The New Playmate's Surprise

"Okay," Francesca now said, and everyone was silent, listening, curious. "If anyone wants to back out now, then fair enough. This isn't compulsory. But if you're not going to play the game, leave now."

Silence. No one left – why should they? They had somehow got through walking around with all their classmates in the nude, they were either brave – or drunk – enough to do anything. But Michael could still sense some nerves in the room – not just himself.

"Right," Francesca said, sounding bold for such a petite girl. "We're going to have a race. But this isn't any ordinary kind of race... it's an oral sex race!"

There was a collective sigh from all those present. What?

"Okay," the blonde girl went on once a little calm had been restored. "The way it's going to work is this: guys, you will go to the girl whose panties you currently hold in your hands. If you don't know whose they are, hold 'em up and ask. Then, when I fire this party popper, the race will begin. The first guy to make his girl orgasm with his mouth wins – simple as that."

Michael felt his heart burning inside him. Jesus.

"What does he win?" someone asked. Michael was dwelling too much on what this all meant to see who.

"Okay, the prize is..." Francesca said, "That he gets to spend the night in the master bedroom after all this is over – with whoever he wants, of course."

There was a whoop of excitement from some of the guys after that one.

Michael waited a moment, and after a pause to take in what was going on, some of the guys were already asking whose underwear it was they were holding. Then, the rest of the guys started asking, too, with the girls calling out as they recognised their panties. Michael didn't need to ask, but he did not go straight to Lucy. What if she refused to do it with him? What if she rejected him, completely humiliated him among all his classmates?

"Looks like you've got mine," she said as he approached her. As her eyes connected with his, it was like a bridge made of fire had joined his soul to hers.

"Uh... yeah," he said quietly, his nerves showing through. What if she thought he had purposely remembered her panties? Would she think he was some kind of stalker or something?

"Come on, then," she said with a mischievous grin, which seemed to fill his chest with molten lead, and he felt his cock twitch dangerously.

It felt as though he were in a dream-world. He sank down to his knees in front of her, this red-haired angel, leaving no time for any to see his cock firm up from the view she now gave him.

"I think we can win this," she said softly, boosting his confidence with the clear desire in her voice. Did she like him? Was there a chance...

"And no cheating, girls," Francesca said clearly over the hubbub of the guys settling in between the thighs of their new partners. "There's no point – and anyway, I can tell if you're faking it!"

He stared open-mouthed up at her, so beautiful, so sexy, and so bare above him, her thighs parted to reveal a small triangle of red pubic hair above the smooth pink folds of her exquisite pussy. He could tell she was slightly drunk, and he was thankful for it.

God, she was so perfect – her face so pretty with those big green eyes, kissable lips and bell of vibrant red hair, her pale skin in such contrast, her graceful curves, small, droplet-like breasts and smooth, flat stomach. Her nipples were stiff, little pink buttons pushing up to reveal her excitement. And she was wet already – he could see her juices glistening slightly on the open pink petals of her pussy lips. Jesus, she had to be almost as up for this as he was. Down between Michael's thighs, his cock was now rock-hard.

"Ready everyone?" Francesca called. Then, there was a small explosive crack as the blonde set off her party popper – and suddenly, the race was on.

11

There are moments in life when you think it can't get much better than this. These moments happen so rarely to most people that when they happen, the temptation is to just pause, take it all in, make the most of the moment because its ending is inevitable.

As Michael placed his hands gently on Lucy's thighs, which she parted to allow him all the access he needed to her pussy, he realised this was such a moment. But slowly kissing his way up her sensationally soft skin, he knew there was no time for pausing to reflect on just how lucky he was.

It was a race, after all. And the winner would get to spend the night in the lap of luxury rather than some couch or floor-space somewhere, or a cab-ride home.

As he approached the top of her thighs, still not feeling quite right about being so intimate with some he didn't know all that well – but feeling completely light-headed about it being the girl he'd had a crush on since the first time he'd seen her. He could already detect the first traces of the scent of her arousal – recalling the aroma of her panties, but much stronger, combining with her sweet perfume to stir him to the bones.

