Nurses Without Borders Ch. 01

I won't attempt to narrate precisely how each sock or blouse or skirt got removed over the next half hour, or describe the several previously hidden tattoos that were now unveiled, but a few observations are in order, especially if you are lucky enough to play this game yourself someday.

First, the wrestling match now seemed like a boy-girl struggle after all. I was naked and Raoul was in his boxers while the women had lost only four or five shoes and a couple of socks. With Raoul wary of the women and the women wary of his strength, they pretty much avoided each other, thus neutralizing Raoul.

Paradoxically, having lost granted me a kind of superpower, since I had literally nothing left to lose (certainly not my pride). When you're naked you can't get nakeder or nakedest. This meant I could join or leave any contest at will, with nothing to defend (save nipples, cock, and balls), and thus exert considerable control over who lost her clothes when.

I mainly used my power to prolong the game and keep it relatively even. My goal was to get all the women stripped down to their bras and panties at roughly the same time and then let them compete from there without interference. Thus I often intervened when two women were teaming up on a third. I could ordinarily neutralize one--holding her hands, carrying her to a couch, or beginning to remove some item of her clothing--and leave the other two to tussle. Wandering the playing field as a kind of Robin Hood who ambushed the clothing-rich and aided the clothing-poor, I came very close to establishing an equilibrium of bra and panties all around, though Amy somehow lost her lovely red bra when my attention was elsewhere.

This big reward for the loser seemed wrong, and I began to think of--but of course not propose--a significant rule change: once naked, a player would no longer participate, but would have to stand (still naked of course) on the sidelines. Or, to boost motivation even higher, each naked player could be banished to a separate Losers' Room, unable to watch the action. One by one the naked losers would fill the room, until the winner, now fully dressed, would lead them out for their group photo. I liked that idea a lot, partly because some of the early losers would probably want to try their luck again another day. Other improvements might be to outlaw triple-teaming and to limit the number of clothing items that could be lost in a single skirmish to two or three. I was clearly a little testy about getting steamrolled in a six vs. one competition.

With my Robin-Hooding, the game became more like what I had originally expected--less ganging up and more one-on-one, skin-to-skin wrestling. For me this was immensely pleasurable, both to watch and to participate in, but I eventually abandoned my neutrality and began to tilt the scales against particular players, beginning with Elena, whose beautiful body I very much wanted to see and touch. Once Kate had gotten off Elena's bra (front closure, rookie mistake), I held Elena on her back as Kate pulled off her panties. I just happened to hold her by her breasts and can affirm, to quote a famous Seinfeld scene, "They're real, and they're spectacular!"

"What was that you said about putting me in the middle of the photo, my naked darling?" mocked Kate. "Now you may find yourself front and center!"

I was also more assertive--determinative, actually--in one other case. Janice had pinned Denise underneath her and was struggling to remove her bra. She hadn't gotten it unfastened, but as she sat on Denise's stomach she did pull the bra up over Denise's breasts. I intervened before she get any further, lifting her up to her feet from behind and whispering "Be prepared."

"Raoul," I called, "Leave Amy alone for a second. It's time to liberate Janice's thong." I was holding her from behind, my arms wrapped tight around her chest and upper arms, effectively immobilizing her upper body.

Raoul set Amy on a couch, held his palm toward her, and said, "Stay!" Good to see he still had his sense of humor. He walked quickly across the room toward us, playfully kicking aside whatever clothes were in his path. When he was two steps away I released Janice, sprang at Raoul, and executed what in wrestling parlance is called a single-leg takedown: I crouched low, grabbed his left leg, then stood and forced him to hop backward on his one free leg until he fell with a loud thud. I threw my full weight on his chest, hoping to hold him down as long as possible.

"As long as possible" would probably have been five or six seconds, but fortunately Janice was right behind me--I doubt she'd even needed my heads-up--and had his boxers off before he realized she was there. "Done and dusted!" she cried, waving the boxers for all to see. "And no kissing, you two!" she added. Oops, here I was, hot and sweaty on top of another naked guy. We disentangled and got to our feet prestissimo.

So we guys were vanquished. That's what happens when you betray one another. But who had set those betrayals in motion? Janice, literally from the word Go. Raoul and I were of like minds now: whoever won, it must not be Janice. We cornered her--easy in that confined space--and Raoul held her from behind.

