Return to Daphne Xu.
"No way!" I shouted hysterically.
"But Shuming --"
"Absolutely not! No way!" I was fuming in anger and embarrassment, and I felt my face turning a bright crimson. "Go do it yourself, Joe, if you're so interested."
I turned and stomped off, leaving Joe standing in front of the bulletin board, only barely hearing his mumble, "I just might." I ran up the stairs, down the hall, and into my room. I flopped down on the bed and burst into tears.
Oh, yes. I knew perfectly well why he'd bugged me about it. Bugged *ME* in particular. Only a few days ago, I'd received something in the mail just like that notice on the bulletin board, except that it was bright yellow instead of hot pink. It called for participants in the upcoming "1998 Teen Cunnilingus Tournament." I'd angrily ripped it to shreds before throwing it out.
Last fall, I'd done something very stupid. Very, stupid. Unbelievably stupid. Not your ordinary, garden-variety, K-Mart stupidity, but your high-class, jet-set, Fredricks-of-Hollywood type stupidity. I'd entered the "1997 Teen Blowjob Tournament" last fall.
Weeping, I flamed at the memory. I couldn't believe it -- had I actually done that? Had I actually gone out naked in front of a large audience, and licked and sucked someone's dick until he came? I vividly remembered the taste of that yucky, slimy, salty gunk in my mouth. It was in my mouth the rest of the semester, no matter how much I tried to wash it away. Who was that guy, anyway? I'd never actually seen him, because I'd been blindfolded. In a way that was good; I never saw the audience, either.
Whatever in the world had possessed me into joining up? I'd been suckered, I realized that now. I'd only found out later that a few people from my dorm had been in the audience, ostensibly there to cheer me on. Worse still, I'd learned that the Erotica Channel had covered the tournament live, and sold videotapes and videodisks of selections from the tournament. Some people here had videos of it, either bought from the Erotica Channel or recorded when it was broadcast live. I wondered if I was actually caught on tape (*shiver*). I never dared ask. Oooooo, I couldn't bear to imagine how I must have looked, blindfolded, naked, stumbling away, spitting that gunk out of my mouth.
I couldn't face anyone the rest of the semester. I always walked staring straight ahead, only curtly answering when anyone greeted me. I know I turned many people off that way, but I couldn't help it. Just about all I did was eat, sleep, attend class, do homework, and read in the library. I didn't talk to anyone.
Our physics professor lectured about pulsating viscous fluids in class the following Tuesday. I hoped it was purely coincidental.
And the nightmares. . .
. . . I was lying on the grass in front of the Commons, sucking on a Popsicle, running my tongue over the round head in my mouth, swallowing the flavor down as it dissolved off the Popsicle. People were watching me from round about. No, that wasn't a Popsicle; it was the head of a penis! Everyone was applauding, and I was sucking and swallowing that horrible taste again. I realized that I was naked, and my parents, my grandparents, my elderly great-grandparents, and all my school friends and teachers, were all standing around me, looking down at me, applauding. . . .
I awoke in a sweat, my heart beating like crazy. I tried to slow down my breathing, telling myself that it was just a dream, just a very intense nightmare. I was alone in my bed, and I got up and went for a drink of orange juice. I couldn't get back to sleep. Gods, if my parents ever found out what I was up to here in America.
One nice surprise came out of the event. A few weeks later, I received a check for $300 from the tournament. That was completely unexpected, because they'd already refunded the $500 deposit. I understood the reason for that deposit: they wanted to keep us from backing out at the last minute. If we back out, we forfeit the deposit. Believe me, were it not for the fee, I would have backed out quickly and how! I probably should have backed out anyway.
I continued living like a zombie the rest of the fall semester. It did wonders for my grades, and horrors for my social life. I slowly pulled out of it over Christmas vacation. I stayed at school through the holidays. I think I'd virtually recovered by the time intercession started in January. But then I received that ad for the 1998 Teen Cunnilingus Tournament to be held in April. That was the first day of the spring semester.
Now today, Friday, Feb. 6, was the fifth day of the semester. Signs were going up all over campus, advertising the tournament in various flashy colors. I tried to avoid seeing them, but I couldn't. And Joe had to ask me about it, just as we passed the bulletin board in opposite directions.
I woke up lying face down on the edge of my bed, one leg and one arm hanging off the side, realizing only just now that I'd cried myself to sleep. I drowsily glanced up at the clock. It was too late for dinner in the dorm; I had to find something to eat. I dragged myself off the bed and went to one of the many nice Chinese restaurants near our university.
A few days later, after I'd finally managed to put the memories aside, I was logged into a workstation in one of the computer clusters. It was early morning, and I had a Scheme program to write for computer science class, and I wanted to get it done as soon as possible. Few people were logged in to start with, but as I worked, windowgrams popped open on my screen announcing the login of usernames that I recognized, and delivering greetings from friends. These were just tiny windowgrams, to be dismissed with the click of a mouse key.
Chat messages popped up as well. These were windowgrams sent to all workstations logged in and subscribed. Busy as I was on my program, I mostly ignored the discussions, except to click them away. I was about to unsubscribe, when a message popped up asking about the "cunnilingus tournament." I gasped and froze in embarrassment, unable to do anything. More messages appeared, discussing the subject. Someone then told the world, "Szhao was in the blowjob tournament last fall. Ask her." Szhao was my username.
I should have kept my big keyboard shut. I should have unsubscribed. I should have logged out. I should have slammed my fist through the screen. Anything but what I did. I sent my own message out: "Szhao knows absolutely nothing about it."
A window popped up from another user: "Methinks szhao doth protest too much."
Another window: "Szhao, I hear you're going to do it again this spring."
"Whatever gave you that idea?" I replied in another windowgram.
More windows popped up: "You really should, you know." "I'm sure she'll do it." "You did good last fall." "I think you may place this time." "We shouldn't pressure her." And so forth.
For an instant, I thought they were right and perhaps I should enter the competition, but better sense prevailed. I shut down the chat system on my workstation, and continued with my work as well as I could with fury flooding over me. I managed to finish debugging my scheme program, and emailed it off to the TA.
I received a few more suggestions from both boys and girls through February. I kept saying no. I managed to avoid losing my temper or crying. In fact I began to develop a sense of pride from their suggestions, and the idea of entering kept nagging at me.
Some people also tried to use my participation in the event to recruit me for their particular Christian organization -- almost always while I was eating lunch in the University cafeteria.
A man greeted me by name and joined me for lunch. I didn't recognize him. After a couple minutes, he spoke. "Shuming, would you be interested in attending our group's meeting tonight of song and prayer?"
"No, thank you."
"Shuming, I can tell that you are carrying around with you a lot of guilt, a lot of sadness, anger, and stress. You should know that Jesus loves you and can lift all that from you. Jesus Christ will take the burden on Himself, if you let Him. Jesus died for our sins."
I had no idea what to say. I didn't believe that, of course. I simply repeated, "No thanks. I'm not interested."
The man got up and took his tray. "Remember, Shuming. All you have to do is let Jesus into your heart."
That particular conversation occurred on the first of March. If I want to do go out and participate in a blowjob tournament or a cunnilingus tournament, I thought to myself, I will do it. I have no reason to feel guilty over it. I just might do it, even. I thought that every time someone tried to recruit me, after the first couple of times.
A few days later, a newsletter appeared on top of the student newspaper boxes. The title was, "Signs of the Times." I'd seen it distributed a few times before, published by some way-out Christian group on campus. Normally, I ignored these loony papers, and I would have ignored this one, except that I was sure I spotted my name somewhere in their top article.
I glanced through the article, searching for my name, and getting more and more enraged and embarrassed as well.
The article was titled, "Biblical Prophecy Fulfilled? Rampant Sodomy and Shamelessness in Today's Generation." It suggested that Biblical Prophecy was coming true, and the Rapture and Armageddon would occur any time soon.
The article railed about sodomy, fornication, and debauchery rampant in today's colleges and universities and over the Internet, which the article described as one giant Smutland. The culture of students having sex with one another indiscriminately and before marriage was so pervasive that even Christians were sometimes caught up in it. "Who among us Christian men has not had the experience of waking up in the morning with a girl in bed with him; this sin tempts even the most committed Christian with all too much success. This was in complete accordance with Bible Prophecy of debauchery and sodomy running rampant and people forgetting all manner of shame and decency."
The article singled out one example of "institutionalized perversity of sodomy with complete strangers, taking place in front of a large audience and broadcast across the country and around the world. The event masquerades as an athletic tournament, but it's nothing of the sort." The article told how "one female student at this school participated in this travesty last fall -- Shuming Zhao, a girl from Communist China. Oriental girls are generally known to be lascivious; they are temptresses of decent, wholesome, Christian men. They were known even to lure them away in marriage." Argh, balderdash! "It is incomprehensible," the article continued, "how the University continues to admit Orientals in ever-increasing numbers. The universities own statistics show that Oriental girls outnumber Oriental men 100 to 80. If the University were truly admitting on merit, the men would dominate the girls here. This is a technological institute, and men are far better at technology than women. That's simply a fact, a law of nature and God." The article likened Oriental girls to "Sirens," girls in ancient Greek mythology who lure sailors to their doom by their sheer attractiveness, and accused the administers of the University of being seduced by those girls.
The article then said about me, "[G]rowing up atheist, in an atheistic totalitarian Communist country, of course she would not know the meaning of shame." The article finished by nicely telling me that Jesus loves me and that I would be Saved if only I would let Jesus Christ (God) into my Heart and accept Him as my Personal Savior.
I flamed in fury and embarrassment at the way the article portrayed me. They lied; I DID know shame! That blowjob tournament was an utterly shaming experience. And I was NOT brought up like that, either. I would be utterly mortified if my parents ever found out what I had done here in America; my parents would crucify me! I've had occasional nightmares of their finding out. Those "Christians" had no right to force their religion, their God, and their morality on me. I was an atheist, of course, but that didn't mean I was a criminal, a victim of totalitarian indoctrination, or a slut. It was awful the way they suggested that as an Oriental girl I was automatically a seductive, exotic slut. It is true, though, that I have been told a couple times that I look attractive and seductively exotic.
I could think of nothing else. After class that very same day, I sat down by myself at a table in the cafeteria for lunch. A strange man approached and joined me at the table. After a few minutes, he asked if I was interested in learning about something. He started telling me about a meeting this evening of Christian Crusade on campus.
Usually when accosted like that by religious groups, I usually responded, "No, thank you. I'm not interested." I didn't like them, but my mind typically froze up; I never knew what to say. I was smart enough to realize that when my mind froze up, it was always a good idea to say no, even if I forgot the precise reasons why.
As usual, my mind began to freeze up, but then my fury burst out. "I don't believe any of that bullshit!"
The man replied, "Doubt is a weakness in all of us. Rest assured, Jesus loves you, no matter what kind of sinner you are. Even the worst, the most obstinate, sinner can be saved, if only he accept Jesus into his heart."
My fury exploded. "Listen! I don't wish to be saved! I don't want to be told what a sinner I am. If I decide to participate in that tournament, I will. Nothing and nobody's going to stop me. I'm fed up with religious groups trying to recruit me, and with everyone bugging me about that tournament!" With that, I picked up my lunch tray and ran off. I'll show them, I fumed to myself. I'll sign up and enter that teen whatever-it-is tournament. So there!
I ruminated all afternoon about this, even during class. I wondered if I really should do it. I just couldn't make up my mind.
After dinner that evening, I sought out Brad. I was confused and wanted someone to talk to, and I thought he was the only one I could talk to about it. Brad was a senior, a very nice and gentle guy, and he'd helped me with a number of things. He was always willing to talk with me and help me. Last fall, just after school started, he had taken my virginity. And later, when I'd suckered myself into joining the blowjob tournament, he let me practice on him. Unfortunately, I didn't talk with him the rest of the fall semester. But when he returned for spring semester we talked quite a bit. I felt like we could talk about anything. I never mentioned the tournament until now. At times I wondered what he was to me. Perhaps a mentor of sorts for me? I liked him a lot; I didn't really love him. Anyway, he had a girlfriend.
So when I found him in the third-floor lounge and told him I wanted to talk about something, he immediately said goodbye to his friends. I wasn't sure, but I thought I saw one of his friends wink as he said, "I'll see you tomorrow then, Brad."
As we walked off, he asked, "Are things going all right?"
"Well," I hesitated. "Classes are okay."
