The Lady Godiva Game


"Anything you 'd like to say?"

Sylvia grasped the microphone, still holding her other hand pressed to her pubic area while she held her legs pressed together.

"I thank you - it was never my idea to do this when I came here tonight; but you chose me in the drawing, and I have tried to do what was expected. But - I could have done with about forty less drinks! All I want now is my clothes, and will everyone please clear a path for me to the ladies' room?"

A loud round of laughter and applause arose. "Sylvia", the M. C. continued. "your distinguished spouse arranged to have your clothes, jewelry, and other things taken to your room upstairs. And now, with our thanks and appreciation for you both, I'm calling for him to come forward and escort you there himself!"

Sylvia looked dumfounded. "He's going to take me out of here naked?" she asked, shocked.

Art rushed forward, taking off his coat as he came. He strode up the steps, and placed the coat over his wife's bare shoulders. The M. C. shook hands with each of them, as Sylvia, dressed only in her husband's jacket, a bewildered expression on her face and one hand still trying to hold her bottom, joined him and walked toward the door.

"Art - what is this? I can't go out there - not into the lobby? My whole bottom is bare!" she complained to him as she half walked, half ran, to the exit.

"Looks like you're covering the important part with your hand! Come on - it'll only be a few seconds! By the way, you were absolutely magnificent! I've got the best looking wife in the room!"

"You mean the most looked at! Absolutely everyone has seen every inch of me! Now look - you've got to let me stop at the ladies- oh, I never had to go so bad in my life!"

"Not a chance! The only stop you're making is our room! And, incidentally, I think I've got the sexiest wife in the group, too! I'm not letting this go without the right way to end it!" He ushered her through the crowd, out the main door, and quickly to a lift someone was holding open for them.

The door closed. They shared the lift with several others from the banquet. Sylvia was showered with praise for her performance from the other occupants. She nodded politely, not relaxing her grip on her pubic region.

They got out at their floor, and Art quickly led her to their room. He fumbled just a bit with the key. "Hurry! Or I'm going to water the floor! I never had to hold so much or so long! Hurry!"

He got the door open. As they entered, he removed the jacket from her shoulders. He took his naked wife by the hand and turned her to face him. "You were absolutely the greatest!" he told her, as he kissed her with enthusiasm. She tried to push him away, but gently. "I've got to get some relief! Quickly!" she tried to tell him.

"Just a moment", he pleaded. "You've been parading around naked in front of four hundred people! Don't I get a good look at you, too?"

"Look quick!" she replied, turning full front to him, a hand still holding her pubic area. "And, whose idea was it, anyway? You didn't warn me about this - I wasn't ready- look at me! I didn't trim my hair down there, I didn't pick clothes to take off easily! I would never have done this if your committee hadn't thought up this idea of a game! Why couldn't you have told me?" Her voice reflected not only her physical anguish, but more than a touch of anger.

"It wasn't my idea, either! The committee came up with it on their own! I never thought you would have volunteered for it! But - you did look great-" His voice stopped as he moved toward her.

His hands went to her breasts, holding her by the nipples. He kissed her. She protested. "Later - I've got to pee! Oh, my bladder hurts so bad! I told you - I've got to get some relief!"

"Let's both get some" he replied, releasing his grip on one breast only to enable him to unfasten his own clothing. She found her other breast held in his lips. Still she pressed her hand on her vulva, trying to keep her bladder from emptying. "Let me go" she protested, just a bit more feebly, "You don't know how full my bladder is!"

"Yes, I do," Art replied. "Mine is, too. I haven't been since dinner, either. But right now there's a more important need!"

"Your bladder isn't holding forty glasses worth!"

"Yours isn't either! I saw you urinate into those cups! That was the sexiest thing I saw you do! How could you?"

"When your bladder's swollen to twice its size, you can let it out anywhere you can! Look - I'm a lot fuller than you are! It hurts - worse than it's ever hurt!"

At this point they were both naked. He put his hand on her abdomen, saying "Feel me. Don't I feel full?"

His hand found her pubic area. He palpated her swollen, hardened bladder. "You know," he commented, "You've got the sexiest bladder I've ever felt!"

"How many have you felt?" she responded. Her hand slipped just a bit and touched his firm, erect penis. She gripped it just slightly.

