it, if his battery’s not gone flat. Usually does at this time of night.” Panic held me like a rabbit caught in a cars’ headlights, I didn’t know what to do and then I noticed the young lad was staring at my legs and my palms began to sweat. I felt the old mans leg pressing against my thigh and turned to look at him. To my astonishment, he was grinning and obviously enjoying my embarrassment. I looked across to the young lad to find that he had his hand in his pocket and was playing with himself. I looked away in disgust and felt a hand arrive on my thigh and slowly work it’s way into the split of my skirt. I tried to stand up and was pushed back down by a pair of strong hands from over my shoulders. Steve was back. “Steve, please let me go, I need to go home to my husband,” I was pleading. “Just behave yourself or your darling husband will have to be told about how you came here looking to be fucked.” I sat there in horror as two hands began to open my skirt and manoeuvre up my thighs. My legs were being pulled apart and I felt both petrified and confused. I couldn’t run away, the door had probably been locked behind me. I decided to sit quietly and hope to get out of there alive. “I bet she’s got a lovely little cunt, what do you reckon Stevie?” said the old man as the lad began to unbutton my blouse. I tried to stop him and my hand was dragged behind my back. “Please, leave me alone!” I begged. “Shut up and do as you are told!” Steve snarled. My blouse fell open and was lifted over my shoulders as my wrists were tied together behind my back and I began to sob. My bra was removed and both of the men at my sides took a breast into their mouths, sucking greedily at my hardening nipples. Then the old man moved his mouth over mine and pushed his tongue between my lips. I could taste the beer and cigarettes on his breath. Disgusting. Moments later I was forced to my feet and the young lad began to unbutton my skirt. I could feel his rough hands fumbling with the buttons as he groped under the waistband and then the garment fell to the floor at my feet. I was standing there in front of these perverts in nothing but my lacy white g-string. I felt ashamed and embarrassed. “I bet she’s got a lovely little cunt,” said the old man. “Turn her round, I want a look at her snatch.” The young lad grabbed my shoulders and hurriedly turned me to face the old man and Steve, who was standing behind the sofa with a video camera. I couldn’t see his face but I pleaded, “Please don’t hurt me. Let me go home to my husband and I promise I won’t tell anybody about this.” Steve lowered the camera, looked straight at me and said, “You are at home. My home, and you’re going to do exactly as I want or you’ll not see your dear husband again. Right?” I began to cry again and then was pushed to the floor at the old man’s feet. “Roll her over sonny,” he said, “and spread her legs.” I was turned face down on the carpet and then the young lad hooked his thumbs under the elastic of my string and ripped them down my legs to the knee. “Phwooarrr, she’s a cracker, go on son, have a feel,” the old man said. I lay there for what seemed like an eternity but was probably only a couple of minutes when I felt a hand fold around my buttock and move downwards toward my cunt. I could feel the fingers rubbing between my lips and then one slipped inside me. I was wet, I suppose the fear and embarrassment of being naked in front of three strangers had caused this involuntary reaction. I heard the old man grunt as he got to his feet and tell the young lad to stand back as it was now his turn. His hand was rough as his fingers found their way directly to my soft cunt lips and caressed over my clit. It felt good; he had a natural touch. I heard myself screaming inside and was thinking, “No Irene, you can’t enjoy this!” but I was. The old man was probing me, running his fingers all over my slit and between my buttock, touching my clit. I began to move myself upwards, desperately trying to contact my clit with his fingers. If my hand weren’t tied, I’d have probably found myself frigging off. I was now so turned on that my juices were in full flow and were leaking out into my neatly trimmed pubic hair. And then the contact stopped.nudist family sex hot photosNothing happened for a while and I could hear the three of them talking in hushed tones. Every now and then I could make out a word and sometimes a sentence, it seemed like I was going to be fucked. Suddenly there was an arm around my waist and I was brought to my knees and turned to face the sofa. I was pulled forwards until my chest rested on the seat. My arse was in the air and my tight, dripping little pussy was on view to anyone behind me. A blindfold was put around my face and I could only experience darkness and touch. Another minute or so passed and then it started. A hand groped my arse and then my cunt… “Hey Steve, I think she’s pissed herself, she’s sopping wet!” It was the young lad. “Gerroff, I’m havin’ her first,” said the old man. I heard his zipper being pulled down and then something pushed against my cunt. “Oh God, this is it, he’s going to fuck me,” I thought to myself. Slowly he pushed his cock into my slippery cunt. It was bigger than I’d expected and filled me up. I was fighting against the emotions that were telling me that I was actually enjoying this, eventually submitting to them and pushing back against him. My breath escaped in a long, “Ooooh,” and I began to feel a warmth deep inside my abdomen. I heard my voice saying, “Go on, FUCK ME,” but couldn’t believe that I was actually saying it. He thrust into me for about a minute and then I felt him withdraw and warm droplets spray over my arse. The dirty bastard had spunked off on me. “Go on sonny, you have a go now. She’s a dirty little whore and it’s time you had a woman.” The next thing I felt was my ankles being grabbed and I was dragged backwards, falling heavily onto the carpet and being hurriedly turned over so that I was lying on my back. My legs were kicked apart and then another cock found its way into my well-lubricated hole. This one was much faster in his thrusting and he didn’t last long before he started grunting and moaning. “I’m going to come, I’m going to come,” he shouted. Seconds later he spurted his jism into my unprotected cunt and he was no longer a virgin. I was left on the carpet with my hands tied behind me for a few more minutes before the blindfold was removed. “Don’t ever say that you didn’t enjoy that,” said Steve. “Want a lift home or should I call you a taxi?”