The Mating Game Ch. 04

Author's Note: You may enjoy this story more if you've read the preceding chapters (I possibly should have categorized this as Novel/Novella, but it has sf elements), but to summarize: it's the early 2040s, and Paul and Dianne are one of 60 couples competing in the X-rated Reality TV series 'Fucks for Bucks'. They've survived the first round: this is the evening before the second round.

Comments welcome, as always. All characters are 18 or over.

*

Paul groaned as Gudrun sank the 8-ball. "Just be glad we're not paying for money," she said, lining up a shot at the nine.

"I am," he said. "You play this a lot?"

"My husband likes looking at me as I bend over the table. It reminds him of one of his favorite Namio Harukawa drawings. And you might play better if you weren't distracted."

Paul bit his lip and looked away from where a slightly chubby but impressively busty young woman was trying on the shoes that had arrived with the fetishwear, seemingly unaware of showing off her hairy cunt to half the room. "I thought you liked women too," he said quietly.

"I do," she said, pocketing the nine. "But she's a bit young for my taste. I prefer women who know what they're doing, and I'm not sure she's even old enough to know what she wants." She looked at some of the other women who were modeling clothes ahead of the fetishwear fashion show planned for that evening: women in latex, leather or lace; in fishnet bodystockings or crotchless catsuits; in suspender belts and stockings and stripper heels. Candy Rue had donned a corset, Doc Martens decorated with pentacles to match the one tattooed around her navel, and black stockings printed with the word 'Slut'. Khaleesi was wearing a white Stetson, a gunbelt, chaps and cowboy boots. Other women were dressing up as French maids, bridesmaids, milkmaids, barmaids, handmaids, nurses, witches, cheerleaders, cops. "You're not dressing up?"

"I had a look at the outfits they had for men," Paul replied. "It's all Tom of Finland stuff. Not my scene. And women can look good wearing, I don't know, just a hat or a pair of shoes, and men doing that just look ridiculous. You like both women and men; which would you rather look at?"

"Oh, women, of course, but that's partly because straight white men have been told for too long that looking fuckable either doesn't matter or makes you gay. Some people have tried to break that trend and done okay for a while, but you can make a fuckton more selling fashion to women. You see a man who's put some effort into his appearance, paid more than two bits for a haircut, and you assume he's the woman's gay best friend, not her partner."

"I spend money on my suits," Paul protested mildly, "and my haircuts cost eight bits." A bit ($50) wasn't the smallest unit of US currency -- the minimum wage for tipped labor was still $2.13/hour, a Burger King Cheeseburger was only $25, and some items at Walmart still cost $49.99 before tax -- but there weren't many places where it would buy you a cup of coffee.

"To impress women, or to impress your clients?"

"Well... fair point. But I keep in shape, too."

"Uh-huh. But I don't think any of you would have passed the audition without a fuckable-looking partner. And look at the age range here. Oldest man is 68, and his trophy wife is 24. Oldest woman is 49."

Paul conceded that point, too. "So what counts as a hot woman for you?"

"A woman who's hot, for me, is a woman who's hot for me. That's 90 percent of what gaydar is. You see the woman with pink hair?"

"Difficult to miss her."

"Bisexual symbol tat just above where her pubes would have been, but the crosses are bigger than the arrow. I might not have noticed that at a glance, but what I did notice was her looking at me, and that made me look twice. Her nails are done in the colors of the bisexual flag, and like Professor White likes to say, they're just long enough to scratch your back but short enough to fuck your girlfriend."

"You went to Berkeley?"

"What? Oh. No, but I heard her lectures online, and I've seen a lot of her movies."

"Classics." Fuxtel ran an Angela White film festival at least once a year. "I'm going to grab a coffee. You want one?"

"Better make it an iced tea. We might be doing anal tomorrow."

"Peach or lemon?"

"Peach. Thanks. Another game?"

"No, thanks. If I want my butt kicked, I'll ask my wife."

"Please do. I'd like to watch. Especially if she wears a nice pair of boots."

