Lost Match, Crowd Still Entertained

As she approached the couple, she heard the old lady

"Hold her still. Don't jostle her, poor thing." Also "Bring her closer, slowly."

"There, there my dear," the old lady whispered as Emma arrived in front of them and Emma then recalled that it was the old couple from earlier. She remembered stumbling into the man and his wife being annoyed, but she was sure they must have forgotten as they were now helping her. The crowd held Emma still in front of the old couple.

The woman put her hand up and cupped Emma's cheek slowly moving her thumb to stroke it gently. Emma felt a sense of warmth, and kindness in her touch and waited to descend.

The old lady had placed both hands either side of Emma's head, in her hair and was pulling her head gently towards her in a downward movement. The crowd responded by allowing less upward pressure on Emma's top body whilst holding her lower body still effectively allowing Emma to bend towards the couple.

"There, there," the old lady whispered again to Emma, then looked at her husband

"You want to help me with this Brian?"

Brian looked at her and saw his wife's hands moving down Emma's back towards the lower hem of her sports bra. He nodded eagerly and stretched his arms so that his hands were the other side moving in parallel with his wife's.

The viewing crowd and those now holding Emma began to positively murmur and the noise grew as the old lady and her husband both gripped the lower elastic of the yellow fluorescent sports bra covering Emma's top torso.

"Push my husband, over would you?" "Think you're more important than us older folk?" "Well, you know what happens to insolent, rude little girls? They get punished."

Her voice now raised above the crowd's noise she yelled: "How important are you going to feel now showing everyone in the crowd your tits tonight?"

"Let's' have this off you, young girl".

Emma came out of her relaxed comfort mode "What, Hey, No, You can't."

"Ah but I can. It's been a while since my Brian has been close to a perky young pair of tits and I was wondering how to pep him up lately. I think yours will be just right to put a spring back in his step." muttered the old lady.

Emma found her bra being edged up and the crowd cheered and rallied around the old couple in anticipation of the reveal. The couple had not felt this wanted for a while and began revelling in their stadium fame. Emma was doing everything she could now think of to stop her bra being removed. She tried to force her arms down again, but the crowd supporting her weight, had other ideas and pulled her arms, outstretching the arms and her body in a pencil line in the shape of a diver waiting to plunge.

"No," she squealed, "Let go!"

The old couple now started to lift the bra over the lower part of her round 'globes' and her paler under breast came into view. The crowd viewing the main screens were elated at the progress.

"Want more?" the old woman shrieked at the crowd. Those around her nodded vigorously - those all around her except Emma.

"Please stop." Emma was frantically swinging her body from side to side to weaken the old couple's grip on her sports bra.

Seeing that the old couple were slightly struggling to lift the bra up and over Emma's breasts, a man, standing not too far away, stepped forward and grasped both of Emma's flailing hands. Bringing her hands together, he held on and stepped back.

"There you go."

"Thank you, young man." The old lady caught her husband's eye and saw the glint of anticipation in them. "Ready Brian?"

She turned to the crowd to milk the moment "Ready everyone?"

A big cheer again, this time sealed Emma's fate and to the constant clapping, cheering and chanting for tits, the old couple tugged. The bra now moved upwards on its journey and her nipples were released followed by her entire breasts, then the bra was to her armpits. As she was being held face down, her breasts, now free, bounced naturally to hang downwards.

"I'll finish this Brian, you enjoy yourself."

Brian needed no second telling and his hands left the material of the sports bra, to feel the softer skin of Emma's normally covered and protected breasts.

Emma was now in a frenzy; she was topless, her breasts were hanging out, and worse than that, an old man was having an unobstructed feel. His hands now began to tweak her nipples. She then felt a slight warm wet feeling on one breast and realised that the old man had kissed her nipple!

Meanwhile, the old lady continued to pull Emma's bra off. It was a little snagged whilst going over her head, but once free and with pulling encouragement it was down her outstretched arms very quickly. The man holding her hands let go and the old lady finished the job and with a big grin on her face, twirled the sports bra at the camera crew and therefore on the big screen.