We chatted about different, marginally relevant, things. Then Brad bluntly inserted, "How's your love life?"
I flushed and answered quickly, "I don't have any. But people keep bugging me about . . . well, uh, you know, the, ah. . . ." I was stammering and stuttering even more than usual. "I was wondering, um, you know, the upcoming, ah, tournament?" I giggled and flushed in embarrassment as I said that.
"Let's go to your room," replied Brad. "We'll have more privacy there."
When we got to my room, I shut the door and we sat down on my bed, facing each other at an angle. Brad said, "You didn't seem to want to talk about the event last fall. I was waiting; you might bring it up eventually. What did you think of it?"
I flushed, unable to talk. "I-I-I don't know," I eventually managed to stammer. "I didn't really like it. In fact, it was really dumb of me to do it!" Then all of a sudden, it all poured out of me. I described everything about the old competition. I think I cried a little; I'm not sure. I found myself in his arms, and he was patting my back.
His hand slipped under my T-shirt and rubbed my bare back. He drew my shirt up over my head. I lifted my arms straight up to help him, feeling confused about this, and he pulled my shirt completely off. I wasn't wearing a bra. I usually don't, because bras are uncomfortable and my breasts are small and have absolutely no need of support.
I continued, "I can't believe how I must have looked -- naked, stumbling away, trying to spit that stuff out of my mouth." He was unbuttoning his own shirt now. "I can almost taste it now, even. It's horrible!" I looked away for a moment.
When I turned back to him, his shirt was off. I wondered what was up. "Some women like the taste of it, you know. Wendy does."
"Maybe it's an acquired taste. Or maybe his sperm was particularly bad."
"Possibly. Or maybe you just don't like it."
"I don't know. Maybe." He put his arm around my waist, and I pressed up against him and put both arms around him. Mmmmmm, I inhaled his distinct masculine smell. Despite myself, it was exciting pressing against him, bare skin to bare skin. "Well, you saw how I was after the episode. I was walking around. . . ."
"Well, to be blunt, you were pretty much a zombie last fall."
"Yes, a zombie. That's exactly my word for it. I also had nightmares about the event. Still do, occasionally."
"Do you recall any of your nightmares?"
"Yes, a few of them. Ones that have occurred several times."
"Would you like to describe one of them for me?"
"Okay." I told him about the nightmare above.
Brad remained silent for a moment after I finished. "That's actually a typical type of dream. Someone takes an exam such as the SAT or the GRE. Later on, he has dreams about taking it again. He may be naked, or in a girl's leotard (if he's a guy). He probably has forgotten everything, and is completely unprepared."
I felt something fiddling with the button of my jeans. His left hand was around my waist. I looked down and saw his right hand attempting to open my jeans. "Brad?"
"What are you doing?"
"Don't you know? It's a lot easier talking unreservedly about intimate things when we're naked."
"Yes. It's much easier to be open, much harder to hide something."
"Let me think about it a moment." I'd never heard of that before, but there may be something to it; I just didn't know. "Okay." We both stood up. I hesitated a moment, until he unbuckled his belt. Then I unbuttoned my jeans, unzipped them, slid them down, and stepped out of them. Both of us had already taken off our shoes at the door when we came in. "Should we take off our underwear as well?" I asked anxiously. I was already embarrassed enough at being down to my panties with him -- not that it had never happened before, to be sure.
"Well, it's up to you," he said while taking off his socks. "It's generally better if it's complete, though." His breath caught as he said that.
"Okay." I slipped my panties down, apprehensive about this. He did as well, and I stifled a laugh. He looked comical with a semihard penis sticking out, bobbing about as he moved. It's times like this when I realize I'm glad to be female.
For some reason, it felt liberating to be naked. We sat back down, and I pressed up against his side and put both arms around him, and he put his arm around my waist.
"Okay, where were we?" asked Brad. "Oh, yes. Nightmares about exams and such. Sometimes, in one's nightmare, he is approaching the final exam of a class that he's skipped all semester, or perhaps didn't do any of the homework for, or some other panicky reason. Possibly, he might be in a band or an orchestra, or better yet a small chamber music group. He realizes he knows absolutely nothing about the piece he's about to play, has never practiced, never prepared, never attended rehearsals. And the music director tells him how disappointed she is. He may be naked, or in underwear, or something equally out-of-place."
"So my nightmare was normal?"
"Not in its details, of course. But it's a standard type of nightmare. Your nightmares exploit your fears, and dish them out to you in a way that is utterly horrible. Your nightmares are a part of your brain, so they have access to everything you have access to."
"Have you ever had nightmares?"
"Oh, yes. I've had dreadful ones when I was a kid. I would wake up and run screaming to my parents. I've dreamed of being kidnapped from right underneath my parents' eyes. My parents are facing the other way, typically. I scream out, or rather try to, because right at that time, my voice is caught in my throat. I can't shout out to save my life."
"Oh, my." I pet and caressed him. It was a surprise to realize that he had problems himself. I pressed up tighter against him. It didn't feel quite right. "Just a second." I pulled away and lifted my right leg up on the bed, around behind him. I sat back down and pressed back up against him, and put my arms around him. Ah, that was much better. My breasts pressed up against his body, my right leg hooked around him on the bed, and my left leg extended down off the bed next to his left leg. I itched to touch as much of my body to him as possible.
"Such things happen to me still, occasionally. If I have to look through a keyhole, you can be sure that my eye will remain clamped shut no matter how hard I try to open it."
"It does seem like the part of the mind that produces nightmares really has it in for you." I pushed up tighter still against him; I wanted to get more of that -- ah, yes, that felt good, very good indeed. He caressed my left knee and my right ankle with his fingertips. I wondered for a moment why I wasn't laughing like crazy and trying to get away from him and stay away. I'm awfully ticklish. I immediately forgot that, even when he started tickling the sole of my right foot and squeezing under my left kneecap.
". . . recently . . . night . . ." I only got a couple words of what he said, because these pleasurable feelings were going rapidly through me, one right after the other. I also didn't notice I was rocking back and forth, his torso moving with me. Because, just then, a burst of pure pleasure exploded throughout my body. I gasped and shrieked.
I was shaking, vibrating, rocking for quite some time. At length, I came back down from the peak of the orgasm, and I noticed that I didn't feel as much of a need to press up so tightly against him any more. I was incredibly embarrassed at what happened.
"You had an orgasm, didn't you?" asked Brad.
I blushed and nodded. I couldn't say anything for a moment. "I'm sorry," I finally managed.
"No-no-no. There's nothing to be sorry about. I'm quite flattered, to tell the truth."
"Yes. Now, if you had one in class, that would be another question."
"Oh-my-God!" That was a most unpleasant thought.
"Now where were we? Oh yes. Night terrors. To tell the truth, I don't know the difference between night terrors and nightmares. Incidentally, the "mare" in "nightmare" means demon. So nightmares are night demons, which amount to the same thing as night terrors." Brad slid down off the bed slowly. I wasn't sure whether that was accidental or deliberate. I moved forward, sitting on the bed right behind him with my legs on both sides of him.
"But let's get back to what I wanted to talk to about. People keep thinking I'm entering the event coming up this April." I massaged his shoulders and neck.
"You mean the Teen Cunnilingus Tournament?" Brad asked bluntly.
I flushed at how he used that sex word so openly, and hesitated. "Well, uh, yes." I stopped, not knowing what to say. I continued kneading his shoulders, and he made pleasurable sounds. "Everyone seems to think I'm going to do it. Do you think I should?"
Brad answered, "It's all up to you. Nobody else can decide for you."
"Well, I know that, sort-of. Intellectually at least. I can't explain it. It's just extremely difficult to go against what everyone says. And then -- did you see that article in the Christian paper today?"
"No, I never read those crazies. You shouldn't either."
"I don't, usually. But that article talked about me. It said some awful things -- in effect, that I was a very bad girl, a sinner. A sinner who needed to be Saved."
Brad turned around to face me. "They're still not worth your trouble, unless they're causing you problems. Then you should complain formally to the dean's office." He was face to face with my pussy.
"In the past month, a number of them have been talking to me, trying to Save me."
"If they still bug you, tell me. I'll help you file a complaint." He pushed himself closer to me.
"Well, the competition just might be what you need to relieve yourself of guilt and self-condemnation. But as I said before, it's strictly up to you." He began kissing and licking my pussy. It was still a bit messy from my orgasm, but he licked it all up. "Mmmmmmmmmm, yes, completely -- mmmmmmmm, up to you," he said between strokes of his tongue.
I wasn't sure I wanted him to do this, but it sure felt good. I thought I might be heading for another orgasm.
He temporarily halted his licking, and said, "I heard that a couple of other people were considering doing the tournament."
"Who?" I was curious. Who else here would do something like that?
"No, no. That would be telling. I don't name names." I understood. I'd be horrified if anyone else knew that I was actually considering doing it, even though apparently everyone already knew how I'd done it last fall. He rose up and pushed me back and sideways onto my back. He got on the bed and knelt between my legs, and licked some more.
This went on in silence for another few minutes, then he stopped and looked at me.
"It's nice how you keep your pussy so impeccably shaved," commented Brad.
I flushed. "I've never had hair between my legs," I admitted with some embarrassment. "I keep wishing I had pubic hair."
"It wonderful, seeing the bare skin there, not concealed by all the hair. It's just like a child's."
"Wonderful, really? I'm surprised. In China, everyone thinks it a curse, not to have pubic hair when you grow up. I kept hoping and hoping for a long time that it would eventually come. I've more or less given up hope by now."
"Oh, perish the thought. It's no curse; everyone loves it." Brad smiled and whispered, "It appeals to the closet pedophile in them."
"Yes, but about my doing the -- event this spring?"
"You opened the door last fall."
"What do you mean?"
"Some people are considering it who never would have considered it before. You're the first person at this school -- better yet, a girl -- to do it, and now other people are checking it out." I felt a sense of pride and accomplishment at that. Then I thought of the religious guy in the cafeteria at lunch, and that horrible religious newsletter. The author had denounced the tournament as an abomination unto the Lord, and a sign of the coming Apocalypse, the End of the World.
I tried to ponder things over amid the distraction of Brad's tongue stirring up my bellybutton.
"Bu-bu-bu-hee-hee-hee-hee!" I squealed, then managed to control myself. "But wouldn't it shame me in front of the school? Wouldn't it shame the school?" Shame my parents? I thought, but didn't say. The idea of my parents seeing me in this position frightened me, made me clench up. At least, this wasn't like my nightmare, where I would suddenly realize I was naked in public and my parents were watching me. I cringed at the idea, squeezing my legs together, and squeezing Brad in the meanwhile.
"Shame? Perish the thought! They view you as an adventurer, a hero. One who goes out and does devilish things, just for the hell of it. Believe me, they applaud you. You went out and did something they would not dare to do. They're jealous -- envious of you." He sucked on my right breast
I was reveling in the thought (and in Brad's touch), and Brad was inching over me. I felt his penis pushing at the entrance to my pussy. Because of his earlier ministrations, I was hopelessly overcome by lust by now, and wanted nothing more than to be filled by him. I reached up and grabbed his ass, wrapped my legs around him, and pulled him to me.
We were going at it very hard. My whole body was awash in pleasure, and I wanted more, more. I made some high-pitched gasping squealing sounds, despite all my attempts to keep things as silent as possible. Brad was grunting too, when the telephone suddenly rang. We both froze. As I was wondering whether to answer the phone, it rang again.
I reached out and grabbed the headset. "Hello?" I wheezed.
"Hello, Shuming. Could I speak with Brad, please?"
I was in real trouble now, I knew. When I was able to catch my breath again, I said as normally as possible, "Uhhhhh sure," and handed the phone to Brad. "It's Wendy." He raised himself up on one arm, and held the phone with the other hand. He was sort-of half on me, and his penis remained inside me.
They talked a little while. "Yes . . . Yes, tomorrow at noon . . . helping Shuming with . . ." I cringed at that euphemism. "Yes, we're having sex . . ." I looked at Brad in shock when he said that. "Oh, yes, we will indeed have fun. . . . Seeya tomorrow, then. Love-ya." Brad hung up the phone and turned back to me. "Where were we? Oh, yes."
We started up again. With that scare, it took me a little while to get back up to the previous level of passion. We finally exploded simultaneously in spasms of pleasure. He almost collapsed on me, caught himself in the nick of time, and lowered himself gently on me. I kissed his cheek. The last thing I thought before I fell asleep in the afterglow was how much I loved him.