#

The season's first episode of 'Fucks for Bucks: After Dark' started with softcore shots of contestants in the shower or the gym or the rec room (mostly rear angles of women bending over the pool table), but quickly moved onto sex scenes from Saturday and Sunday night. It showed on every screen in the complex, with no options of switching it off, and even the contestants who pretended not to watch sneaked peeks. An edited clip of Khaleesi and Paul sucking and fucking ran for 13 minutes, nearly a quarter of the show, before ending with a close-up of cum oozing from her gape; Paul was glad that his face was barely visible for most of it, but his name appeared below hers in a corner of the screen, and he could almost feel Dianne gritting her teeth as she watched. This was followed by shorter clips: mostly vanilla sex, apart from Tia playing with her enormous breasts while Zac licked her clit, the pink-haired woman fucking Briony with a double dildo, and Candy Rue jerking an older man off with her feet while sitting on his face. The bed assignments came up after the end credits had finished running over a montage of money shots, and even the contestants who'd feigned disinterest in the show drifted towards the nearest screen.

Dianne was disappointed to see that she'd been paired off with another woman, the pink-haired Rouge. "Let me guess," she said, looking at the superheroines and villainesses tattooed on her arms -- Marvel on the left, DC on the right. "You misspelled 'Rogue' on your application?"

The younger woman giggled, and tapped one of her tats. "Actually, that was my boyfriend. We were having a dirty weekend in New Orleans, and he claimed it was because I had a bat symbol here. Bat on Rouge. And it was when I was applying to be a Suicide Girl, not for this place. Just as well, because they already had more Rogues than Rouges. Rouge 66 was already taken, so I went with Rouge 666 when I went pink. You don't have any tats at all?"

"No."

"They didn't do that when you were young?"

"I'm 37. I'm not old. Is your boyfriend still here?"

"Sure. Is yours?"

"My husband."

"You're married? I didn't think straight people did that anymore. You are straight, aren't you?"

"You're very observant."

"Not according to my rabbi, I'm not."

Despite herself, Dianne laughed.

"Oh, good, you liked that one," said Rouge. "I'm trying to break into stand-up."

"Does it usually involve this much lying down?"

"That's MY line. And you'd be surprised. Open legs, Open Mic."

"Is that why you're here?"

"Well, that and a better than one percent chance of walking away with more than 30 million dollars for almost no investment. Where else in Vegas do you get odds like that?" She stretched. "But yeah, even if I don't win -- and I don't expect them to ask me to do anything I haven't done before, just with people I might not have done it with otherwise -- I'm hoping I can use my fifteen minutes of fame to get some gigs, and if they go well, turn it into a career as a sex comic."

"You've done..."

"Gangbangs? DPs? Ass to mouth? Sure. Toys, real cocks, any combination of the two. My boyfriend's a drummer in a band, for fuck's sake: I've thought of getting take-a-ticket machines for my holes! But I suspect it's going to come down to whether more of the home audience is going to vote for a pansexual slut or a reluctant whore."

"I'm..." Dianne began, then shut her mouth.

"Anyway, if you don't want to play gay for pay, that's fine. You can turn off the light on your side, if you like, and I'll stay on my side. There's a lot of toys I can use to get myself off, and I don't mind an audience."

"I'll just..."

"Suit yourself," said Rouge, as she searched the nightstand drawer. "Good night."

#

Paul stayed up playing Texas Hold'em with Ethan, Gudrun, Cameron and Zac until he saw Tia head towards the bedrooms, and played another two hands to avoid seeming too eager. He had a quick shower, cleaned his teeth, and sauntered towards his allotted bed, where Noah's busty wife was lying on her side, the light already out. "Hi," he said, a little tentatively.

She rolled onto her back, looked at his erection, then turned back onto her side. "Good night."

He stood there for a moment, slightly crestfallen but with his cock still standing at attention, then climbed onto the bed beside her. "Do you want to..." he began.

"No," she said firmly. "Not with a cock as small as yours."

"It's six and a half inches -- closer to seven! That's above average!"

"I'm not interested in average. And don't say I won't notice it: it would tickle, and I hate being tickled."

"Zac --"

"Zac is a nice kid with a nice body and a nice nine inch dick, and I was horny, and I still didn't let him fuck me either. He just ate me out -- pretty well, though I've had better -- and was happy with that. Look, jerk off if you have to, but do it on your side of the bed, and if even one drop of cum lands on me, I'll get you kicked off the show. Even if I'm asleep when it happens, even if you lick it all up, if I think there's any jizz or spit on my anywhere, I'll have them run the tapes." She rolled over and glared at him. "You know the rules. When we're playing a game, I'll do whatever I need to win. If that means letting you suck my tits, fuck my ass, come on my face, fine. The rest of the time, consent fucking matters. Do you really want to drool on my tits so much that you're prepared to give up a shot at millions of dollars?"

