Strip Trivial Pursuit
 

Lynda and I had split up again. It happened with monotonous regularity, about two or three times a year. The latest one had been in October, and Christmas came and went with no contact between us. But I knew it would happen eventually because we’d never stopped being good friends, and anyway we still fancied the pants off each other. Then about a fortnight after Christmas, the phone rang and I answered it to hear an incredibly sexy voice saying, “Well hello there,” and I knew it was her.

“Hi Lynda, what can I do for you?”

“Well Everard, I was just wondering whether you’d like to take your favourite lady out for a New Year drink.”

“That’s a good idea, could you get off the phone so I can call her?” A lovely giggle from the other end told me she had taken no offence at the silly joke, and within an hour we were sat together in a cosy little pub, chatting away as if we’d never been apart. Looking into her eyes made me remember why I loved her, and forget why we’d parted.

At the end of a very convivial evening, we strolled arm in arm back to her house where I’d left my car. She asked if I’d like to come in, and we stood in the kitchen while she made coffee, chatting a bit more. We made ourselves comfortable on the couch and after a while she asked me whether I wanted to watch anything, or put some music on.

I said, “Why don’t we play a game?”

“Any suggestions?”

“What about some Triv for old times sake?” – to which she readily agreed.

We had always enjoyed Trivial Pursuit and the good-natured banter it invariably provoked. My reasons for suggesting this were twofold: Firstly, I was quite good at it; indeed whenever the relatives got together for Christmas at my brother’s house, his wife refused to play it if I was there, unless we were in teams, and she was on mine. Secondly because in an idle moment, I had worked out a new way of playing it.

I said, “I’ve worked out a new way of playing it.” (There, I told you I’d worked out a new way of playing it.) “Mine involves forfeits.”

“What sort of forfeits?”

“Items of clothing.”

I went ahead and outlined my rules:
1. No sneaking off and putting on extra layers before the game starts. (Lynda looked a bit peeved at this; it had been warm in front of the roaring fire and she’d just decided not to put on her pullover – but then I’d just discarded mine so at least we were even.)
2. Pairs of things – socks, gloves, etc – count as one.
3. I let her choose this one; it’s whether or not you include non-clothing items. She chose not to and I could see why, it put her at a disadvantage. She only had on a pair of earrings; I had my watch, cufflinks, a ring, and my specs.

Then I explained how it works. This was a bit nerve-wracking because I hadn’t actually tried it yet, so wasn’t even sure it would work. You had to throw a six to start and the first player to get one would select one of the other players to remove an item of clothing. Then the pieces would start moving but for the first question answered, a successful player would nominate, and an unsuccessful player remove one item. Then all proceeded as normal until reaching the end of a spoke, where a correct answer earns you a wedge. (We used to call them ‘cheeses’, and spent many happy hours trying to decide what type of cheese each colour represented.) Here a wrong answer meant the player had to remove one item, but a correct answer meant that player could either nominate, or choose to replace an item he/she had previously removed. The same applied in the centre hub.

Yes I know it’s complicated, believe me I spent ages working it all out. Now the theory was over and it was time for the first test flight. We got out the board, and sat facing each other on the hearthrug, like we’d done so many times before.

I threw a six first so off came Lynda’s boots. Then I made my first throw and landed on my favourite, pink for Entertainment. I selected a card, which asked me the name of Cliff Richard’s backing group and was immediately accused of cheating.

“How could I possibly have known what was on the card?” I protested, but to no avail. To keep the peace, I chose another card. This one asked for the hometown of some grunge band I’d never heard of so I guessed Seattle. I was right. Lynda complained bitterly, but I was having none of it, and sniggered as her socks came off. My next question was yellow, for history and I got it wrong so it was Lynda’s turn and this time she threw a six so I removed my shoes. I then got a pink question right, and an orange one (Sports and Leisure, my least favourite) wrong, so Lynda threw for her first move. She too chose pink, and got an easy question on Hollywood musicals. So my socks ended up in the corner.

Lynda got her next couple of questions right then missed an easy one about the Grand Canyon so I was up, landing on a yellow (History) wedge-earning square. For knowing which of Henry’s wives came before Anne Boleyn, I earned not only a hunk of cheddar, but also the right to see a bit more of Lynda. She gave me a disgusted look, and removed her shirt. Then I got my next question wrong and Lynda was up, and took a short cut across the middle to get to the nearest pink square. Then a wrong answer put me back in play but got a question about some soccer team I’d never heard of so it was back to Lynda who got a blue (Geography) question right, thus landing in the middle, where you get a choice, and choosing a pink. The question about 70s rock bands was too easy! I was just debating about whether to lose my jeans or shirt next and decided on the latter as my cock had been at attention for at least the last ten minutes – then sat dumbfounded as Lynda retrieved her shirt from where she’d hung it … and put it back on.

“What are you doing?” For a moment I thought she’d just got tired of the game.

“I’m on the centre hub. I have a choice of asking you to take one item off, or putting one of mine back on.”

“No, that’s just at the end when you get back there!”

“Your rules didn’t say that, just said, in the middle–”

“All right, all right, keep your shirt on!” and we both collapsed into helpless giggles, and I got my revenge, after she got a difficult history question wrong, by landing on another wedge square and seeing her lose the shirt a second time. Then my next move landed me on a brown (Arts and Leisure) space. I took a guess and got it right, and my next move took me to a pink square and a potential pink cheese. For knowing about Schubert’s Unfinished Symphony, I got the cheese. I grinned across at Lynda, sat there in just bra, panties and jeans.

“Righto, dear, it’s make your mind up time.”

The jeans joined her socks, boots and shirt in the corner. Things were about to get really interesting.


TO BE CONTINUED …

… CONTINUED

I got my next question wrong, and Lynda then had a lucky streak, ending up on the same pink cheese square I had just vacated. Who, she was asked, had won the Best Actress Oscar the most times?

“Katharine Hepburn,” she said, “Four times. On Golden Pond, Guess Who’s Coming To Dinner, The African Queen–”

“OK, don’t show off.” The last one had only been a nomination, but the card hadn’t wanted to know that anyway. So I stood up, off came my jeans and I sat back down; I made no attempt to hide the erection, as she must surely have noticed that ages ago. And I was in trouble now, ahead by three cheeses to one, but behind by one remaining item to two. Then Lynda got a geography question wrong and it was my turn to roll the dice.

“Oh, look, I’m in line for a piece of moon rock.”

“Moon rock?”

“Yeah, green cheese.” Lynda groaned as I read my Science And Nature question, which was indeed about the moon landings. Knowing the name of the Apollo 13 commander put another wedge into my circle.

I retrieved my shirt and held it in my hand, turning it over and looking at it thoughtfully. Then I threw it back in the corner and said, “I nominate you.”

Lynda just sat there, not saying a word. I slowly moved towards her, and sat facing her. She looked back with a weak smile.

“Come on, you know the rules,” I said. “Take something off.”

“You take it off.”

“OK.” I sat a little closer, and kissed her for the first time that night. Then I reached one hand behind her, and felt for the hook and eye. My hand was cold, and it made her gasp. Then she laughed.

“You never were very good at doing that one-handed, were you”?

“Shut up …” I kissed her again and as I did so, managed to unclasp the bra and slid it away. Her small but firm breasts had the loveliest nipples I’d ever seen and I moved slightly lower to be level with them. I took one in my hand and the other in my mouth, licking and chewing until it stiffened, and I could hear her softly sighing. Her free hand (the other was round me) moved down until it met my cock which was by now as hard as a poker, and stroked it gently from outside my boxers. I enjoyed it for a while then said,

“We haven’t got to that part of the game yet.”

She said, “So when do we?” and I replied, “Depends how good your general knowledge is.”

I rolled the dice and ended up with a choice of either a sport question or a yellow cheese, which I already had, so sport it was. I hadn’t realised that there was nothing in my rules to say that the forfeit didn’t apply on answering a cheese question a second time. Damn! And I know next to nothing about sport. I picked up the card. The question was on football again, I didn’t even bother guessing, just handed the dice to Lynda for her go and she ended up with a choice between science and nature, and a pink cheese – which again, she already had. She obviously hadn’t noticed the loophole either. She went for S&N but fell down on a question about the Periodic Table and passed the dice back. I put it down and kissed her again. This one was deep and passionate, and lasted for ages; my erection, which had subsided a little while I concentrated on the last couple of questions, now returned with a vengeance.

Lynda broke away and placed her mouth over one of my nipples.

“Oh, you little bugger, you know exactly what turns me on don’t you!” She was sucking and biting my nipples in exactly the same way I had hers earlier. My cock was trying to burst out of my boxers and I noticed the gusset of Lynda’s panties was looking a bit wet.

“We’re never going to finish the game at this rate,” I said breathlessly.

“I can’t even remember where we got to. Your go wasn’t it?”

“Correct.” Having a choice between sport and history it was no contest, my knowledge of the Middle Ages earning me another go. The next question was another history one, and asked what year the Battle Of Agincourt had been fought. Oh, no! I could never remember whether it was 1314 or 1415 although stupidly, I knew the date, 25th of October. I guessed 1415 and was correct, but was defeated by the next one. I know nothing about big band jazz (or want to).

Lynda then had her turn and selected a pink cheese square.

“You’ve already got one of those.”

“Nothing to say I can’t score a point off it though.” Dammit, she’d found the loophole.

She read the card. What was the first film in which Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers appeared together?

Trying to put her off I said, “Swing Time.”

“No it wasn’t.” she said, “That was 1936.”

“Shall We Dance.”

“1937, you’re going the wrong way.”

“Follow The-”

“Stop it! You’re doing this deliberately!” Her beautiful tits quivered as she shouted at me. “This is an important question!” Too right, it would determine which of us would end up naked.

She sat in silence for a second, composing herself, then made her decision. “Top Hat.”

She turned the card over. Flying Down To Rio.

“Oh fuck.”

Trying not to laugh, I said, “Come here.” She stood in front of me and, kneeling, I hooked my thumbs into her panties and slid them down to the floor, oh-so-slowly. There in front of me was her beautifully shaved pussy, only inches away. I lowered her into the nearest armchair, opened her legs and buried my face in her crotch. My tongue darted in and out of her lips for a few seconds, then moved up to find her gorgeous little pink clit, which it then sucked like a hummingbird hovering round its favourite flower. Her breaths became shorter and shorter, she said a husky “ooohhhhh, Everard,” several times, then came noisily.

