Game Show

"Excuse me... Sorry... Excuse me... We're just..."

We eventually reached our seats and slumped into them. And not a moment too soon. We'd just managed a look that managed to say, "Thank god we made it," and "It's your fault we were late," and "We'll talk about this later," when a young woman strode out from the wings and took centre stage. She was tiny and looked like she was on a university work placement -- denim dungarees and a blue and white stripy shirt, purple Dr Martens, long dark hair pulled back in a ponytail. The clipboard, the headset and the wide beaming smile told us that she was one of the TV companies production team.

"Good evening ladies and gentlemen," she beamed and waited as a hush fell over the auditorium. "Good evening and welcome to this recording of "Can You Take It All?" This is the second pilot episode of the show, we had a very successful show last night. Can I remind you that taking pictures, making videos and the use of mobile phones is strictly prohibited, and that you signed a non-disclosure agreement when you applied for tickets."

Rebecca paused whilst taking her coat off and gave me a quizzical look which I could only shrug at in response. Coming to the recording of a TV show was something that she had wanted to do for a long time. I'd been trying to get tickets to one of her favourite panel shows every birthday and Christmas for the past 3 years without success, so I'd snapped up the tickets that had been offered to me in an email. I hadn't looked too closely at the small print, just electronically signed the paperwork and pressed send.

The woman on stage carried on talking. "This is particularly important due to the adult nature of the show and the fact that this is a pilot episode. We'll begin the filming in about 5 minutes, so enjoy the show! "

"Oh god," Rebecca mumbled with a smile. "What the fuck have you bought me to?"

I smiled nervously and leaned forward to kiss her briefly. "You look beautiful," I told her as the noise of the room swelled up again, and she did. She looked absolutely gorgeous, from head to toe... but then again, I would say that wouldn't I? I adored her then and I adore her now, but she looked particularly good that night, having dressed to impress the TV cameras. Chestnut hair braided and tied back in a pre-Raphaelite sort of way, lips painted a deep red (a DIY store paint chart would have called it Shy Arousal rather than Street Prostitute or Vampire Bride) so that they looked plump and alluring, and subtle eye shadow and mascara that accentuated her light blue eyes. Her clothes, too, were fantastic: a tight low-cut top which showed off her ample cleavage and a cardigan to frame them, a short skirt which was riding up to show more of her shapely legs and sheer black tights, and a pair of high heeled knee length boots. We'd travelled to London on the train and spent the day sightseeing, and I'd been aware of the admiring looks she'd been getting throughout the day, especially from the men behind her when we were travelling up the escalators on the underground.

She kissed me back and I rested my hand on her thigh, feeling the firmness through the soft nylon.

"It's a very.... young audience," she noted as we broke apart. I looked around and noticed that almost everyone was a similar age to us -- early twenties up to mid-thirties; certainly no-one who could be mistaken for younger than that and only a smattering of people approaching middle age.

"Maybe we've been specifically chosen for our open-mindedness," I joked. "So, we won't be offended by the 'adult nature' of the show." Rebecca rolled her eyes. She wasn't a prude or anything, but certainly wasn't as open minded as some of our friends. We'd watched porn together from time to time, but she wasn't as into it as I was and certainly wouldn't watch anything that could be called extreme -- no bukkakes or water sports, no lesbians fisting each other. She enjoyed watching the odd gang bang scene where one woman was pleasured by a group of men, but drew the line at DP scenes and her favourites seemed to be amateur scenes where a loving couple had sex with each other. If the talk at the pub got sexual, she would make an excuse and go to powder her nose or get the next round of drinks in while I tried to subtly steer the conversation onto a new topic. Our own sex life was great, but I knew there was a line over which she would not cross, beyond which my fantasies would remain just that -- fantasies.

At least, I thought I knew.

*****

A familiar voice came over the sound system: "Ladies and gentlemen, please take your seats as the show will commence in three minutes!"

"That's the guy who does the voice over on that show on Channel 4," Rebecca told me. "Maybe it's not going to be too bad after all...!"