Copyright 1999 Daphne Xu
Early the next morning, I logged into a workstation. With fluttering stomach, I started up Netscape and typed in the URL listed in the competition flier. I was hoping against hope that the URL would fail, or the Internet connection would spontaneously disconnect, or maybe lightning bolts would jump out of the monitor and zap my breasts.
But nothing so mundane happened. The contest's website opened up to a page announcing the Teen Cunnilingus Tournament. The page asked us if we were over twenty-one, and directed us to www.disney.com if not. I was eighteen years old; I clicked yes. My stomach was in my throat, and I was almost hyperventilating. I thought I might be caught. I tried to convince myself that, if I were going to be caught at all, it would have happened at that tournament last fall. It almost worked.
The site opened up with two pictures, a girl sucking on a man's penis and a guy licking a girl's pussy. They were all blindfolded. I looked around quickly. At least I was in a corner workstation, with the monitor facing the corner.
Clicking on various links, I found many fascinating things: One page related the history of the Cunnilingus and Blowjob tournaments. There were two other tournaments as well, the Freestyle Sex Tournament during the summer, and the Dueling Dicks Tournament in the winter. Those two were started fairly recently. I found a list of all past winners, some tips for improving performance, schedules of tournaments for the next five years, technical information, legal information, and (of course) ads. The top three couples in each competition won gold, silver, and bronze medals, just like in the Olympics.
You could order VHS and DVD highlights of all the past competitions. I couldn't bear to think that my performance last fall might be on one of those.
Finally, I clicked up the entry form for the contest. It asked for our name, address, age, birth date, sex, school, major, hometown, and so forth. The form gave four options, for girls only: Receive, Give, Both, Either. I remembered the few boys with us in the blowjob tournament. If they allowed boys to give blowjobs, they must allow girls to give cunnilingus, of course. But I wondered what would happen if a boy checked "Receive"? I changed the sex to "Male." The four options immediately faded out, with a check appearing next to "Give." I couldn't change it; it was hardwired in. I wondered if there were any legal implications of not allowing males to receive. But then, you can't really perform cunnilingus on a boy, can you?
Girls and boys aged 18-24 were accepted. They said they would welcome participants as low as 15, but the law forbade that. But why did they call it a "teen" tournament, if people in their twenties could participate?
I went back and changed the sex to female. I wondered momentarily -- should I check "Give"? Or perhaps "Both"? -- before gulping and clicking on "Receive." I squeezed my legs tightly together, shuddering and tingling at what I was about to commit myself to, thinking of some stranger licking between my legs. This is it, I thought. I'm really going to do it. I was shaking with nerves.
As in the other tournament last fall, they required a $500 deposit from participants, to be refunded after first round. But I did notice this time, that participants received a certain amount for each round they participated in. First round was $300. So that's why I got that $300 check last fall. I didn't look at the other amounts, because I knew I wouldn't advance beyond the first round.
The top medal-winners got their own huge awards. I briefly scanned the list of medal winners. I looked at a few pictures as well -- girls with faces in ecstasy, one blindfolded Asian girl with a Vietnamese name, even. She'd been caught writhing and squirming almost on her side, her thighs tightly clasped about the head whose face was buried in her crotch.
I wondered: did I really want to look like that? Back at the registration form, I clicked. The deed was done. I worried momentarily about sending my credit card number over the Internet, but at least they had SSL.
I logged out and left the cluster, my face flushing. I wondered if everyone here knew what I was up to. At least only a few people were logged in this early. One was asleep at his workstation. He'd probably pulled an all-nighter.
The next month passed by in stomach-churning suspense and fear, with nightmares coming again. I dreamed of Brad licking and kissing my pussy -- me on my back, and Brad lying between my legs. I was enjoying it, until I noticed that we were on stage, with dazzling lights overhead, an auditorium packed with barely visible fans, and my whole extended family occupying the front row. I woke up then, drenched in sweat and shivering in horror.
The day got closer and closer. I was living in partial denial, spending most of my time buried in homework and reading, avoiding any thoughts about the approaching tournament.
Copyright 1999 Daphne Xu
Finally, the date arrived and I could avoid it no further. I woke up the morning of Saturday, April 4, 1998 -- the first day of the 1998 Teen Cunnilingus Tournament. I wore a T-shirt and shorts, and tennis shoes, and packed couple spare changes of clothes and a plastic grocery bag for laundry into my knapsack.
The site of the tournament was the same as last fall, a two-hour bus ride away. As I boarded the bus around eight in the morning, I kept telling myself that I can't really be doing this, not again. I really ought to just not do this, and simply forfeit the $500 deposit. Chalk it up to experience, I kept telling myself on the two-hour bus trip to the site. I'd already received my Citibank credit card bill, with $500 billed to a company with an innocuous name obviously related to the tournament.
The bus arrived at its destination all too soon, almost before I knew it. I made my way to the athletic center of the local college. An usher directed me to the same gymnasium that I'd been in last fall. This was getting awfully familiar.
Blushing horribly, I signed in at the table at one end of the gymnasium, and got a card with my team assignment. I was on Team C. The competition took awhile to start, and I flopped down and waited in a corner formed by the bleachers and the wall. I was so nervous, so excited, so scared, that I was gasping, almost hyperventilating. Another contestant came over and suggested that I breath slowly and deeply. "A lot of us are nervous. That's par for the course in this competition." I felt somewhat better after a few long, slow breaths.
"Ladies and (ahem) girls," announced a middle-aged woman's voice. I got up and moved so I could see the woman. She looked friendly but stern -- more at home as a librarian, or in a schoolroom as an elementary school teacher, than here as a director of a sex tournament. "I am Mrs. Prune, and I will be your hostess and director today. Welcome to the ninth annual Teen Cunnilingus Tournament! We've had our largest turnout yet, today -- 163 girls. Let's all make this year's tournament a rousing success!" Everyone cheered and applauded, including me.
"I have been informed," continued Mrs. Prune, "that over on the other side, they've had an even larger turnout -- 190 persons including 42 girls. That is the largest percentage of girls we've had on the other side." Everyone cheered again. "Therefore, we would like volunteers to perform double duty and help fill up two additional teams. This will give you twice the chance to win. Any volunteers?"
No way was I going to volunteer. Once was quite enough, thank you. I shouldn't even be doing that one, I told myself. Seeing the huge crowd around the tables, I knew they had more than enough without me. I sat back down in the corner with my thoughts, and dreaded the shame of the upcoming ordeal.
After what seemed a long time, they announced the start of the tournament and called for Team A. About fifteen minutes later, I thought I heard applause and march music in the distance, and shivered. Someone was going to be eaten out pretty soon. I imagined someone licking and kissing my most private parts. Of course, Brad had done it a few times, but that was different. When he'd first done it, my first weekend of school last fall, it was the strangest, creepiest, most tickling, and most wonderful feeling imaginable. I'd never known what orgasm was, or oral sex was, until I arrived in the US for school last summer. I've sort-of gotten used to Brad's tongue, but now with strangers?
While I was pondering these thoughts, they called for Team B. Next would be myself, along with eleven others. I thought again of backing out, but I knew that I was going to go through with it, just like last time. I wondered how many people from school would be in the audience, watching me. A few had come last fall.
Before I knew it, they were calling for Team C. That was me! I followed a group of people to the door of the same room we'd used before. No boys were on our team this time; it was all girls.
An usher took our names as we filed in. Some of the girls were chattering around me, so I tried to strike up a conversation with a girl next to me.
"Looking forward to it?" I asked her.
"Not exactly." She paused. "To tell the truth, I'm scared stiff."
"Me too." I took a deep breath. "This your first time?"
"Yes, I've never done anything like this before. Yours?"
"No. Last fall--" A voice interrupted me. It was Mrs. Prune, here in the room. "Listen up, girls! I have a number of things to tell you, before we start up. Each of you, get behind one of those boxes." There were twelve boxes aligned in two rows; a set of blinders was in each of them. I found my way to a middle box in the back. "Okay, this is how things work! You will first put on the blindfolds in the boxes. Then you will undress --"
I giggled along with the other girls. One of the girls asked, "Do we really have to?"
"Yes, of course," answered Mrs. Prune. "It's all part of the game. Anyway, how are you going to give your partner access if you're clothed." We giggled again. She continued, "You will leave your clothes and other belongings such as backpacks and purses in your box. You can be assured that no prankster will be allowed to come and steal your clothes." We giggled again at that wonderful thought. It was more a nervous giggle than a giggle of laughter. "We will all take each others' hands and form a long line. Then I will lead you out to your places on the field."
"The announcer will call out each of your names, and tell the audience a little about you. As soon as he calls your name, you should turn around so everyone can see you. Jump, spin, do the splits, or do whatever it takes to show your enthusiasm -- consistent with safety, of course; don't forget that you're blindfolded. You're representing your school here; you don't want to seem to the audience as if you'd rather be harvesting grapes." We all laughed at that. True laughter, this time.
One girl muttered, "If my school knew about this, they'd kill me."
"A drum roll will be your cue to head forward and meet your partner. Remember, always hug and kiss your partner, when you meet and again when you part. When you lie down on your back, be sure to spread your legs wide open; you know what you're there for. If you reach out with your hands and grasp the short railings off to the side, it may help -- especially if you're ticklish." There was more giggling. "You don't want to keep pushing your partner away. That would defeat the purpose.
"Any questions? Then everyone put on the blinders." I picked mine up out of the box and left my knapsack in the box before putting the blinders on. I couldn't see a darn thing with them. Mrs. Prune immediately said, "If you have your blinders on right, you won't be able to see a darn thing with them." Figures. I knew that, of course, from last fall. Someone came behind me and quickly checked my blinders.
"Everyone ready?" asked Mrs. Prune.
"I'm not quite done," called out a girl. A moment later, she said, "Okay."
"Now, everyone remove your clothes and leave them in your box."
Deja vu all over again, I thought to myself as I removed my tee-shirt. I wasn't wearing a bra; that sped things up a notch. I dropped them into the box. It had been like this in the blowjob tournament last fall. I lifted up one foot and removed the sneaker and put it in the box; the other sneaker followed that. Now, I only had shorts and panties to go. I hesitated, and then decisively slipped off both panties and shorts together, putting them in the box.
I remained silent, but I could hear giggles of embarrassment. Someone near me whispered, "Oh God, this is so mortifying." Another girl whispered, "I can't believe I'm doing this."
I couldn't believe it, either. I stood there naked, blindfolded, legs pressed together, shivering in anticipation of what was to come, already feeling in my mind the lips of some stranger down there between my legs.
I heard Mrs. Prune's voice again. "Okay, girls. Take the hands of the girls next to you. Last girl in the front row, be sure to grab the free hand of the first girl in the back row. First girl in the back row, be sure and catch her hand."
Then came nothing, until the person on my left began moving. I followed her, and the girl to my right followed me. We were led along a twisty-turny path that left me completely disoriented. The chilly air and the warm sun told me that we were outdoors. A band started playing march music, and applause started and grew progressively louder, as we walked naked down wherever we were going.
We stopped periodically. After about six stops, we turned sharply left, walked awhile, and made another sharp left turn. I knew it would be my turn next when the girl in front of me let go. Mrs. Prune (I think it was her) took my hand and led me and the line another ten or twenty yards, and then let me go and separated me from the girl behind. She led me by the hand to a railing, and placed my hand on it. I waited there for what seemed like forever, waiting for the announcer to start announcing my names. The audience was applauding heavily, and I stood and faced where the nearer applause was coming from. Let them see the front of me; I stood as if I didn't care about them, even though I was horribly embarrassed.
The band stopped playing, the applause died out, and an announcer began talking. He announced the third session of the first qualifying round of the 1998 Teen Cunnilingus Tournament. He called out the names of the participants one by one, along with the schools they attended, their hometowns and majors, and other assorted trivia which I didn't pay attention to. Each name was followed by applause. I heard him announced, "Shuming Zhao from Fuzhou, China, majoring in computer science at ----- University." I turned around and around, waving my arms and cheerfully smiling, to an uproar of enthusiastic applause. I was amazed how cheerful and smiling I could be, standing naked AGAIN for all the world to see. It certainly sounded as if they enjoyed what they saw. I wondered if my lack of pubic hair had something to do with it.
The announcer called out the next name, and I reached back for the guide rail, relieved that the unseen audience's attention was no longer on me. It took a long time, but eventually, the announcer got through the names of the participants, all 24 of us.
