maryallison
TMF Novice
- Joined
- Feb 22, 2006
- Messages
- 74
- Points
- 0
Paul and Mark kept their promise. In a few seconds Paul threw my jeans up to the balcony, and the guys on the sidewalk let out a collective moan.
"Don't do it."
"Wait a bit more."
Mark tossed up my bra, which sailed over my head and probably fell in the main room behind me.
"C'mon, man," the guys below protested. "She's naked."
Paul didn't listen. He threw my shirt straight at me, and it hit my shoulders and crumpled at my feet. But I could not reach it. The guys beside me still held my arms up with the pool stick.
"Let me go," I said.
"Well, there's a toll for that," one of my captors answered.
"You've had your fun."
"Should we let her go, Mark?"
The crowd below shouted no in several voices.
Mark hesitated. "Let her earn back the clothes," he said.
"I'm tired," I said. "I want to go home."
Soon enough the two men next to me led the pool stick (and me) back into the main room, where a dozen guys still waited. One held my bra, another held my panties. Two others retrieved my shirt and jeans.
"My arms hurt."
Just like that the guys pulled down the pool stick, but laid it halfway across the pool table, so I had no choice but to lay facedown across it. They pulled just far enough so my feet came halfway off the floor. They rolled several pool balls toward me.
"Here you go," one guy said. "Put a ball in that corner pocket and win back your panties."
My wrists were still tied, and the pool stick stretched my arms in front of me, so I had little room to manuever.
I gripped a red striped ball, and rolled it feebly to one corner, but it barely got halfway, and stopped. A set of fingers glided up the back of my thigh.
"Stop that!"
"Try again," a voice behind me said.
A took another ball, and rolled it harder, but this time it hit the side of the table and bounced in front of the corner pocket before rolling away. A second pair of fingers stroked my other thigh.
"Ahhhh," I gasped, and soon took a ball in both hands and tried to stretch it closer to the pocket. The ball escaped my grip by just and inch or two, and the feather duster joined the roving hands along my legs. Each swipe moved closer to my exposed and still untouched pussy.
I took one more ball, the black one, and closed one eye for a better look at my target before rolling it away. The ball went straight for the pocket and victory was in sight when it seemed to slow at the last second and roll away, ever so slightly.
"No Fair!" I shouted, but soon that feather duster grazed my pussy and my whole body quivered. I reached for a ball and rolled it, and did not wait for the result before I took another and a third, all rolling towards that damn corner pocket as fingers and feathers raced up and down my thighs and quim. By now my hands were shaking so much that it did no good to aim; I just grabbed any ball close by and rolled it at my target. Just as I gripped another ball I heard a satisfying....
Plunk.
The feathers and fingers stopped, then withdrew. I caught my breath. Soon I could feel my panties at my feet, and then rising up my thighs as if by magic, until my bare ass was finally, wonderfully, covered.
"Next corner."
"I win," I said. "Let me go."
"Sorry. If you want your jeans you need to sink another ball."
I did not wait. I took whatever ball was nearby and rolled them in succession, so fast that they caromed off the sides and rolled back to me, and a new set of guys lined up to attack my outstretched bare feet. They had barely touched one helpless sole when a ball went PLUNK into the other corner.
"Aw, that was too fast," one guy said.
"Make her do two."
"Sorry." It was Mark's familiar voice. "She won. Give her the jeans."
In a moment the comforting feel of denim graced my feet, and I lifted each foot in turn so the jeans could slide ever so convincingly across my calves and thighs, and up across my cheeks. Ha. I've got this licked.
"It's too easy," one guy said.
"No it isn't," I said. "A deal's a deal."
"She's right." This time it was Paul. "One piece of clothing for each time she sinks a ball."
"With her feet!" someone shouted.
"WHAT?!"
The pool stick was instantly turned over, and I had to follow, and soon the stick was pulled farther away so my whole body was laid across the table. The guys ever pulled it down a little, so I had to arch my back and my breasts pointed to the ceiling.
"Go." Mark said.
"I can't do it with my feet!"
"You're actually closer. It's easy."
A ball was placed as my left foot, and I could barely get my toes around it when it rolled away. A hand started stroking the other foot.
"Hey, c'mon!"