"Would you rather keep your thong or your bra?" I asked.

"My thong," she replied.

"Good to know," I said as I pulled it down to her ankles. Raoul lifted her for a moment so I could take it off and wave it victoriously. Then he spun her halfway around as if reading my mind, and I unclasped her bra. Raoul pulled it down her arms and tossed it aside. "Done!" I said, giving Janice a firm shake to bounce her liberated boobs. "And dusted," added Raoul.

Whoa--you need a scorecard to follow the action, right? Here's where things stood at that moment: Raoul, Janice, Elena, and I were naked. Denise and Kate still had their bras and panties; Amy had lost her bra and was wearing only a pair of skin-tight boy shorts. She had done well to make it this far, but her apple-red panties were clearly the low-hanging fruit now, ripe for plucking. Easily overpowering her, Kate and Denise pulled Amy to a sofa and positioned her as if preparing to spank her--draped over one arm of the sofa with her ass propped up and her toes barely reaching the floor. Kate hooked one finger inside the top edge of Amy's boy shorts and slowly ran it back and forth, each time lowering the edge just a smidge and revealing another half-inch of Amy's butt cheeks. When the panties were just a narrow band of fabric and Amy's ass was on full display, Denise pulled them down and off, leaving her and Kate as the only surviving contestants.

They circled one another tentatively, looking for an advantage and planning their strategies. Perhaps remembering that Raoul had been toppled--twice, even--by attacks on his legs, Kate had a go at Denise, grabbing one leg, lifting, and pushing. Denise was knocked severely off balance, but didn't go down. They ended up struggling with their arms around each other's waists, staggering this way and that, eventually crumbling side by side to the floor, still locked together.

Then Denise slung one of those heavy thighs over Kate and managed to get on top of her. Crucially, Kate was face-down and couldn't reach Denise with any force. To escape she would have to get at least to her knees--a formidable challenge with a heavier woman atop her--or squirm somehow onto her back to bring her arms and legs into play.

Denise apparently recognized this and didn't immediately go after any of Kate's clothing. She instead concentrated on keeping Kate under control, testing whether Kate could possibly turn the tables on her. She couldn't. Denise could put Kate's arms wherever she wanted, hold her head down, keep her torso pressed to the floor. In short, Kate, panting from her efforts to escape, was powerless.

Denise spent a couple of minutes relishing her dominance and teasing Kate as if she were a kid playing with a new toy. "Look," she explained to her audience, "I can put her hands here by her sides, or up here behind her head. And I can turn her head to the right or the left, like this." She pulled hard on Kate's bra strap and let it snap back, saying "Of course I haven't forgotten about her bra, and if I simply reach behind me I can put my hand on her panties... or inside them like this. Both of these will be coming off very soon."

But first Denise made a surprising request: "Amy, will you kindly come take off my bra? I feel a little guilty being the only one whose tits are covered." Amy obliged, and those of us who weren't pinned to the ground had a welcome look at Denise's ample breasts. "Does this give you some hope, Kate? If you can just capture my panties, you win!"

Does this give you some hope, dear reader, that pride goeth before a fall, that smug Denise will somehow lose her panties? Don't judge my story if it doesn't have such a clear moral--I can only report what actually happened.

What happened is that Denise removed Kate's bra, unclasping it and then methodically moving Kate's arms to get the bra entirely off though it was still pinned beneath her. I noted that Kate was no longer struggling, and I imagined she felt much as I had when I had been pinned down by the group an hour earlier. Because she was face-down, we hadn't seen much more of her than a bikini would reveal, but certainly she knew that was about to change.

She could not have guessed, however, exactly how Denise would execute her coup de grace. I couldn't have guessed either, and though I witnessed it I could scarcely believe my eyes.

First Denise spent another minute or two toying with Kate's arms and head. Then she executed the neatest trick of the evening. She flipped Kate onto her back and wedged her own knees between Kate's legs, then grabbed Kate's knees and swept them up toward her chest, rolling her butt up off the carpet. It was as if she was helping Kate do a backwards somersault. But when Kate was halfway through the somersault--feet over her head and ass well above the carpet--Denise grabbed her around the midsection and, astoundingly, stood up. She didn't do this with the ease of a Cirque du Soleil acrobat, but she did it. She threw those big muscles into overdrive and stood upright. Kate was now dangling from Denise's arms, upside down--not head over heels, but heels over head.