"One minute!" cried a voice from the side of the stage, and the lights in the auditorium dimmed. We were in a modern auditorium, and the stage was a raised oval in front of us that allowed cameras to move around the back on tracks as well as the normal manually operated ones at the front. The stage itself was now empty apart from four highchairs, the type you might get at bars. Two large screens hung down from the ceiling either side of the stag, angled so that the audience could see clearly.

"Ladies and gentlemen," rolled voice over man's voice. "Please welcome your host.... Charlie Jay!!"

A massive round of applause and cheering greeted the tall figure who strode on stage. Inwardly, I sighed with relief; Rebecca loved this man, a northern comic from the same town as her who had been ubiquitous on the TV a few years ago but whose star had fallen almost as quickly as had risen.

I turned to look at Rebecca, and she smiled at me -- a big, happy beaming smile of excitement and relief.

"Welcome!" Charlie crowed as the applause began to wane. "Welcome to "Can You Take It All?", the game show that explores couple's sexuality and tries to push the boundaries of what they find acceptable." I was aware of Rebecca looking at me again, with something bordering on amusement but veering more to distaste. "Tonight, our couples will compete against each other in a series of games..." (Games, I thought) "...to win a life changing jackpot of up to half a million pounds!" Another bout of whooping, cheering and clapping from the audience.

"So without further ado, lets meet our couples!"

On stage, Charlie stood and smiled until the two large screens on either side of the stage came to life. A twirling logo of the shows name grew rapidly and then was replaced by a video -- a young couple walking in the park, the man pushing a pram in front of him. He was tall and had a mop of dark curly hair; she was pretty: olive eyes and high cheek bones, slim beneath her waxed jacket and jeans.

"Hi!" said a voice over. "My names Rosanna and this is my husband, Ted. We met in our first week at university and have been together ever since.". On screen, the video showed a homage to Rosanna and Ted and their obviously lovely life. "We've been married for three years and have just welcomed our beautiful baby boy into our family! We're both primary school teachers so we hope that we'll win enough to let us resign before any of the parents get to see this!" Cue laughter. "We're not particularly experimental in bed, but we hope to learn a trick or two from this!"

The logo swirled, the audience clapped, and another montage appeared, this time of a plump but pretty Asian woman and her husband in their early twenties who talked about breaking down stereotypes and then two more: a chirpy black girl and her smiling boyfriend and a middle-aged couple who bot sported a rash of bad tattoos and an Essex accent that screamed "chav". Next to me, Rebecca crossed and uncrossed her legs nervously, uncomfortably.

*****

The video's finished and the lights went up on Charlie again, standing centre stage. "Those are our contestants," he grinned. "Now let's meet them.... In the flesh!" One arm raised, he walked backwards to the left-hand side of the stage as four couples walked on from the right-hand side,

"Jesus!" Rebecca sighed, and I knew she was rolling her eyes.

The men were safely wrapped up in fluffy white dressing gowns, the type you get in posh hotels and spas, their partners...were not. The grinning little black girl was grinning slightly more nervously in a bright pink bra and panties set that showed off her large cleavage and the middle-aged skank was wearing skimpy white bra with white fishnet stockings that didn't do anything to dispel her chavvy image; the plump Asian girl had squeezed herself into a white chiffon baby doll. My focus, however, was completely focused on Rosanna. Out of all of the women, she was by far the prettiest and was wearing the most revealing outfit: a sheer black bodystocking which clung to every inch of her body and through which you could clearly see her breasts and nipples. She sat on the first chair and crossed legs, her hands clasped on her knees, completely covered by the nylon apart from her face and hands... and a glimpse of skin between her legs that hinted at the bodystocking being crotchless.

My cock began to harden uncomfortably.

Charlie was in his stride now, a man at the top of his game. He strode back across the stage, clutching a microphone in his hand. It was hard not to like the man.

"Well, hello Rosanna!" he announced as he reached the end of the line. "You're looking... perky today!!"

Rosanna blushed, grinned, and looked at the ceiling as the audience tittered and clapped. "Hi Charlie!" she answered as the laughter died.

"So, a little birdy tells me that your still breast feeding..." A smattering of applause from the audience.

"That's right Charlie," she smiled. "We all know breast is best!" Another peel of laughter.

"And your breasts are certainly some of the best I've seen!" More applause. "So, does that mean there might be a little... leakage at some point?"

