The beauty contest was an hilarious event. In the middle of the room a stage was erected, mostly resembling a catwalk. First all the girls were asked to parade on the stage in their bikinis. Us men were invited to take a seat alongside the catwalk. Scorecards were handed out. Every guy got two of them.
Each card consisted of 18 numbered rows. On top of the first card were items like shape, size, uprightness, firmness, squeezability, cleavage, nipple size, colour of nipples. The second card included hair trim, rise of mound, puffiness, openness, wetness, tightness, visible inner lips, clitoris. Both cards ended with two empty columns.
During the first round of the contest we men just eyed our beautiful ladies. We observed the foxes from head to toe and from all sides as they paraded in front of us, up and down the runway. The heavenly delights were presented just a few feet away, our eyes level with the knees. Our viewing point allowed us to perceive the candy unhindered. I immensely enjoyed staring at the swellings hidden by the bikini bottoms. There was no voting yet, just enjoying the visual spectacle.
The second round the girls were asked to remove their bikini tops. They had to parade one by one on the stage and take of their top in stripper fashion. Accompanied by a lot of laughter we all had good fun as the girls tried out their best dirty routine. When all the girls were bare-breasted, they had to sit down on the edge of the stage. I noticed all bottoms had a number embroidered to both sides. And indeed they were the suite numbers. The men revolved along the row of girls so we all had plenty of time to criticize the merchandise. To judge the racks we were allowed to touch, feel, pinch and grope as we pleased. We had to score our points on the first scorecard, according to the suite number. After the girls were led away, we had to finish our scoring by putting a ranking order in the last column.
The second contest got underway. The girls came back on the stage together. Now they all wore red bikini tops, naturally again fitted with the suite numbers. The third round also started with a parade to heat things up, but now the girls were bottomless from the start.
From our advantage sitting point we had plenty of time to admire the pussy galore as it paraded past our eyes. The abundance of delectable cunnies was a feast to the eye. They came in all sorts: natural, American and French wax, as well as Full Brazilians. Some very protruding with a distinctly bulging Mound of Venus. Others nearly flat but with fully swollen pronounced outer lips. I felt being in peeping heaven.
For the fourth round the girls had to sit down on ottomans which were put on the edge of the stage. The same routine started. The men revolved again, now along the line of very exposed and glistening cunts. We were asked to commence with our judging work. And again we were encouraged to touch the commodities. We simply had to feel up the snatches to observe such qualities as wetness and tightness. And how do you criticize a clitoris other than by retracting its hood and try a little rubbing and pinching. Hell, I even nibbled on a few of those charming nubs!
When we thought this round was nearly over, Chris told us to use the last but one column for the quality taste. So we had to go once again along the long row of snatches to get a sample. Every woman was treated with a lapping of her cunt by 18 obliging and very horny males. As the girls left us again we had to finish the scoring by again putting a ranking order in the last column.
"Well done so far with the scoring, folks," Chris said. "John will collect your cards. The girls will now freshen up a bit, and we will keep them off the hook for a while. Time for us to get ready for the next contest. This will be the election of mister Cock. For this contest you have to get out of your shorts and sit down on the ottomans. Try to sit to the utmost edge, and then lay down on your back. A curtain will be drawn lengthwise across the stage. It will drape over your bellies, so the girls will not be distracted from their task at hand. Until the girls get back, you can make yourself presentable until we have to draw the curtain..."
When the girls came back, they were greeted by a wild array of penises of all sorts in front of the curtain. Most were of average length, but some monsters and a few tiny ones were present as well. Without exception all were very erect examples of the male baby knocker. The scrotums were heavy loaded and ready for inspection.
"What have we here!" Melanie, the assistant of our neighbours Jennifer and Daniel, let the way. The women came back into the restaurant, on the other side of the curtain. "I see the men are well prepared for our mister Cock election. Sam will hand out your scorecards. For this you can use the numbers you see in front of the stage. You will have exactly five minutes per cock. This means this contest will already take one and a half hour, so we have to be strict on your time slots. A perfect cock can stand up for this time easily, but if one might happen to falter, you are allowed to bring it back to attention by all means. You are free to do as you please, as long as you don't let him spill his ammunition!"