So while my humiliation was first, perhaps it wasn't worst. You decide.... I'd been naked with an erection in front of my friends, with all of the women almost fully clothed. Now Kate was upside down, her large breasts dangling beautifully toward her head, the tips of her red hair just brushing the carpet and her simple black panties accentuating the alabaster skin of her stomach. Denise, breathing heavily from her exertions, rotated slowly to display Kate to everyone. She next lowered Kate's torso gently to the carpet, simultaneously keeping her legs in the air and pulling the black panties to her ankles. "I'll get out of the way here," she said, stepping around and over Kate to straddle her hips, but keeping her legs raised. Kate no doubt had a great view of Denise's powerful ass but had to be thinking of us checking out her pussy. Shouting "I win!" Denise tossed the panties aside and spread Kate's legs wide to give us all the Full Monty of Kate's pussy and its remarkable red bush.

The denouement of the game after this acrobatic climax was of course to be the group photo. As far as I know the pic never ended up on social media. It's even possible that Denise honored her pledge to never show it to anyone outside our little circle of players. She was quite fond, however, of pulling it up on her phone whenever she met us. She particularly enjoyed zooming in on an individual or even a particular body part like Kate's red pubic hair, my cock, or Elena's perfect boobs.

Speaking of Elena... as Denise began directing us on where to stand for the photo and how to arrange all the forfeited clothing at our feet, Elena announced that she really, really needed to pee first. "Don't take the photo without me," she cried as she hurried out the door and ran up the stairs. Is a denouement delayed a denouement denied? No--it came, just a bit later than expected.

I thought Elena's trip to the john might start a mass exodus, but everyone else stayed downstairs, and Denise spent the time teasing us by brainstorming various options for our tableaux. Should Kate's pussy be the central focus, or maybe the two naked men? Should we hold hands or wrap our arms around each other? Should Kate be upside down, or maybe Jordan, the gracious host?

Elena soon returned and made a second, surprising announcement--that she wanted to talk to me privately before we took the photo. I suggested we could talk in the stairwell, with the rec room door closed. "Don't take the photo without us," Elena re-joked.

When we were alone, Elena got right to the point. "You did a very good job removing the polish from your toenails," she began. "Very good, but not perfect. When I took off your sock and tickled you, I noticed just a trace of red on your little toe." Alarm bells began to ring in my head.

"Could it be nail polish, I wondered. It seemed so, but maybe it was mercurochrome or something like that. Anyway, curiosity got the better of me and I thought I'd take a quick look around your room before we took the photo." Bells ringing at 100 decibels, and another unwanted erection beginning to swell.

"Well, as you know, everything up there is extremely neat and tidy--no sign of anything feminine whatsoever. In fact the room looks like no one is using it at all. But a peek in the closet revealed a pair of shoes, a few shirts and pants on hangers, and also, of course, the magic garment bag."

She didn't need to tell me what was in that bulging bag, but I should tell you: one pair of black high heels; one pair of red flats; a pair of nylons and a pair of pantyhose; more than a dozen panties; three bras (one with no padding, one lightly padded with small silicone inserts, and one C cup); breast forms for the C cup bra; two skirts; four blouses; one dress; one nightgown; one wig; one small makeup bag which held the tell-tale red nail polish.

"I know I shouldn't have looked through it, shouldn't have been up there in the first place, but I was amped up from the wrestling and still a little bit high, so I played amateur detective and followed the clue you'd left on your toe a little too far. OK, a lot too far."

I was dumbstruck, literally unable to speak. This was a nightmare scenario of my deepest secret being found out, and at the same time I was immensely aroused, standing naked and erect in front of a gorgeous woman, also naked, who had just been checking out my lingerie and fake boobs.

"I put everything back as well as I could and hung the bag back in the closet--I'd had it laid out on the bed for a minute. I thought I would just say nothing about it, but as I came downstairs I realized that would not be fair to you... for me to know about your crossdressing but you not to know that I know. And if you discovered later that someone had gone through your bag, you wouldn't know which of us or how many of us knew about it. So I decided I had to talk to you, to confess and to apologize. I'm sorry I invaded your privacy. The question now is, what do we do now?"

"How about we pretend this never happened," I suggested, my powers of speech having been restored.

"That's a possibility, certainly, but I have a better idea. I'll explain in chapter two."