The Mating Game Ch 09

The story so far: It's the 2040s, Paul and Dianne are contestants in Fuxtel's reality TV show 'The Mating Game'.

All characters are 18 or over. Comments welcome.

Chapter 9

A tearful Xuan had just enough time to say, "Come and see us if you're ever in Galveston," to Zac, Paul and Tia before the assistants ushered the successful contestants off the soundstage. Tia grabbed her and hugged her, inadvertently smearing Paul's cum onto the smaller woman's face, but Xuan didn't seem to mind. Paul, still high from Tia's talented tittyfuck, nonetheless felt a twinge as he realized that that was as close as he was likely to get to fucking the delightful young woman, and that he was going to miss her.

This is meant to be a competition, he reminded himself. 69 million dollars could save them from bankruptcy and still leave enough to hire several women as cute, petite and pretty as Xuan. It made him feel a little better, but not much.

The remaining male contestants met in the canteen in the evening to see who was to receive a second blowjob from one of the women who'd missed out in the earlier rounds, and Paul was almost relieved when his name wasn't drawn. He suspected that it might have been rigged in favor of the younger men who were still in the running, though that described most of the field.

After the list of contestants who'd been eliminated that day, everyone gathered in the dining room to await their bed assignments. Instead, one of Kyle's female assistants, dressed in a black leather corset and shiny thigh-high boots, walked in and asked for their attention. "There's one more event planned before we move onto phase two," she announced, "and it's going to take more than one day to film. There are still 30 women left in the game, and only 24 men. So here's what's going to happen next. We're dividing the women into groups of six -- four groups of women who still have partners, one that doesn't, much like today -- and filming one group at a time. For the first four groups, their partners will use their tongues to get their assholes ready for a gangbang -- don't worry, you'll be given lube too. The other eighteen men will be given numbers, and will be told which woman they're going to buttfuck -- straight to the ass, no oral or PIV. There should be three men per woman, unless the woman taps out or the man can't get it up. Partners won't be fucking the other women in the group, though they're expected to stay and watch, and they'll be participating in the other four groups."

"What about using our hands?" asked Ben. "I don't want to get a red card."

"Oh, you can lube them their asses up if they're dry, grab hold of their hips, even play with their tits, as long as you're careful not to give them an infection."

"What about going back for seconds?" asked Jesus.

"I admire your confidence. Sure, if you return to starting position in time and the hour isn't up. But don't wear yourself out: because of the amount of fucking you'll be doing, you won't be getting any days off until Sunday. There'll be one group tomorrow afternoon, two on Friday and two on Saturday. Live audiences each time. Tomorrow's schedule will be ready later tonight, after your bed assignments. Men will be given the option of taking super-cialis each day.

"There'll be another event on Saturday after the gang-bangs, but it doesn't involve any sex, just some talking. Recording for phase two begins on Monday. Are there any questions?"

***

Paul's bed partner for the night was Lotte, a busty six-foot natural blonde tour guide from Amsterdam who was sufficiently impressed by his performance in the cunnilingus carnival to suggest 69ing while he fingered her well-lubed asshole: "If you can make me come three times before I make you come once, you can fuck me. If you still want to." Her technique was good enough that she managed to delay his orgasm until she'd had her third, good enough that he was reluctant to ever take his cock out of her mouth, but she decided that she wanted to fuck, and stopped sucking him long enough to grab more lube and the smallest buttplug in the drawer. "I've never been DPed," she crooned, "but in case that's what they ask for next... best to be prepared."

"Well, I was never a boy scout, but as you wish... you wouldn't rather I fucked your ass?"

"Not tonight," she said, as she smeared lube onto the silicon plug. "You may get a chance later."

"Okay." She straddled him and guided his cock into her blonde cunt with one hand and the plug into her asshole with the other. He grabbed her beautiful breasts, and she leaned forward so that he could motorboat and suck them while she rode him. He managed, with difficulty, to delay his orgasm until he felt her cunt tighten, and he began coming a few seconds after she did.

