4 comments/ 23348 views/ 7 favorites Five Bright Smiles By: Concerto_in_A Those five bright smiles lit up the meeting room. One of them belonged to the girl who would become the twenty-third Miss Tru-Bolt. She would win a full ride scholarship to one of Mr. Breeman's favorite schools or the equivalent in cash. For one year she would meet with Tru-Bolt salesmen and customers around the country proclaiming the virtues of Tru-Bolt products. With the upcoming corporate expansion, there was even the possibility of international travel. The remaining four would be designated as runners up and returned to whatever they had been doing before entering the contest. It probably meant they would be cuing up to enter yet another beauty contest. By now all of them had been entering such contests as long as they could remember. Cute little four year olds had become darling little eight year olds. By the time they were ten or twelve, little bumps and hips had begun to take shape. They had continued to develop from cute to beautiful, from little girls to ripe maidens. Each beauty contest or pageant had been a learning experience. Today they showed themselves to be nearing the height of maturity for pageant entrants. They were able to smile unendingly. Their voices were properly modulated, their dresses, gowns, or swim suits had been fitted to show off their best features. Now they waited, each smiling, each with a collection of butterflies in her stomach awaiting the outcome of the judges' voting. At Tru-Bolt, the judges were the five regional sales managers. It was one of their perks. They got to help select who would be in the pageant and got to vote at each stage of the pageant. Now they were voting on which of the girls would win the top prize. The girls stood in an uneven row. Left leg slightly bent and slightly in front of the right. Even though this was the Casual Clothing Event, all but # 2, a twenty year old named Candy, had a slit in her skirt up to the waist permitting a breathtaking view. There would be more great views as the girls changed from casual outfits to formal business attire, to gowns to swimsuits to casual business attire. But, the five bright smiles would remain. They would remain no matter what. Even when the winner had been announced, the losing four would retain their bright smiles. No small part of the judges' voting was based on the fact that they would have to put up with the girl they selected as she attended sales meetings and met with customers. She could be a real asset especially with reluctant customers. "This won't be a time when we are selling our products, Mr. Customer. We just want you to meet this year's Miss Tru-Bolt." The pitch would go on about how the company was helping this girl make something of herself. Sometimes it would include a mention that the lass in question had shown real interest in the customer's business or industry. Sufficiently lulled into accepting the invitation the customer would meet the girl at a company function. Perhaps it would be a dinner or a picnic. The girl would be sufficiently prepped on the customer and his business that she could converse intelligently with him. Her dress and posture during their meeting would show him that not only was this a bright girl who was interested in his business, but also a girl that was interested in him personally. There was a good chance that the customer would have an opportunity to view her charms quite closely. At a second or third meeting it was very possible that the customer might even spend some very intimate time with her. Through all of this the girl could not freak out. Even if the customer was not physically appealing, she was expected to do her part to make the sale. The managers wanted to be sure that the girl they selected tonight wouldn't give them a hard time when they needed her to be her most charming and persuasive. To that end each of the girls had undergone vetting they hadn't experienced before for any of the other pageants they'd entered. This was something so important that Mr. Breeman handled it himself. Each girl was interviewed by him with her mother present. "Mrs. Pageant Entry Mother, we need to be sure that the girls have not had any surgery, cosmetic or otherwise, etc., etc. Would you please have your daughter remove her clothing so we can be sure?" If they packed up and left, that was the end of the pageant for them. If they complied, the interview went further. Mr. Breeman would praise the beauty of the young lady even as she was forced by her mother to strip naked in front of him. Once naked he would handle the girl running his hands over her entire body taking special interest in her breasts, lifting them, massaging them, and inspecting her nipples. He would look into her wrinkled rear entrance as well as checking to see that the more normal entrance was also well cared for. He would probe to see if she seemed to be a virgin. Though