Another ball was rolled at my foot, and I stopped it, then bent my knee a little and rolled the ball away. Nothing.
"I can't see the pocket..."
Of course it did not matter. Several sets of fingers began stroking my tummy and ribs, and I could see the whole frat surrounding me for a turn, so I frantically started kicking my legs at any ball that might be there, and with each time I even grazed a ball another set of fingers rolled oh so slowly toward my breasts, and with every kick the jeans - which had conveniently not been zippered up - began wriggling off my hips. A single finger touched my zipper, opening it further, and my struggles only made the finger explore more and more of my panties as I practically begged for the sound of a falling pool ball. Nothing happened. Now I could not find a ball at all, and I stretched my neck to see anything on the other side of the table. Every kick brought a ball for an instant, then nothing, and at last I found a pair of pool balls and rolled them together at the pocket, and they both fell in.
"I win! I win!"
The crowd stopped an instant, and hands began to pull away, when Mark said the obvious. Even I knew what was coming, as he laid my bra across my chest.
"The second ball fell in the wrong pocket."
Sure enough, the fingers returned, and I twisted so much that my bra fell to one side. The feather duster brushed against my erect nipples so sweetly, so rhythmically, that I could barely catch my breath. I heard a humming, and as I waved my toes at whatever ball might be on the table a vibrator rested firmly at my open zipper. I stretched and stretched my feet closer to the last target, with a ball resting between my toes, and with each stretch the vibrator found another sensitive millimeter of wet fabric, until I could not care less whether the ball fell or not. I lifted my hips as far as I could, maybe just an inch, but the satisfying whirr of vibrating plastic met my aching slit. I gave up, with waves of sensation washing over my chest and ribs and down into my waist, meeting another wave that could not be denied, and at last it crashed to shore, over and over, as my tormentors witnessed my inevitable orgasm.
All was silence.
By the time I opened my eyes again, half of the guys were gone, and the other half had already turned to the television or the refridgerator. Only Mark and Paul remained. They helped me off the table, which was curiously free from evidence of my ordeal. Paul handed me my shirt - my damp shirt - and I did not care how it felt as I put it on. My flip flops were there, too, and soon Mark and Paul both led me to the front door, and opened it, and as I stepped outside I heard a whisper in my ears, "There's a Do Not Enter Room at your sorority, too."
"Don't do it."
"Wait a bit more."
Mark tossed up my bra, which sailed over my head and probably fell in the main room behind me.
"C'mon, man," the guys below protested. "She's naked."
Paul didn't listen. He threw my shirt straight at me, and it hit my shoulders and crumpled at my feet. But I could not reach it. The guys beside me still held my arms up with the pool stick.
"Let me go," I said.
"Well, there's a toll for that," one of my captors answered.
"You've had your fun."
"Should we let her go, Mark?"
The crowd below shouted no in several voices.
Mark hesitated. "Let her earn back the clothes," he said.
"I'm tired," I said. "I want to go home."
Soon enough the two men next to me led the pool stick (and me) back into the main room, where a dozen guys still waited. One held my bra, another held my panties. Two others retrieved my shirt and jeans.
"My arms hurt."
Just like that the guys pulled down the pool stick, but laid it halfway across the pool table, so I had no choice but to lay facedown across it. They pulled just far enough so my feet came halfway off the floor. They rolled several pool balls toward me.
"Here you go," one guy said. "Put a ball in that corner pocket and win back your panties."
My wrists were still tied, and the pool stick stretched my arms in front of me, so I had little room to manuever.
I gripped a red striped ball, and rolled it feebly to one corner, but it barely got halfway, and stopped. A set of fingers glided up the back of my thigh.
"Stop that!"
"Try again," a voice behind me said.
A took another ball, and rolled it harder, but this time it hit the side of the table and bounced in front of the corner pocket before rolling away. A second pair of fingers stroked my other thigh.
"Ahhhh," I gasped, and soon took a ball in both hands and tried to stretch it closer to the pocket. The ball escaped my grip by just and inch or two, and the feather duster joined the roving hands along my legs. Each swipe moved closer to my exposed and still untouched pussy.
I took one more ball, the black one, and closed one eye for a better look at my target before rolling it away. The ball went straight for the pocket and victory was in sight when it seemed to slow at the last second and roll away, ever so slightly.