When she'd recovered her breath, she kissed him on the forehead, rolled off him, and extricated the plug. "Dank je," she said, as she wrapped the plug in a tissue and placed it on the nightstand. "Welterusten."

"Goodnight. Sweet dreams."

***

Most of the men were given wristbands numbered from one to eighteen; Paul's was number nine. The other six were led in first, bottles of lube in hand, and knelt behind their partners. The women were already reclining on specially made couches, ass up and face down, with mirrors so they could see who was fucking them from behind if they wished. Paul looked at their expressions in the mirror; some impatient, some nervous, some grinning in anticipation. He was glad to see their faces, even though he'd spent enough time with them now that he could have recognized most of them from behind without any help. As he sat on his numbered cushion on a bleacher at the back of the stage between Khaleesi's boyfriend Jon and Leilani's husband Kai, the music started - a cover of 'Baby Got Back' -- and six men began rimming their women.

"Could be worse," said Topher, Rouge's boyfriend. "At least it's not 'Stairway to Heaven'."

"You don't like eating your girlfriend's ass?" said Jesus.

"Not as much as I like fucking it, but sure I do. I just can't stand that song."

The song ended, and Kyle announced, "Okay. Grab the lube, use your fingers, you have one minute before your wives and sluts take it up their butts. Your seats are in the back row."

That'll be me tomorrow, thought Paul, or the next day. Best not to think of that, he decided as his erection began to flag and he found himself wondering whether he should have taken some of the super-cialis. The husbands and boyfriends stood, then walked to the bleachers, while the men from the front row hurried towards their assigned partners. The audience cheered, and despite his earlier concerns, Paul felt his cock stiffen again as he watched the women being buttfucked and wondered which of them -- Deepa, Britt, Yulia, Miranda, Candy Rue or Zoe -- he would get to sodomize. He hoped it would be Miranda, because of how good the anal sex had been when they'd spent the night together, but he was at least curious about the others. Bottom-heavy Britt seemed to be squealing in delight at the pounding she was getting from Noah's thick cock, though her Liverpool accent made most of her words as unintelligible as Deepa's soft rhythmic crooning in one of India's 447 languages. Liam, Lotte's husband, gasped as he came deep in Yulia's ass, and after taking a minute to recover, slowly returned to the front bench. An annunciator above the women flashed the number 7, and Jon turned to Jesus. "Matthew 11.3."

"What?"

"'Art thou he that should come, or do we look for another?'"

Jesus stared at him, then laughed, and hurried over to where Yulia was waiting. "You've been saving that up, haven't you?" Paul asked.

"Mea culpa, mea culpa, mea maxima culpa."

"You were an altar boy?"

Jon laughed. "Lapsed Pentecostal. My folks dragged me to church every Sunday, and I've always had a good memory, especially for languages. Useful when you have to pretend to do that 'speaking in tongues' bullshit. It's why I decided to become an actor. Oops, looks like it's my turn now," he said, as Zac carefully pulled his long cock out of Miranda's gaping butthole and staggered backwards, then turned and strutted back to the bleacher.

A few minutes later, Kong grunted as he came in Candy Rue's ass, and Paul's number appeared on the annunciator. He walked over, applied some lube to his cock, and knelt behind the tattooed goth. Her asshole was still visibly distended, but not by much -- despite his name, Kong was short and had one of the smallest cocks still in the game -- and it still looked eminently fuckable. 'We meet again', he thought, and pushed the head of his cock through her shrinking sphincter. Her rectum was slippery with lube and Kong's cum, but it was hot and gripped him tightly as he slid inside. He looked at her face in the mirror, and saw a sneer that he interpreted as impatience. His erection softened slightly: it was the first time he'd ever sodomized a woman without any foreplay, and as good as it felt having his cock in her shapely ass, he liked to give his partner as much pleasure as possible. Remembering Candy Rue's conversation from the one night they'd spent together wasn't exactly a turn-on either.

