"We need to go," he said. "You're already late."
She expelled a deep sigh, and stormed out of the room, with Aaron trailing behind. As soon as she entered the media room, a team of assistants swarmed around her. One fitted her with a microphone, another fixed her hair, and yet another had the audacity to adjust her breasts. She nearly slapped the man. As soon as she was seated, the interview began.
"So, tell us about yourself," the interviewer began. Rochelle wore a phony smile and looked into the camera.
"Well, my name is Molly, and I'm from Apple Valley, Minnesota. I have three children and a loving husband of twenty-three years."
In the days leading up to the tournament, she had been meeting with a consultant from the Minotti group, who coached her on media relations. She had been given a script, which she was told to memorize. The goal was to portray her as a Midwestern soccer mom, which was a unique resume for a contestant in the NCC's. The Minotti people thought that this character would resonate with the audience and lend some much-needed credibility to the tournament.
Rochelle continued to answer questions precisely as she had been coached. At the conclusion of the interview, she politely thanked the interviewer for his time, and attempted to flee from the room as quickly as possible. On the way out, she crossed paths with a stunning red-haired woman. She was statuesque and thin, and had massive breasts that were out of proportion with the rest of her body and strained against the material of her sparkling red top.
The woman looked at Michelle with disdain, and gave her a phony smile.
"Nice outfit," she said with a smirk.
Rochelle found her husband standing by the door, and scurried from the room, trying to avoid eye contact with anyone else. All she wanted to do was get back to her room, remove those ridiculous clothes, and crawl back into bed.
***
The sound of retching echoed off the walls of the bathroom, and Aaron debated whether he should enter the lady's room and ensure that his wife was okay. Moments later, she emerged, looking tired and frazzled.
"I'm okay," she said, before he had a chance to ask.
They had arrived at the event facility hours before. It appeared to be a large, abandoned warehouse in the middle of the desert, roughly thirty minutes away from the hotel. The event organizers had erected makeshift bleachers in the main section of the warehouse, which surrounded a large, square platform. The "backstage" area included a locker room, several changing rooms, bathroom facilities, and a section for the media.
As the preliminary round was merely used to determine the seeds for the tournament bracket, only a handful of spectators surrounded the platform. One at a time, the contestants were called to the stage. Five blindfolded men, all wearing earphones, were escorted onto the stage, and one at a time, three of them were sucked off by the contestant, with the other two serving as options for switches.
Rochelle awaited her turn, wringing her hands and pacing back and forth. She continued to tug at her costume, which she reluctantly put back on her body after shedding it earlier that afternoon. When she arrived at the facility, she was surprised to see all of the other contestants wearing casual clothing. Evidently, the costumes were not necessary for the preliminary round. As if she didn't feel uncomfortable and self-conscious enough, this mistake only added to the queasy feeling in her belly.
"Molly Mounds, please come to the stage," a voice bellowed over the sound system.
"Good luck," Aaron said, and gave her a sweet kiss.
She wasn't used to wearing such high heels, and she imagined herself tripping on the way to the stage. It would simply be the grand conclusion to a humiliating day. As she ascended the steps onto the platform, she felt light-headed, and for a moment she feared she would pass out. There were two kneeling pads in the center of the stage: one blue, and one red. She could feel the thumping of her heart in her chest as she lowered herself to the blue cushion, which was attached to the base of the platform.
As she took her position, she could hear murmurs and laughter from the audience surrounding her. She was so distracted, she didn't even notice that the procession of naked men had entered the stage until one was standing directly in front of her. His limp dick dangled in front of her face. From the first impression, it was difficult to believe that it would grow to regulation size. She was startled by the ringing of a bell.
"Go! Go!" Mai Lin shouted from the corner of the stage, and Rochelle snapped out of her daze. She inhaled the cock in front of her and worked her mouth and tongue over it. It seemed as though several minutes had passed, and he wasn't yet fully aroused. Panic set in. She had forgotten to count in her head. She had forgotten everything.
She swirled her tongue around the tip of his cock and, at last, it hardened in her mouth. She continued swirling, and added a pumping motion with her hand. Within moments, a stream of warm fluid hit the back of her throat. She withdrew, and spit it out onto her ugly blouse as another spurt splashed against her chin.
"Point!" a voice yelled from her right. She hadn't even noticed the referee, who was wearing a traditional black-and-white striped shirt.
The man in front of her was quickly whisked away and replaced by another naked man. Rochelle engulfed his cock so quickly that it seemed to startle him. Again, it seemed that it took him longer than usual to become hard. This time, she remembered to count in her head. By the time she reached thirty-five, he had become hard enough. She furiously worked her mouth over his shaft, but she could tell that he wasn't close to cumming, and a jolt of panic returned.
"The balls!" Mai Lin screamed. Rochelle instantly cupped the man's balls, and his dick throbbed inside her mouth. She placed a couple of fingers underneath and massaged his perineum. Almost instantly, his cock expanded and his balls tightened. She withdrew just in time, and jerked him off onto her face. Two massive streams of cum splashed against each of her cheeks.
"Point two!" the referee yelled.
The third man had barely stepped into position when Rochelle grabbed him by the base of his cock and pulled him into her mouth. She grabbed him by the hips and fucked her face with his cock. In short order, she was rewarded with a hot and milky load, which she spewed from her lips onto her blouse.
"Point three! Time!"
Rochelle remained kneeling in the center of the stage as the naked men were escorted from the platform. She looked to the corner of the stage, and Mai Lin was wearing a rather sullen expression, but then smiled and gave a thumbs-up sign. Rochelle rose to her feet, and scanned the crowd for her husband. He, too, gave her a smile and a thumbs-up.
"You did great!" Aaron said, once she had descended from the stage. She was still covered in the spunk of three different men, and she attempted to clean herself with the sleeve of her blouse.
"I'm sorry," Aaron said. "I thought they would have provided towels. I would have brought one if I'd known."
"No worries," she said. "Do you know what my final time was?"
"You didn't see it? It was posted on the big digital readout behind the stage. It was nine minutes, thirty-two seconds."
Rochelle's face dropped.
"That's awful," she said.
"It's not that bad," he reassured her with a hug. "Don't worry about it. It was just preliminaries."
***
"Thirteen," Aaron stated while staring at his cell phone.
"What's that, honey?" Rochelle asked. Her words echoed off the shower walls, and hot steam filled the room.
Aaron moved closer and shouted, "Number thirteen. That's where they've ranked you."
"Thirteen," she repeated, with a hint of dejection. "Out of sixteen. Great."
"Hey, as of right now, you're the thirteenth best cocksucker in the world! And that number is only going to rise. The initial odds have been posted, and they have you down as 30-to-1 underdog. I'm tempted to wager a little money on that one!"
"Don't you dare," she said, sternly. "You suck at gambling. And besides, contestants aren't allowed to bet."
"I'm not a contestant," he said, slyly. "Maybe I could get someone to place a bet for me, then."
"Don't," she warned. "I'm the financial expert in our family, remember? Besides, I may not even get past the first round. Does it say who I'll be facing?"
He touched his phone a few times with his finger. "Bethany Blew," he said. "Her bio says she's a porn actress."