"No Fair!" I shouted, but soon that feather duster grazed my pussy and my whole body quivered. I reached for a ball and rolled it, and did not wait for the result before I took another and a third, all rolling towards that damn corner pocket as fingers and feathers raced up and down my thighs and quim. By now my hands were shaking so much that it did no good to aim; I just grabbed any ball close by and rolled it at my target. Just as I gripped another ball I heard a satisfying....
Plunk.
The feathers and fingers stopped, then withdrew. I caught my breath. Soon I could feel my panties at my feet, and then rising up my thighs as if by magic, until my bare ass was finally, wonderfully, covered.
"Next corner."
"I win," I said. "Let me go."
"Sorry. If you want your jeans you need to sink another ball."
I did not wait. I took whatever ball was nearby and rolled them in succession, so fast that they caromed off the sides and rolled back to me, and a new set of guys lined up to attack my outstretched bare feet. They had barely touched one helpless sole when a ball went PLUNK into the other corner.
"Aw, that was too fast," one guy said.
"Make her do two."
"Sorry." It was Mark's familiar voice. "She won. Give her the jeans."
In a moment the comforting feel of denim graced my feet, and I lifted each foot in turn so the jeans could slide ever so convincingly across my calves and thighs, and up across my cheeks. Ha. I've got this licked.
"It's too easy," one guy said.
"No it isn't," I said. "A deal's a deal."
"She's right." This time it was Paul. "One piece of clothing for each time she sinks a ball."
"With her feet!" someone shouted.
"WHAT?!"
The pool stick was instantly turned over, and I had to follow, and soon the stick was pulled farther away so my whole body was laid across the table. The guys ever pulled it down a little, so I had to arch my back and my breasts pointed to the ceiling.
"Go." Mark said.
"I can't do it with my feet!"
"You're actually closer. It's easy."
A ball was placed as my left foot, and I could barely get my toes around it when it rolled away. A hand started stroking the other foot.
"Hey, c'mon!"
Another ball was rolled at my foot, and I stopped it, then bent my knee a little and rolled the ball away. Nothing.
"I can't see the pocket..."
Of course it did not matter. Several sets of fingers began stroking my tummy and ribs, and I could see the whole frat surrounding me for a turn, so I frantically started kicking my legs at any ball that might be there, and with each time I even grazed a ball another set of fingers rolled oh so slowly toward my breasts, and with every kick the jeans - which had conveniently not been zippered up - began wriggling off my hips. A single finger touched my zipper, opening it further, and my struggles only made the finger explore more and more of my panties as I practically begged for the sound of a falling pool ball. Nothing happened. Now I could not find a ball at all, and I stretched my neck to see anything on the other side of the table. Every kick brought a ball for an instant, then nothing, and at last I found a pair of pool balls and rolled them together at the pocket, and they both fell in.
"I win! I win!"
The crowd stopped an instant, and hands began to pull away, when Mark said the obvious. Even I knew what was coming, as he laid my bra across my chest.
"The second ball fell in the wrong pocket."
Sure enough, the fingers returned, and I twisted so much that my bra fell to one side. The feather duster brushed against my erect nipples so sweetly, so rhythmically, that I could barely catch my breath. I heard a humming, and as I waved my toes at whatever ball might be on the table a vibrator rested firmly at my open zipper. I stretched and stretched my feet closer to the last target, with a ball resting between my toes, and with each stretch the vibrator found another sensitive millimeter of wet fabric, until I could not care less whether the ball fell or not. I lifted my hips as far as I could, maybe just an inch, but the satisfying whirr of vibrating plastic met my aching slit. I gave up, with waves of sensation washing over my chest and ribs and down into my waist, meeting another wave that could not be denied, and at last it crashed to shore, over and over, as my tormentors witnessed my inevitable orgasm.
All was silence.
By the time I opened my eyes again, half of the guys were gone, and the other half had already turned to the television or the refridgerator. Only Mark and Paul remained. They helped me off the table, which was curiously free from evidence of my ordeal. Paul handed me my shirt - my damp shirt - and I did not care how it felt as I put it on. My flip flops were there, too, and soon Mark and Paul both led me to the front door, and opened it, and as I stepped outside I heard a whisper in my ears, "There's a Do Not Enter Room at your sorority, too."