The band played a fanfare, and the drums rolled -- that was our cue to start. I crept forward, following the guide rail, my other hand out in front. My foot felt the mattress, and I stepped onto it. My hand eventually encountered my partner, by hitting and grabbing onto something long and rubbery and bouncy. Oops, that was the Wrong Thing to grab; I let it go like a hot poker.
I felt one hand on my shoulder, and his other hand around my back. The top of my head just barely reached his shoulders. I put my hands around his shoulders and pressed against him -- who was he? He had a slight paunch, and his chest had soft downy hair. He was nude like I was, and his penis, which I had so ignominiously grabbed a moment ago was pressed tightly between us, up against my belly. We were supposed to hug and kiss before we got down to business, so I stood up on my toes, stretched my head up as far as possible, and tried to pull him down toward me. He came down readily, and his mouth quickly covered mine.
We quickly kissed. It was good, but disappointingly short; I wished it could have lasted longer. The man gently lowered me on my back to the mat. I tensed up, and instinctively clenched my legs together. He firmly pushed my knees apart and knelt between my legs. I tried to relax my legs, but couldn't. At the last minute, I remembered what Mrs. Prune had said about the railings, and reached out and found them. I grabbed them just in time.
I gasped out a high-pitched giggle when I felt his tongue and lips between my legs. I'm awfully ticklish, especially down there. My thighs promptly clamped his head tight, and I giggled and squirmed left and right. Yes, the railings did help enormously. I clenched the railings as hard as I could; without them, I would have been pushing his head away from me. His tongue slid up and down over the folds down there. I kept trying to say, "Stop, oh stop!" between bouts of laughter and giggling, but it never quite came out. Then, as his tongue found that tiny sensitive bump, I realized I didn't want him to stop. Lost in pleasure, I only vaguely noticed I was making high-pitched squealing sounds, saying things in Chinese without knowing it.
Orgasm exploded through me, and he stopped, to my utter disappointment. I sighed and lay back, wishing things could have gone on considerably longer. He extracted himself from my thighs, and stood up, then took my hand and helped me to my feet. We hugged and kissed again. There was a strange taste in his mouth, and it felt weird tasting fluids from myself down there. The kissing lasted a little longer, then I pressed up against him, hoping to get a good feel of him before we separated forever. I noticed just then that his penis was soft and dangling; he must have come as well. It dawned on me that I would never encounter him again -- at least not knowingly. I never got to see what he looked like. Who was he? What did he do? What school did he attend? Did he have a girlfriend?
Finally, we separated, and I followed the guide railing down to the end. I leaned against it, crossed my legs, and waited. The audience was applauding. Were they applauding me or someone else? The announcer said something I couldn't pick out. In the distance to the left, a girl was screaming in ecstasy. I felt embarrassed -- at her, or for her, I wasn't sure. The idea of screaming like that in a public arena mortified me. I remembered my own high-pitched squeals and screams, and realized that I had actually done it myself. Various other ecstatic noises could be heard as well, mixed in with applause.
I repeatedly crossed and uncrossed my legs, waiting for everyone else to finish. Mrs. Prune came and took my hand. She led me to the back of the line of waiting girls, and I took the hand of the trailing girl. We walked a little ways and stopped. Another girl came down and took my rear hand. We were all silent, except that I thought I heard someone weeping.
We continued stopping and going, and followed that big U-turn in reverse. I noticed that, at least in my case, the hands opposite from before were linked to the girls. As we were walking slightly sideways, I was facing the opposite direction. I knew that in both cases I was facing the audience near us and giving them a show. Was that intentional?
We made it back to the undressing room eventually, and Mrs. Prune told us to get dressed, but keep our blinders on until she told us to remove them. I recognized my knapsack and clothes by touch, and quickly slipped my clothes on. Whew! Over and done with -- once and never again.
A girl was crying, almost in hysterics. Mrs. Prune and a couple other ushers were talking softly to her, soothing her, and calming her down. I heard them lead her out of the room. I felt very sorry for her. Mrs. Prune came back and told us to remove our blinders. That seemed to release something in us, because most of us began talking at once.
I didn't feel like talking. The girl's crying had reminded me anew that I had just been naked in front of -- how big an audience? A hundred? A thousand? Not only had I been naked, but some strange naked man had eaten me out down there as well. I walked fast through the gymnasium and found the corner I was at earlier, next to the bleachers. I sat down with a thump and a sigh.
Okay, okay, I told myself. So you somehow got talked into doing it AGAIN -- baring yourself completely in front of an audience, and doing something obscene and embarrassing. I shivered -- well, at least, it felt good this time, and I never got that disgusting taste in my mouth like last fall. I gagged at the memory of it. I put aside that thought, thinking instead about the mouth between my legs. Mmmmm, that was much better. Yessss, mmmmm. I squeezed my thighs together.
A voice spoke above me, startling me. "Yes, I was SURE I recognized you!" I opened my eyes. A girl was standing over me. "You were on my team in the blowjob tournament last fall, remember? We stayed in the same room that night." Ah, yes, I remembered her now. We'd stayed in a double bedroom at a hotel after last fall's blowjob tournament. She had actually enjoyed it. "I don't remember your name, though," she continued.
"Hello, I'm Shuming. Shuming Zhao."
"I'm Cindy." She sat down next to me. "I was in the audience, and I THOUGHT that I recognized you out on the field. So you did come, after all. I knew you would, even though you denied it that time in the hotel. Do it once, and you're hooked."
So she'd actually watched me! I couldn't believe it. I looked down at the floor, unable to meet her eyes. To think that she actually saw me naked, saw that guy licking me between my legs. After a moment, I was able to look up. "I'm so weak-minded, and a number of things persuaded me to do it again. Grrrrrrr, I wouldn't be surprised if Brad and those other people, including the author of that article, all conspired. . . ." I said that last bit to more to myself.
"Conspired? Against you? Perish the thought! I'll never believe that. Anyway, it sure looked like you were really enjoying it and getting into it out there.
"Hey, I'm on both Team H and the last team," she continued with a gleam in her eye. "If you want to, you can watch me. Right now, I'm going back out to watch some more. Come join me."
"Uh, sorry, I think I'll pass on that." No way was I going to watch this.
"Okay then, I'll seeya later, Shuming."
I spent the next few hours waiting, alternately bored and humiliated. I wished I'd brought a book to read, or at least some homework to do. I did go out for a nice lunch, and that killed one hour. There was little chance of my team and I winning this round. So why was I waiting here? Of course, I had to get my $500 deposit back.
Finally, at long last, the day's events ended. I was all ready to go home, until I learned that my team was one of the four winners, to go on to the next round. That was most unwelcome news, most disappointing. Here, all this time I was congratul- ating myself on having gotten it over with, and now I find that I actually won. I noticed a fifth team listed below the four winners, and wondered why it was there. The next round would take place this evening, and the finals would take place tomorrow. There was going to be some kind of awards ceremony for the winners tomorrow night. I hadn't paid much attention to this; I'd just wanted to finish up my part in the tournament and get out.
They gave me a check for $800 -- the refund of my $500 deposit, plus $300 for participating in the first round. Then they gave us dinner that evening, and assigned us our rooms and room- mates. Round Two of the 1998 Teen Cunnilingus Tournament began all too soon.
We met in the same gymnasium to prepare. The gymnasium seemed a whole lot emptier, with only forty-eight of us. It was harder to hide anonymously in one corner. They reshuffled the teams, and assigned us our new team letters. There were only eight teams this evening, six persons per team. I was on Team F, sixth in line. Two teams would qualify for the final round tomorrow. I waited, shivering and breathing heavily, dreading and looking forward to it, both at the same time. My stomach was almost in my throat, and I kept swallowing.
I noticed that Cindy, the girl who'd talked with me this afternoon, wasn't here. Her team must have been knocked out the first round. I wondered about the girl who'd cried horribly this afternoon. She was on my team; was she here?
Finally, my team was called.
The undressing room seemed emptier, too. With only five other people, I felt exposed. I thought I recognized a girl from my afternoon team, but I wasn't sure. Two girls talking together wore identical tee-shirts proclaiming, "UC Berkeley, TCT 1998." I wondered about that. I debated with myself, wondering whether I should go up and talk with them. But while I was debating, Mrs. Prune clapped her hands.
"Okay, girls! Let's all pick a box, and put on our blinders." I went to one of the six boxes aligned on the floor. One of the two Berkeley girls was next to me. We put on our blinders. "Now undress yourselves, and leave your belongings in your box."
A moment later, after we'd all finished undressing, Mrs. Prune told us to take our neighbors' hands. We began walking, and again, I became totally disoriented.
Mrs. Prune announced, "Watch your step, girls. We're going up some stairs." At the same time, a girl exclaimed, "Ouch!" The leading girl must have stubbed her toe.
We crowded close together, and worked our way up the stairs. I lifted my foot very high, and gingerly sought the first step. It was easier after that first step. As we reached the top, the girl in front of me continued to step up, and stepped on air, almost tripping and pulling me down with her.
We turned and continued walking, apparently down a hallway.
"Good evening, ladies," came a sudden male voice. I gasped in embarrassment, and two girls shrieked piercingly. I felt the man brush by us on the left, and continue in the opposite direction.
Until HE came by, I was becoming accustomed to walking outside naked in public. Then he ruined it. I bitterly berated myself the rest of the way for getting into this position. At least I wasn't alone in this.
We turned and entered a gymnasium. The floor was cool and smooth on my feet. The audience applauded as we entered, and the band started playing a march -- a Sousa march, I thought.
Mrs. Prune led each of us to a mattress on the floor. There were no guide rails this time. I stood at the edge of the mattress, one foot on and the other off. I heard and felt the slight rustle of my partner at the other end of the mattress. Once again, I wondered who he was, what he was like, where he was from, etc.
The band stopped playing, and the announcer began calling our names, and telling everyone our school and other trivia. I didn't listen to anyone else's name; I was waiting for my own to be called. My name was the fifth and next-to-last one called. I stood tall, and turned around smiling, raising my arms, and otherwise hopefully displaying the naked enthusiasm I didn't feel.
After the last girl's name was called, the band played and the drums rolled. I walked forward with my hand in front of me, high enough to avoid catching his penis. My left hand hit something smooth and fleshy, with a nipple on top. Yikes! My partner was a woman. I jerked my hand away. I knew that some contestants on the male side were women, but I didn't think of the possibility that I would encounter one. I couldn't be a lesbian . . . could I?
These thoughts flashed through my mind while she felt me, and placed one hand on my right shoulder, and the other around my waist. I initially wanted to get this over and done with as soon as possible. But when I put my left hand on her shoulder, and my right hand around her waist, I realized how soft and silky smooth a woman's body was -- not like a man's at all. We pulled each other together and slid our hands around her back, over her shoulder, on her neck. . . . Her hands left a trail of heightened sensation wherever they roamed.
And then, when we moved our heads together to kiss -- I accidentally nipped her nose. But when her lips met mine, mmmmmmmm. My lips simply melted. Her tongue entered my mouth, and my pushed against it, and her tongue slipped around mine. I purred in timeless ecstasy.
It was so disappointing when she pulled her lips away. But it was time to get down to business. I could already hear amorous alarums of other girls and boys echoing throughout the gymnasium, along with laughter and applause.
We lowered ourselves together. She slipped naturally between my legs, as they spread apart to admit her. Unlike the man this afternoon, she did not immediately jump in for the kill. She first licked my bellybutton, and her fingertips lightly caressed the sides of my torso.
That tickled horribly, and I first brushed her hands from there, before I remembered the railings -- the security railings, as I dubbed them, akin to a security blanket. Her hands returned to my sides, and while it still tickled badly, I was somehow able to take it. I clenched the security railings as tight as possible.
She kissed and licked me down toward my pussy. Near my pussy, she turned right and kissed to the side, and then down the crease between my right hip and my pelvis. She kissed a few steps down my inner thigh, before turning back up and backtracking her steps.
I wondered if she would finally reach my pussy, but no. She crossed my front above my pussy, kissing toward my left side. As she kissed the midpoint, I pulsed my buttocks a couple times, to give her the message. She got the hint, and tickled my armpits. I shrieked and laughed; my entire body tightened at that punishment. Only my tight grip on the security rails saved me.
Her lips returned where they left off, and continued to kiss toward the left. She did the same thing as before on the right. She kissed down my crease, and along my inner thigh a few steps, and backtracked again.