It took her a minute or so to recover. When she did she dropped to her knees and held me tightly. Next she gave me another of those deep and sexy kisses which just like the last one, seemed to go on forever. Then she manoeuvred me over to a chair just as I had done her, and once I was comfortably in it, pulled down my boxers enough to reveal my still rock hard cock. She pulled the foreskin back, expertly attached her mouth over the end, and moved slowly downwards until nearly all of my shaft had disappeared into soft, warm heaven. Between them, her mouth and hand reduced me to a state where I knew that any second I was going to gush upwards like the biggest oil well you’ve ever seen. Well I tried to last as long as possible but under that onslaught there could only be one outcome. I exploded into her mouth, and she greedily devoured every last drop.

It was a while before either of us was able to speak. When I did it was to say,

“Remind me, Lynda, where were we in the game?”

“What game?”


TO BE CONTINUED …

… CONTINUED

I stood up and adjusted my boxers.

“You’d just lost the last point,” I said, “So it’s my turn.”

We sat back down facing each other. It was warm and cosy on the hearthrug, although being only a couple of feet from Lynda’s exquisite little naked body helped somewhat in this regard. I was just about to roll the dice when she said, “Just a minute. What do we do now?”

I looked puzzled. “Carry on with the game I suppose.”

“But I’ve got nothing left to take off, what happens if I lose another point?” I had to admit I hadn’t thought of that.

“Of course not,” said Lynda with a wry smile. “You didn’t think past getting me naked, did you?”

This of course was true.

“So,” she continued, “Do we just get dressed again and carry on, or restart the game as well?”

Getting dressed didn’t appeal. Like any true-blooded male, I was enjoying her nudity and my near nudity, and wasn’t going to throw that away without a fight. Although now in uncharted territory, I knew I had to think fast.

“I’ve got it,” I suggested eventually. “We’ll continue the game, but while you’re naked, if you lose a point I get to put something back on.” That met with her approval, and my roll of the dice landed me on a brown (Arts and Literature) square.

Lynda reached for the card to read out my question. She was on her knees and I went behind her, drizzling delicate kisses down the back of her neck. I reached round to make the most of her nakedness, gently stroking her perfectly shaved mound with one hand, which rapidly became two. I soon found her clit and touched it lightly with two fingers of one hand, while two fingers of the other hand began to venture into her pussy which by now was becoming wet again.

“Oohh, Everard that’s lovely, but do be a dear and stop for a minute, or I won’t be able to concentrate.”

Reluctantly I desisted, and rested my head on her shoulder to read with her. My question was about Bertie Wooster’s auntie, but I’ve never read any P. G. Wodehouse so had to just take a guess. It was of course incorrect so it was now Lynda’s turn, resulting in a brown A&L question which she got right; this took her to a blue cheese square. Correctly identifying the capital of Czechoslovakia earned her the cheese and the point. What would she do, get my boxers off or put something back on? She reached for her panties thus answering my question. I moved to sit opposite her, and she threw the dice again. Her next square was a pink one and correctly knowing the title of Cilla Black’s first chart-topper put her on an orange cheese square. (Or red leicester as we liked to call it). I couldn’t help a little snigger.

“Oh, Sports and Leisure, tough luck old girl.”

The card asked which driver had won the Formula 1 World Championship despite having only one race victory that year. God damn it! I was an avid F1 fan when we met and she soon became one as well. There were two possible answers (Hawthorn and Rosberg Senior) and she knew them both, her circle thus gaining another cheese bringing her total to three. Mine was four.

“Do you want to do the honours?” I asked. She certainly did. She came over to where I was sitting, and had my boxers off in a flash. She took my now floppy cock in her hand and began to work her magic. By the time she released it thirty seconds later, it was well on the way back to fully erect. I had moved to kneel down in front of her, and I now pulled her to her knees too, so that we were at about the same height. Holding her close, I gave her some gentle kisses to the base of her neck just next to her collarbone – a very sexy place in my opinion. At the same time I was moving both hands down to caress her fantastically tight little ass. My erection by now was pointing at the ceiling

“Down boy, we haven’t finished the game yet.” I relinquished the dice and we both sat down again. Lynda got her next two questions right, landing on a yellow cheese square. I knew History wasn’t one of her strong points.

She read out the card. It was asking what year the Titanic sank.

“Fifteenth of April,” I said helpfully.

“Ssshhhh!”

“Twenty past two in the morning-”

“You’re doing it again! Stop trying to put me off!” Her tits were quivering again too, which I was finding every bit as enjoyable as I had the first time.

“1915 wasn’t it?”

“No, that was the Lusitania! Shut up.” She closed her eyes for a second or two. “1913.”

But of course it wasn’t.

I stood up, as did she. Her panties had hit the floor before I even reached her. I scooped her up, took her into the bedroom, and placed her gently on the bed. I lay between her legs and gazed into her amazing bright blue eyes. Our lips melted together and our tongues lapped at each other hungrily.

Suddenly, Lynda broke away and gazed at me intently. “Everard, are we back together?”

I grinned. “It would appear so.” I kissed her playfully on the end of her nose. “So what are we waiting for?”

“Absolutely nothing whatsoever …” and she held my cock, then skilfully eased it into her waiting honeypot. It felt as smooth as a ten-year-old single malt whisky, and just as intoxicating. For the next few minutes we forgot not just the game, but everything else apart from each other. Then she said, “Just a second,” and we disengaged. She opened the bed covers, crawled underneath and pulled me with her. Once cosily inside, she turned so that her back was towards me, reached between her legs for my cock, and inserted it from behind. This had always been our favourite position and she turned her head slightly so that we could still kiss.

We disappeared into our own little world once more and became completely unaware of the passage of time. Neither of us had any idea how long it was, but eventually the passion increased to fever pitch and that perfect second arrived when we both erupted simultaneously.

It was a while before either of us said anything or indeed felt any need to. Lynda recovered the power of speech first. Well, just like a woman.

“Did we ever finish that game?”



TO BE CONTINUED …

… CONTINUED


I called Lynda to see if she wanted to go out. It had been a few days since our Triv game, and I had spent some time thinking about how much fun it had been, and what refinements I might make to my rules to improve them, in the light of our experience. Lynda said she’d be delighted, and I arranged to pick her up at seven the following evening.

She opened the door with the phone in her hand. “It’s my cousin,” she explained. “She does go on a bit, it’ll take me a couple of minutes for her to wind down, have a seat while you’re waiting.”

I went into the living room. The Triv board was now on the coffee table, with the circles still in the positions we had left them, and the unused wedges, and pile of question cards, beside them. It wasn’t long before Lynda came in.

“Half an hour, a new speed record,” she grinned. “Usually she’s on for twice that at least.” She came over, stood on tiptoe, and gave me a gentle kiss.

“So,” I asked. “Where did you want to go?”

“Nowhere really,” she said. I must have looked surprised, then she continued, “I thought we could stay here and carry on with the game. Although of course we’re both dressed now, so we’re sort of starting again.”

“OK,” I said, and Lynda started preparing us some drinks and snacks. “I’ve had a bit of a think about my rules and there are a few changes I’d like to make. After all, with just the two of us playing, and six cheeses each up for grabs, AND points for being the first to throw a six, and for the first question, and for landing on the hub, at least one of us is going to be naked before the game ends.”

“So what do you suggest?”

“Well, I think we should leave the cheese squares as they are, and forget about throwing a six and the point for the first question.”

“Yeah, fine. And the hub?”

Ah, the hub is too easy, because when you land there you get to choose the category. So my idea is, if you land there and win the point you put something back on, and if you lose it I put something back on.”

“I agree with that. Now, you were blue and I was pink, and when we left it, it was your turn.”

We put the board and other bits back on the floor and Lynda sat on the hearthrug. Before I sat down though, I removed my coat, as Lynda hadn’t put hers on. I am nothing if not a gentleman. Looking at the circles I could see that hers contained pink, blue and orange cheeses, and mine pink, blue, yellow and green. I rolled the dice, choosing my favourite pink square as my next destination. A question a on a 1920s stage play I’d never heard of sent the dice back to Lynda. Hers was for a green cheese just like my last one, which she won by knowing the chemical name for chalk so my shoes got thrown in the corner. And she got the next question right too, landing on a pink cheese square. She already had the cheese but could still score the point. I had no idea who wrote the musical Chess, but she did so off came my socks. Then she turned off towards the middle, got the next question right and landed on the hub.

“Now what am I going to do?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well if I get this question right, I have to put something back on, but I’m still wearing everything.”

“You haven’t got it right yet! OK, modification to that rule – if you can’t put anything on, I have to take something off.” I could see she liked that idea. I forget what the question was about but she got it right so I lost my shirt. And damn me if the lucky little blighter didn’t storm through the next couple of questions and land on another cheese square, a yellow one this time. She wasn’t so lucky with the question though, something about the Hundred Years War so her shoes joined mine. I rolled the dice and got a one, putting me on a blue square and a correct answer landed me on the yellow cheese. I already had the cheese, and got the point too so Lynda reached under her dress and removed her tights. A brace of correct answers then put me on an orange cheese – which I didn’t have. The bad news, of course, was that it was a sport question, and Lynda read it out with relish.

“Who won the Wimbledon men’s final in 1992?”

“Andre Agassi.”

“How the bloody hell did you know that?”

“It’s one of the few I watched. Come on, dress off.” Lynda realised that wearing a dress instead of shirt and jeans had reduced her garment count by one. She hadn’t thought this through, had she? She was now sat there in bra and panties, and I was in jeans and boxers. We had drawn level (although not in cheeses).

My next question was a disaster, so I passed the baton to Lynda, well the dice anyway. She put me back in play though, by thinking Billy J. Kramer was the Mindbenders’ lead singer. I threw another two, thus landing back on the orange cheese. A question on archery tripped me up and lost me my jeans. A correct answer for Lynda put her in line for a brown (Arts and Literature) cheese. I grabbed the card.

“Seth Pecksniff,” I read, “Was a character in which Dickens novel?”