Suddenly she let go her grasp, and ran into the bathroom. "Oh, it's never been this bad!" she complained, heading for the toilet. She seated herself, moaning softly, her eyes closed. She tried to relax her sphincters. She tried to no avail. Nothing happened.

"Oh", she groaned again, moving her legs apart, again trying to relax her muscles. Another light moan escaped her lips, but her bladder refused to empty, despite its obvious bulge.

"I can't let it out!" she groaned, in some desperation. "Art, try to help me! Try to massage me a bit - maybe it'll help me let go "

Art came to her. He pressed on her bladder, just below her navel. She made a pained expression, but there were no results. He slipped his hand down, to her genital area, and fondled her there just a bit. Her pained expression eased just a bit. "A little more", she asked slowly.

His hand moved around in her genital area. He toyed with her hair, then slipped a finger inside her. His other hand seized a nipple. She gasped slightly. "Not yet - I need to pee so badly - aren't you going to let me? My bladder was never this full before!"

She felt his hand pull her nipple, as another moved in her genitals. He began to nudge her from her seat. "Aren't you going to let me?" she asked, now rather weakly, "my bladder's so full, and it's so hard- or are you wanting to feel it from the inside?"

His answer was applied to her breasts in silence. She sensed her own arousal. "It doesn't hurt quite as bad as it did - but I couldn't take any pressure on it- " Her protests were diminishing.

He quickly moved her from the toilet,. He dropped a bath towel on the floor, falling onto it, then pulling her on top of him. "Oh, but it hurts!" she protested again, as she was drawn into position straddling him. Suddenly she felt his organ enter her, somehow passing through her vaginal opening with its tightly clenched muscles. There was just a bit of motion. Then he stopped.

"Does it really hurt?" he asked her. She nodded, then moved up and down a bit. Then a bit more. Suddenly she, too, stopped. "It feels so strange..." she said. He began movement, slowly, then increasing. She felt the feeling change from pain to a kind of strange fullness. She somehow didn't want it to end. She held her muscles clamped tight. He seized her erect nipples, pulling them wide apart and stretching her breasts. Her whole body seemed wracked with tension; her genital muscles tightly clenched to restrain herself from urinating, her pelvic region distended with her overfilled bladder, her nipples and breasts pulled and stretched. Her arms tried to grasp Art's, to ease the tension on her breasts, but then she dropped them as the strains throughout her body rose. Her mouth opened as if to cry, but emitted no sound. Suddenly she felt her body seem to explode as though an electric flash had passed through her nerves- she tensed, then felt her muscles gradually loose the tension as she felt his explode in a second crescendo of energy.

They collapsed slowly to the hard floor. Suddenly she again became aware of the pain caused by her swollen bladder. She tried to release it, but her body still wouldn't cooperate. She spoke to her spouse, all but unconscious under her. "I've got to pee - and it won't come out!"

She lay for a moment, then scrambled off of him. She half knelt, half squatted in the nearby shower stall. She was still trying to release her bladder, to no effect. "Help me, Art! It won't come out! Oh, there's so much in there!" He moved to her, still drained from his own release. He put his hand on her abdomen, feeling its hardness.

"Push on it!" she demanded, as she spread her legs a bit. He pressed, gently. Her distress was very real, as the pain within her intensified. Art looked at her, watching for some sign of results. After a bit, there was a trickle from her. She said nothing, just held her legs widely apart and assumed a squatting position. The trickle became a stream, and then the stream grew in strength.

She raised herself slowly to a standing position in the shower stall, her spouse in front of her. His hands slipped up from pressing on her bladder to gripping her breasts. She tilted her head back, tossing her gray hair behind her, relishing the relief as her bladder forcefully emptied. Her hand moved forward a bit, touching his stomach. He looked down at the stream of almost clear liquid pouring forcefully from her, the results of all those drinks she had consumed through the evening. Her hand found his largely flaccid penis, and pointed it at her own streaming genital area. "Don't you need some relief, too?" she asked suggestively, while holding his organ.

He tried to relax, trying to allow allowing his own urine stream to release. Sylvia looked down, observing his penis, gently gripped in her hand. Her own stream continued to pour out of her. Though he would have scarcely thought it possible, his erection returned rapidly as he watched her urination pour down over the legs of them both. Despite his own need, his erection prevented his urination. "Can't you let go?" Sylvia asked, "I know you need to!"