Releasing the grip on her knees, she reached up and cupped her breasts, squeezing them gently. The screens either side of the stage which, up to now, have been showing a wide screen shot of all four couples, suddenly switches to a close up of Rosanna's tits "I did express just before we came on, but you never know your luck!"

"Ladies and gentlemen, give it up for Rosanna and Ted!" And, barely acknowledging her husband, Charlie moved on to the chubby Asian girl.

Rebecca leaned over to whisper in my ear. "I bet you fancy her," she muttered. I was caught between confusion and denial and ended up just mouthing "What?" at my wife and trying to look both confused and deeply hurt at the same time. What I really didn't want to admit was that she was completely right; I had barely registered anything about the other three women because I was focused almost solely on the young mum in nylon.

"I bet you fancy her!" she replied. "She's just you type."

"What do you mean 'my type'?" I asked. "I don't' have a type! You're my type!"

"So what's that then?" she asked, glancing my erection which was clearly visible through my jeans, smirking to herself. At least she's smiling I thought to myself...

*****

"Round One," announced Charlie happily, drawing our attention back to what was happening on stage, "Is called...Taking the Piss!"

Rebecca groaned next to me. My sense of optimism was short lived.

"Each couple," Charlie continued, "Will be given a bowl for them both to fill. The couple with the least amount of wee in their bowl will be eliminated." A pantomime boo from the audience. Out of sight of the cameras, the young woman from earlier was now scurrying across the front of the stage to deposit a large, clear glass bowl in front of each couple. I watched as Rosanna placed both hands over her mouth and nose in a way that suggested either shock, surprise, or a desire to hide what she was thinking from everyone by hiding her face. "But we will add £10 to the prize fund for each millilitre of urine collected!" This time, cheers resonate around the auditorium. "Ladies -- you'll go first!"

Nervously, all four women slipped off their bar stools and walked towards the bowls. I was torn between watching the soft flesh of the Asian girl as she walked, breasts wobbling slightly beneath the thin material, and watching Rosanna. Rosanna won. As she slipped off the stool, we were given a clear view of her pubic hair, a thick triangle of mousey brown pubes framed by the hem of the crotchless opening in her bodystocking. The more I saw of her, the more gorgeous I realised she was. As well as being fantastically pretty, she had perfect breasts, a C-cup at most, and long shapely legs. Everything about her was perfectly proportioned, and beautifully showcased by her choice of lingerie.

"Put your tongue away," Rebecca snapped.

There was a slight pause onstage, the smooth running of the show stalling slightly. All four women were stood just behind there bowls looking around as if waiting for an instruction. Rosanna crossed her arms, lacing her hands on her shoulders and crossed her ankles, clamping her thighs together as if she was belatedly trying to hide her breasts and pussy from view; the chav slag in fishnets assumed an almost comically opposite stance -- hands on hips and everything on display.

"We'll edit this bit out!" Charlie announced, before listening attentively to his earpiece. The girl with the clipboard was back on stage, talking to the four couples. She turned to Charlie and gave him the same instructions; he nodded and gave her the thumbs up.

"Ladies" he announced again as the show got back on the road, "You'll go first!"

Simultaneously, all four women spread their legs and crouched over the bowls. The audience erupted once again, cheering and clapping; somewhere to our left a small group started a chant of "Piss! Piss! Piss!" which was thankfully short lived. On the big screens there was a close-up view of the chav pulling her knickers to one side and exposing a pair of large, pierced labia which she then spread with the fingers of her other hand. Whoever was in charge of which camera shots we saw was obviously as infatuated with Rosanna as I was, we were given a gloriously long view of her balancing on her toes, her pussy slightly parted above the bowl. It was still focused on her as her it convulsed and a stream of clear bright piss erupted, cascading into the bowl. It went on for seconds, splashing off the glass beneath her.

I tore my eyes from the screens and looked along the line in front of me. Skanky chav was also filling her bowl with a stream of yellow while the cute black girl was frantically rubbing at her pussy and spreading her labia wide. Eventually, a few droplets dropped out followed by a half-hearted dribble that would have barely filled a teacup never mind the huge bowl beneath her. Plump Asian was the last to start but managed, eventually to release a steady stream.