Hearing no answer, I looked at her quizzically, and she looked back suspiciously. “Are you going to try to put me off again, by saying Great Expectations or Pickwick Papers or something?”

“No, not at all, I’ve no idea what the answer is, I only know it’s not Martin Chuzzlewit.”

“You sod, it IS Martin Chuzzlewit! Get those boxers off!”

“You get them off.” She slowly moved over to where I was sitting. I stood up and she knelt before me. My erection was well on the way and she reached out and held it for a second, then gently stroked it until she had achieved the final few percent. Hooking her thumbs in the waistband, she slowly slid the boxers out of the way, before taking my cock into her eager little mouth, rolling it around her tongue. One hand held it steady, while the other delicately stroked my balls. Then just when I thought I could stand it no longer, she got up, sprang over to her side of the board and said, “Right, that’s enough of that, we’ve got to finish this game! I need a yellow cheese and you need a brown one.”

Lynda decided to take a short cut across the middle to get to the yellow. A correct answer put her within reach of the hub, but she overshot and got the next one wrong. So I threw, got one right, and landed on the hub. I chose blue and got an easy one about mountain ranges, so pulled my boxers back up. Another correct answer put me within reach of the brown cheese I needed, but my next move took me past it and onto a yellow square and a question I couldn’t answer, so I handed over the dice and Lynda’s next throw took her to the yellow cheese she needed. The card was asking for the name of the city where the Archduke Ferdinand was assassinated in 1914.

“Capital of Czechoslovakia wasn’t it?” I suggested helpfully.

“You’re doing it again, stop it! No ... Budapest? Or Bucharest? I always get those mixed up. Bucharest.” Then she turned the card over, to discover it was neither. The clip was undone, the bra fell away, and those fantastic tits came into view. I couldn’t help it, I had to go over and give her a huge kiss, while caressing both nipples.

Mmmm, nice … ” she murmured. “Come on, back to the game.”

My next move landed me back on the brown cheese but I didn’t know a thing about Picasso and admitted it.

“They didn’t stay on very long did they?” chuckled Lynda as my boxers landed on top of her bra.

Still, I got my revenge on her very next throw, where a wrong answer meant it was my turn again. My two questions were a pink and a yellow, both of which I got right, landing me back on the brown cheese. Lynda grabbed the card and read it. Which impressionist painter, it asked, painted Le Dejeuner Sur L’Herbe?

“Debussy wasn’t it?” she said with a wicked grin.

“Don’t you start! No I always get these two mixed up,” I said, imitating her earlier words. “Manet or Monet? Manet … Monet … oh, I don’t know. Manet.” And she turned the card over.

“Bloody hell! How do you KNOW these things?”

With a big smile on my face, I dropped a brown wedge into my only vacant slot, then went over and sat on the sofa. “Come here.” She climbed on to my lap, slowly and sensuously eased off her last remaining garment, then turned to face me. She gave me a kiss even more passionate and sexy than those from a few days previously, while at the same time lowering her now extremely juicy pussy onto my anticipating cock. Neither of us said anything for the next few minutes, bar of course the odd appreciative noise, then eventually that wonderful perfect earthquake arrived and shook us down to the bedrock. I’ve no idea what it was on the Richter scale, but there were more than a few aftershocks.

It was a few minutes more before either of us was able to say anything. It was Lynda, of course.
“Everard … I’ve just realised something.”

“What’s that, my darling?”

We still haven’t finished that bloody game.”


TO BE CONTINUED …

… CONTINUED


As I now had all six wedges, it didn’t take me long to get back to the hub, answer the final question correctly, and thus win the game. We emptied out both circles, then sat looking at each other. We both said it at the same time.

“Let’s get dressed and have another game.” I made a start and Lynda picked up her clothes and excused herself, saying she needed the loo. By the time she returned I had everything back on, and she was in a new outfit of shirt and jeans. I suppose she was cheating but I didn’t mind, and within a minute drinks and snacks had been replenished, the two empty circles were sat waiting on the hub, and we were sat waiting on the hearthrug.

“Highest throw to start?”

“OK.” I got a five and she got a two so I moved off first, but Lynda beat me to a cheese. She had of course chosen a pink, but proved that her knowledge of early 70s prog rock wasn’t as good as mine so her shoes were the first casualty. My first cheese question was on late 70s punk so my shoes were the second casualty. Lynda was back at the pink cheese within two moves and remembering Miss Jones’ first name in Rising Damp (it’s Ruth, same as the actress) saw my socks back in the corner. Then a question on Jules Verne defeated her and two moves later I had my pink cheese, and Lynda didn’t have her socks.

We then shot off in opposite directions, her towards the green cheese and I towards the yellow. Three moves later and I had the pleasure of seeing her shirt come off, but a tricky question on the Hoover Dam (turns out it wasn’t called that originally) saw me handing the dice over and minutes later my shirt came off too. It was at this point that I realised two things: 1 – Lynda had started the game with one garment more than I had, and 2 – had I only thought to bring a pullover, the rules would have allowed me to put it back on.

Five minutes later we had both lost our jeans and gained a cheese, her brown, mine orange. Miracle of miracles, I’d got a sport question right! (It was about the Le Mans 24 Hours.) So it was now three cheeses each, two clothing items to one. It was Lynda’s turn and she began working her way towards the hub, a short cut to the orange, but a wrong answer let me back in and I was on the green faster than a scratch golfer, and answering a simple question on atomic particles.

“Right – I want that bra.” She handed it over with a giggle. “It’ll never fit you.” I placed it on the ever-growing pile of clothes and made my next move, which resulted in a wrong answer, so I placed the dice in Lynda’s hand and snuggled up next to her. I licked both nipples and blew cooling air gently over them. They were as hard as pencil erasers within seconds, and I licked and chewed them hungrily. Lynda emitted little purring noises and slid a hand inside my boxers to find my manhood, which very soon was even harder than the nipples. Then she withdrew her hand, reminding me she had a question to answer. I continued to nuzzle her breasts and nipples while she made her move. I don’t recall the colour or the question (well I was slightly distracted at the time) but she must have got it right because she rolled again. She jumped over the hub, landed on a yellow, and got a question about Charlemagne, whom she’d never heard of. But guessing which century he’d been born in kept her in play, and her next stop was on the hub. She of course selected pink, and was asked the name of ABBA’s last album.

I groaned. Half the world’s population knows everything there is to know about ABBA, and the other half do too, they just don’t admit it. Of course she got it right.

“Everard, be a love and pass me that bra, will you?” I did and, being a gentleman, even fastened it for her. Then she made her move, landed on a blue and got it wrong. She handed me the dice, and in one move I was back on the green cheese square. A question on rock (neither punk nor prog) was successfully negotiated and I reached behind for the clasp. Her bra slid delightfully off, and her breasts were back in my hands before you could say … well anything really.

It was Lynda’s turn to groan, this time with pleasure. She arched her back, and collapsed onto the hearthrug. She kissed me deeply and erotically, while my left hand relinquished its breast and glided down her perfectly flat midriff into her skimpy little knickers. Fuck me, it was wet down there. My fingers slid into her love cavern as easily as a junkie slips back into a bad habit and caressed her G-spot, gently at first but with a rising intensity that matched hers. In the meantime my thumb had found her pink lady and it wasn’t long before she arched her back again, cried out in ecstasy and squeezed her thighs together so hard I thought she’d break my wrist.

She said, “Oohhh, thank you darling,” reached into my boxers, pulled out my cock and placed a chaste kiss onto its tip. She then replaced it and said, “Come on, let’s get comfortable.” She leaned against one of the armchairs and drew me towards her. My head was soon in her chest again.

“It’s still your turn.” I made no response. “I said, it’s your turn.”

“Sorry, I couldn’t hear you, I’ve got a nipple in my ear. I’m comfy here, can you roll for me?”

She did so. “You’ve got a one. It’s orange whichever way you go.”

“Shit – sport again. Okay, towards the hub, please.” She moved my circle and read the card. It was yet another football question so she was back in. A three took her to a pink square and of course a correct answer, then rolling another three got her on the orange cheese.

“Oh, dear, you’ve got sport now,” I chortled. “What a rotten shame.”

“Shut up! I haven’t answered it yet, I might get it right.”

“Oh, look, is that a flying pig I just saw go past the window?”

“Sshhh!!!!” Lynda picked up the card and read it. “It’s a golf question. Only three players have successfully defended the Masters. Name any two. Well I know one’s Jack Nicklaus, but who are the others? Greg Norman? Gary Player?”

“Hey, that’s not fair! How many guesses do you want?”

“Oh, come on, I’m only a poor girlie,” she simpered with a silly smile.

“All right, one more. What about Sevvie whatshisname?”

“Ballasteros, OK I’ll go for him.” She turned the card over. “Nope, I only got the one, Nicklaus.”

We both stood up. Lynda slowly, smoothly and sexily, eased her panties all the way down to the floor, then stepped daintily out of them.

“So I’ve won then.”

“Won? Whadya mean won?”

“Well, I got you naked. It would make sense to end the game at that point, then all participants can get dressed and start again.”

“Good idea, we’ll do it that way in future then.” (Oh, goody, she wanted to do it again!) She moved closer and looked me in the eye.

“Tell me, Everard, did you know either of those other two players?”

“No, not a clue.”

“Then it’s a draw.” And she reached forward, pulled down my boxers, kneeled in front of me and planted another kiss on the end of my standing member.


TO BE CONTINUED …

… CONTINUED


Lynda turned away and started emptying the circles ready to start again.

“We’ve plenty of time for one more game,” she said. “Could you make yourself useful with those two empty glasses on that table?”

But I was paying little attention. She was on the hearthrug, on all fours.

“I’m getting a lovely view from here,” I said. She made no reply, so I crept up behind her and kissed her right on the sn*tch. That got a response.

“Oooohh, you know what that does to me!”

I certainly did. Next, I plunged my tongue in deep and kept it pushing and circulating. Small sighs and groans from the other end indicated that I was having the desired effect. Gradually, they got louder and after a couple of minutes she broke away, turned round, held me tight and gave me the kind of kiss they weren’t allowed to show in mainstream cinemas until at least 2003.