it was not essential, it was noted on her entry forms. A virgin could often bring in a sizable sale. He would examine her other sensitive parts as well. Many mothers may have wanted to say, "What does her clit have to do with sales meetings and customers," but most knew what her clit had to do with sales meetings and customers. Those latter mothers were allowed to keep their girls in the pageant. Those who had questions were excused. A four year full ride scholarship had real value. Girls were not hard to find. It was not unusual for Mr. Breeman to examine the mother as well. Often this examination occurred in another room. Occasionally, however, the prospective pageant entrant was required to be present. Those who were selected for the pageant met the regional managers who explored further their willingness to help with a sale. Each of these men had their own ideas of what this interview would entail. The five who were found to be the crème de la crème became the finalists. Those finalists stood in front of the sales managers and the sales force now. One would be selected. From their seats the judges marked sheets on the table in front of them. "The next event is the Ballroom Gown Event," Mr. Breeman said into his mike. Feedback from the mike was so sudden and intense that even a few bright smiles faltered. Just finished had been the Formal Business Attire Event meant to show what the girls looked like when they were in formal situations with customers. No other pageant required a costume like this. Each of them had thought hard about what type of dress would win over the judges. Should it be a suit, a skirt and blouse, a pantsuit, like Hillary wears. Without any direction they had chosen different wardrobes hoping theirs would be the most appealing. Most focused on thin blouses that provided enchanting views. This might have been accompanied by a skirt short enough that it provided its own view as she sat or bent over. The ballroom gown event was one with which they were far more familiar. Their escort, a young man materialized and escorted the girls back to a dressing area. He left them there to change into the their ball gowns. They all jumped into action as soon as the door closed trying to make the change without damaging hairdos, requiring too much make-up repair, or getting make-up on their clothes. In what felt like record time the the young man returned materializing as a head stuck in through a suddenly opened door. He opened it just enough to stick his head into the room and announce, "OK, come on back." When he saw that they were all dressed, he was disappointed. He had hopped that when he suddenly opened the door at least some would be in their underwear if not totally naked. He had been overly optimistic, but young men often are. He opened the door all the way and waited as they lined up. He led them back to the stage. He wished he could have been behind them to watch as their gowns swished with the movement of their hips. It was cruel that he had an assignment which brought him so close to these lovely girls, but didn't allow him to touch. The judges were settled back at the judges table. They looked up at the girls, smiling as they lined up on the stage. They were no longer asked questions designed to demonstrate their knowledge and insight. There were no problem solving exercises. And there were no women either in the audience or as judges. All that was required of them was that they display the most appealing and, perhaps, available tits and ass. They were used to it and they did everything they could to present the requisite charms. Chapter 2 Mr. Breeman picked up the mike and began directing the girls. Turn this way, turn that way, walk, stand, etc. Wendy looked at Mr. Breeman as he spoke remembering her initial meeting with him. They had met in the beautifully appointed office Mr. Breeman used when he interviewed young lades. The interview seemed to have gone well when Mr. Breeman took Wendy's mother aside. Wendy watched the whispered conversation. She saw her mother seem to swallow hard several times. Finally her mother turned and said, "Honey, Mr. Breeman needs to see more of you." Wendy had started to turn to let him view her from other angles. "Actually," her mother interjected, "he needs to see you without your clothes." Wendy had looked at her mother, then at Mr. Breeman. Her mother was trying to look non-committal as though this was neither unexpected or unusual. And, true, there had been other incidents so it wasn't completely without precedent. It was just so blunt. She looked at Mr. Breeman. He was openly leering. Others had been coy trying to hide what they were asking for. Once when asked for something like this, her mother had just pulled her out of the room and left. That wasn't happening now. Wendy knew there was a lot of money at stake here. "I'll help," Mr. Breeman had said as he began to pull her blouse from her