"I'll keep this as a memento." she informed her husband. She rubbed the removed garment against his face, let her husband have a deep inhale of its scent, and placed the item in her pocket.

In the meantime, the crowd had taken over again and Emma was twirled from facing down to riding the sea of hands on her back. An embarrassing previous lingerie surf was now a humiliating topless one. Back down towards the pitch she went. The camera now had a completely unobstructed view of her naked breasts and had zoomed in to display her charms on the big screen and National TV.

Her nipples, hard from the movement of the surf and after the old mans' tweaking, stood prominently. The camera's view of her erect nipples was occasionally obstructed by male and female hands cupping and groping.

"No stop. Please stop, you've had your fun, please let me go." Emma whimpered, totally embarrassed.

She was passed across left and right and many hands were taking the opportunity to get friendly with her exposed flesh. The excitement in the crowd was nearing fever pitch as they increased their excitement at the sight of her topless with the white contrasting skin of her breasts standing out against the subtle tan of her torso and arms. Her hard nipples poking out at them did not help them to calm in any way.

Many mobiles were recording and taking images of her exhibition which would be forever held on the hard drives of many computers. Emma began to feel she would just have to ride it out as she was getting exhausted from trying to fight off the last half hours indignity.

Down below, at the side of the pitch, with play having finished, the home players had congregated to watch the humiliation unfold. As the lines woman that had made them lose the match, had been slowly stripped, they had found themselves joining in with the excitement and cheering and there was a general happy feeling amongst them at what had unfolded.

"Here bring her down and give her to us," a few of them said.

The crowd, getting slightly tired and beginning to have exhausted their spontaneous fun for the evening, moved their reluctant topless surfer down towards the players.

If she contemplated for a moment that that was the end of providing the evening's entertainment, she was wrong.

"Let's walk her round the ground so everyone can get a good look at her tan lines." one of the players suggested.

Emma was shocked. It was not what an equal 'professional' should expect from other professional sportsmen. The players moved into the pitch side edge of the crowd and, after a few moments of adjusting and passing, Emma was triumphantly held high on their hands and walked onto the pitch.

The crowd cheered. Mainly. in the North stand, as they could now drop their hands to rest but also within the stadium as their playing heroes now had the unfortunate official and were parading her like they had just won a trophy.

The players held her above their heads in a similar fashion to the crowd earlier and positioned themselves holding her head, upper torso, arms, legs, and feet. Some of the 'luckier' players were positioned around her bottom and hands were readily giving the 'support' to her in that region. Emma was walked and displayed around the edge of the ground to the crowd in all four stands.

It was at that point that Emma realised she was the centre of attention on the big screens.

"NOOOOO," she screamed, "Come on guys, put me down, I'm exposed on TV."

Her pleas fell on deaf ears. The players were caught in the 'trophy circulating walk' around the ground, cheering and waving fans adored them. This was good they thought. The crowd cheered; the match long forgotten.

Now with a new second wind of energy and increased vigour, Emma began bucking and swaying, hoping to force the players to put her down. Conscious that her embarrassment was now on the big screens and probably being beamed into a worldwide audience she hurled her 'authority' at the players.

"I said put me down and cover me up."

The players made no effort to break from their lap of honour.

"Right," Emma howled "What's your number? I'm going to write it down and report you. Yes - you."

In the activities of the last half hour or so, Emma, for that moment, had omitted to remember that she had no shirt pocket with a notebook and pencil. Indeed, she had no shirt or no anything, she was naked except for her sport's yellow boxers.

She cursed herself, why did she say that. It made her look stupid. And it did.

She kicked out again, hoping to catch their hold on her by surprise but managed in her jolted movement to kick one of the players in the face. He was stopped in his celebration, shook the pain away, and look angrily at her.

"Kick me again, and there'll be consequences," he said.

"I didn't mean to, I need you to remember who I am, please put me down."

As she finished the last barked order her body jerked again and her foot swiped the same player. This time he let out a yelp and the other players stopped to see what the problem was. The player released his grip on Emma to rub his face, motioned to the other players to indicate he had been kicked. The other players showed annoyance by gripping her tighter.