Then she stopped. “Come on, refill those drinks then we can get dressed and start the game again.” I was just about to throw her on the sofa and roger her senseless but never mind.

“I’m not sure I should have another drink, I’ve got to drive home later.”

“Who says you’re going home later?” While Lynda got dressed, I fixed us a drink each, and was soon fully clothed myself. We made a start on the next game. Just like the last one, I threw a five to start, but Lynda got a six this time so was off first. A run of correct answers saw her with two cheeses in her collection, and me barefoot. Then she got a question on the 1937 Coronation, and forgot it was George not Edward, so I was in. A lucky guess took me to an Arts & Literature question, where I demonstrated that my knowledge of Dickens was better than hers, and she realised that she’d forgotten to put her shoes back on, so was now as barefoot as me.

Five minutes later, both our shirts were off, and her jeans and mine both hung on the next question. Which was the densest wood?

“Lignum vitae – everybody knows that!” She said triumphantly. Then she turned the card over. “Australian buloke? Never heard of it!” She threw her jeans down on the rug in disgust.

“You realise we’ve been doing this wrong? If you get a cheese question right, you can put something back on. But we’ve only been doing that in the centre.”

“You’re right, I’d forgotten about that too. Oh well, leave it as it is now. Putting clothes on is boring anyway.”

I’m glad she thought that, because two questions later, she lost her bra. I moved to sit next to her, and nuzzled her nipples with my nose. This made her laugh, and her breasts jiggled in a most enchanting way as she did so. Which so distracted me that I got my very next question, a stupidly easy one, totally wrong and ended up in just my boxers.

I was still right next to Lynda, and held my cold glass against her left nipple, which soon became erect, as did mine when she gave me the same treatment. She giggled at this and those gorgeous little breasts started shimmering again. I took the right one and crammed as much of it as I possibly could into my mouth, chewing the nipple as if it were a condemned man’s last meal.

“Oh, fuck …” she murmured, reaching out for my hardening dick. I gently took her hands and placed them in her lap.

“Finish the game, dear.”

Lynda threw the dice, and a couple of questions later was up for another cheese. There she showed that her knowledge of capital cities had not improved in the last week. I reached across, gently slid off her panties and gave her a gentle kiss on the forehead.

“I win. Again.”

“No you don’t, we can’t end the game this early, we’ve only got three cheeses each.”

“Oh, I see, is this another change in the rules? OK, let’s carry on.” I rolled the dice, got a question wrong immediately, and handed it back. I moved behind her to read the question with her. My arms were round her and my hands doing all sorts of interesting things, so I forget what the question was but she got it right and headed off towards the hub, as her next cheese was on the opposite side. While nibbling her ear, I stroked a nipple with one hand, and gently caressed her clit with the other. It was getting decidedly wet down there. What comes between the violin and the cello? I knew it was the viola; unfortunately, so did she. Her next throw dropped her straight onto the hub as neatly as an SAS paratrooper.

“Don’t forget, if you get this right, you can put something back on if you like, it still applies here.”

“I haven’t forgotten. A pink question please.” I pulled out the card and read it. “Who was the original host of the game show Call My Bluff on BBC2? I’m on safe ground there, nobody knows that.”

Lynda did.

“Do you want your knickers back?”

“No. I told you before, putting clothes on is boring. I want those.” She reached across and tried to pull my boxers down, but there was a large obstruction in the way and they weren’t moving. She held my rigid cock in one hand, and tugged at the offending garment with the other. It eventually gave in and she threw it aside, but the hand that was on my cock didn’t move. Well, it moved, but didn’t let go … if you see what I mean. A couple of minutes of this took me very near the point of no return. I took her hand, kissed her a couple of times and gazed into her eyes.

“So is the game finished now?”

“Of course not, we’ve still only got three each.”

“Sod it, we’ll finish it later.”

And this time I did throw her on the sofa and roger her senseless. I’m not sure if we ever finished that game. The rest of the evening is a bit of a blur.


TO BE CONTINUED …

… CONTINUED


A few days later, Lynda and I were talking on the phone, trying to decide where to go on our next date and neither of us could make up our minds. Eventually I said, “I’ve got an idea. Why don’t you come round to me tomorrow evening and I’ll cook you a meal?”

“Ooohh, you cook for me? That’ll be different. And I’ve not seen your new flat. Right, it’s a date.”

I’d just remembered something. “And I can show you what I bought today.”

Lynda turned up the following evening looking as sensational as she always did. I’m a bloke, so don’t hold your breath waiting for a description of the outfit. I’ll just say it was really nice. Anyway I cooked us what I hoped would be an enjoyable meal, it went down well and an hour or so later we were sitting together on the sofa with a relaxing drink.

“So what did you want to show me?”

I opened the sideboard, took out a box and placed it in her lap.

“You bought a Triv? That’s great, we can play it here now as well.”

“And I’ve been thinking about the hub too. You see it’s too easy, because the player who lands there gets to choose the category. So we need to modify the forfeit. Perhaps–” The doorbell rang.

“Probably the woman across the road, I took a package in for her this morning. Won’t be a minute.”

The woman across the road had sent her flatmate, a girl slightly taller than Lynda and about three years older, but still younger than me, with a slim figure, a not unattractive face, dark eyes and shortish black hair. She and I had a little history; during one of my frequent breaks from Lynda I had pursued her, not that seriously, but to the point of actually asking her out. Come to think of it, it only didn’t happen because suddenly, Lynda was back on the scene.

“Oh, hi Julie, come in, I put it in the corner of the living room.” She followed me in, I retrieved it from the sideboard and handed it to her. “Julie, this is Lynda.”

“Hi, Julie.”

"Hi, Lynda. Oh, you play Triv! I love Triv, can’t get enough of it. Not that brilliant at it, but I really enjoy it. Oh, well, don’t let me interrupt your game.”

“That’s all right,” said Lynda. “We hadn’t started yet. We’d invite you to join us …”

“Oh, I’d love to!”

“Only, we play it a little differently …”

“I’m sure I’ll soon pick it up.” She put down her package.

It was my turn to jump in. “Thing is, Julie, we’ve thought up a whole new set of rules, which involves … forfeits. So you might not like it.”

“No, that sounds like fun. What sort of forfeits?”

Lynda and I exchanged quizzical looks. In the end I just brazened it out and told her the truth.

“Ah. Well we’ve all been naked and seen other people naked, haven’t we, so where’s the harm in that? And it’s lovely and warm in here. Where do you want me to sit?”

Lynda looked at me with a resigned expression, and indicated the hearthrug, even though it wasn’t quite as luxurious as hers. I made sure we all had a drink and nibbles, we chose our circles and I went through the rules. I realised I was at an advantage here; I was wearing a pullover, Julie wasn’t as she’d only come across the road, and Lynda had a rather fetching dress on, in a sort of peacock blue. All through dinner I’d been wondering what she had on underneath. She’d also kicked off her shoes soon after arriving, but had put them back on while I was answering the door.

I decided to be a gentleman and removed my pullover, saying, “Yes it is a little warm isn’t it?”

We decided to let the guest go first, so Julie threw a one, selected blue for Geography and promptly got the question wrong. I said, “Ladies first,” so Lynda went next, also throwing a one. She chose her favourite, Entertainment, got it right and the next, and was one square short of a yellow cheese when a wrong answer put me in. My first answer was wrong too. We all had bad luck for a couple of turns, Julie being the first to score a cheese (brown) and nominated me so my slippers were tossed into a corner. She fell down on the next question though, handing the dice to Lynda who in two moves was back on the yellow cheese. Our calling the wedges ‘cheeses’ quite amused Julie, who had the card in her hand ready to read out the question. I don’t remember what it was but the answer was Eleanor of Aquitaine. Lynda didn’t know that, though, so lost her shoes.

Julie’s shoes went a couple of moves later, and socks fairly quickly after that. Then mine went, followed later by my shirt. Julie, having just nominated me, threw her next question away with a careless guess, and Lynda did the same. I had a couple of good moves, then landed on a Sports & Leisure cheese, dammit. I got it right, though, and nominated Julie, looking forward to see the shirt come off, but for some reason she removed her jeans instead. Then I got one wrong and Julie was back in, winning a pink cheese and nominating Lynda, who reached under her long dress and slid off her tights. Julie then reached another cheese but couldn’t remember Poirot’s first name so lost that point. She just sat there for a moment, looking a bit sheepish. We both looked in her direction but said nothing. Then after a few more seconds hesitation, she slowly undid her shirt buttons, and slipped it off.

That was when I realised why she’d removed her jeans first. She wasn’t wearing a bra!

I just sat and drank in the sight. I could never say her tits were as gorgeous as Lynda’s but they weren’t far off. They were slightly larger and perhaps drooped a tad more, but the nipples more than made up for that. They were perfect. Just enough ‘puffiness’ to be obvious, but already slightly erect and with the promise of more to come. Under my trousers, my cock was certainly showing its appreciation.

It was Lynda’s turn and a run of good luck put her in line for her favourite cheese, the pink. She got an easy question, aced it and nominated me. So my trousers went on the pile and there I was, sitting between these two luscious chicks, one of whom already half-naked, with only a very small pair of briefs (my boxers were all in the wash) and a very obvious erection. By the hungry look in Julie’s eyes, I could tell that she liked what she was seeing.

Lynda then got a difficult sports question thus putting me back in; three moves later I was on the pink cheese, and got it. So now I had an interesting decision – I could nominate Julie, thus seeing her naked, but she was the guest, and I was feeling charitable. Alternatively, I could get Lynda’s dress off. I had been wondering what she was wearing underneath it (or rather, not wearing) since she’d arrived nearly two hours before. So I took my eyes off Julie’s boobs for a second to look Lynda straight in the eye.

“You.”

Damn! Under the dress she was wearing both bra and panties. My disappointment wasn’t that great, though, because they were bright red, very skimpy and very sexy. I went over and kissed her briefly.

“Nice,” I whispered in her ear. I was so distracted looking at all this, that I misheard the next question when Julie read it out, and got it wrong. Julie went straight for the jugular, well the Science & Nature cheese anyway, ignored all the distractions and hit the nail right on the head. Who would she nominate? I soon got the answer. Me. I sat there like a rabbit in the headlights. I couldn’t move.