He tried to release; but now it was he who couldn't let go. He shook his head to answer her question. "I can't let go - it just doesn't work - I'm too---" he fumbled for the right word.

"Worked up?" she said, looking down at his erect organ, as her own urination finally came to and end. "You poor guy! What can we do about that?"

Almost without thinking, he was squeezing and spreading her breasts. Her eyes opened and she smiled at him, the pain of her bladder now ended. "You couldn't have done that twenty years ago - they wouldn't have stretched that far!" she said to him slowly, as her hand tightened around his erect member.

Her urine stream ended, Sylvia reached for the shower faucet. "We're a mess!" she observed, turning on the warm water, which cascaded on them both. He continued to hold her breasts, and she his erect penis. In a few seconds she turned the water off, and reached for a towel. She quickly wiped herself off, then toweled down her husband, as they momentarily released their grips on each other. Grasping him by his erect penis, she led him from the bathroom to the bed, where she fell on her back, her legs spread slightly, his member still in her grasp. "There must have been four hundred people who got to see me this way", she observed, "and I was wondering if looking at me can still do things for you. Guess I got my answer!" Her hand again again grasped his erect penis.

"You're holding the evidence" was all he could think to say, looking at his nude wife spread across the bed, her hand still grasping him.

"I think it's time to fix this-" she said, indicating with a tug what she meant, "We need to get you some bladder relief!" He got the hint.

A few minutes later, both of them felt drained of energy. Two such experiences in succession was more than they had had in many years. Sylvia watched, lying naked on her back on the bed, as her spouse rose. "Going to get that relief, now?" she asked, a bit weakly. He nodded, rising to move to the bathroom.

Mustering all of her remaining energy, Sylvia struggled to follow him. "You watched me - something you haven't done in a long time! Now it's my turn!"

She steered him into the shower. Her hand took his penis. "I'll take care of this - you need your hands for other things!" she instructed him. His hand rose to grasp her nipple.

He was now relaxed. Even with her hand on his organ, it was flaccid. Slowly his urine stream began, directed by her to the shower wall. She moved him around a bit, just playing with the stream. It took him a long time to empty himself. Her hand did not release its gentle grip. When the stream ended, she tugged him back to the bed. Extinguishing the light, they fell unclad to the sheets, both them exhausted and soon fast asleep.

The sunlight woke her up, coming through the slight opening in the drawn curtains. She lay there a moment, considering the intensity of the light, suggesting that it was no longer early. She quickly became aware of an urgent feeling in her bladder, demanding to be emptied of the residue of last night's liquid intake. She looked about her. The sheet had almost completely slipped off both of them, and they lay side by side, she on her back, he somewhat on his side, both of them naked. She looked at her sleeping husband for a few seconds, then sat up on the side of the bed. With a hand she reached and pulled open the curtains, allowing the sunlight to pour into their room and over their bed, which the window overlooked.

She stood up and peered out the window. It was brilliant sunlight. Another wing of the hotel extended at right angles to their own, and the windows of the rooms could be easily seen. As she looked out, she considered that anyone in those rooms could also look into her own room. She wondered if anyone was looking, as she stood in front of window, nude. Yesterday, she reflected, she could not have done this. Her modesty would have recoiled at the thought of having a curtain open when either of them were undressed, let alone standing naked in front of an unshaded window. She smiled to herself. Last night over four hundred people had seen her naked, most of them close up. What would a few more matter?

As she looked, she saw a man in a room of the other wing come to the window. He stopped and stared. Sylvia didn't move from her spot. She didn't return the stare, but she made no move to cover her nudity. After a minute or so, she turned and looked at her sleeping spouse, whose naked form could also have been seen through the window.

She felt a bit messy. Her hair was uncombed and tousled. Across her stomach, her abdomen, and even on parts of her breasts and buttocks were the remains of inked inscriptions from last night's table visits. Now they were smudged, largely unreadable. She looked at the sheet on which she had lain; smudges of ink were evident there, too. She hadn't had a real shower since the afternoon of the previous day. Quite a change, she reflected, from her usual tidy, almost immaculate appearance. Normally she slept in a nightgown; now, she considered that there hadn't been a stitch of clothing on her body since last night's dinner event. She smiled and shrugged. She squeezed her legs together, trying to force further martyrdom on her distended bladder. It was beginning to hurt. She started to rise from the bed to go to relieve herself. She glanced out the window. Her male viewer was still in place, apparently still looking in her direction.

