… CONTINUED
From the orange cheese square, I turned towards the hub to get to the green, now the only cheese I didn’t have.
“Just a minute,” said Lynda, “We haven’t talked about what happens if one of us lands in the middle.”
“My notes are here somewhere,” I said, “But we won’t worry about that unless somebody does.” In the event I stopped just short of it, and failed to answer an awkward geography question, thus putting Julie into bat. She got her first question wrong and Lynda was up. From the blue, she proceeded to the orange, which she didn’t have. At last! Someone other than me got a football question. I don’t remember what the question was, but her answer, “the one with the sticky-out ears,” was not the one on the card. Gary Lineker and George Best are the only two footballers she knows. One less than me, then.
Lynda’s discarded bra landed in my lap, so I stashed it under the coffee table, and went over to kiss her breasts hello. Funny, she had no objection when I did it to her, so I gave both nipples a friendly little lick, which made them sit up and take notice. So did Julie. And her nipples. And my cock.
Lynda passed me the dice, and I threw a three, thus jumping over the hub and landing on a brown square. Again I forget the question, but do remember that Antoine de St-Exupery, the only French writer I know, wasn’t the answer. Julie stepped up to the plate and got her question wrong too so it was back to Lynda, who fared little better. She hit a pink, answered correctly, and craftily doubled back, where a Roll Again square gave her another bite at the orange cherry. But not knowing that a table tennis bat is called a paddle was her downfall.
I went over to collect the dice, and while I was there, gave the G-string a playful tug. It came away as though it were nothing – which it very nearly was. I added it to the pile, gave her a peck on the cheek, and gently stroked one inner thigh. Her legs parted slightly to allow my hand easy passage and I playfully teased her pussy with one finger, caressing all around it, without actually touching. She suddenly grabbed my hand and pushed it into place, then moved to hold my hard-on through my jeans.
I looked into her eyes. “Patience …” I removed both her hand and mine, and sat down to roll the dice for the final cheese. Two moves landed me there, and Julie read the card.
“Too easy!” She held it out and Lynda read it. “I agree, much too easy. Pick another.”
“Objection!”
“Overruled,” they both said together. There might be some rivalry between them, perhaps even a slight hostility, but they could be thick as thieves when united against me.
Julie read the next card. “I don’t believe this!” She showed this one to Lynda. “He’ll know that, it’s easier than the one about the Granny Smith.”
“A type of apple,” I said. If looks could kill …
“Shall we try another?”
“Objection!”
Julie said “Sustained!” Lynda said nothing.
“Tell you what girls,” I said, “Why don’t you choose the category? Ask me the question on that card that you think is the hardest.” There was some whispered conversation between them. I don’t know why women bother whispering; you can still hear it in the next street.
Julie held up the card. “Geography. What’s the smallest US state?” Lynda leaned over to whisper in her ear.
“No, it’s not New York State,” I said. “It’s Rhode Island. And I can only nominate Julie.”
Julie’s skirt joined the ever-growing pile of clothes to reveal a very brief pair of, er … briefs; perhaps not as skimpy as Lynda’s G-string, but not far off, and I added the last plastic wedge to my circle. I rolled the dice, and headed off towards the hub, and the climax of the game. I went past it, reversed direction and landed right on it. More easily-audible whispers from the girls, the final one suggesting “He won’t know that.”
Lynda read out the card this time. “It’s Science & Nature. A Puggle is a cross between which two breeds of dog?”
“Blimey. Ummm … a pug and a poodle?”
“No, it’s a beagle and a pug. Now what happens? You haven’t told us about your new rules for the hub yet.”
“I’m not sure where my notes are. Let’s just say for now I lose something.” I lost the shirt.
Julie rolled, made a lucky guess on a history question, but lost out on the next. She passed the dice along.
“No point me going,” said Lynda. “I’m way behind in both clothing and cheeses. I might as well leave you two to fight it out between you.”
She handed me the dice. Now I had to leave the hub and return, but landed one square short, where yet another footy question stopped me. Julie took over and in two moves was on the blue square for her final cheese.
“OK,” I said, “Now you have to have the category chosen for you, like I did, as it’s your final cheese.”
Lynda and I snuggled up together, perused the card and went of course for Sports & Leisure.
I read out the question. “Which cyclist has won the Tour De France the most times?”
Julie answered without hesitation. “Eddy Merckx.” A blue wedge filled her circle, my jeans hit the floor, and the girls got their first view of the leather thong I had bought that very afternoon.
“Neat,” said Lynda. “Cool …” said Julie.
“Right, said Lynda. “I have an idea. I’m out, and your scores for both clothes and cheeses are equal, so I suggest that the first out of you two to get the final question right wins everything.”
We agreed, Julie rolled and got a three, but due to a difficult chemistry question went no further. She passed me the dice and I rolled a one for the hub.
The girls went into a huddle, scrutinised the next card to be pulled out and selected a question on, predictably, sport.
Lynda read it out. “Snooker. The famous 1985 ‘black ball final’ was between which two players?”
“1985? World Snooker Championship. They were level so the last frame decided the match. One player potted all the colours leaving only the black …” I looked at the girls. They were all ears.
“Then they traded safety shots. In the end, Steve Davis overcut the black leaving an easy straight shot, for …” I was loving this. Two hot chicks, one naked, the other in the flimsiest knickers imaginable, both on tenterhooks.
“… Dennis Taylor!”
“Correct!” Julie tucked the card back in the box and stood up.
“So here’s your prize”! and whipped off her knickers.
I stood transfixed. Her pussy was freshly shaved; it looked as if she’d done it immediately before coming out. Lynda’s hadn’t been touched for about a week. (Well not by a razor anyway.)
Julie was with me in one stride. “And here’s my prize,” she purred. In one movement my thong was round my ankles and her mouth round my cock. Lynda got up, kissed me and said, “Bed time, everybody.”
Five minutes later I was shagging one chick, licking the other and caressing two heavenly pairs of tits. I don’t know what their hands and tongues were doing and was way too busy to watch, but it all sounded good, and certainly ended well. Later that night, we all snuggled up together in my bed and slept very contentedly indeed.
Funny that the first time I slept with Julie, was also the last time I slept with Lynda.
TO BE CONTINUED …
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