Lynda said, “I do believe my little Everard is shy,” and Julie burst into a fit of giggles, then said, “Come on, they’re your rules. Are you going to take those off, or does one of us girlies have to do it for you?”

I had no choice. I stood up, removed the briefs and threw them in the corner.

Julie’s eyes widened. “Hey, nice boner.”

Lynda looked surprised. “You’ve not seen Ev’s dick before?”

“No, “ said Julie, stifling another giggle. “We were never that close.” Lynda joined in the giggling, while Julie reached forward and took said boner in her hand. Suddenly she leaned in closer and eased its whole length into her mouth. I stole a glance at Lynda but she seemed to have no objection. Oh well, better enjoy it then. While Julie was getting to work, I slid my hands round to her tits. They felt really good, and when my thumbs started caressing the nipples, she got two little erections of her own. After a minute or two she decided I’d had enough fun, sat down and rolled the dice again. The girl could do no wrong! A few good moves got her onto an orange cheese, which she won. Well she couldn’t nominate me, as I was already naked so it had to be Lynda. So now I had the pleasure of sitting opposite two pairs instead of one. Of course I had to go over and give the newcomers the same treatment the others had got. In the interests of fairness, you understand. I got the same treatment too from Lynda as I’d previously got from Julie so was well happy.

Julie got her next question wrong and passed the dice to Lynda, who got hers wrong too and passed it to me. I had a bit more luck and landed on a yellow cheese. Well I don’t know all the English monarchs but Richard III was safe ground so I got the cheese and more importantly, the chance to choose. Which of these ladies would be the first to end up naked and runner up in the game? Well Julie had chosen me to get naked before so I had my revenge as her knickers were tossed away.

Wow! Her extremely neat vulva was not quite as clean-shaven as Lynda’s, I’d say about a fortnight’s growth. But the lips were heavenly and, I noticed, more than a little wet.

I couldn’t help it. In imitation of her earlier words, I said, “Hey, nice sn*tch.”

“Why thank you, kind sir,” she said, standing up and doing a little pirouette. Her ass, while not so small and trim as Lynda’s, was perfectly acceptable all the same. “Want to see if you can get us both naked now?”

“Actually,” said Lynda, “The game’s over and I won.”

“Not so,” insisted Julie. “What if Ev lands on the middle, or I do, and get to put something on? We could overtake you.”

“The saints preserve us!” exclaimed Lynda. “She knows the rules better than we do!” I whispered in her ear, “If she hadn’t turned up when she did, we’d have had time to sort out what happens at the hub.”

I rolled the dice for my next turn, and a few more successful moves saw me landing on another cheese square and a relatively easy question. I slotted the little plastic triangle into my circle and looked straight at Lynda.

“Got to be you,” I said. She did as Julie had done; stood up, dropped her knickers, kicked them away, and did a twirl.

I shifted my gaze to Julie. “So, you’ve got us both naked as well as yourself. Happy now?”

“Happy?” said Julie, incredulously. “Happy? The fact is, Everard. I’ve wanted to get you naked ever since the day I first clapped eyes on you nearly two years ago. And now that I’ve seen that great huge stiff prick for myself, I’m not just happy, I’m ecstatic.”

“I see. I’m not happy, actually.”

“Oh,” said Julie, a little surprised. “I’m sorry to hear that. Why precisely, my sweet?”

“Well, you two have had great fun with my boner, but I haven’t been near either of your pussies at all this evening.” The two girls exchanged mischievous glances. It was Lynda who spoke first. “We’ll have to do something about that. Take us into the bedroom.”

We all collapsed onto the bed. “Us first,” said Lynda. “Kneel there.”

You don’t know what you’re missing if you’ve never had two hot chicks licking your dick at the same time, one left, one right. Well I hadn’t up to that moment. Perhaps I’ve led a sheltered life.

After a couple of minutes Julie said, “That’s enough of that now, it’s pussy time.” Both girls lay back on the bed. I said, “Guest first,” and lowered my mouth onto Julie’s luscious little honey pot. My tongue darted back and forth between her lips, now and then venturing north to torment her clit by nearly getting there, but not quite.

“Hey, what about me?” That was Lynda.

“Your turn next,” I replied.

“The hell it is!” she complained. “You’ve got fingers, haven’t you?” Without a word I slipped two fingers into her. She was every bit as juicy as Julie and I was soon massaging her G-spot. Soon Julie wanted some of that action too and we all shifted position so that I could finger them both, one hand each, while both of them held my cock, caressing its entire length from root to tip. Eventually we all arrived at a violent, noisy, shuddering 3-way simultaneous orgasm and I came on both faces and both pairs of tits.

Later, long after Julie had left, Lynda and I lay curled up together in my bed, having just enjoyed a repeat performance.

“That was a bit of a surprise, wasn’t it?” I said.

“Certainly was,” she agreed. “Do you think we’ll see Julie again?”

“Possibly,” I replied. “Hope so, anyway.”

I saw her the very next night, when she came round to collect the package she’d left.


TO BE CONTINUED …

… CONTINUED


I had been home from work for an hour or so when the doorbell rang. It was Julie.

“Hi, Everard, remember I came round to pick up a package last night?”

“Oohhh, possibly.”

“Well, I left it here.” I led her into the living room. “Understandable. There were one or two distractions, I seem to recall.” I retrieved the box from the sideboard, where I’d put it that morning, after discovering she’d left it. Next to it was another box, which she noticed.

“Oh, you put the Triv away.”

“Don’t worry, I made a note of where we were, so we can go back to the game any time we want to. That is, assuming you want to.”

“I might,” she said with a wicked grin on her face. “So we could have another game now and it wouldn’t matter. Would it?”

“Umm … no, I don’t suppose it would. Another game now, you say?”

“Well, I did tell you how much I love it, didn’t I?”

Five minutes later, we had arranged ourselves on the hearthrug as Lynda and I had done so many times. As I poured out the drinks, I took the opportunity to have a long hard look at Julie. In her attractive skirt and pullover, and having let her jet black hair grow a little longer over the last few months, she looked a lot less boyish than I remembered her. And that hair framed a face that, when it smiled, was more than pretty enough not to be plain. I was beginning to like what I was seeing … quite a lot!

Julie said that as she had gone first the night before, then I should go first now. She paid dearly for that, her pullover and shoes coming off within two minutes, but a careless guess from me allowed her to turn the tables and I lost my pullover, slippers and socks. And now she was lined up to take her third cheese, and me with only one. She frowned as she read the Arts & Literature question.

“Which character in Tom Brown’s Schooldays appeared in his own series of novels written by George MacDonald Fraser? Never heard of either of them. The headmaster?” She turned the card over. “Flashman? Complete and utter mystery to me.”

She unbuttoned her blouse and let it fall to the floor. Damn! She was wearing a bra this time. It was a nice white lacy see-through one though, and I could clearly make out her dark nipples as she sat there in the half-light. To get a better view, I stood up and switched on the standard lamp.

She passed me the dice, and I rolled for my next question, which I got right. Another easy question led me to a blue cheese, where I was asked which was the longest river in India. I had to say the Ganges; it was the only one I knew. Fortunately this was correct, and Julie’s skirt joined her blouse. She was now sitting there in a bra and a pair of black woolly tights, which I have always found irresistibly sexy for some unknown reason. Distracted by this, and the fact that her nipples were beginning to harden, I made a total pig’s ear of my next question thus letting her back in. A successful answer to a sports question led her to a pink cheese, which she won so my jeans joined the skirt, blouse and other items under the coffee table.

“Well, hello again, boner,” said Julie with a wide smile. Her pride went before a fall, though, because the very next question tripped her up. I on the other hand, had a lucky break, which saw me back at the green cheese only one move later.

“You’ve already got that,” observed Julie.

“Correct,” I replied, “But I can still score a point off it. It’s in the rules, do you want me to fetch them?” (I’d printed them out the night before while waiting for Lynda to arrive.)

“No, that’s fine,” she sighed. With a huge grin, I read the question, a really easy one so I got it right.

“I nominate you, Julie,” I said needlessly. “Hold still.” I moved over to sit next to her, released the clasp on her strap and eased the bra off in one movement. Excited at being freed, the nipples stiffened a little more. I couldn’t blame them; I was doing exactly the same. I cupped one breast in my hand, and she pulled me in to kiss me. It was a lovely gentle one, romantic rather than sexual and I realised at that moment that this was the first time we had ever kissed. When it ended, I looked into her eyes, which were a beautiful dark green colour, one slightly darker than the other. Was that a trick of the light, or something else I’d not noticed before? She pulled me back and kissed me again; this time driving her tongue passionately into mine. My hard-on brushed her leg – feeling this, she held me more tightly so that she could feel it better. We both moved slightly so that now she was on her back on the rug and I was between her legs, my rock-hard cock and her red hot pussy right next to each other.

Then she said, “I think we need to finish this game.” We do, I thought to myself, as quickly as possible. I rolled the dice and had a couple of good questions, my next roll landing me on another cheese. It was a brown one: who painted Nude Descending A Staircase, No.2? I knew the work; it was one of my favourite cubist paintings, but whose work? I guessed Georges Braque, but the correct answer was someone I’d never heard of.

Julie was practically slavering in anticipation, her mouth on my penis the instant it emerged from my briefs. Knowing I couldn’t possibly last long, I just had to stop her, with a little chuckle.

“You must be hungry! Come on, let’s finish the game.”

“It’s finished! You’re naked, which means I’ve won.”

“No, it doesn’t. What if I land on the hub and put something back on? I could overtake you. You said as much last night.”

“Shit, yeah, that’s right. Didn’t you say you had some further thoughts on the hub?”

“Yes, but I’ll leave it until we’re all together. Your move I believe.”

As if to heighten the tension, we each got a question wrong for the next five moves. Eventually I ended up on an orange cheese, the dreaded sports and leisure. Julie sn*tched the card out of the box and read it.

“Who was the first professional footballer” (I groaned) “to be knighted?”

I couldn’t believe it! What I know about footy wouldn’t fill a postage stamp, yet I knew this, God knows how.

“Sir … Stanley … Matthews!”

She turned the card over. “Oh shit.” She slowly stood up, took a final gulp of her drink, and stepped out of the sexy black woolly tights. It was only then that I realised she had chosen that night of all nights, to go commando. She was standing there as naked as me.