"No," he said, not entirely truthfully. His cock felt as hard as stone, and as permanent, and the combination of her words and her body made the temptation to touch her, taste her, lose himself even briefly in her big soft tits or big firm ass almost irresistible.

"Good. Now, are you going to be a good little boy and stay on your side of the bed all night, or should make you sleep on the floor? Or do I need to get you a cock cage, a ball gag and handcuffs?"

"I'll stay on my side," he said sullenly, and rolled over with his back to her, his cock thudding against the mattress. "Good night."

#

Dianne felt the bed shake as Rouge used a magic wand to give herself a series of shuddering orgasms, pausing only to change position for better camera angles. She could feel herself becoming aroused, but stubbornly held out for several minutes before sneaking a hand down between her thighs and gently diddling her clit. She was still trying unsuccessfully to make herself come when Rouge rolled over and asked softly, "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," she snapped.

"There's a fuckton of toys in your nightstand..." Rouge suggested, sounding sincerely sympathetic.

"I was trying not to be too obvious," Dianne admitted, "and I've never found a toy that I really liked."

"Ever tried one of these?" She held up the magic wand.

"No."

Rouge nodded, and grabbed a few other toys from the drawer. "How about one of these?" she asked, looking at a suction vibe.

"Tried one. It made me come, but I didn't actually enjoy it. I mean, I love having my clit licked and sucked, but by a man, not a machine, so it didn't satisfy me. And it was even louder than I am."

"Uh-huh. What about this one?"

"I tried a rabbit, yes, but without the anal probe. Anal doesn't get me off, either. What about either of those two?"

"Yeah, they're both pretty good. This one thrusts as well as vibrating, and it remembers what you like. This one doesn't, but it fits in my harness like a strap-on so I can do any thrusting necessary."

"Have you tried all of these since we got here?"

Rouge laughed. "Nah -- well, not all of them. But I worked in a sex shop once. Staff discount -- or stuff dis cunt, as my boss used to say. You like playing with your boobs?"

"Sometimes, but I've never managed to make myself come that way, so I always end up rubbing my clit instead. I mean, I've only got two hands."

"That needn't be a problem now," said Rouge. "I won't use the strap-on, won't touch you if you don't want, just the vibe. Close your eyes, play with your boobs if you like, and Roger Rabbit and I can do the rest. But the secret of a good masturbation session is like comedy, or the drums: it's the timing. First thing is a good lubricating fantasy, even before you play with your nipples. When was the last really good sex you had?"

Dianne smiled crookedly. "Last night."

"Then you won't have to overwork your imagination. What was good about it?"

"His dick. The girth. Not too big, just right."

"Okay. Think about his dick. It's going to slide into you, but first he's going to get you ready, get you wet." Dianne heard the vibrator start buzzing, and closed her eyes as she felt the tip gently travel along her labia, slowly teasing them apart, as her nipples swelled and stiffened. "Okay, tell me when you're ready to be fucked."

"Hmm... not yet, this is good... okay, now."

Rouge smiled as she eased the big toy into Dianne's wet cunt, angling it so that the tip slid along the top of her hole until it was rubbing against the g-spot. "Okay," she said, as Dianne continued to fondle her mouthful-sized tits, "Nice big cock inside you. I've got more if you want to suck on one while you're being fucked."

"No... uh... no, this is... uh... fine..."

"Ok. Let me know when if you want him to start playing with your clit."

Dianne was gasping rhythmically as Dianne slowly increased the speed of the vibrator, until she moaned, "Oh fuck yeah now..."

Rouge changed the angle of the vibrator so that the flickering teaser touched Dianne's clit, and the older woman arched her back as she felt her orgasm welling up inside her. Rouge kept the toy in place as Dianne came again and again until she gasped that she needed to stop.

"Good?" Rouge asked, as she extracted the toy and switched it off.

"Oh fuck yes. I've got to get me one of those... um, I mean the vibrator."

Rouge smiled. "Sure. So, you think we can both get some sleep now?"

Dianne nodded weakly.

"Great. Good night. Sweet dreams."

(To be continued)