The story so far: 20 years in the future, Paul and Dianne are competing in the hot reality TV show 'Fucks for Bucks'.
All characters are 18 or over. Comments welcome, as always.
The Mating Game, Chapter 8
by Kris Cherita
"Right," said Kyle, as Paul, Noah and seven other men were escorted onto a small soundstage, "last week, you all got a hands-free blowjob. Maybe more than one, from what I've heard." His sour tone suggested that he was disgruntled at not having been invited to the blowbang. "Well, it's time to reciprocate. You'll have 68 minutes to make three women come just with your mouths. You may've seen this before if you've watched the show, but because we don't want to lose too many of you, we've made it a little easier this year. If you can get the trifecta, you and your partner stay in the game. Two out of three ain't bad, so you might stay in the game. Less than two, well... I hope you can dress quickly, because you'll be out on your ass and flying home tonight. Your partner can still decide whether to go with you or stay. Clear?"
The men nodded.
"Good. To make things a little more interesting, though, you'll all be blindfolded and our beautiful assistants will guide you into place -- hence the collars and leashes." He uncovered the table behind him, showing a variety of bondage gear. "Take the blindfold off, and you're out. The women have also been gagged so they can't give you instructions and you'll have to rely on other cues. If you touch a woman with your hands or your cock, you're out. If her hands touch you or go below her navel, she's out. If you think you might get distracted, we can take care of that." He held up a pair of fuzzy handcuffs. "We even have a choice of colors.
"The women have also been fitted with sensors that will tell us when they've come -- no faking allowed. When they do, you'll hear a bell, like this." There was a high-pitched 'ting'. "If that's your woman, you'll be taken to the next one available." He nodded at his female assistants: one in a black leather corset and stiletto-heeled boots, one in a crotchless red latex catsuit, the others in abbreviated parodies of cop, nurse and Gestapo uniforms. "There are ten of them out there, including all of your own partners, so some of the cunts should be familiar territory.
"There'll be another bell every ten minutes to let you know how much time you have left." There was more of a low-pitched 'klang', and Paul heard someone mutter, "Ask not for whom..."
"Don't start until you hear that bell. Everybody clear on the rules?" asked Kyle. "Alright. Blindfolds on."
*
Paul let himself be guided into place and pushed down to his knees between a pair of thighs and told to wait for the bell. He took a deep breath, but at the first 'klang', he leaned forward and kissed the mons of his first woman in the game. He was slightly off-centre, but close enough to feel trimmed pubes tickling his lips -- not a full bush like Miranda's or Peewee's, more probably a landing strip or a narrow arrow. He traced this down towards her clit, which he kissed gently, then explored the unfamiliar cunt with kisses before taking a long slow lick upwards with the flat of his tongue from her taint, stopping before he reached her clit and circling around it before carefully sucking on her labia. He could hear a muffled gasp, and tasted her juices as she began to become wet. She smelled clean, but not perfumed -- scarcely even a hint of soap as he began weaving his tongue between her folds, slowly opening her up. A moment later, he heard another 'klang', and flinched slightly before returning his full attention to the delicious dish in front of him. Nearly as frustrated at not being able to use his fingers to stimulate her g-spot as he was by the woman's inability to give him directions (something Dianne never hesitated to do), he circled her clit with the tip of his tongue until he sensed she was ready for more direct contact. After a few minutes, he began sucking on her clit hood to draw out the more sensitive glans, then heard a bell ring, followed by what sounded like a shout of "Ole!"
Paul drew a deep breath, trying not to let himself be distracted as he heard an assistant guide the man into position between the legs of another woman. Another two 'tings' sounded before he finally felt the woman he was pleasuring begin to shudder and her muscular thighs clamped around his ears, almost drowning out the high-pitched sound of her own chime. He continued lapping up her juices as he waited for an assistant to tug on his leash, and kissed her thighs as he was dragged away a moment before another klang resounded through the set. 20 minutes gone already.
The woman in stilettos pushed his face into the hairless and already wet cunt of another contestant, one he recognized almost instantly as his wife's -- partly from the taste and the puffy labia, partly from the smell of the perfume he bought her every year. He tried not to wonder who had made her come in less than 20 minutes, but that reminded him of Jesus shouting "Ole!", and the thought that his job was to give her a second coming made him burst out laughing.
He drew another deep breath, inhaling the delightful aroma of wet cunt, trying to regain his self-control, and began licking around his wife's snatch, careful to avoid her clit in case it was still too sensitive for the contact to be enjoyable. He wasn't sure whether Dianne could see him clearly enough to recognize him -- Kyle hadn't said whether the women were also blindfolded as well as gagged -- or whether she'd know it was him if she couldn't. Despite himself, he began wondering about who had given her first orgasm, and whether their technique was better than his. The thought was almost enough to make him lose the erection he'd gotten from making the first woman come, and he silently told himself to concentrate, to focus on Dianne's reaction as he tentatively spiraled in on her clit, though the sound of camera operators hovering around and zooming in for close-ups made that difficult. He managed not to panic when he heard the klang of the thirty minute mark, but froze for a moment when he heard a shrill whistle. He was wondering whether they were all going to have to evacuate, naked and blindfolded, before the siren stopped and he heard a shout of "Red card!" and the loud fast footfalls of security men in heavy boots, then a man protesting as he was dragged out of the studio. He guessed that one of the male contestants had forgotten the rule about touching the woman he was eating out with his hands or cock. He closed his eyes for a moment, then went back to gently sucking his wife's labia and clit, trying to ignore the ringing of high-pitched bells around him as women climaxed around him. He heard another klang a few minutes before Dianne finally came, and rocked back onto his haunches, waiting for one of the fetishwear-clad hostesses to drag him towards his next woman and push his face into another wet cunt.
After several minutes, he was wondering whether this woman was exhausted or oversensitive or trying to get him kicked out of the game or simply didn't enjoy cunnilingus, because her squirming and the way she clamped her thighs around his ears seemed designed to keep him away from her clit. He was starting to feel discouraged, even desperate, as he heard Kyle congratulate men who'd passed the test and the klang sounded for the one hour time limit. Nine minutes left, and he decided to try completely avoiding her clit, kissing and licking his way down her protruding labia towards her asshole. She responded with a muffled gasp, but instead of flinching away, she wrapped her legs around his head to hold it in place. He nuzzled her dripping minge while running his tongue around her starfish, feeling her writhe in pleasure at the contact. Soon he was fucking her cunt with his nose and her asshole with the tip of his tongue, hoping this would be enough to --
KLANG!
He was still licking when the hostesses prized her legs apart and pulled him to his feet. "Sorry," said Kyle insincerely. "You losers who only managed one orgasm are out. Too bad. And like the old song goes, two out of three ain't bad, but -- no, don't take your blindfolds off yet. We'll let the ladies in the audience decide whether you get another chance. How many of you want Paul to stay in the game? Can I have a show of hands? Inge, Nancy, can you count them please? Okay, who wants him to go?"
Paul waited, the taste of the unknown woman's asshole still on the tip of his tongue.
"Okay, that's more votes to stay than to go, but you're going to have to pass another test. Okay, ladies, how about Ethan? Stay?
"Go?"