"Kick Chris, would you? I call that dirty play. Perhaps we should raise our flag and signal a foul?" "Where's your flag lino?"

"I've hardly still got my flag have I?" said an exasperated Emma "I didn't mean to kick him now release me or I'll report you all for manhandling an official."

Chris had been walking around the players whispering and making eye movements to the centre circle. The players, one by one, on receiving Chris's message, nodded and Emma found herself carried aloft towards the centre of the pitch.

Chris, however, wandered off to the dugout area and watched Emma on her journey to the centre spot.

"Ladies and Gentleman, Fans."

Chris had picked up a microphone and was addressing the crowd. They cheered.

He walked from the side-lines, waving to the crowd and towards the centre circle where the other players stood with Emma held in their grip.

"I know your evening was spoilt with the result tonight but hope you have all had fun with the surfing lino?"

Claps came from all sides.

"As I said, shame we lost the match, but I think we have addressed the problem." He pointed at Emma held by the other players in the centre of the pitch.

"Problem, I'm not the problem." yelled Emma

The crowd cheered. Emma was still trying to free herself. She wanted out and had had enough.

"We were happy to do our 'topless trophy' lap of honour to make it up to you, our loyal fans, before we left, but you'd have seen that our 'line official' thought it was a good idea to kick out at me, not once but twice."

The crowd booed and hissed like at a pantomime.

"So quick to raise her flag during the match, we think that she should be flagged for her 'dirty play' of kicking me. Would you all agree?"

Chris had reached the centre circle now and was looking straight into Emma's eyes.

"Where's your flag lino?" he asked and then moved the microphone towards her so everyone could hear any response to his question.

"Well it's not here is it," sneered Emma tired and annoyed. "For the last time let me go."

Chris made a point of pretending to look around the centre circle in and out of the group of players.

"No. I can't see it either. Well we have to wave something as it was a foul after all."

He stopped and stared again at Emma and smiled. The hands holding her limbs tightened and she was raised rigidly aloft above the player's heads.

"What! What's going on?"

There was no response.

"I've not got a stupid flag like I told you all."

The players said nothing to her continuing protests.

Chris walked between his teammates into the centre of the group and was now underneath Emma's lofty held position. The camera crew stuck the camera between two players into the circle, to view what was going on and relay it to the crowd watching. Chris's head had just enough room under Emma's back.

His hand rose and pointed a finger at Emma's last piece of body covering which protected her most intimate areas from public view. Namely her boxers.

"Ladies and gentlemen, I think I can improvise. Would you like me to improvise?"

The crowd roared, cheered and banged the hoardings and advertisement boards readily available very loudly. Many of the men were conscious of stirrings and were getting visibly excited. Even some of the women appeared to be 'straightening' their panties with the odd hand disappearing from view.

"I think that is a YES!"

Chris placed the microphone down and lifted both his hands to the waistband of Emma's fluorescent yellow sports boxers. She felt his fingers dig to secure a grip on the elastic waistband. He flicked the elastic letting it ping back into place against her skin. She started to shiver - firstly from the cool night air on her topless body and partly in anticipation of what was being suggested.

"The crowd is waiting. Are you ready lino?" Chris quietly mouthed to Emma.

"You wanted everyone to notice you tonight, didn't you?" Chris whispered closer to her ear, "Well I think they will certainly remember tonight's performance now!"

"No! P-Please." she cried when she felt his hands starting to tug her waistband. Her boxers were beginning their journey.

No one listened to her pleas for help as her boxers were slowly edged down until Chris revealed the start of the line which divided her bottom cheeks. Her revealed cheeks were again, whiter than her more readily exposed areas and Chris had a quick thought as to whether he was the first man to see this normally well-covered area. He smiled at the thought.

Chris's hands then moved up the elastic and slowly brought the top portion of the boxers down Emma's body until they were in perfect line with the lower half.

The anticipation in the crowd was building. Chris had stopped when the boxers were still covering her pussy. Although her white bottom was partially on display Emma thought it not as bad as it could have been as only Chris was beneath her with any view. There, he was done. It was over.

"Ladies and Gentleman."