skirt. "I can do it," she'd stammered. "I insist," he'd said. He continued pulling the blouse up forcing her to extend her arms upward. It came off over her head, still buttoned. He tossed it to Wendy's mother. Wendy stood still realizing that she was about to be stripped naked. And that he wanted as much to strip her as he did to see her naked. There was little point in her doing anything. He continued. Her skirt was next. "Step out of your sandals," he'd said. She did pushing them aside. She wore no socks. She stood in panties and bra while he assessed her. She knew this was only a pause. He would remove everything. She'd have to stand naked in front of this man and her mother. She knew he would grope her perhaps hurting her as he pinched her nipples and inserted a finger in her pussy. She waited as he looked her over. He knelt in front of her. He found the elastic of her panties and pulled them slowly past the entrance to her pussy. She had taken care to shave it knowing that if this were to happen, the man stripping her would want to see a pussy that was clean shaven. She was. Her lips were a bit puffy and reddened from his attentions. She was already quite nervous and this was making it worse, much worse. She held her breath as he moved her lips apart. He moved the little hood that covered her clit. She looked away. She felt him move closer. His warm breath felt obscene as it enveloped her pussy. Then was startled to feel his tongue on her clit. She jumped. He grabbed her ass pulling her into his face. She stumbled awkwardly into him. He held her tightly by the ass pulling her into his face. She steeled herself against having any positive feeling, but was not totally successful. He knew what he was doing. He stopped before her hips gave her away. She was a bit wet, but at least she wasn't dripping. He stood wiping his face. He turned her around and found the catch for her bra. It fell away. His hands were immediately on her breasts. As he explored her breasts and then the rest of her body, there was only the sound of his breathing in the room. He turned her around and around slowly as he touched her everywhere. She tried to look straight ahead through it all. "Molly," he said suddenly, "look in that drawer and bring me some lube and one of the smaller devices." He was pointing to drawer in a walnut cabinet, a fine piece of furniture, obviously lovingly cared for. Hesitantly Molly got up and opened the drawer. Wendy could hear her as she sorted through the drawer's contents. She looked as her mother handed the items to Mr. Breeman. He looked at what she brought and asked for another in addition. She found another and handed it to him. "OK, Wendy, lean over this table. Just put your hands on it like this." He demonstrated by putting his hands flat on the table and leaning until his back was parallel with the floor. With concern she did as she was directed. "Molly," he said, "let's put some lube on her. Let me know when you think she's ready." As he said this he spread her cheeks apart revealing the small wrinkled opening. "You want me to do it," Wendy's mother said surprised. "Sure, why not," he responded jovially. "I'll keep these cheeks apart for you." Wendy felt cold fluid on her asshole. "Use your finger to get it well worked in," he advised her mother. "Just relax honey," her mother had said, "so I can get my finger in." She'd relaxed as much as she could. Her mother had added more and more lube until it ran down her legs. She worked her finger in but as she did, Wendy heard Mr. Breeman say, "Work it in further, further." Wendy struggled wanting to get the finger out, but her mother kept pushing it in. Finally, she stopped. "Now," said Mr. Breeman, "see how easily that small device goes in." Wendy heard her mother take a deep breath then felt a cold, blunt object at her entrance. Molly pushed and the dildo slid in without effort. "Twist the base and it will turn on," Mr. Breeman advised. She did and Wendy's eyes opened wide as the device created a sensation she'd never experienced before. As her hips twisted in reaction to the dildo, Mr. Breeman began to massage her clit. No longer was she able to appear uninvolved. She opened her mouth wide and sucked air rapidly into her lungs as the feelings mounted. He continued until her head hit the table accompanied by a series of small cries. A few drops fell onto the carpet. "Very good," Mr. Breeman murmurred. Molly gently extracted the dildo and turned it off. "Great," Mr. Breeman said, "now put a couple of fingers in there." "Put two fingers in there," her mother had said in disbelief. "Sure," he'd responded. Without argument she pressed two fingers against her asshole. "Relax," said her mother pushing harder and harder until they slid inside. Wendy squirmed. She wanted to complain that it hurt, but she figured that nothing would end until the finger was all the way in, so held her peace. Mr. Breeman