By this time, I was squirming and aching for her to touch my pussy. She reached the point just above my pussy, and then -- nothing. Nothing touched me, nothing at all. It felt so *empty*, so *unnatural*. My pelvis thrust forward and upward, aching for some contact, any contact at all.
The only thing I got was another underarm tickling. This time it felt wonderful. Her tickling pushed me to the brink of orgasm -- and then she stopped. I kept buckling and thrusting upward for the longest time. At long last, I felt a single flick of her tongue on my pussy, right over my clit. I froze in midair, caught in my most intense, painful, and pleasurable orgasm ever. The orgasm -- one long continuous spasm of electricity -- continued unabated throughout my body, until I felt dizzy and nauseous, and lost consciousness.
I came to, hearing voices above me and pulses of cool breeze hitting my head. I breathed deeply a few times, and a man above me asked, "Are you all right?"
I took a couple more deep breaths before replying. "Think so. Yes." I slowly and carefully got to my feet, breathed deeply, and asked, "Are we through? Where is my partner?"
"She left, along with the other contestants. We finished about five minutes ago. Do you think you can walk back to your room?"
"Yes, I can. I'm okay, now." I shivered. That was definitely one of my more frightening experiences. But, to tell the truth, it felt very good as well.
Mrs. Prune took my hand and lead me away. When we entered the hallway, she said, "You may take your blinders off now, if you wish. Nobody's around." I took them off, and felt momentarily embarrassed to see her with me naked. I followed her down- stairs to the undressing room.
The undressing room was empty, and I quickly put on my clothes and went out to the gymnasium. I found that nice corner at the bleachers again, and rested for the remainder of this round. It was pretty embarrassing to faint in front of everyone, but I was definitely running out of my supply of embarrassment.
After the round ended, we waited to see which two teams would continue on to the final round. Eventually, they announced them, and posted them on the board, along with a third team, which I still didn't understand. I was surprised and dismayed, yet somehow pleased and proud, to learn that my team was one of the two advancing.
When I reported to the tables, one of the women asked if I was strong enough to continue. "You don't have to, if you don't feel up to it."
"Wouldn't it hurt the tournament if I dropped out?" I always wondered that. After the first round, it didn't cost anyone to drop out.
"No, not at all. Not at this stage. Every year, a couple girls drop out after the first and second rounds. We replace them with volunteers from the next highest-scoring team." That explained the extra team. "However, once you check in for the final round tomorrow, you commit to doing three performances. You don't have to decide now. Wait until after the information meeting before you make up your mind."
"Okay, thanks. Where is the meeting, and when does it start?"
"In about five minutes. We'll announce it." She handed me a check for this evening's performance -- $600, wow! I stored it in the knapsack with the other one. I hoped I wouldn't lose them.
The information session started about five minutes later, in the undressing room. There were seats to sit on now. Fifteen of us were in here, three alternates I guessed. Mrs. Prune spoke.
"Good evening, girls, and congratulations! Each and every one of you did a fantastic job in the first two rounds of the Tournament. You have defeated 145 women, to advance to the final round. So give yourselves a hand, everyone!" We all applauded, while I wondered, exactly *what* we did. I didn't ask.
"Tomorrow, you will compete in the final round. Each of you will perform three sessions, each with a different partner chosen at random, except that you will not be paired with someone you've already done. Three of you will run at a time, so there will be twelve sessions. We will allow time for an average of half an hour per session. They usually end in fifteen to twenty minutes, but occasionally some will go much longer. We do get a few prodigious orgasms every year. Weather permitting, it will be held outdoors. Any questions?"
"Will we be blindfolded this time?" asked one of the Berkeley girls.
"Yes, of course."
"When do we start?" asked another girl.
"The round will start promptly at 11:00 tomorrow. So we ask you to report in at 10:00. Alternates, you report as well, in case someone else backs out."
A third girl interjected, "But I have to go to church tomorrow."
"So do I," added a fourth.
"Every year we have two or three church-goers, and we can usually accommodate them. When does church let out?"
"Eleven o'clock," answer the first girl.
"Same for me," answered the second.
"That's fine. We can arrange the schedule so that you don't perform until 12:00. Is that okay with you?"
"Yes," answered both girls at once.
"Does anyone else have commitments tomorrow morning?" Nobody answered. "Okay, I take it that everyone will be here by 10:00 in the morning. Each pair will be judged independently, using a complex and precise set of criteria developed through many years of research at the most elite Institute of Oral and Coital Studies, of which I am proud to be a member. Each pair's score then will be adjusted upward or downward according to its performers' performance in her or his other two sessions. The top three scoring pairs will receive the Bronze Medal, the Silver Medal, and the Gold Medal in a ceremony held tomorrow evening at the hotel. It goes without saying, that we would love to have the rest of you attend the ceremony and see your fellow competitors receive their rewards. I assure you, it will be an interesting event."
I wasn't concerned about the medals or the ceremony, as I was very unlikely to win. I kept telling myself I should quit now, but I knew in my heart that I would go through with it -- three more performances following the two already done. I opened my knapsack and glanced at my two checks, and smiled at the money I would receive. I hoped I wouldn't faint again; that was truly horrifying.
Mrs. Prune talked some more, and then the information session was over. I informed them that I would be here tomorrow.
I returned to the hotel, and went straight up to my room hoping to get to sleep as soon as possible. It was past midnight. I flung off my clothes, put them in my plastic bag, dashed to the bathroom, and jumped in bed, barely noticing the girl occupying the other bed.
I awoke to the sound of soft weeping. I didn't recognize it at first; I lay in bed a long time before waking up completely. It was 7:30 in the morning, according to the clock on the radio. Light was shining in the window; it promised to be a lovely day to be eaten out.
I looked at the other bed, to see a girl crying to herself, facing the other way.
"Hello, are you okay?"
"Oh!" she exclaimed, and turned her face to me. Her face was streaked from tears going down. "I didn't know anyone else was in this room. Who are you?"
"I'm Shuming Zhao. Are you okay? What's the matter?"
"Oh, nothing," she quickly answered.
"You sure? It sounds rather serious for you."
"No, no. I'm quite okay, thank you. By the way, my name's Lucy. I'm pleased to meet you." She wiped her face with the long sleeve of her nightgown.
"Pleased to meet you, too." She looked awfully young. I wondered. . . . "I have two hours to kill, before I have to be anywhere. If you'd like to talk about it--"
"No, no. Well, I did something horrible yesterday." It was the cunnilingus tournament, I knew. I wondered whether to mention it now, or wait for her to say it first. "My parents are going to KILL me!"
I got out of bed and sat on the edge of her bed, and she sat up. I put my hand on her shoulder. "If my parents weren't halfway around the world, I'd be terrified too. In fact, after last fall's tournament, I had nightmares about my parents learning about me. My whole school knew about me entering that tournament."
She sat up abruptly. "You know about the tournament?"
"I don't think we would be roommates here, if we weren't both in the 1998 Teen Cunnilingus Tournament."
"What!?" she gasped, and she turned away, blushing prettily. I realized that I was sitting nude next to her.
"I'll get dressed now, if you want. I didn't bring any pajamas." I realized that only a couple days ago, I would never have been naked, casually talking to a stranger.
"No, no, that's all right. It's just that," she paused, then burst out, "I'm not a lesbian!" She fell back down on the bed in tears, and looked away from me.
"I'm very sorry, really." I stood up. "I'll go put something on."
"No, you don't have to, really. Not if you don't want to. It's okay. Although," she hesitated, "you are quite attractive."
Now it way my turn to blush. I didn't know what to say. "Thank you. You look nice, too." Boy, that sounded lame. I quickly changed the subject. "Let me guess. They paired you with a girl yesterday."
She hid her face. "If it helps, I was with a woman yesterday, too. In the second round. I was quite apprehensive at first, but she was absolutely -- well, she teased me horribly, and when I finally, uh, reached the peak, I fainted completely. She had me begging for it, virtually." I looked at her. "So, was your girl any good?"
She blushed, and nodded after a moment.
"You enjoyed it, and that's why you're so upset." She nodded. "You're afraid you're becoming a lesbian?" She nodded again. "And that's why your parents would kill you?"
"Uh, not exactly. They'd kill me for doing this -- for simply being naked out there, for letting a whole stadium of people watching me, for enjoying it, and for doing it with a girl."
I took her hand. We told our stories. She was only sixteen years old, and a freshman at an all-girls Christian college. She was as naive as I'd been last fall. She grew up in a conservative Christian household, and graduated at the age of fifteen from an all-girls school. She majored in math -- the only thing having much to do with science and computers, the stuff that really interested her -- the college had biology as well, but she quickly found everyone incompetent there.
"Were the biologists creationist?"
"Yes." The college also hired her part time for their computer system, when they found out how good she was with computers. With her access to computers, she had found many new interesting things. She'd entered this tournament just on a lark.
"You might consider transferring to another college."
"I've thought about it. It would mean giving up a rather lucrative job with them. Of course, if they ever find out about this, I'll have to transfer."
"But if you're only sixteen now, how did you get in the tournament?"
"I lied about my age. They didn't check anything."
I told her my story. She shuddered sympathetically when I told her about taking the guy's gunk in my mouth.
When I finished, she asked incredulously, "You advanced both times? I was finished after the first round."
"I was surprised, too. I don't know whether I was very lucky or very unlucky. I'm afraid I am going to go through with it." I looked at the clock. It was 9:25 now. "I think I should get ready to go now. It was nice talking with you."
"I enjoyed it too. thank you very much."
I got up and took a shower. After drying myself, I went out of the bathroom and was about to open the door to leave, when Lucy exclaimed, "What are you doing?"
Whoops! I realized I was leaving without my knapsack, and without getting dressed. I said "thanks" quickly, as I dashed back and got my knapsack and put some clean clothes on.
Lucy got up. "Shuming, here's my email address. Could you give me yours, please?" So I took her slip and put it in my knapsack. I quickly wrote mine out and gave it to her. She came to me and hugged me. "Shuming? thank you for helping me. I feel so much better." I hugged her back, and promised to email her.
When I went out of the hotel, the day was bright and warm. Not a cloud in the sky could be seen. I made my way back to the gymnasium.
I was the first one there, except for Mrs. Prune and the other helpers. I checked in and sat down and waited, feeling bored again.
Shortly, one of the two Berkeley teammates of last night showed up. Her Berkeley T-shirt was identical to the one she wore yesterday. I decided that now was the time to satisfy my curiosity about the T-shirt.
"Hello, I've seen that T-shirt a lot around here. I'm curious; what's it about?"
"Berkeley fields a whole team in these tournaments every year. We practice and train for two months before the event." How did one could train for a cunnilingus tournament? I didn't want to know. "We've had at least one medal winner every year since we started sending them. Oh, by the way, I'm Sandra."
"Shuming Zhao," I returned, and told her my school. "You seem experienced here. Is this your second time?"
"No, my fourth time."
"Do you do the blowjob tournaments as well?"
"Absolutely -- say, was that you here last fall? I thought I recognized you."
Could *everyone* recognize me here?
"And what about the other two tournaments I saw mentioned somewhere?"
"I participate in the Freestyle Sex Tournament in the summer -- training starts in next month for it. As for the Dueling Dicks Tournament, I can't go in that, of course. But I do come and help out with things."
The other Berkeley girl was here by now, and came over to join us. She whispered excitedly, "Did you hear the news? Someone was disqualified for cheating last night."
"Oh really? What happened?" asked Sandra.
"She was caught smuggling lubricant onto the field to improve her performance."
"No! Really?" asked Sandra.
"Yes, it really happened. Isn't it horrible, actually cheating in this tournament?"
"You know," said Sandra, "If she ever tries to attend law school or any other professional school, this is going to be a blot on her record. It could seriously hurt her prospective career."
Oh, my. That really was serious.
"Excuse me, I've got to go tell everyone else." The other Berkeley girl ran off.
Shortly afterwards, Mrs. Prune called us all over to the undressing room. Apparently, everyone was here except for the two churchgoers.
Several rows of chairs were in the undressing room. Twelve boxes were lined up along the back of the room. Each box was labeled with one of our names.
"Apparently you've all heard the sad news," said Mrs. Prune. "A girl on the other side was caught cheating last night." Everyone whispered agitatedly. "She'd smuggled lubricant in her vagina onto the field, and used it to improve her performance. It's a low moment in the history of the Tournament. Let's hope that nobody else tries to get an unfair advantage. It's crucial that everything here be honest and aboveboard. Our reputation in the world depends on it."