He looked up briefly, and his eyes connected with hers in a moment of burning desire. There was the kind of glint in her eyes that spoke of extreme arousal, and a distant smile that urged him onwards.

Michael took a deep breath, inhaling her exotic odour, slipped his arms under the tops of her thighs so that he could hold her tight, and began planting kisses around her glistening outer labia, brushing his lips and nose through her soft cherry curls, getting ever closer to the moist pink folds around her vagina.

Around him, he could hear some of the other girls already beginning to moan as their own race partners connected with their little open pussies. But for Michael, it was no longer about the race, it was about her, Lucy. It was about tasting her divine nectar, touching her in the most intimate way, breathing in her thrilling scent, watching her squirm as his tongue grazed along those sensitive, slippery folds, hearing her soft moans as he teased her clitoris.

It was all about making the most of the moment without pausing to reflect, lapping up her free-flowing juices and penetrating her tight vagina with his tongue, in case he was never given the opportunity again.

She was incredible – this red-haired angel – tasting her was like feasting on manna from heaven, he just couldn't get enough.

Her moans were becoming cries that sounded almost like anguish. If he didn't get time to push her to the edge now, would she allow him time later? After the party? Perhaps he was reading too much into all this. Perhaps this was the kind of thing these guys did every weekend. Maybe Lucy had had loads of guys doing this to her over the past months, and he was nothing special.

There was a commotion from across the room, and though Michael couldn't hear particularly well being locked between Lucy's thighs, he thought it heralded the end of the race and his heart sank.

But he looked up, and Lucy placed her hands on his head, urging him on, saying to him it was nothing, don't worry about it, keep going. His heart lifted again, and as he reasserted his efforts, he saw that there was a slight blush in her cheeks and above her breasts – she really was enjoying this!

Buried between her quivering thighs, he blocked out the rest of the world and continued, his face now covered in her tangy juices. Running her fingers through his hair, Lucy pressed him to her harder and harder, crushing his mouth against her pussy as she all but rode his head.

He could hear her cries turn almost to screams, so urgent, so forceful, and he increased the rhythm of his tongue as she prompted him with her hands, such that he was caught up in the powerful wave that was approaching her now and would not stop.

It was like being at the hot, wet centre of a violent storm as she shook from the force of energy sweeping through her. He felt the muscles in her thigh tremble against his head as the climax took hold within her, and a flood of her juices came forth as if to reward him.

Then slowly, gradually, she relaxed, her thighs parting once again to allow the cool air to stroke his face as he cleaned the moisture from between her thighs.

"My God," was all she could say, breathlessly, yet content beyond measure.

"We have a winner!" he heard Francesca announce. "A real one, this time. And what a winner!"

Michael was exhausted, but happy.

12

However, there was hardly time for him to catch his breath as Francesca issued the order for the boys to take their places on the chairs, and for the girls to take their pick of the guy's underwear. Michael took his place on the wooden chair, which was slightly slippery from Lucy's juices. It looked like it was going to be the boys' turn for a little oral stimulation.

"Same as last time: the first girl to get her partner to orgasm wins a comfy room for the night – this one's for the guest bedroom," Francesca said as the girls lined up for the lucky dip.

Who would pick him? Michael watched the girls finding their new partners, and smiled – he was already nearly there, after that scintillating experience with Lucy. Wow. And he had won the master bedroom – was there a chance she would accept an invitation from him to go with him?

As the crowd thinned, the girls taking up their positions between the shivering legs of the boys, a girl came and stood in front of him. With his eyes on the floor, he didn't recognise her at first, but then she said: "I guess I've been watching you all night, too."

Looking up, he saw Lucy standing there holding his boxer shorts.

Jesus.

The pretty redhead sank to her knees in front of him, then leant forward to rest her arms on his thighs, her little nose nudging up against his penis – which was now hard and straight.

"Mmm..." she purred, looking up at him with a mischievous grin. "Of course you already won a room," she said.

"Uh... yeah," was all he managed to say.

"You were thinking about inviting me, huh?"

"Of course."

"Good. So this is just payback, then."