released her cheeks. He found her clit and began to stimulate it again. "Molly," he said in a low voice. "Fuck her ass with your fingers. She's really going to like this." Her mother began to move those two fingers in and out while Mr. Breeman stroked her clit with one hand and her breasts with the other. As she bent over the table her body twisted and jerked again. The discomfort was giving way to arousal. As her hips twisted and bucked in response, her breasts swayed appealing. Five minutes passed, then ten as they worked together. Wendy's breathing became deeper, then more rapid. When she could hold it no longer, she once again began a series of short cries. The cries grew longer and louder until her legs would no longer support her and she collapsed on her knees on Mr. Breeman's luxurious carpet, panting. "Thought you'd like that," Mr. Breeman had said. Then he'd leaned over and turned her on her back. She lay down only to see Mr. Breeman pull his cock out. Before she could gather her wits enough to move he knelt between her legs and fell forward on her naked body. "Molly," his voice was muffled as he nuzzled the curve of Wendy's neck, "work my cock into your daughter's pussy." Molly complied and Wendy felt Breeman's cock slide in her pussy. Her mother watched as Mr. Breeman fucked her daughter. He whispered as he lay with his face against her ear breathing in her aroma after he shot his load deep inside her, "You are one fine piece of ass." He lay still for several minutes then struggled to his feet working his pants off in the process. Once standing he stripped the remainder of his clothes. Naked he looked at Molly. Not so long ago it was Molly who was paying the entrance fees as she or her daughter was measured up to be queen or this or that. She was older now, but no man missed the charms that had earned her prize after prize or her daughter unquestioned pageant acceptance. She was ready to do what had to be done to get Wendy this prize. Returning his gaze she made a tentative move toward the first button her blouse. Wendy watched wide-eyed. Mr. Breeman smiled and nodding moved behind her. Stroking her breasts through her blouse, he softly spoke into her ear encouraging her. Still lying on the floor naked Wendy had watched as Mr. Breeman nuzzled her mother while she unbuttoned her blouse. Her blouse fell open. Mr. Breeman stroked her flat belly and her breasts. He slipped the catch on her bra, but she caught it before it fell from her breasts. She turned her head and said quietly, "Let's not have Wendy watch." "Oh, I want her to watch," he said with finality. Molly's face fell. She stiffened. He continued exploring her body without urgency. Finally, conceding, Molly allowed the bra to fall. He removed the blouse and Molly stood half naked in front of her daughter while Mr. Breeman continued his explorations. Each knew it would end with Breeman's cock deep inside Molly filling her with his seed. "Honey," he said after a bit, looking at Wendy, "strip your mom down so we can all get a good look at her pussy." Without enthusiasm Wendy rose to her knees and crawled over to where her mother stood. Her back was pressed against the naked Breeman. Breeman's hands molded and stroked her breasts. She found the catch and zipper. The skirt dropped. Wendy lowered the panties with respect. They joined the pile of clothing along with her shoes. Molly stood naked still pressed tightly to Breeman. Breeman let his hand slide from her breast across her nipple and down her belly until it was exploring her clit. Molly opened her legs further as if to facilitate his search. With a thumb on her clit and a finger inside her he began pumping and rotating. She lifted her head resting it on his shoulder as he stimulated her breasts and pussy. She arched her back. Wendy watched no longer concerned for their situation. She watched him prepare her mother to be fucked. Wendy's mom's hips undulated as Breeman's fingers kept up the assault on her body. Wendy watched her mom's nipples swell and harden. "Lie down," he whispered helping her to the carpeted floor. "Wendy, it's your turn. Take my cock and guide it into your mom." On her knees Wendy took Breeman's cock and guided it into her mom. It twitched as she took it in her hand directing the head toward her mom's widely splayed pussy. As she inserted the head Breeman's hips crashed forward trapping her hand between his body and her mother's pussy. She extracted it and lay on the floor watching as Breeman's cock pumped in and out of her mom. She found her own clit. She stroked and rubbed never taking her eyes off the sight of her mom being fucked. Chapter 3 Her reverie broke as she heard Mr. Breeman call the escort over. During their short conversation he could be seen waving his hand toward the back of the stage. At this the girls' smiles broke. They began to turn as if to follow the escort. At the same time the moms began to