I stood up too, held her tight, and we shared a kiss even more sexually charged than the last.

“I agree,” I said. “You think it’s all over? – it is now. Come to bed, my love.”

Less than a minute later, my stiff-as-a-poker dick and her oh-so-wet pussy were introduced to each other for the first time. I think it’s safe to assume that they enjoyed the experience as much as we did.


TO BE CONTINUED …

… CONTINUED


“So, where did you get to last night?” This was Lynda on the phone.

“Nowhere, I was here.” Well that wasn’t a lie, was it?

“So what did you get up to? Or whom?” She was nothing if not grammatical.

“What do you mean, my sweet?”

“I mean, you didn’t have another game of Triv by any chance?”

“My darling, the Triv is still in its box in the sideboard, with a little note in the top to remind us where we left off the night before last. After all, it’s no fun playing it on your own.” Notice that both of these statements are the absolute truth. Over the years I’ve discovered that I find lying very difficult. On the other hand, missing out large chunks of the truth is really easy if you’ve been practicing it as long as I have.

“But I phoned at about nine and you didn’t answer.”

“Yeah, sorry, the phone battery was flat, so it was in the bedroom, on charge.”

“Oh, I see. Talk to you soon. Love you.”

“You too, Lyn.” That wasn’t bad going, even for me. Only one lie in the entire conversation. I had put the phone on silent the second the game started.

A few days later we were sitting in our favourite pub talking about nothing in particular. In the far corner a TV was on, and Lynda suddenly came out with some obscure fact about one of the actors in the soap that was showing.

“You never watch this,” I said, “How did you know that?”

“No idea,” Lynda admitted. “Perhaps it’s come up in Triv at some time. Oh, that’s a point. Fancy a game of Triv tomorrow?”

“Don’t see why not.”

“Let’s have it round at yours, do you want to invite Julie?”

“If you like.” I was trying to sound casual. I phoned Julie, making sure the first thing I told her was that I was with Lynda. I didn’t want her to think I was on my own, and come out with something incriminating. She didn’t, but she did bite my hand off when I suggested meeting for a Triv game the following evening.

So twenty-two hours hence, Lynda and I found ourselves in my flat, drinks and snacks set out, scatter cushions … well, scattered on the hearthrug, electric fire and standard lamp on, and, most importantly, Triv board set up as per my notes from a week or so before. The doorbell rang and I went to answer it. Julie was stood there in a bright yellow blouse, flame red micro skirt, suede high-heeled boots … and those sexy black tights again.

“Wow, that’s a pretty impressive getup just to walk across the road.” I was getting a semi even as I spoke. I showed her into the living room and could practically see Lynda’s hackles rise; her outfit was nice, but next to Julie’s looked positively dowdy. It was all black and I had to admit, made her look utterly sexy, but now seemed to lack a certain something.

Julie took a seat, took a sip of her drink, and took charge. She looked at the board, and the notes I had made.

“OK, so we all have a pink wedge … sorry, cheese! Everard and I each have an orange and a brown, also he has a yellow and I have a green. So we are joint leaders and you are last, Lynda. On the other hand you won the previous game by being the last naked, and Ev lost by being the first naked.”

She put my notes down, and she and Lynda glanced conspiratorially at one another. I noticed some of the animosity between them starting to dissipate.

“He didn’t notice, did he?” Both girls dissolved into fits of giggles.

“Notice what?”

“Ev,” Lynda took over. “We were ganging up on you.”

“What?”

Back to Julie. “Every chance we got, we were nominating you. That’s why you lost. You went into the kitchen to get more drinks about a third into the game, and we cooked it up between us while you were gone.”

“Bastards.” I couldn’t think of anything else to say. The giggles increased.

“You poor love. We’ll be fair this time, though, won’t we Julie?”

“Well, we might.” They both went into gales of laughter, and I had to wait several minutes before I could restart the game.

The last thing I had done was to win a cheese so it was still my turn. I got the first question right, ended up back on the cheese a couple of questions later, and got the point. I chose Lynda and a pair of black patent leather slingbacks went under the coffee table. A run of good luck won me the blue cheese so the boots joined the slingbacks. I had nearly reached the next cheese when I got one wrong letting Julie in. Her next destination after the orange was either yellow or blue, neither of which she had. She chose yellow, got it and nominated me, so I was shoeless.

To get to the blue cheese square, Julie had to go through orange, which she already had. She didn’t get it, so the blouse had to go. Damn! She was wearing a bra again. The good news, though, was that it was a carbon copy of the translucent one from a few nights before. Then Lynda took over the reins and went back to the pink cheese, which she already had, but she could win the point. She did and nominated me. Were they ganging up on me again? I wasn’t worried at this stage; it was only socks.

It was now Lynda’s turn for some good luck, winning a green cheese next, which she called ‘moon rock’ just to taunt me. Her nomination, however, was Julie, so my relief at not being chosen was tempered with disappointment in seeing the black tights disappear. It was at this point that I realised Lynda wasn’t wearing any tights.

Lynda got lucky again, winning the brown cheese and once more nominating Julie. Julie chose to take the bra off rather than the skirt, which raised my hopes that she might not be wearing any knickers just like last time. Seeing her breasts again made me realise how amazing they were. I crawled over and kissed them hello, but got a black look from Lynda, so sat down again.

Lynda got to the blue cheese (or ‘stilton’ as I called it) but failed to get it, so lost her sheer black blouse. Underneath, the bra was black too; skimpier than Julie’s, but not at all transparent. She passed me the dice and I threw for my turn. A lucky guess on a sports and leisure question saw me knocking on the door of an orange cheese. (Damn, sport again.) Once more, I already had the cheese but could still win the point. What, I was asked, was a crossbow arrow called? Anyone who watched The Golden Shot in their youth knows it’s called a bolt.

Now, I had a difficult decision. I had positioned myself directly opposite Julie, so thanks to her short skirt, I now knew she was wearing white panties. Lynda’s skirt, however, was a fair bit longer, which denied me that view. Anyway, if I chose Lynda she might go for the bra instead. Eventually, having noticed Lynda’s seething the last time I chose Julie, I said, “Lyn, it’s you.”

Lynda stood up and eased the skirt off, revealing a black G-string with the tiniest triangle of sheer fabric covering her slit – or rather, very nearly not covering it. Wow. She was going all out to impress me. These two were at war.


TO BE CONTINUED …

… 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 …

… CONTINUED


I hadn’t seen Julie for a while, so when a book she’d ordered from Amazon arrived and the postman asked if I’d take it in I readily agreed, thinking she’d probably collect it later. When she failed to appear that night, I decided to drop it over.

The following evening, after I’d finished my meal, washed and dried the plates and tackled some work I’d brought home, I remembered the book, so went across the road to deliver it. Julie’s flatmate Gail answered the door.

“Oh, Julie’s away for a few days,” she said on seeing the parcel. “Come in.” We sat down and she explained that someone at her company’s other branch had been out sick, and Julie had volunteered to fill in. “She’ll be back by the weekend. So how are you and your girlfriend, um … oh, remind me, what is her name?”

“She hasn’t got a name,” I said. “Lynda and I split up again about three weeks ago.”

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that. Still, nice good-looking young chap like you won’t be on your own for long. Our Julie seems quite keen.” I didn’t say anything, but was sure it was my increasing closeness to Julie that had hastened Lynda’s departure. I was also a bit puzzled that Gail had called me ‘young.’ She could only have been a year or two older than me, surely?

“I understand that you’re as much of a general knowledge buff as she is.”

“Well I do enjoy the odd quiz.”

“It’s that one I’m told you like the most.” Sitting under the coffee table was a familiar Trivial Pursuit box. How much had Julie told her?

“She also said you had a more interesting way of playing it, although she went a bit shy when I asked for the details. Can you explain it to me?”

“Er, well, umm …”

“Better idea, I’ve got the evening free. If you have too, we can just play it and you can explain it as we go.”

I took a good look at Gail. She was very tall, about five foot nine or ten, with a little more meat on than I like my women to have, but she was very well spoken, always smartly dressed and was the proud possessor of a majestic mane of auburn hair. Her brown eyes compared nicely with Lynda’s pale blue, and Julie’s dark green ones, and were framed by graceful brows not quite hidden under her fringe. She actually had a really pretty face, with a small, neat nose, straight white teeth and lips so dark they didn’t need lipstick. I couldn’t think why I hadn’t noticed her before; certainly the idea of getting her naked appealed. Also, she didn’t look like she was wearing much at the moment. She had no shoes on and I was pretty sure she was braless. I found myself wondering if she was knickerless too, and were we therefore heading for a short game?

I said, “OK,” and went on to explain all the rules we had worked out so far. She didn’t flinch when I mentioned that removal of clothing would be involved, and even had a good laugh at the rule that said you couldn’t creep away and add extra layers. Looking at her, there would certainly have been some scope for that.

She fetched the rather worn-looking box, opened it and assembled the board, circles, cheeses and cards on the coffee table.

“That looks like it’s seen some use,” I observed.

“Well I’m sure you know how much Julie loves ‘Triv’ as she calls it. And when she moved in here, she got me hooked too. And it is very old, but that’s all right – you just need to forget anything after about 1987.” She had a sense of humour too, this evening was getting better and better. We made ourselves comfortable at opposite ends of an extremely plush and comfortable sofa.

The minute we started playing, I realised I had a problem. Gail was brilliant! She took the first two cheeses without stopping, and nearly reached the third before falling down on a question that wanted Tesla’s first name. Admittedly, there aren’t many guys called Nicola. I took over and got a question right, then one wrong so had to hand the dice straight back. At least it wasn’t a cheese question so I got to keep my pullover, my shoes and socks having already gone.

Gail was on the next cheese in a single move and I didn’t get to keep my pullover for very long. It was a very obscure question but she aced it without even blinking. Did this woman know everything? Evidently not, because she then fell down on a sport question and I was in. A single move got me to my first cheese, the blue.

Gail read out the question. “What type of rock is basalt?”

“Igneous. I nominate you, by the way.”

Gail giggled and removed her socks. Socks! I was getting nowhere here. I rolled again, landed on a Throw Again square and chose a History question as my next destination. Getting Oliver Cromwell confused with Richard Cromwell sent the dice back to Gail, who once again took only one move to get to her next cheese, a pink.