Chris had picked up the microphone again. He looked somewhat sad this time and down at his feet.

"I can't do it. It's just not right!"

Music to Emma's ears. She was spared the final indignity. The crowd took a moment and then angry cries began to sound.

Chris paused to hear the crowd's disappointment, then looked up, and a smile slowly returned to his face.

"I mean as the number 10 is our lines woman's favourite number!"

Steve was referring the disallowed goal decision towards the end of the match where Emma had been adamant the opposition number 10 had been fouled.

"I said I can't do it, and I can't. Obviously, I need a 10 countdown."

The crowd cheered and the big screens went blank for a moment. Chris placed himself again close to Emma's ear

"You ready to show us what you've got? I imagine your ass & pussy don't usually see the light of day like your tits obviously don't. This seems the right place, and certainly the crowd thinks it's the right time, for them to make their public debut!"

"Please," she gasped, I don't want to be stripped naked, not here. Not in front of everyone, I'm a professional."

"Football is a blokes sport and you flashing your eyes at the Football Association no doubt got you through your interview and playing the MeFree feminist card trying to prove you are better than the rest of us, means a bloke didn't get the opportunity to run the line tonight."

"You flashed your eyes and used your womanly looks to get the job," Chris continued, "You flashed your 'I AM' attitude tonight at everyone, even your colleagues."

"Well now you're going to flash EVERYTHING you got."

Emma's eye caught the big screen which was now displaying a large number 10. The countdown had begun.

"No!" She struggled again, one final time to release herself from the players grips, but it was fruitless

The screen counted down the numbers 9 then 8.

The crowd joined in with the countdown, Chris slipped his hands down the back of her boxers and rested one hand on each ass cheek. He squeezed as he cupped them and slightly pulled them apart.

"Very nice. Your ass wants to come out to play tonight." he drawled.

The crowd chanted "7, 6."

The sky camera crew positioned themselves round at Emma's feet end. This would make great TV and viewing numbers had shot up. The cameraman did all he could do to focus his equipment perfectly.

"5," "4," "3."

Chris brought his hands back to the waistband of her sports boxer pants and flicked the waistband again almost in teasing fashion. Emma made one final plea to Chris.

"Please don't. You're only joking, right? I can tell. Well you've made your point, please let me go."

Chris moved back to her ear and whispered the last two numbers

"2, 1, lift off. Or should I say, down they come."

His fingers lodged themselves firmly inside the boxer's waistband again.

"You ready?" Chris had a smile on his face, but a sneer in his voice.

Emma screamed again as her boxers were given momentum from their dormant rest once more and they were pulled over her ass cheeks and began their slow journey down her legs.

They paused mid-thigh, whilst Chris and the other players crowded in, to take in Emma's exposed pussy. She had shaven that morning as she normally did on match day, and her pussy was smooth and shiny with no pubic hair to protect it from view. Every fold of her sex was on public view and currently, the players were closely viewing it.

"Hey guys, out of the way." motioned the cameraman. and the players somewhat reluctantly parted.

Chris returned to the task of stripping Emma completely nude and pulled the boxers onward on their journey down her kicking legs and over her feet, He left the centre and circled her position swirling her last piece of cover around his head and waving her fluorescent boxers like a flag.

"Ref, Ref she kicked me." he laughed.

The crowd were beside themselves at Emma, stark naked and held aloft in the centre circle. Her unclothed body filled the Big Screens and the camera panned down from the anguished look on her face, stopping at her exposed tits and downwards towards her belly button before resting, perfectly focused and framing her visible exposed pussy.

Emma's most intimate area was now on unobstructed big-screen view to the supporters and also unobstructed to the hands that supported her, the hands that were firmly holding her arms above her head, the hands that were slowly spreading her legs apart. She looked up at the screen and saw her pussy labia beginning to open as her legs parted and a thumb making its way up her thigh towards the entrance.

"No please don't. Haven't you all done enough?"

After a few moments, the players started another lap of honour with their new nude 'trophy'. This time they stopped in front of each stand and hushed the crowd. Then those who weren't holding Emma, punched the air and simultaneously the crowd cheered.