stand. "Girls are going to the back. Moms stay here, "Mr. Breeman called out his voice level obviating the need for a mike. The moms sat as the girls lined up facing the stage exit behind them. Their escort who had been seated near the judging table crossed the stage and took the lead. "Be sure they have drinks and something to eat," Breeman called after him. "Bring the moms something as well." He went back to his conference with the sales managers. One was left to wonder why he ever used a microphone. Five Bright Smiles - Conclusion Chapter 6 "Paige, really! Was that necessary," her mother remonstrated with little conviction in her voice. Paige ignored her mother. She looked instead at the man at her feet. Thought he was barely conscious, he groaned slightly. "Don't you ever think of touching a girl without asking permission," she hissed. "If you move from there before I tell you to, that thing of yours will never get hard again." He looked up at her. They both knew he understood. They also both knew he would not move until she told him he could. She continued to glare at him, and made ready to leave. It had been an interview for her upcoming appearance in a beauty pageant his firm sponsored each year. They had gotten through evaluating her in a general interview which showed her to be bright and articulate. She had changed in an ante room into an outfit the firm used for promotion. It consisted of a much too short skirt and a much too tight top. She passed without question. Finally he had asked to see her in a bathing suit. It was another of his firm's outfits. The tiny halter showed all of her breasts with the exception of tiny coverage for her nipples. The bottom was so tight that if she hadn't shaved herself completely even her pussy curls would have shown through the thin material. As it was the material completely outlined her pussy lips in what he felt was a very appealing fashion. "This hardly covers anything. Let's see what you look like without it," he had said reaching for the tiny halter. An audible gasp came from her mother. It wasn't for fear of her daughter's modesty. It was for fear of the man's overall health. As his hand touched her breast reaching for the halter strap, Paige leaned into his motion with a slight crouch. He never quite understood what happened next. He remembered only the feeling of an airborne cartwheel and the painful landing on his back. She continued to look down. Her frightful expression of anger was now only a malevolent smile. The noise of his landing brought no assistance. The office was closed for the week. It was the time when he interviewed pageant hopefuls. A time when he felt soft, feminine flesh. A time when successful hopefuls frequently ended on their backs or at least on their knees. A time after which he went home in a light mood knowing that as expertly as this one had brought him to a climax, there were others who would try at least as hard. And hard was what this was all about. Now he lay fearing his back was broken. He broke eye contact with the bitch and stared at the ceiling in pain. She moved into his vision leaning slightly over him. She was still smiling. He looked at her, then away. He became aware of her motion and realized that she was removing the bottoms of her suit. It was so tight, it resisted, but as she pulled on it, she showed him that pussy he had been drooling over. She dropped the flimsy material on his chest and stood over him, near his feet, but not too close. She was taunting him with a startling view. She spread her legs slightly. The malevolent smile never changed. Even through the pain, his cock began to harden. She took the strap of the halter top in the manner he had attempted and pulled it free of her breasts. They swayed with their release. She brought her hands from her waist upward and cupped her breasts for him to view. Then putting her hands on her hips, arms akimbo she gave him her Wonder Woman look. It was a brief look. She turned and walked slowly to the ante room where her street clothes waited. He watched her hips sway as she left the room. He was hard, but the pain didn't permit him to move. Nor did his good sense. She returned in moments with her street clothes. Facing him again, she slipped on an unremarkable pair of white panties and drew her fingers along the now hidden slit. A t-shirt, no bra. The shirt was emblazoned "Bengal Taekwondo" in a semicircle over the head of a Bengal tiger with the words Black Belt beneath. A pair of designer jeans and sandals completed the outfit. "When the door closes, you can get up," she told him as she and her mother left. The door closed. He didn't move. His cock was no longer hard. Stefanie looked at her daughter and sighed, "We probably would have won. I wonder if he broke his back. Did you get all your clothes?" "Mom," Paige was a bit exasperated with her mom's constant lack of focus. She was also running high on the adrenaline