"How did you catch her?" asked one of the girls.
"Last night after she performed, one of the aids caught her disposing of a small empty container. Then the videotapes of both of her performances showed that she had smuggled the lubricant with her onto the field and was using it to improve her performance."
"What's going to happen to her?"
"She's been disqualified and barred for five years from participating in any event here." I thought that meant that she was permanently barred, because in five years she would probably be too old. "This incident will go on her scholastic and academic record," continued Mrs. Prune. "But now let's get down to business. With only twelve girls remaining in the competition, we will remain in here rather than the gymnasium. The gymnasium is much too big for us now.
"One of our girls has declined to join us in this final round. Alternates, come up here, and we'll choose one of you to replace her."
The three alternative girls went to the table. Mrs. Prune brought out a deck of cards and shuffled it a few times, then fanned it out. "Each of you pick a card. The girl with the highest card will win -- aces high." Each girl took a card, and one of them exclaimed excitedly, "Yeah!" "The other two of you, I would like to remain until the two church-goers return. One or both of them may well experience a conversion, and decide not to come. If they're not both her by 12:30, one or both of you will substitute for the no-shows." She walked over to the boxes, crossed off the name on one, and wrote down the name of the girl who replaced her.
She returned to the table, and announced that the round was going to start soon. "Our first contestants are Becky Levine, Sandra Johnson, and Shuming Zhao." Yikes! I'm one of the first? "If you wish, you may suit up while I explain everything. Things will be somewhat different today. You may have noticed two tunnels on each side of the football stadium, leading under the grandstands to the playing field."
Sandra had already gone to her box in the back of the room and begun undressing. Another girl got up and went as well; she must have been Becky. I got up, trembling slightly, and went to my box and undressed while listening to Mrs. Prune. A couple girls were watching us while we undressed.
"We have four playing mattresses set up, in the middle of the five-yard line, the 35-yard line, the 65-yard line, and the 95-yard line. Three pairs will perform each session. The fourth setup is there just in case one pair goes into overtime, and the next session has to start while that pair is still going strong.
"Each player will have her own entry point. Players on the 35- and 65-yard lines will enter through the near tunnels. Players on the 5- and 95- yard lines will enter around the side of the grandstand. The guide-rails and everything are all set up for you."
When I finished undressing, I went back to my seat with my set of blinders, which I found in the box.
"The procedure is rather complicated, so everyone listen carefully.
"The three contestants will be led in a line as before. I will let you off one at a time. When you are let off, follow the rail until you are blocked by a chain crossing your path. Wait there until you hear a signal -- a bell ringing near you, then cross the chain and follow the rail onto the field.
"Stop as soon as you touch the grass, and turn and face the audience near you. Your name and everything about you will be called out. Acknowledge the audience on both sides then. After he finishes, return along the guide rails to the chain.
"We do this primarily because we don't want you to hear the names of the contestants from the other side. Also, in this final round, we think it proper that each of you go out by yourself to be introduced." I shivered; I didn't like that last part.
"Then, when you hear the signal again, follow the rail all the way to your playing mattress, and meet your partner. You know what to do from then on.
"Okay Becky, Sandra, and Shuming. Let's get in line and get our blinders on. It's time to go."
We walked up to the door we were to be led out, and stood in line. I was last. When I was properly blinded, I took Becky's hand and off we started.
After some twists and turns, we found ourselves outside. After walking awhile, we stopped for a half a minute, then went on. We stopped again, and Becky was taken away, leaving me alone. Then Mrs. Prune took my hand and led me to the third entry point, where she let me off.
I followed the railing, and walked until I encountered the chain. This was our waiting point. I ducked under the chain, and waited. I thought to myself, well, you're doing it again, going out naked in front of an audience.
I tried to listen to the announcements, but they sounded all muffled; I couldn't make out anything.
The bell rang, startling me -- it was so loud. That was my cue. I walked forward, and noticed when I was back out in the sun again. I also heard applause. I crossed the racetrack, and turned around and stopped as soon as I got on the grass.
I could hear, very clearly now, "Shuming Zhao, from Fuzhou, China." I decided I was going to give them a bit of a show. I curtsied at the audience in front, then turned around and curtsied at the audience in back. They applauded and laughed at my act.
The announcer continued, "Shuming Zhao is a freshman at ------- University, majoring in computer science, and concentrating in Chinese literature. She enjoys reading, music, and rollerblading. She also jogs occasionally and has played tennis at one time. Her only extracurricular activities at college so far have been these tournaments.
"This is her second time here. She was in last fall's Blowjob Tournament, where she gave an interesting performance. Unfortunately, her team was eliminated the first round. She's come quite a long way in such a short time. Let's all give her a hand."
When the massive applause hit, I jumped up and down, lifting my arms up high as well and clenching my hands in a fist. I thought of trying a cartwheel, but I decided it was probably not a good idea blindfolded. I couldn't do the splits; not yet.
Then I stopped and curtsied again, in both directions, and then followed the railing back to the chain in the tunnel. If I was going to mortify myself, let's do it grandly, I told myself.
The bell rang as soon as I reached the chain. It was time to go out and play, so I turned and walked back out, all the way to the mattress. The audience applauded as I walked up to the mattress. I hoped they were watching all six of us, rather than just me.
At the mattress, I stopped and turned around, and curtsied again at the unseen audience; they seemed to like it. Then I stepped on the mattress, and held my left hand out in front of me, while I walked holding the rail with my right hand.
Unfortunately, my left hand completely missed the guy, and I crashed right into him. We both recovered, stammering apologies and such. I ended it by putting my hands around his shoulders and pulling him toward me.
He gingerly put his arms around me, and rested his chin on my right shoulder. He was about my height, and seemed very shy. I wondered how such a shy person managed to reach the finals of this tournament. I rested my head on his shoulder, and we stayed like that for awhile; it felt wonderful and cozy.
We kissed . . . and kissed . . . and kissed. . . . My, what a kisser he was, the best ever. His erection was hard between us. Eventually, I ended the kiss and pulled away, very reluctantly, when he showed no sign of ending it himself.
Just as I began going down, he caught me around my waist and gently lowered me to the mat. All I had to do was relax and go with the flow. I reached out and found the security rails. He knelt beside me and gave me one last kiss on my cheek, and placed his hand on my mound, between my legs. His palm just rested there, doing nothing.
He lightly touched my armpit with the fingertips of his other hand, and left them there, barely touching me. After getting an initial jolt and bursting out with a short giggle, I relaxed and enjoyed the sensation.
He kissed me down my neck, shoulder, chest, and tummy; paying no attention to my breasts in particular. It was incredibly relaxing, with his fingertips under my arm and his palm against my pussy both standing out.
I barely noticed when he removed his palm from my mound and began kissing and lapping there. He slid a finger into my pussy, and slid his tongue between the folds, and ran it up and down the crack. Every time he hit the top point, his tongue touched my clit.
It felt nice -- wonderfully relaxing, almost hypnotic. I moaned and hummed at a high pitch. A soft wave of pleasure filled my body, then diminished. Another wave flowed through me, and another and another, all coming with the same period as his tongue's cycle.
The waves eventually reached a steady state, and kept coming one after another. Eventually they diminished to nothing. He kept on licking my pussy, and it still felt nice, a soothing touch. I sighed when he removed his finger from my pussy. He kept licking my pussy a while longer, and ended with a few long, slow, licks up and down.
I continued to lie there, enjoying the relaxation of the moment. I felt him move about; he touched my elbow and slid his fingertips along my arm to my hand. Relaxed as I was, my hands loosely lay on the rails.
He took my hand, and helped me up. I really needed it.
I hugged him close to me. His penis was rock-hard now. I wanted to reward him some way, so I rose up on tiptoes and (rather clumsily) manipulated his penis between my legs. When my feet were flat on the mat again, his penis pressed up against my crotch. As we kissed, I massaged his penis, pulsating my thigh and pelvic muscles. We kissed and I massaged, until he gasped and his pelvic muscles began jerking and jumping, and pumping spurts of goo out of his penis and onto the mattress.
He sighed, and then we hugged and kissed again. I pressed up against him, and rested my head on his shoulder. His penis was now soft and limp between us. I sighed, knowing that we would never see each other again. I would probably spend the rest of my life wondering who he was, what he was doing.
I pulled myself away from him, and made my way off the mat and along the railing back toward the tunnel. Only then did I notice the loud applause. Were they applauding me? I don't know, but I curtsied to them, just in case.
When I reached the chain, Mrs. Prune was there. "Well, you took a long time -- went into overtime, in fact. Sandra and Becky have already returned to the room, and the next three contestants have already started their introductions at the other three entrances.
"Hey, I was having a wonderful time out there!" I tried to sound flippant and make light of it.
"Hrmph!" was her only reply. She took my hand, rather roughly, and led me back to the room.
I removed my blinders with relief. Only a few girls were here. Becky and Sandra were still naked. Sandra was sitting down against a wall, reading a book, and Becky was talking to the other girls.
I went up to Sandra and asked her, "Hi Sandra. Why aren't you getting dressed?"
"Hey, Shuming. What took you so long?"
"Well, we went into overtime. Actually, I was having a wonderful time out there. His ministrations were extremely relaxing, I tell you. I was totally and completely satisfied. So now, why are you remaining naked?"
"What's the point of dressing? I'm going to have to take it off again."
"You have a point there." I decided I would remain naked as well. "But where is everyone?"
"I think a few of them went out to eat together."
That reminded me that I hadn't eaten since the dinner yesterday evening before the second round. I was hungry. I asked Mrs. Prune if I could go out to eat.
"Let me check my schedule. You are next in, mmmm, session 6. Yes, you have plenty of time. Be back within an hour and a half."
"Thanks!" I ran and grabbed and put on my knapsack. I walked quickly out of the undressing room and into the gymnasium. I vaguely heard people shouting, but I didn't pay attention.
I was part way through the gym when a girl chased me down. "You don't want to go out there without getting dressed first." Oops. An embarrassed, guilty laugh. That was the second time today that I almost forgot my clothes. What was happening to me?
I went back and got dressed. Then I went for lunch at a nearby chicken joint. There were several customers here. As we waited for my order, the girl at the register asked, "Say, are you one of those . . . ?"
"Uh, maybe." I blushed.
"Wow! You have lots of nerve there. I could NEVER go out in public and do what you've been doing. It would kill me."
I quickly took my tray and sat down at a corner table. The attendants and the other patrons were all staring at me.
At least the lunch was good. I dumped the trash into the trash container, and returned to the gymnasium and the undressing room.
Sandra was still sitting against the wall, reading, with a girl next to her. I think she was the other Berkeley girl, but I wasn't sure, because she was naked as well.
"Hey, Sandra. Mind if I join you?"
"Sure, have a seat. If you're interested, I brought several books to read." She showed them to me.
I picked out one that looked interesting: "Forbidden Flowers," by Nancy Friday. I was soon absorbed in the book.
I was about half-way through, when I heard my name called. "Yeah?" I looked up.
"You're on again."
"Already?" My, how time flies. I put the book down and quickly disrobed. I got in line behind the other two girls, and put on my blinders.
Mrs. Prune led us back to the stadium. When I was let off, I made my way to the chain. It was a little while before the bell rang. I made my way out to the field, just across the racetrack, and turned and curtsied to the nearby audience.
"Well, well," came the announcer. "Shuming Zhao, of ----- University, once again, ladies and gentlemen."
The applause got louder and I curtsied once again. When the applause died down, I returned to the chain.
Thus began session 6, and my fourth time nude in front of an audience. My partner was at least a foot taller than me, and had an enormous dick. (Yes, I felt it.)
We kissed. He was definitely not as good a kisser as the last one, but he had much more self-confidence. He kissed my shoulders as he lowered me to the mat. I grabbed the security rails again.
He licked me under my arms, sucked both my nipples, licked my breasts all over, licked all over my tummy, and screwed my belly button with his tongue. He kissed on down to my pussy.
He kissed it, and licked it with long, slow licks. I could feel him sucking me out, and hear him slurping. He left my pussy occasionally to kiss and lick something else: thighs, knees, tummy, breasts, shoulders, hands, thighs, knees, even my toes occasionally.
Meanwhile, his fingers were everywhere, all over me, from my head to my toes.
He brought me to the brink of orgasm, and stopped. He brought me to the brink again, and stopped again. The third time he brought me to the brink, he only slowed down. With light touches, he kept me at the edge without allowing me to go over.