The party popper exploded and either side of him, Michael saw the girls sink down on the guy's erect cocks. This was the weirdest party ever. And now the beer was wearing off, too. It seemed weirder than ever. A row of guys getting blow jobs – who would have thought it. The time he had complained about his parents sending him to an all-boys school seemed curiously distant now.

Oh God... Michael felt the warm softness enveloping his cock as a pair of hands closed round his shaft and over his balls.

A glance down, and he could hardly believe what he saw. The prettiest eyes looking up at him, so green, so alive, that soft pale face so full of innocence yet glowing with a wickedness that spoke of alcohol and sex, those soft lips stretched around the full girth of his rigid cock, her deep red hair framing the picture.

Below, he could see her naked form, so shapely from her erect pink nipples down to the puff of downy red curls lodged between her creamy thighs. She was truly a work of art, and her creator a true genius. And this image of perfection was holding his cock in her delicate pale fingers, swirling her little tongue around its head, crushing his erection between her hot, wet, velvet-soft cheeks. It was almost nasty, his big cock penetrating such beauty, so bad – and yet so good. Like taking the first steps through freshly-laid snow, like taking the first bite from a ripe red apple, taking a swim across the surface of a mirror-calm lake. Sullying the perfect, tarnishing the exquisite.

He could hear the other guys sighing and moaning quietly, not so willing as the girls had been to voice their true feelings, drunk or not. After his performance between her thighs, connected so intimately with her pussy like that, her juices splashing all over his face, he had worked up into quite a state. He could still taste her on his lips, that salty, sweet-and-sour tang that drove him wild. With all that, it didn't take long for him to feel the orgasm coming.

God she was good. One hand gently cradling his balls, the other clamped tight around his shaft, her mouth squeezing him, her tongue lashing him. The heat, the moisture, her soft cheeks. Closing his eyes, he heard someone else going, going, gone somewhere else in the room – it was all over, the race won. But no one was stopping him now, and Lucy knew this well.

Francesca's voice sounding so far in the distance... "We have a winner!"

Like she was calling through the fog... "Okay girls, you can stop now... if you like... well... when you're ready..."

It was building, slowly at first, a buzz of energy in his groin, spreading up his spine, up his cock from the shaft to the end, growing in intensity, making him groan, short of breath, his skin somehow cold as the heat concentrated between his thighs, his heart rate soaring as he felt the feelings blossom into a sudden sharp pang along his shaft, then it was as if some kind of switch was thrown deep within his groin and he felt the unstoppable burning oil surging forth into her eager mouth.

13

Michael looked at his watch: it was actually getting pretty late. Two couples had gone upstairs already, leaving six girls and six guys – including Lucy. He knew she was the one for him. The way she made him feel, the connection they had, the chemistry – it was incredible.

But though he wanted her with everything in his heart – and had a fair idea she might like him too, he was frightened to take that final, huge step, asking her upstairs. What if she said no?

Jonny had gone now – up to Francesca's room, no doubt. It was getting on. Maybe there wouldn't be any more games. Maybe they'd failed. The six couples would not happen. Should he go for it? Ask Lucy? But she hadn't asked him upstairs, either. So maybe she was having second thoughts. He would make himself look seriously foolish if she turned him down.

"Okay, this is the last game of the evening," Francesca announced. "At the end of this, you'll all be couples if everything goes to plan."

Michael's heart-beat quickened. He was too late! He couldn't ask her now. What if she ended up with someone else? What if someone else asked upstairs?

For this game, they were all standing up. Francesca gave them all blindfolds, and told them they were not to put them on and not remove them. But strangely, with the blindfold on, he felt somehow safe, secure, less nervous. Standing there, he even dropped his hands from covering his crotch. No one could see now, anyway, just like him. Only Francesca could see, but that was somehow different.

"Okay," he heard Francesca say. "There's no excuses now – we're going to find the best matches here we can. This game starts off a bit like musical chairs, only without the chairs and a bit more hands on, you might say. Deal is this: you're all paired with someone of the opposite sex. I put a CD on, and for a whole song, you can do pretty much whatever you like with each other. One rule: no talking whatsoever. When the next song starts, you all switch round so you're with someone else."