from the encounter. "One thing at a time. First, yes, I probably would have won, but it barely paid expenses and I don't need another win on my resume. Second, there are several others in about a week that we can think about entering. Don't worry about that." She let her breath out noisily. "Yes, I did get my clothes." She had seen her mom looking at her chest. She boosted her breasts with her free hand. "I didn't wear a bra over there. It's not that I forgot it. I just didn't feel like a bra this morning." "You know, honey, they'll . . . ." Paige interrupted impatiently, "I know, I know. When I'm your age, they'll be hanging to my knees. Right now let the boys look. I like the stares. I absolutely love it when they can't look me in the eye and they get this bulge in their pants." "Well . . . ," her mother began again. "And, lastly, about Mr. Can't Keep His Hands to Himself's back, fuck him." The bright pageant smile had returned. "Alright, if you say dear," her mother sighed again and focused on finding their car in the parking garage. Paige drove. The smile was back to a smirk. The attendant taking payment as they left the garage had been a middle aged male. As Paige handed him the ticket and a five dollar bill, he fumbled the exchange. His seat left him on a level with Paige's chest as she sat in the driver's seat of the SUV. He was unable to read the t-shirt, but light passing through the material provided a vivid view. He made change and handed the money back. Several coins fell onto the pavement. He hurried from his booth and was soon in the narrow space between Paige and his booth. Luckily he made no overt move to touch her though his face was almost inside the window as he handed the fallen coins. Paige thanked him with one of the bright smiles making sure to hold his hand briefly as she took the coins. Once on the street Stefanie observed, "You made his day." Paige smiled though it was now the smirk.   * Chapter 7 Paige and Stefanie looked through brochures, invitations, and on the web for several days trying to find the next pageant. The search process was fairly simple. The pageant had to pay well. If it was out of town, it had to be somewhere interesting. It should look good on her resume if she won. And, a key ingredient was the ability of taking her mother along. Mom was good at negotiating with the sponsors. Generally with mom along Paige knew she could focus on looking good rather than having to worry about dealing with pageant details. Mom was also quite good looking which helped with sponsors as well. Funny, she thought not letting the irony escape her, pageants were almost always run by men. It being Spring, they settled on a pageant in New Orleans. The flowers would be beautiful and the local contestants would probably be so stuck on themselves, a girl with sweet, natural beauty (Paige, of course) would have a good chance. Paige also knew how to handle the judges and sponsors should she have to. Her entry was accepted and they were off to explore the Big Easy. They drove. It was an overnight trip, but neither minded. They enjoyed travel and enjoyed traveling together. The SUV was quite comfortable and its size made it much easier to carry all the necessary belongings. Besides, what else did they have to do anyway. They took turns driving. Chatting, dozing, reading, listening to books or music occupied them well. Both women were well received at gas stations and rest stops. Even the highway patrol waved back when they flirted with them between their cars in passing on the roadway. Night fell. They stopped for dinner at what looked to be a pleasant restaurant. They didn't intend to travel much further so they allowed themselves wine with dinner. Their dinner finished they left headed again for the Big Easy. Actually dinner had taken longer than they had realized and they drank more wine than they intended, but they were both in a good mood and quite chatty. Traffic was exceptionally light in this corner of Tennessee where the population density was also very low. Their chatting was suddenly interrupted by the car's gentle reminder that their fuel supply needed to be replenished. They fiddled with the GPS and located a station not too far. Unerringly the device led them to it. At one in the morning, however, the station was long since closed. They selected another and continued down the road. Both began to feel a bit of apprehension, but neither said anything about it. The second station was closed as well. A third station appeared to be just down the country two lane they had just exited onto. With Paige driving they headed toward this station. Apprehension was growing. "What if they're not open," wondered Stefanie. Paige didn't answer. As they neared the designated spot the voice of the GPS informed them that the station was right around the corner. It was. And it was closed. Paige stopped at one of the two pumps. "Maybe we can drain