My nerves tingled, already excited from the dance of his fingers.
He upped the rate and pressure of his licking, and allowed me to go over very, very slowly. Hot, extreme pleasure seemed to paralyze me, accompanied by some pain. I thought for an instant that I would faint again, but the intensity dissipated. It waxed intense again, then waned, waxed and waned. Slowly but surely, the orgasm changed from the extreme intense one of the girl the night before, to the extreme relaxing one of earlier today. It continued to wax and wane . . .
Wax and wane . . . wax and wane . . . Up and down . . . up and down . . . Floating in the deep blue sea . . . Rolling with the waves . . . Blue . . . purple . . . crimson . . . Orange . . . yellow . . . green . . . Blue . . . purple . . . Spectrum dancing before me . . . Up and down . . . up and down . . . Light . . . white light . . . bright light . . . Colors exploding . . . lots of colors . . . A gorgeous green meadow . . . Forest red, orange, and yellow from the fall . . . A laughing brook . . . a smiling pool . . . A muskrat . . . an otter . . . a fox . . . A red fox chasing a rabbit . . . A hound chasing the red fox . . . A toad . . . a frog . . . A frog catching a fly . . . A fly . . . another fly . . . A swarm of flies . . . Flies everywhere . . . Obscuring and obliterating everything . . . Nothing but flies . . . Nothing exists but flies . . . Blackness . . . blackness everywhere . . . Buzzing . . . flies buzzing . . . Flies buzzing everywhere . . . Buzzing . . . Roaring . . . A lion's roar . . . a lion's mouth . . . A lion's mouth closing . . . Closing on the darkness . . . Swallowing the darkness . . . A lion . . . a golden, yellow mane . . . Female lions . . . female lions all around . . . One male . . . many females . . . A second male lion . . . A roar . . . a roar challenge . . . Manes fanned up . . . roars . . . First male retreats . . . Second male now king . . . King of females . . . One male . . . many females . . . A harem . . . girls . . . lots of girls . . . A lady's harem . . . guys . . . lots of guys . . . Lots of guys with lots of girls . . . Lots of guys eating out lots of girls . . . Eating out . . . licking . . . sucking . . .
I opened my eyes. Everything was black. Then I remembered that I was lying face up, with my legs spread and my arms outstretched, in front of an audience at the 1998 Teen Cunnilingus Tournament.
I snapped my legs together, and tried to get up. A hand reached out and pulled me to my feet. He kissed me on the cheek and placed my hand on the railing. I took a deep breath, and felt my strength returning. I breathed deeply again. Then I threw both arms around him and kissed his chest. He reached down and kissed my forehead, and I promptly raised my head and kissed his mouth.
I walked somewhat unsteadily back to the chain. I was still feeling tingles running through me from that massive orgasm.
Mrs. Prune met me at the chain. "Another overtime, Shuming?"
"I guess so."
"You *guess* so? Do you have any idea how long you were there?" I shrugged. "Well, we finished the twelfth and last session just before you came to. My congratulations, Shuming. You have just set a new record for this tournament, in the duration of your orgasm -- almost three hours. It's 4:30 now."
What?!? That's impossible.
Mrs. Prune continued, "We will do a make-up session for you and your third partner, and for the man you just finished with and his third partner. We'll give you a little time to rest up and calm down, while we go down and get the other two persons. Wait here, and go back out when the bell rings. Follow the same routine."
I leaned up against a wall and rested. I was dozing off when the bell rang, almost causing me to jump out of my birthday suit. I cleared my head, and followed the railing to the playing field. I stopped when I reached the green grass and turned around and gave a rather limp curtsy.
Everyone applauded, and kept applauding, and applauding, and applauding. Finally, the applause settled down. The announcer spoke, "Shuming Zhao needs no introduction; you saw her on the playing field for the last three hours."
I curtsied again, and made my way back to the chain. When the bell rang, I went back out to the mattress. My last partner was a girl. We kissed wonderfully, and I felt that massive orgasm returning, so I broke away.
We went down and lay on the mattress. I felt too lazy or too weak to grab the security rails. The girl leaned over me. I'm not sure what happened to trigger it, but I found myself back in that massive orgasm, with all its sights and sounds.
I came to again, and we stood up and kissed. I pulled away when I felt the orgasm returning. I wasn't nearly as weak now, as that last time, so I made it back to the chain without trouble. Mrs. Prune was there again.
"Congratulations, Shuming. You did it again -- this time, only for an hour. Let me escort you back to the room."
When we got back the girls greeted me with loud cheering. I removed my blinders quickly. The girls were all cheering me. Sandra asked me, "How the heck did you ever manage to come so long, so continuously, so smoothly? And *twice* yet in one day!"
"I have no idea, seriously! I didn't choose to do it." It was so embarrassing, and I didn't like to keep everyone waiting.
Everyone else started talking. "How did it feel?" "What was it like?" "Have you done it before?" "Can you do it again?"
"Girls, girls. Let Shuming get herself dressed. It's time to go to dinner."
As soon as I was dressed, Mrs. Prune let us go, telling us to be at the second floor, at the Anderson Banquet Hall. We walked to the hotel as a group, and made it there with plenty of time.
We met the other side, also going as a group to the hotel. They were nine boys and three girls. One of the girls was Asian, and -- was one of them Cindy, that girl who was my roommate here last fall, who'd accosted me a couple times in the gym? It sure looked like it. The tallest was a black man wearing a suit. I wondered if he was my partner in the long orgasm. He didn't recognize me when he glanced at me.
So we arrived at the hotel en masse and proceeded to the banquet.
Three tables were set for twenty-four people, along with the directors and a couple aids. Our seats were assigned, with our names scrolled in fancy lettering on cards set upright. It looked as if we were sat boy-girl-boy-girl, or perhaps giver-receiver-giver-receiver. There were three sequences of three girls in a row, one at each table.
We sat down to eat when the directors arrived. I knew Mrs. Prune of course. The man, I'd never seen. He probably directed the boys' side.
The dinner was wonderful -- steak, mashed potatoes, green beans, soda, and angel-food cake for dessert.
After some preliminaries, the man at the podium announced tonight's winners. "Bronze Medal: P. James Johnson and Sandra Q. Johnson." Sandra was sitting across the table. As soon as she heard the first name, she whispered, "Oh, my God!" And, "No!" when she heard her own name. "Stand up, please. Both of you."
Sandra did not look happy, when she stood up. I turned my head to see the boy. He looked equally stunned. They sat down again, and Sandra whispered, "He's my little brother! How could they do this to me? I never thought. . . ." she trailed off.
The director continued, "Silver Medal: Derrick K Anderson and Shuming Zhao." Now it was *my* turn to gasp. I stood up nervously. Derrick was the tall black man; he stood up, too.
He was impeccably dressed in his suit and tie, and I was ashamed to be in my T-shirt and shorts.
After I sat down, he announced the gold winners. "Gold Medal: Cindy Smith and Tracy Hackman." The girls stood up. Cindy was that old roommate. I could tell that she was astonished to win the gold. The girls sat down, and the man said, "Congratulations to you all. You've done well. After dinner, the winners will come upstairs with me and Mrs. Prune to prepare for the ceremony. Everyone else, you are dismissed -- free to go, to do whatever you want. We would be more than pleased if you attended tonight's awards ceremony."
The man and Mrs. Prune took us up the elevator, to the fifth floor. "The auditorium is that way," said the man. "But we have to go to the green room and prepare."
I told Mrs. Prune, "I'm not dressed properly for this, and I don't have any other clothes with me. How can I go on stage in these clothes?"
"Not to worry, you'll be all right. We'll have you attired properly." I wondered why Sandra and Derrick stifled a laugh.
We got to the Green room, the door in the opposite wall was open, and I could see that it led to the auditorium. There were two makeup stands, and an aid manned each of them. Both aids were male, and one of them wore headphones.
The male director handed each of us a manila envelope. "Tonight, my friends, you will stay in the best rooms of the hotel -- on us, of course. The envelopes contain everything you need. Mrs. Prune and I have to go now, to open the ceremony and give our speeches." They left through the door to the auditorium.
I put my envelope in my knapsack. "Okay everyone. Take off your clothes," said one of the aids. I took a breath, and stripped down to my panties. I didn't see any reason to strip all the way down. Tracy and James did the same, looking very uncomfortable, but Sandra, Cindy, and Derrick stripped all the way down. Sandra looked uneasily at her brother while removing her clothes.
The aid at one makeup stand called over Sandra, and the other one called over her brother. He told him to remove his shorts. He did, obviously embarrassed.
I watched the proceedings with Sandra; I couldn't make myself look at the boy. The aid touched a dash of powdered color to Sandra's cheeks and her breasts. He took a small white pencil and a small black pencil and drew lines over and under her eyes, black on her eyelashes, one on either side of her nose, and white and black drawn down the crease of her dimples, to have them stand out more.
I didn't watch anymore. I was called over next. The aid told me curtly to drop my panties. I did, blushing. He stood me at the vanity bar, and began drawing, painting, dusting stuff on me. I got makeup on my lips, blush on my cheeks, thing drawn over my eyes and my eyebrows. He went down my body. I managed to keep still despite the tickling, until he touched my pussy.
I jumped back giggling horribly. "What are you doing?"
The man answered, "Since you don't have pubic hair, we have to highlight your pussy better. Don't worry, this won't take very long, and it won't hurt you at all. But you must stand still."
I clenched my fists together, closed my eyes tightly, and grit my teeth together. A horrible idea struck me: did that mean that we were going on stage naked?!? I felt a pencil going up and down one side of them mound, and then the other side. It tickled; oh my, how it tickled. And my, how my teeth chattered.
Then he spread apart my pussy, and lightly rubbed a pencil up and down it the inner part of one fold, and then the other fold.
He went on to do other things to my body, and then he was done.
He made up Tracy, while other man made up Cindy.
Then we were led behind the stage -- fortunately well hidden by masses of curtains. The two boys and Cindy went stage left, while the rest of us went stage right. Looking onto the stage from the side, we could se Mrs. Prune on stage, but we could not see the audience.
Mrs. Prune was giving a speech about the Teen Cunnilingus Tournament and what-not. The ceremony must have been going on for some time.
The male director then spoke into his microphone. "And now, what you've been waiting for tonight -- the winners of the Teen Cunnilingus Tournament. First the Bronze Medal: P. James Johnson, a freshman at Oberlin College majoring in music and art, and Sandra Q. Johnson, a graduate student in physics at University of California at Berkeley."
Sandra walked out onto the stage, and James entered the stage from the opposite side, looking very nervous and frightened. The audience applauded long and enthusiastically. Sandra took P. James's elbow when they met, and walked forward. Mrs. Prune took a striped ribbon with a brown circular medal and put it over James's head and rested one side on his shoulder and the other side down his side. Then she shook his hand. The male director did the same with Sandra.
Backing away from them, he said, "Our heartfelt congratulations to both of you." The audience applauded again. When the audience quieted down, he handed Sandra a microphone and asked if they had anything to say.
"Well," said Sandra, "it was quite a shock to see my little brother here. I still cannot believe I'm standing here beside him -- I mean, both of us in the same competition, both of us naked here on the stage. It's strange to think of my little brother as an adult, doing adult things. . . ." her voice trailed off.
James said, "I'm shocked, too. I had no idea Sandy would be in this tournament. I mean, she's like my big sister. I mean, well, you know. To me, she was always like a big person, like an adult. She was always good, smart, and, well, attending a tough college, majoring in physics, going to graduate school. I could never think of her this way; she was always so good and pure."
"Pure?" broke in Sandra. "No way, Jimmy, I'm not at all pure; never have been. You were just a young kid when I was in junior high and high school."
"Oh, and Sandy, I hope you won't tell Mom and Dad, or our brothers and sisters, about us."
"Of course not. They'd be shocked that, ever since I started at Berkeley, I've attended these tournaments as recreation from the drudgery of building detector systems at SLAC. Eric knows about my participation, but he doesn't tell anyone else."
The director broke in, "I'm sure you'll have plenty to talk about and tell each other, and you'll be all the more closer for it. My congratulations to both of you on winning the Bronze." He politely directed them to the front left of the stage. "It's time now for our Silver Medal winners: Derrick Anderson, a graduate student in divinity at Berkeley, and Shuming Zhao, a freshman at ------- University, majoring in computer science."