“I’m just going to fetch us a drink,” she said and headed for the kitchen. By the time she had returned with a bottle, two wine glasses and a bowl of nuts, I had sneaked a look at the question and it wasn’t an easy one. I didn’t know the answer anyway.

“Ready,” she announced after switching on the light and closing the curtains. She remained standing as I read, “In the Henry Fonda film 12 Angry Men, which actor plays the last member of the jury to change his vote?”

Martin Balsam.”

“Lee J. Cobb.” Gail, still standing, undid all ten buttons on her shirt, slowly peeled it off and threw it onto the armchair. I was right! She wasn’t wearing a bra. I couldn’t help staring. Her tits were larger than either Lynda’s or Julie’s, with small, pink, perky nipples. And they hadn’t drooped a single millimetre.

She smiled and retook her seat on the sofa. “Well? Like what you see?”

“Err … yes I do.” (And so did my dick!) “They look absolutely beautiful.”

“You don’t have to just look, you know.” I shifted to sit next to her and cupped one in each hand. They were unbelievably firm. I moved lower, took one nipple in my mouth and it immediately became a fair bit perkier than before. I heard her catch her breath as I strummed the other nipple with my free hand, then her free hand undid the top button of my shirt and was gently brushed away.

“I’ll let you know when we get to that part of the game.”

“Hope it’s soon.”

“The way you’re getting through it, it will be.” For the moment though, I was perfectly happy where I was, sitting kissing both breasts.

“Hey! What about me!”

“OK.” I lifted my head to face her and we kissed for a while, fairly passionately. Then I said, “Come on, back to the game.”

It was my turn so I rolled the dice and two correct answers got me to the next cheese, a brown; Arts and Literature. The question was: what was George Orwell’s real name? Could I think of it? In the end, I just passed. “Now you can take my shirt off.”

Gail leaned over, unbuttoned my shirt, slipped it sensuously off and tossed it aside. She pulled me closer and gave my nipples the same treatment hers had just had, with a skill I envied. Downstairs in my jeans, things were getting rather tight. I wondered what was happening in hers.

By mutual consent we disengaged and Gail had her next throw, which took her closer to the next cheese, but an awkward history question stopped her. My go took me away from the brown cheese but a crafty U-turn got me back to face another A&L question. This one was easier. I knew W. B. Yeats was Irish. I tucked my little brown triangle into my circle, and wondered if I might be seeing another brown triangle very soon.


TO BE CONTINUED …

… CONTINUED


Gail undid the belt and zip of her expensive-looking jeans, slid them down and away, then carefully folded them before putting them over the back of one of the chairs. Damn! She was wearing knickers. They were nice ones, though, pale pink, frilly … and brief.

Things were going better than I’d feared, so I decided to go straight across the middle to get to the pink cheese. “Just a minute,” said Gail, “What happens if you land in the middle?”

This was the new bit I’d just worked out, so I said, “If you land there with a full circle for the final question, it’s more difficult because the colour is chosen for you. So if you lose nothing happens, but if you win you get to nominate two players to remove one item each.”

“What if there’s only one other?”

“Then they remove two. Now during the game if you hit the hub you get to choose your own colour, so if you win nothing happens, but if you lose you have to nominate two players to replace one item each. Or if there’s only one, they replace two.”

“So why would anybody land there?”

“Well I admit it’s a risk, but it’s also a good short cut.”

I threw a five, landing one short of the hub. I got the question right, threw again and got a one. I could land on the hub, or go backwards. I decided to take the risk so went for the hub.

“Pink question please.”

Gail read out the question, which was about 90s grunge, thus proving that her 1987 joke had been just that, a joke. I had no idea what the answer was, so had to sit there watching her put her shirt and jeans on again. God dammit! I was almost back where I started.

Two moves took Gail to her next cheese, the green. She got a question about plants. I had no idea what the answer was, but then, I wasn’t a gardener – unlike her. She aced it, and my jeans followed my shirt and the rest, my appreciation of her charms becoming even more evident.

“Nice stiffy, boy!” said Gail as she eyed the bulge in my briefs hungrily. I got my revenge when she stalled on her next question, I won the pink cheese and her shirt came off for the second time.

“Well, hello again,” I said directing my words at her magnificent breasts. She sat near me so that I could hold them, and I alternately kissed them, and her. By this time my cock was practically busting the seams of my briefs, and I noticed her stealing the occasional glance in its direction. This must have distracted me, because I completely fouled up on the very next question and passed the dice over.

Gail showed no mercy. Her next throw took her straight to the brown A&L cheese. I read out the question, which was something about Chaucer, and she answered it without hesitation. She was at my end of the sofa almost as quickly, and dragged my briefs off my body in an instant.

“Wow …” her eager little fingers caressed my tumescent manhood. “Does this mean I’ve won now that I’ve got you naked?”

“No, because at some future point in the game” – not that I was concentrating too hard on such details at that precise moment – “I could put something back on.”

“Not if I can help it darling. So we just carry on playing, then?”

“Well, yes.”

“OK, but not just yet.” Her mouth closed over my erection and for several minutes I forgot the game even existed. Just when I thought I couldn’t last another second, she disengaged, stood up and removed her jeans.

“You’ve already seen me without these so it doesn’t matter.” She stood in contemplation for a few seconds then decided, “And anyway, you’re naked so what the hell?” She then stepped out of her panties and I sat there, transfixed.

Unlike Lynda and Julie, Gail had a bush. But it was so tidy! There was hardly anything of it, and it left her pussy lips clearly visible. Very nice they were, too.

I reached up and pulled her towards me. She straddled me and lowered her already juicy honeybox straight onto my now vertical cock. She started moving immediately and I knew I wasn’t going to last long. I didn’t, but even so she managed to cum two or three times before I achieved it once. Both her orgasms and mine were intense, loud … and bloody amazing.

Some time passed before one of us could speak. It was the woman first, as usual.

“So what’s next in the game?”

“No rush …”


TO BE CONTINUED …

… CONTINUED (the penultimate part)


Only a couple of nights later, I got a phone call.

“Are we going to finish this game before Julie gets back?”

It was Gail. I didn’t understand where Julie came into it, so said nothing about that. What I did say, though, was, “When would you like to finish it?”

“Tomorrow?”

“Sounds good.”

So the following evening, I turned up at the flat. Gail met me at the door and as soon as I was in, and it was shut, grabbed me and gave me a huge kiss that lasted quite a while and by the time it ended, I felt as though I had been turned inside out. I went into the living room ready to collapse onto the sofa, but it wasn’t there. Neither were the chairs. Only the coffee table stood forlornly in the centre of the room.

“We ordered a new suite yesterday, but it isn’t due to arrive until Saturday,” she explained. “Come with me.” I did. Gail’s bedroom was small and cosy, made all the more so for being filled by the most massive double bed I’d ever seen. Is there one bigger than a king-sized? If so, that’s what it was. There was a huge area on which to spread out the board, question cards, dice and, most importantly, us. A small cabinet on each side was sufficient to hold the drinks and snacks.

“I don’t know,” I said, mock-seriously. “If I come into your room, will you promise to be good?”

“Good? Darling, I’ll be brilliant.” She gave me a peck on the cheek and left to fetch the wine. I felt no guilt; Lynda was long gone, and Julie and I not yet boyfriend and girlfriend, although it felt we might be heading that way.

Gail returned, poured out the drinks and made herself comfortable on the bed so I joined her. She took a sheet of paper out of the Triv box and studied it. “So last time,” she announced, “You were yellow, I was orange.” She took out the circles. “I had five wedges. Oh, you call them cheeses, don’t you? Mine are blue, orange, yellow, green and brown so I only need the pink. You have three, the blue, brown and pink, so you need –”

“All right, don’t rub it in. Just say you’re thrashing me and be done with it.”

She chuckled, and inserted the wedges into each circle. “And here’s where the circles were,” placing them on the board. “And it was my turn.”

Pride cometh before a fall! She got the very first question wrong and passed me the dice. I went for the green and threw a six to land one square short, where I was stopped in my tracks by a question on Chekhov. All those episodes of Star Trek, and I hadn’t even noticed he wrote plays.

Gail was heading straight for the pink, the only cheese she needed, so went across the hub. In two moves she was on it – a risk of course, but worth taking when you’re two ahead. Requesting a pink question, she got one on Star Trek, but it didn’t mention The Cherry Orchard, it asked who’d written the theme music. I’d forgotten, but it turned out she hadn’t.

“What do I get?”

“Nothing.”

“Nothing?”

From my jeans pocket, I retrieved the rules I’d printed out. “Rule 3, dear.” I passed it to her.

“Oh.” She placed it on the cabinet on her side for future reference. Then the lucky cow threw a six, to go straight to the pink. She pulled out the card and started to read the question, but I stopped her.

“For the last cheese, you have the category chosen for you.”

She retrieved the sheet of paper. “That’s not on here.”

“No, I forgot to add it. It would be rule 5 if I’d remembered.”

Muttering ‘cheat’ under her breath she handed me the card, and I chose a question.

“This is on History. What was the name of Queen Victoria’s eldest daughter?”

“She was called Victoria too!” No hesitation whatsoever. I passed her the final cheese and removed my socks, having taken off my shoes already because I was sitting on the bed. Gail, I noticed, was wearing neither shoes nor socks. So it was back to the hub and in two moves, she was there.

I scanned the next question card, and gave up. “ I bet you’ll know all those.”

“OK, variation. Forget the cards and ask me anything. Call it Rule 6 if you like.”

“Good idea.” I took a sip of my wine, sat and thought for a second.

“Got it. A pink question. In The Big Bang Theory, what is Sheldon’s first name?”

That stopped her. She had a couple of swigs of wine, went to the loo, returned, sat back on the bed, and said, “It’s Howard, isn’t it?”

“No, Sheldon IS his first name. Sheldon Cooper.”

“Trick question! You swine!” Then she laughed out loud, and to show I was forgiven, hugged me tightly, and gave me another long kiss to go with it.

“My turn again.”