some gas from the hoses into the car," she said hopefully. Alighting from the car she removed the cap from their tank and, taking the hose from the pump, placed the nozzle in the filler neck. She pulled up on the hose release handle and tried to manipulate it to drain whatever gas was in the hose into their tank. Though she had no idea if she'd been successful, she replaced it and tried the other one to add whatever gas it might hold. Suddenly a bass voice came from the darkness. "Put the hose up and raise your hands." Paige startled and dropped the hose. She screamed and backed as if to get back into the car. "Stop or I'll shoot," the voice was now strident. Paige stopped and tentatively put her hands up. "We just wanted to see if we could get a little gas . . . ," she began in a voice just short of hysteria. A figure emerged from the darkness. As he moved into the sliver of moonlight lighting the station driveway Paige could see it was an older man dressed in denim overalls and a faded flannel shirt. In the low light she was unable to discern its color. A baseball cap of the type farmers usually wore covered his head and threw a shadow on his eyes. Most importantly he was pointing a double barreled shotgun at her. The shotgun did not waver. "Move away from the car," he growled motioning with the barrel of the shotgun. She backed away from tripping over the concrete island. She maintained her balance, but feared for her life as her hands jerked this way and that in the effort. He made no comment, but as he passed the open driver's door, he glanced in. Seeing Stefanie, he snarled at her to get out as well. Stefanie opened her door and stepped out. She moved to join her daughter. Her mouth moved occasionally, but nothing came out. She, too, had her hands raised in surrender. They stood together terrified facing a man with shotgun apparently intent on doing them harm. They huddled, arms in the air, saying nothing. He found an electrical box on the island. He fumbled with the cover for a few seconds and light flooded the drive. The lights were bright and gathered brightness as they warmed up. Finally Paige was able to speak. "We were running out of gas and nothing was open. We just wanted to get what might be in the hoses," she pleaded for understanding. "We'll be happy to pay you," she added hopefully. He looked steadily at them pursing his lips. "Raise your arms higher," he said in a level voice. They did. Paige was struck by the cool night air on her belly. Oh my god, she thought, that's what he wants. She was not wearing a bra, but no matter how high she raised her hands, she was sure her breasts would remain covered. She waited for his next move. "Go on over to the store and lean your hands up against the window," he said indicating the entryway to the convenience store with the shotgun. They turned and crossed the drive to the doorway of the store. There they stopped and leaned against the window. Inside the store was dark, but they could see Pepsi and Coke stacked high along the aisles. Candy and coffee, bags of snacks and toys for the kids in the car made the store look very normal. Signs on the windows screamed for them to take advantage of great savings and to buy snacks and hot foods for the journey. He produced a key chain with so many keys it resembled a porcupine. He didn't fumble. One handed he went straight to the door key. He inserted it in the lock, turned it and pulled the door open. "Inside," he said motioning with the shotgun. They stepped inside taking care to avoid the menacing barrel of the gun as they passed him. They stopped near the register, arms still raised and turned to face him. Light streamed in from the lighted drive casting deep shadows inside the store. The store itself was old and not very clean. "Move," he said motioning them with the gun to walk into the shadows toward a door in the corner. "We've got money. We can pay you," Stefanie offered. "Move," he repeated. Without further comment they moved toward the interior door. They stopped at the door. "Open the door," he said. Paige opened the door warily. The room beyond was dark and smelled of cardboard and oil. Inside she could see cases of product stretching into the blackness. On the wall were electrical conduit pipes neatly organized emanating from several large wall boxes. "Open that box nearest you," he directed. Lights, she figured. "Flip the," he hesitated, "try the fifth breaker down. I can't see real well from here." Paige threw the breaker switch. Lights came on behind them in the store. "Try the next one," he instructed. She did and the room in which they stood was lighted harshly. "Now, turn the other one off." She did. The retail area of the store returned to its darkened state. "See that light switch next to the big box . . . ." Paige put her hand on a switch. "Throw it." She did and the drive went dark. The only light was now in the storage room in which