"This is so gross," Rebecca muttered, putting her hand over her mouth and nose.

Skanky chav gave her pussy a shake with her fingers and stood up, a satisfied smile on her face: her bowl was not as full a Rosanna's but definitely had more than the other two. The cute black girl looked like she was about to burst into tears as she looked down at her paltry offering which barely covered the bottom of the bowl.

Charlie walked back on stage and made a bee line for Rosanna, who was still crouching above her bowl even though she had stopped pissing. "Rosanna!!" he bellowed, "You really needed a pee didn't you!" More laughter, and a shy grin from the woman herself. "You and Ted are in pole position, Clara and Darrell," - the camera cuts to the less than cheerful looking black girl (whose name I have only just registered) as her eyes fill with tears -- "You've got a lot of ground to make up, but anything I possible! Gentlemen... let's see what you've got!"

I was expecting the couples to simply swap places and the men to take aim at the bowls on the floor, but the director obviously had other ideas. All four women knelt down and picked the bowl up (gingerly in Rosanna's case, it was so full) and held it in front of their faces, level with their chins, looking up at their partner. The crowd cheered as the four men strode from the back of the stage and stood in front of them before undoing the dressing gown ties and letting the gowns open.

I heard Rebecca gasp beside me, and she wasn't the only one. To be frank, Darrell was a walking racial stereotype. Even semi-erect, his cock was massive. It had both length and girth and put everyone else on the stage to shame. Ted was no minnow, and I guessed he had a good 7" that would probably make Rosanna very happy, but it was nothing compared to the monster next to him. And then there was the Plump Asian Boyfriend of the plump Asian girl who was sporting what can only be described as a raging erection that was sticking out at a 45^o angle.

Which is where everything began to go wrong.

While the limp, the flaccid and the semi-erect had no problem aiming their streams into the bowls held by their loved ones, Plump Asian boyfriend suffered the way any man who has needed a wee during sex has suffered: a cock too hard to let the piss flow, a desperate attempt to think of something else so that the erection will subside enough to let the stream flow, and an inability to aim the damn thing when it eventually does. I could see the car crash about to happen, and there was nothing I could do to stop it.

Plump Asian boyfriend closed his eyes and tried to think of something very, very boring like a Welsh male voice choir. In doing so, he forgot to take aim. The stream of piss that eventually erupted from his cock like water from ahigh pressure fire hose caught his young bride-to-be squarely in the face. With a shriek, she screwed her eyes shut and turned her head, with the result that, momentarily, neither of the stupid twats could see what the fuck was happening. At the same time, she tried to put her hands up to stop the torrent, completely forgetting in her panic that the bowl she was holding was full of her own urine: it slipped from her grasp and emptied over her chest and into her lap. The shriek made Plump Asian Boyfriend open his eyes but I'm fairly sure the sight that greeted him sent him into some sort of mortified shock, because instead of diverting the stream away from the love of his life he continued to aim at the side of her head. The stream of piss plastered her hair to her face before running down her body. The white baby doll was now semi-transparent and clinging to her large breasts, her dark nipples clearly visible through the soaked material.

Like most car crashes, it seemed to go on for far longer than it probably did in reality and to the exclusion of everything else that was going on. Eventually, Plump Asian Boyfriend's bladder emptied with a trickle onto the stage. I looked at the other contestants. Ted had managed to fill Rosanna's bowl nearly to the brim. Being right next to the plump Asian's, he'd had the perfect view of her accidental golden shower and had obviously liked what he saw -- his cock was definitely harder, longer and thicker than at the start of the round. Skanky Chav was grinning mischievously and leaned forward to give the tip of her man's cock a little lick. The biggest smile was on the cute black girl's face as she realised that she had been saved from elimination by the catastrophe next to her.

"Prisha! Arjun!" Charlie asked above the noise of the crowd as he walked back on to the stage and over to the Asian couple. "What happened?" He held his hand out to the kneeling woman and Prisha took it, standing gingerly. Her hair was plastered to her face and mascara was smeared over one cheek where it had been washed away by the piss. Her tits wobbled as she stood up, literally dripping wet.