“Not yet! I have to take something off.” Actually, she didn’t at this stage; she’d forgotten the rules, but I said nothing and let her go ahead. She took hold of her huge floppy pullover, peeled it off and threw it across the room to land neatly on a chair. When I looked back she was half naked! Hidden under this great big thing, she hadn’t put on a shirt or bra. She lay on her back, laughing at my surprise, which made her breasts ripple most alluringly. I delicately caressed one with each index finger, tantalisingly circling the nipples, which by now were threatening to put dents on the ceiling. The frustration made her wince, and after a few seconds, she grabbed my hands, and thrust them onto her sizeable yet shapely tits. My tongue followed my fingers, and we forgot the game for a while, particularly when she reached out and grabbed my cock. Even from outside my jeans, it felt good.

“Come on, it’s my go now.” I picked up the dice and in two moves reached the green, and a lucky science question got me the cheese.

Gail started to unfasten her jeans, but I stopped her. “You can keep those on, you took one off at the hub when you didn’t have to.” I showed her Rule 3.

“So you cheated twice on the same question! I’ll have to make you pay for that …”

And I did pay for it, by getting the next question wrong. Gail now had to move away from the hub, but the dice, and the questions were kind to her and she was soon back, requesting another question, ‘one of your made-up ones,’ as she called it.

“Pink question again then. In The Hitch-Hikers Guide To The Galaxy, what are the names of the two mice?”

“Frankie and Benjy.”

“Congratulations, you’ve won!”

“And I invoke Rule 7.”

“There isn’t one.”

“Yes there is, I’ve just decided: ‘When a game is won, all participants must remove all remaining clothing immediately.’”

Thus saying, she slid off her jeans. Wow! She hadn’t been wearing any knickers either. In seconds, she had me naked too and there we were on the bed with her eager mouth already fastened round my dick, which was surely harder than it had ever been before. Following her lead, I placed my tongue between her slitheringly wet pussy lips, while my fingers closed in on her awaiting clitoris. She came noisily the instant I touched it.

“Bloody hell, Everard. Time to turn round.”

We did. She wrapped her arms and legs tightly round me as I lay on top of her, looking into her lovely eyes, caressing her astonishing hair, and brushing her sensuous lips with tiny kisses. Suddenly, Gail made a grab for my dick to insert it, but I pushed her hand away and held it myself, dipping it in her juices then rubbing it against her clit, until her breaths became so short they were little more than gasps.

“Ooohhh, fuck!” she panted. “Stop that! I want it in me NOW!!

Slowly, tantalisingly, I eased into her tunnel of love, taking several seconds for my entire length to penetrate. She raised her head and forced her tongue down my throat as we started to move together. She was bucking so much I could hardly stay on. This was going to be a big one; I could almost feel it starting in the soles of my feet. And so it proved.

“Bloody hell … oohh blooody HELLL … oh SHIT … oh FUCK! … OH GOD … OOHH GODDDD!!! … OHGOD OHGOD OHGOD OHGOD OHGOD!!!! … OOHH … oohh … oh …”

And that was just me. You should have heard what she was like.


TO BE CONTINUED …

And here is the last instalment!

… CONTINUED


Julie and I were in my flat playing Triv as usual when the doorbell rang. She was sitting half naked on the hearthrug and started to look worried.

“If it’s Lynda, will you let her in?”

“Of course not, and it wouldn’t be her anyway, she wouldn’t ring. She has a key, and she’s promised to bring that back.” I leaned out of the window, so that I could see who was standing there, and smiled with relief.

“It’s Gail.”

“No problem.” She stuck her chest out. “She’s seen these before anyway.”

I was still relatively dressed, so went to the door. I opened it and beckoned Gail in, and on entering she gave me a kiss on the cheek as Julie called “Hi Gail!” from the living room.

“Oh, look,” she said, “There’s a key on your doormat.” (Good, I thought to myself.)

“You should have said you were coming,” Julie said, as we entered, “Then we wouldn’t have started without you. We’re way ahead now.”

“Now don’t be a spoilsport,” I said. “We can easily bring her up to speed. What have you lost, Julie?”

“Shoes, tights, jumper, shirt and bra.”

“That’s five. I’ve lost shoes, socks and jumper so three. Average is four so remove four of your choice, Gail. What about cheeses, Julie?”

“I’ve got one, you’ve got three. Average two.”

“Do I get to choose my cheeses?”

I said “No.” Julie said “Yes,” so I could see whose side she was on.

“Okay, what if I choose one, you choose the other?” suggested Gail.

“Yeah, that’s acceptable. Which do you want?”

“Orange, please.” Crafty cow, I thought, the hardest.

“We choose pink,” I said. Julie selected a circle and loaded it with the two cheeses, and while I was pouring Gail a drink, she took off her coat and hung it up, saying that to be fair she wouldn’t count that. Then her shoes, tights, jumper and shirt joined our pile in the corner. It was the first time I’d seen her wearing a bra come to think of it. She sat down, cosily close to me, throwing one arm nonchalantly round my shoulder, earning a suspicious look from Julie.

“Whose turn is it?”

“It’s mine,” I said, “Because I’d just got the green cheese. You can be after me.” I made my next move, which sent me to a pink, and a question about Britpop. I always get the Arctic Chiefs mixed up with the Kaiser Monkeys, and anyway the answer was neither so the dice went straight to Gail. She was away. To be absolutely fair, we’d made her start from the hub just as we had, and her first throw was a six to land smack on the blue. She got the question right so quickly I can’t even remember what it was now, gaining a cheese and nominating me, so I lost my shirt.

Gail lost the very next question though, Julie taking only one move to get to her next cheese, the yellow. She won it too, on what I considered a very easy history question, and nominated Gail, who stepped out of her skirt before returning to her former position wrapped around me. Julie glared at her again, thus possibly putting herself off, as she then failed to answer a geography question which I thought even easier than her previous history one. I couldn’t talk; I failed on my first question too and passed the dice to my right.

In two moves, Gail was on the brown, and a question about W. B Yeats. He was Irish, but she thought he was Scottish. My right hand only had to move a couple of inches to unfasten her bra strap, after which I helpfully slid it away onto the floor. Her perfectly pink nipples were just too tempting, and I couldn’t stop myself from giving the nearer one a playful lick, while my hand tantalised the other. Then noticing the dirty look Julie was giving me, I cooled it slightly.

Gail went to use the loo and I got up to refill the drinks. Then I noticed Julie beckoning me over, so I went and sat down next to her.

“Don’t I get a lick then?” she whispered.

“Oh, sorry dear.” I lowered my head and took one nipple in my mouth, rolling my tongue around it until I could feel it harden. Julie’s boobs may have been a touch smaller than Gail’s, but they were no less heavenly.

Suddenly she said, “Have you been playing away? While I was in sunny Swansea, were you possibly having a little Trivial Pursuit of your own?”

“What do you mean ‘playing away’?” I hissed back. “We’re not a couple are we?”

“That could easily be changed.”

“What? You mean you’d like us to play Triv only with each other, exclusively?”

Her emerald eyes looked directly into mine. “Yes, my love.”

“Then I say yes, too. On one condition – we finish this evening, then we draw a line under it.”

“You crafty sod! Okay, I agree.” We made out for a while until we heard Gail coming back, then I returned to my previous seat.

It was Julie’s turn again; she reached the orange cheese, fell down on the question, wriggled out of her skirt and passed me the dice. In three moves I was back on the green cheese I had recently left, and as Julie read from the card, I wondered which of these two unbelievably hot women I would choose to have naked in a few seconds time.

“Well … what is it?” Julie was waiting for my answer to the question.

“Oh … sorry, could you repeat it?”

Julie tut-tutted and said, “What is the world’s largest living rodent?”

“Ah! I know that. It’s er, no not the coypu, it’s the other one, capercaillie.”

Julie looked disgusted. “No, capyBARA.”

“Oh, ruddy heck, course it is.” I threw my jeans into the corner. Still at least we were all now even. Only in clothes though. Gail reached out and gave my erection a gentle stroke so I moved a little nearer to make it easier. With her other hand she rolled the dice and a few moves later was back at the brown cheese she’d missed out on before. I’m sure everyone knows that Noel Coward wrote Blithe Spirit. Gail was no exception, and nominated Julie.

Julie stood up, and I stood in front of her to eradicate her last barrier to nudity. When that was achieved she bent down and, unseen by Gail who was concentrating on making her next move, opened the front of my boxers and took me in her mouth for a few seconds.

“Come on, I’m waiting for a question. Yellow, please.”

We regained our seats and the question was read out for Gail, who answered it and the next two correctly thus getting to the next cheese, the green. Did you know that Sir Christopher Cockerell invented the hovercraft? Gail did, so had to let go of my boner for my boxers to come off. Her hand went straight back afterwards though, I noticed.

She could do no wrong. She threw a six, which got her to a geography question, got that right then threw a one to drop onto the pink. I can’t even remember the question now but she aced it. She couldn’t earn a cheese for that as she already had it, but was able to continue, and shot off towards the yellow.

“We can’t take anything off,” I said. “You’ll have to put something on.” I fished under the coffee table, found a pair of tights and handed them to her. I think they were hers. She threw them on, rolled the dice again, landed on another question, answered it, got a couple of Throw Agains, and of course plonked her circle down on Yellow.

Julie took out the next card but Gail said, “No! You have to make one up.”

“What?”

“New rule,” I said. “Forget it for now, just read that one.” She did so. Something about the Gunpowder Plot.

“Robert Catesby, “ said Gail. “Correct,” said Julie. “Put something on.”

I rummaged around and came up with a shirt. It was mine but I was past caring by then. I helped Gail into it and said, “Right, that’s enough, you’re miles ahead of us and I therefore declare you the winner. Just remind Julie what the other rule was that we introduced.”

“Oh, yes, umm … as soon as the game is won, all participants must remove all remaining clothing immediately – and go straight to bed.” I didn’t remember coming up with that last bit, but who was I to complain?

By the time Gail caught us up, she was as naked as we were.

I think everyone shagged everyone else that night.


THE END


(or is it …?)

This probably is the end; although these stories have been great fun to write, they do take a long time because I like to get all the details right! But they don't seem to have generated that much interest so I'll be writing something different (and easier!) in the future.

Of course, if anyone else wants to take over, they're welcome ...