Michael felt his cock twitch. This could be interesting. Would he recognise Lucy without his touch? How would it lead to couples if no one could see?

"Since none of you can see, you won't need any inhibitions. But, if you act in a way your partner doesn't like, he or she can wait out the rest of the song if he or she wants, so be warned."

Francesca continued: "Then, once you've all been with each other, those blind-folds do still stay on people! But the game will change: you will all write down a list from one to six of your favourite partners. You won't know their names, of course, so you'll just write down their numbers. I'll know who those numbers correlate to."

"Then what?" someone asked.

"Then, well, then I'll put you with your favourite, or your next favourite depending on availability, and you'll get some more time together. If you decide to stick with that partner, I'll take you both out of the room, you can take off your blindfolds and go upstairs together. If not, we'll have another round and so on."

The next six songs, Michael didn't even really notice the music. It was just the girls, the soft skin, the supple breasts, the exotic perfume, the tender kisses, the gentle caresses, the slick pussies, the curious hands on his hard cock.

It was incredible: being with these girls like this. As Francesca had predicted, with the blindfolds in place they did all lose their inhibitions: Michael didn't worry that his erection was making itself known, and the girls were actively encouraging him to go all out in exploring them, including touching their pussies and sliding his fingers inside their vaginas.

But the first five, though wonderful, were hard to tell apart. Their scents were all different, sure, their anatomy a little different here and there, their style or ability not exactly the same, but none of those first five really jumped out at him. As the fifth song came to a close, he felt disappointed, disappointed that he had not so far recognised Lucy. What kind of perfume had she been wearing? He couldn't remember now, his memories had been scrambled. He knew number two's breasts had been way too large to be her, but he couldn't tell between the other girls.

But then the sixth song began. The last girl came up to him, helped over to him by Francesca. And the memory of her sweet perfume came flooding back to him. It was Lucy. She reached up and kissed him on the mouth, pressing her body against him. He felt his hard cock pressing against her hot skin, her small breasts pressing against his chest.

She turned, so that her back was touching his front, pulling his arms round and guiding one of his hands to her breasts, the other down between her legs. Her nipples were hard, and as his right hand came to rest in her soft pubic triangle, he found that she was already very wet. Even over the sound of the music, he heard her moans as he slipped his middle finger inside her hot, tight vagina.

As he touched her breasts and caressed her pussy, she pressed back against him, gyrating her hips slightly to rub his hard cock with her shapely behind.

But then the music stopped and she stepped away.

Francesca said: "Okay, when I tap you on the shoulder, you're going to hold up your hands to show me six numbers in order of your preference. Then when we're all done, the music will start again and I'll put you with your chosen partner."

When Michael felt the tap on his shoulder, he held up six fingers, then after a pause, he guessed a fairly random order, three, one, four, five, two.

Then there was simply nothing: darkness, quiet.

It seemed like a long wait, as Francesca was no doubt getting everyone's choices. As he waited, Michael licked his finger, tasting her juices from where he had penetrated her wet vagina.

Then the music began again. Michael was being patient: he knew there had to be time for Francesca to guide girls to their partners. But his heart was in his throat and he was trembling slightly with nerves. It was stupid really: they were all nice girls, all really quite attractive. But when you set your heart on one in particular.

He heard people moving about, felt the movement in the air, even.

Someone took his hand. Francesca, he guessed. Carefully, she led him around the room. Damn it, not Lucy, then? Surely, she'd be nearby, she'd just been with him. So someone else had got her. As he walked, he felt his heart drop like a stone inside his chest.

Francesca stopped him and brought his hand up so that he was touching the shoulders of the chosen girl, and he could tell where she was. Who was she? She had small breasts, a good figure... and her perfume was instantly recognisable.

Lucy.

His cock, which had softened in the last couple of minutes, sprang smartly to attention as the music began again. Had she chosen him, then? Or was he her number two or worse? But after a tentative exploration, in which her hands traced over his body, and down to check out his cock, she launched herself at him with a passionate kiss, and he suspected that she was happy with him.