He looked around at the live sex show. On his left, Britt still seemed to be having a great time, even if she wasn't as vocal as she had been, and all four women on his right seemed to be enjoying being fucked. Maybe, Paul thought, they were thinking of the 69 million. This brought back memories of the time he'd gone to Amsterdam's red light district in his gap year, one of the few times he'd paid for sex. The busty Colombian had offered oral and missionary position for a discount price of 30 euros, and he'd accepted once she'd agreed that he could also fondle her lovely tits. There was no other foreplay, no attempt to please her, but he'd enjoyed it nonetheless and she'd seemed satisfied.

Paul looked at Candy Rue's reflection, and saw the corners of her mouth turn up slightly. Well, he thought, if we're just using each other, then so be it. He slid his right hand from her hip up to her tits, and was astonished to find the pierced nipple hard and swollen from arousal. He waited until his erection had returned to its former rigidity, pulled back, and them slammed it back inside her until his balls banged into the rings dangling from her pierced cunt lips. He saw her expression change as he energetically plowed her pretty posterior, and realized that while she was turned on, she was trying to delay her own orgasm as a way of asserting dominance over the men who'd licked and fucked her anus as though it was holy.

Paul smiled, and leaned forwards as he continued fucking her. "You're really loving this, aren't you, slut?" he murmured, just behind her ear. "You're playing it cool, trying not to show it, but your cunt is dripping wet and your nipple feels like a fucking diamond. You're right on the edge of coming from knowing that there are millions of people watching you taking it up the old dirt road, seeing your gaping asshole oozing jizz, jerking off knowing that your fuckable butt is now public property."

Candy Rue gasped as her asshole tightened and her pale face turned pink.

"It's okay with me if you want to play with yourself," Paul continued, "and let all those millions of viewers think it was you who got yourself off, not my cock in your ass or your nasty exhibitionist streak or the fact that you're fantasizing about having more dicks in your slutty holes. Stay in the game and you'll probably get your chance. Double penetration, at least. Maybe another cock in your mouth fresh from your asshole, considering how much you love your own ass."

Almost unconsciously, the goth girl reached back and pulled on her clit hood piercing, and shrieked as she came, a scarlet flush spreading from her cheeks down to her cleavage. Paul heard laughter and applause from the audience, the men on the bleachers, and Kyle. He slowed his thrusts until Candy Rue's ass had relaxed its almost painfully tight grip on his cock, then withdrew and ejaculated on the crow outline tattooed above her alabaster ass. Satisfied, he stood shakily, then strutted back to the bleachers.

***

"Isn't it risky being on a show like this if you're an actor?" Paul asked Jon when the recording was over and they were allowed to hit the showers.

"I'm mostly a background actor," said Jon, as he washed his cock. "Plus live theatre, and some voice acting. No one much cares if you've been in porn if your name's not in the credits, and I figure we've still got ten years before they finish replacing all background actors with CGI, like they're already doing with porn."

Paul nodded. Cheap CGI was already enabling porn producers to giving their stars gravity-defying boobs bigger their heads and the men (and sometimes women) cocks as long as their forearms. It also helped them de-age their stars, making it even easier for MILFs to pretend to be teens. There was even more money in fake celebrity and time travel porn, like the infamous (and illegal) Marilyn Monroe airtight scene.

"Besides," Paul continued, "I'm not using my real name on the show, and if I don't win, then a year down the track, no one will remember I was ever here. I hear they're already auditioning women for Big Brothel." He yawned, and began rinsing himself off. "Of course, if I do win, people can still make a few non-union movies for less than thirty million -- more, if Khaleesi throws some of her money into the pot as well. I figure it's worth the risk."

They dried themselves off and walked back to the canteen, where Rouge was organizing a petition to make Vlad remove his Prince Albert piercing before he did any anal scenes. "I don't mind that thing in my cooch," she said, "but in my ass? No thank you. I don't know how Candy stands it."

Maybe she's never let him in there, thought Paul, but he didn't say it. He noticed Candy Rue looking at him from the other side of the room. Her expression was unreadable, but a hint of pink appeared in her pale cheeks before she turned away.

***

The list of women for Friday morning's scene came up that night ahead of the bed assignments. Briony. Harper, Leilani. Rouge. Tia.

And Dianne.