As the audience applauded, I walked out onto the stage, and met Derrick half-way. I took his elbow, and we turned and walked forward. The male director came to me and hung the ribbon with the medal over me, and shook hands with me, and Mrs. Prune did the same with Derrick.
"Ms. Zhao, not only once, but TWICE today, broke the record for the longest female orgasm in these tournaments. Under Mr. Anderson's expert stimulation, Ms. Zhao lasted two hours, fifty-seven minutes, and twenty-eight seconds -- more than four times our prior record of forty-three minutes and twenty-two seconds. Following that, with a girl who is unfortunately not one of our winners tonight, she lasted one hour, three minutes, and two seconds." Everyone applauded again. He turned to us and asked, "Would you like to say anything?"
I just couldn't say anything, but Derrick said, "I've done this four times already, and haven't won a single award until now. It's about time." The audience laughed and applauded. He put his arm around me and pulled me to him. "Shuming made it possible; I couldn't have done it without her. I tell you, she is truly something else." More applause, and I was blushing again, as I put my arm around his waist.
The director turned to me and asked, "This is your first time here?"
I answered with a giggle, "Not exactly, I was here last fall. I didn't do well at all then."
"But this is your first time in the cunnilingus tournaments, right?"
"This is quite an achievement, especially for the first time. Your parents and family must be very proud of you."
"Oh-my-God, no!" I exclaimed. "They would kill me if they ever found out about this." I shivered, reminded anew that I was standing naked in front of an audience. "They're all in China, thank goodness. In any case, I believe that half the winners here are freshmen, so it's not such a big deal." As soon as I said that, I thought that that was the wrong thing to say.
"But at least your school should be proud of you."
I said nothing at that, and the director and Derrick talked a minute more, before we were directed down to the front right of the stage.
The director announced, "Now, what you've all been waiting for. We present our Gold Medal winners, Mr. and Miss -- excuse me, this year it's Ms. and Miss Teen Cunnilingus 1998: Cindy Smith, a sophomore in Literature at Wellesley College, and Tracy Hackman, a freshman at Liberty University, majoring in religious studies."
Cindy and Tracy ran out and jumped in each other's arms, squealing with delight. They settled down and turned forward, Tracy taking Cindy's arm.
The directors put the Medals on them, and gave each of them a plaque with "Ms. Teen Cunnilingus 1998" and "Miss Teen Cunnilingus 1998" inscribed on them.
The director continued, "This is the first time in the history of the tournaments that a girl has won the Gold on the male side. As I recall, a girl won the Bronze Medal three years ago, but I believe those are the only times a girl has won a medal on the male side.
"So Ms. Smith, how do you feel, having trounced all the men in this tournament? And how did you do it, really?"
"Well, I've had lots of practice. I'm not lesbian -- at least not exclusively. I'm bisexual. I like boys and girls equally well. And I've had plenty of opportunities with both."
"You participated on the girls' side in the tournament as well, didn't you?
"Yes, but my team was knocked out the first round. Actually, when they called for volunteers to complete the teams, I tried to volunteer, but Mrs. Prune here said that I couldn't." I could hear the snort hinted in her voice when she referred to Mrs. Prune. "She told me that since I was already performing twice, it would be unfair for me to get a third round when there were other volunteers with only one so far."
"And Ms. Hackman, we don't mean to leave you out. You're a freshman at Liberty University?"
"Yes," answered Tracy, shyly.
"And this is your first time at the tournaments?"
"You should be very proud, to win the Gold in your first attempt. And Liberty University, in Lynchburg, Virginia? Isn't that Jerry Falwell's college?"
"Yes, Jerry Falwell is the chancellor there. The school is very strict on social matters, and they would never condone my participation in this tournament. I hope you won't tell them anything."
"Don't worry, we'll keep it as much a secret as possible. I assume you don't want your parents to find out either?"
They talked a little more, and then the girls came forward to the center of the stage. Everyone applauded, and we bowed.
"Okay, winners. You may kiss your partners."
While the director was talking with the Gold Medal winners, Derrick had slipped behind me and clasped his hands around my waist. I unknowingly pressed back against him. Now, I quickly turned around and put my arms around him. When I reached up to kiss him, he only planted a small, chaste kiss on my forehead, and turned his cheek toward me, so I could only kiss his cheek. I pressed my head against his chest and kissed a shoulder as well.
I stayed in his arms until the director announced, "Thus concludes the 1998 Teen Cunnilingus Tournament. There will be a reception in the lobby -- with food and wine -- and you will have the opportunity to meet our winners. Then tonight, the three winning pairs will be given the best rooms in the hotel, where they can enjoy each other in more privacy."
The audience applauded loudly, and the curtain was lowered -- just behind the six of us. I pulled out of Derrick's arms, and went down the steps and up one of the isles to the lobby where the reception would be held. There, I met about a dozen people from my school.
Brad greeted me with a hug and a kiss, followed by Brad's girlfriend Wendy. She was followed by a freshman I vaguely recognized, whom Brad introduced as "Wendy's other lover." The boys and girls all crowded around me, congratulating me. One of them was Joe, who had been the first guy to ask me about the tournament in January.
Someone surprised me by saying, "Shuming, you were the only person from our school to advance beyond the first round!"
Joe said, "Excuse me, I made it to the second round."
"Wait a minute!" I said. "How many of you did this as well?" Three girls and two boys shouted out, including Joe and Wendy.
"I almost entered," said Brad, "but I chickened out. Wendy, however, tried both. But she lasted only the first round."
Joe butt in. "I got to the second round, before I lost out. It was gross. The first girl peed all over my face when she came -- yech!" Everyone groaned at that. "Then my second girl was on her period. A tampon string protruded from her cunt. I had no idea whether I was supposed to pull it out. I didn't, and I kept well away from it."
Just at that moment, I saw Derrick facing me. He was dressed in his formal suit. I was suddenly scared. Was I supposed to get dressed before coming out here? I looked around, and was relieved to see Sandra and her brother, both naked, talking with people. "Hello there, Shuming. I'd like you to meet my fiancee." A pretty woman, black and formally clad like Derrick, was standing next to him. "Susan Shapley."
She kissed me on my cheek. "You were wonderful, Shuming. I saw you all five times. I'm glad you recovered from that horrible faint last night."
"Shuming here is really something," declared Derrick. "Once I got her going, I only needed an occasional touch, or even just a gust of my breath, to keep her up and going. I didn't even have to touch her the last hour. I think she could have gone on forever."
"How long were you there?" asked Susan.
"Three hours, I understand. You know, I think that my hour-long orgasm with the girl following, was also due to Derrick."
They laughed. Then Derrick asked me soberly. "I hope you don't mind if I don't join you tonight."
"Derrick has entered the cunnilingus tournaments every year the past four years. He's an expert." Susan leaned toward me and whispered, "You know what we call him? `The Man with the Wicked Tongue.'" We laughed together. "But he has never ever done before, what he did with you." She pulled back and spoke in a normal voice. "However, the rest of the time, he plays only with me."
Brad spoke up. "But we'll be there with you, Shuming. Right, everyone?"
Everyone responded, "Yeah!"
Cindy and Tracy approached us, walking hand in hand. They were still nude. "Hi Shuming," said Cindy. "I heard that it was you who fainted with me last night. I'm very sorry about it."
"No problem," I answered. "You did really good, truly. It felt extremely good, despite the pain. Hey, can I have your email address?"
"Sure. Anyone have pencil and paper?"
Brad said, "I have some," and retrieved some from his knapsack. We wrote down our email addresses.
"I don't have an email address," sighed Tracy.
"I'm not surprised, at Liberty University," commented Brad.
"Hey, guys!" That was Sandra, coming toward us arm in arm with her brother James, blushing bright red and developing a partial erection.
"Hi, Sandra. Hi James." As I quickly kissed Sandra, I asked, "Say, can I have your email addresses?" So we exchanged addresses with them as well. I regarded James, wondering if I should kiss him as well. James was just about my height, and very shy. He backed away just a little, under my gaze.
"Say, was that you this morning?" I asked.
He blushed, and his erection slowly grew. After a moment he said, "Yes. I recognized you; you're the only girl without pubic hair."
Now it was my turn to blush. I remembered how we'd kissed. I turned to Sandra again. "Your brother's the world's greatest kisser."
"Oh yes," she answered, pulling James to her. "I just discovered that tonight."
James then said, "You were wonderful too. What you did right at the end. . . ." He approached me and we kissed. His kissing was as wonderful as I recalled it. His dick became hard between my legs, and my pelvis shifted back and forth until his dick was pushing right at my entrance.
The head of the dick was inside me when we both were brought back to earth by an aid pushing us apart and saying, "Hey, you guys. You're not in the tournament now. Save it until you're in some place private."
I backed away in shame and fear. What the heck was I doing? Sandra pulled James to herself, saying, "Jimmy's mine for the night. We have lots of things to talk about and catch up on. Right, Jimmy? Good night everyone."
I was still flushing from shame at what I'd started, but I managed to work up enough courage to approach Sandra and kiss her cheek. "I'm sorry, Sandra. I just got carried away there."
"It's quite okay," she replied in a whisper, as she kissed me back. She left with James, no doubt to go upstairs to their room.
Cindy said, "Good night," and gave me a big kiss on my mouth. We kissed for quite awhile; she wasn't as good at kissing as her brother, but she was still quite good. When we pulled apart, she whispered, "Thank you, Shuming. You don't know how relieved I am."
Tracy kissed me as well, and we said good night.
I turned back to my friends. Derrick and Susan was long gone by now.
The reception was already dispersing, and I hadn't yet gotten anything to eat. I saw some cookies over there, and some soda pop. "I'm going for some food. Then, I should go get my knapsack and get dressed."
I went to the table for some cookies, and then went back to the Green room. My friends from school followed me.
I was about to slip on my panties, when Joe asked mischievously, "Do you really want to get dressed now?"
"We can escort you to your room, if you want," added Brad. We'll prevent anyone from seeing how you're dressed."
"Let me think for a moment," I answered. I felt so much freer and open in the nude. I didn't really feel like getting dressed just yet. "Okay." I dumped my clothes into the bag with the other dirty clothes, then pulled out the manila envelope. It contained a check for $25,000, a key card, the room number for my hotel room, and a sheet advertising this summer's Freestyle Sex Tournament. I put the other two checks in the envelope with it.
I put on my knapsack, and the others closed around me closely, and we walked out into the corridors.
We only passed a couple of people before finding an elevator. They paid us no heed. I felt a couple intimate pokes from someone's finger, but when I grabbed his hand and shoved it away, I felt no further unwanted contact.
My room was way up, on the top floor of the hotel. Nobody was around when we walked from the elevator to my room, so everyone loosened up from around me.
I slipped my electronic key into the slot, and the door clicked. I opened the door, to see the most beautiful, most luxurious suite of rooms I'd ever seen. I just stood there amazed, as everyone slipped by me into the room.
I went into the bedroom, and I saw the biggest bed I'd ever seen in my life. That bed reminded me that I was very sleepy now.
"Who would you like for company?" asked Brad.
"Oh, I think I've cum just too much the past two days. I really just want to sleep."
"You were getting it on pretty good with that guy James, downstairs," said Brad with a twinkle in his eye. Never- theless, I dropped my knapsack and slipped under covers into bed. This was very comfortable. I fell asleep immediately.
Copyright 1999 Daphne Xu
I woke up the next morning after a most wonderful night's sleep. Brad was next to me, still sleeping. Wendy was next to Brad, and Wendy's young freshman lover was next to her, over at the other side of the bed. They were all nude, at least above the covers.
We spent the morning in the suite, talking and relaxing and playing cards. We had to check out at noon, so we returned to school in the van they drove up in. The first thing I did when I returned was to deposit my three checks into my account. I hoped they wouldn't bounce. I had a literal fortune there. Then I emailed the five friends I'd made at the tournament, including Lucy, my roommate of two nights ago. I wondered how she was now.
The next day was Tuesday, and our school paper came out. The bottom left corner announced, "Zhao Wins Silver -- p. 14."
On page 14 was a picture of me. Fortunately, only my head, neck, and shoulders were shown. I got a little nauseous at the idea of actually reading the article, so I didn't. I knew I could find it on the newspaper's website any time, if I chose.
"So, are you going to enter the Freestyle Sex Tournament, this summer?"
I jumped. It was Joe, again. "Maybe. How about you?"
"Maybe." He grinned.
Copyright 1999 Daphne Xu
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