She looked back at her naked and sleeping spouse, who had now rolled mostly on his back. She reached toward him, wondering whether to press on his abdominal area to test the hardness of his bladder. No, she decided; that might wake him. She had another inspiration. She wondered to what extent he might have recovered from last night's lovemaking.

She moved closer to Art, wondering if the man across the way was still watching. She bent over him, then allowed a hanging breast to brush his face. She repeated, with the other breast. His eyes flickered. He stirred just a bit. Her hand reached down, pinching the tip of his penis. She pinched again, the breast again brushing his face.

His eyes opened. "It's morning", she said cheerily, his penis feeling her pinch and responding with a bit of hardening.

"What are you doing?" he asked. He glanced at the window. "Hey - the curtains are open - and it's daylight!"

"Yes", she answered. "And there's a guy looking at us through the window from the other wing!" Her pinch was repeated, as his organ became firm.

"And you're letting him? With the window open - the curtains open - and all?" he could hardly believe his gray haired wife.

"Hundreds of people looked at me last night. Are you worried about one more? Or don't you want him to see you?" she replied. As she spoke, she moved herself atop him, sitting astride his thighs.

"What are you doing?" he asked her, then quickly added. "I gotta pee! Please-"

"Like I had to last night?" She was almost laughing. Her hand found his abdomen, just below his navel, and pressed gently. The hardness beneath was evident.

"Guess you do!" she commented, then added, "Later! Just now you have something else to do!"

He had winced beneath her pressing hand. Now he was wide awake. His erection was firm, and she introduced it into herself, as she leaned forward.

"I really have to go, Sylvia - I need to.." She just smiled at him. "Just now, no. Like you told me last night. And, if it's any consolation, I need to go, too!"

"Is the guy looking?" Art asked, changing the topic.

"Probably. Do you want me to stop what I'm doing and go look?" she asked. She was moving slowly, atop him.

He glanced at window, but his field of vision couldn't pick up the opposing window where the supposed viewer was. Suddenly he winced noticeably as her weight bounced on his bladder.

"Sylvia - really, I need to pee!"

She just smiled, her pace picking up. "You have to earn that privilege. How about some cooperation?" He started to move slightly within her.

"What have you got hands for?" she teased him, "I've got no bra to hold me up! These things need support", she commented, shaking her bosom slightly. His hands grasped her breasts, slipping to the nipples, which he pulled slightly.

"They do stretch" she said, her pace quickening. He pulled them a bit harder, separating them.

"Still need to pee?" she asked, now a bit weakly.

"Not now!" he answered emphatically. Suddenly she felt herself erupt in a seismic class explosion, her mind flashing, her body quivering as her sensations peaked, then slowly subsided. His release came a moment later. She collapsed in a heap on him, his hands still grasping her breasts.

A few moments passed. "Let's pee!" she said, slowly rolling off him.

Weakly, still a bit groggy from the physiological explosion within them both, they moved to the bathroom. She tugged him into the shower, then grasped him in an enthusiastic embrace. "Just let go!" she instructed him. They both stood, relaxing, as their bladders emptied together, the streams pouring down over their legs, mingling. Again she reflected that only a day earlier, she would never have considered doing anything like this.

Sylvia turned to her mate and mused slowly, "After being Lady Godiva, it's going to seem strange to walk around with clothes on! Wonder what kind of disgusting game they will have for next year?" She turned on the shower to wash off the accumulation of dirt, ink, sweat, and the accumulated residue of the activities of last hours. Her body might be cleaned as it was yesterday, but she would not be the same again.



We attended the conference. A lot of the usual boring talk about the latest trends in structural design and computer assisted techniques. But then came what I consider the unforgettable moment of the night. The “game” committee had come up with a real dilly. Last year, there was a prize for the fellow who showed up with two sets of lady’s underwear. The sexy thing was that the guys had to identify the donors. Oh, they got a prize, too, but they had to collect it at the stage, and everyone knew they were bra-less or panty-less for the rest of the evening. Now, the committee had to come up with something better.

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