they stood. He closed the door. "That's better," he said more to himself than them. The women faced him silently, knees shaking, fearfully waiting his next move. "See that cord?" "Yes," Paige said with growing wariness. "Tie her hands in front of her. Do it right and no one gets hurt. Fuck with me and you're dead." Paige did as he directed and stepped back. "Pull her hands up on that hook facing the wall." It was a utility hook. He had guessed well. The hook was just about right to make her stand on tiptoes. He wants me, Paige thought. Better me that mom, came to her forlornly. "Pull her sandals off," again he motioned with the gun. It left her mom standing on her toes to avoid having the rope bite into her wrists. "Now the shorts. Pull 'em down to her knees." Oh, god, I've got to expose mom! Nonetheless, she positioned them where he told her to. "Those other things too, you moron," he exploded as Paige had carefully left Stefanie's panties in place. "Please," Paige pleaded, "don't do that." He raised the gun butt in a mock, but angry swing. "Do it," he bellowed. She hastily brought the panties into position with the shorts and stood back trembling. Motioning Paige away, he stepped closer to Stefanie and rubbed her ass with one hand. "Nice ass," he murmured. A puzzled look crossed his face followed by one of understanding. "Let me see your butt, honey," he said to Paige motioning again with the gun. Without a word, but with growing fear making it hard to breathe, she lowered her shorts and placed them on a nearby carton, then, without waiting to be told, she pulled off her panties. She stood facing him her shaven slit his only interest. "Turn around," he told her. As she did, he said, "You two have got to be related." "That's my mother," Paige confessed. "Well, you two have a pair of fine behinds," he noted. Paige turned back. "Please don't hurt us. Just let us pay you and leave." "Put your hands back up," he said, "and peel that shirt off over your head when you do." Paige burst into tears. "Please let us go." "Do it," he shouted. Reluctantly Paige raised her hands again peeling the shirt off her chest as she did. Her breasts caught in the shirt as she pulled it upward, then fell bouncing appealingly. She let the shirt fall from her raised hands. "Nice tits," he said. "Bet your mom has nice tits, too." "No," Paige was becoming adamant. "Leave her alone." She was shaking with rage and fear. "Would you like a blow job," the voice was small and almost childish. "I'm been told I'm pretty good at that. Then you could put it inside me if you want." She looked coyly at him. "Let me get those overalls off you so I can suck you." The sultry, youthful voice and a twitch of her hips quieted him. "I ain't never had a blow job." "I'm real good at it." She knelt keeping her arms in the air. Throwing her shoulders back brought her breasts in position for his hands, his fingers. "Would you touch my tits. I'm getting real horny thinking about that cock of yours." He stepped forward and reached down with one hand to touch her breast. She didn't move. He touched it and ran his hand across it. She could see the bulge in his pants. She licked her lips. "Touch the other one, too," she said. He reset the safety on the shotgun and laid it aside on a stack of Slim Jim cartons. Leaning forward he had both hands on her breasts. "Can I see your cock? I really want it in my mouth," she licked her lips again. His breathing was deeper as he unhooked the bib of his overalls. It fell. Paige took hold of it on either side and released the side buttons. She pulled them down to his knees. "Can I pull your underwear off? Looks like you have a really big cock in there." She licked her lips. "Sure," he was barely breathing. As she pulled on his underwear, his cock sprang out. She took hold of it and stroked it gently. "Are you ready for me to put it in my mouth and suck on it," she asked looking straight ahead into his crotch. She flicked the tip of his cock with her tongue as she stroked it with her hand. "God, . . . ," was all he could get out. In a blur her free hand hammered his balls several times before she pulled him forward by his cock. She was barely able to move out of the way as he crashed against the stacks of boxes, hitting his head as he fell. She kneed him several times in the ribs but was unable to get a full swing in the confined space. Leaning across him she grabbed the shotgun by the barrel and slammed the butt against the back of his neck. "Don't you move, you motherfucker, or I'll splatter you all over this room." What little fight there still was left him. He moaned loudly. "Shut the fuck up or I'll blow your balls off." She had managed to maneuver the barrel of the gun so it rested sharply, painfully against his balls. He was pretty sure this lovely girl would do just what she was threatening so he quieted. "I didn't miss the gun you have in your pants pocket. Pull it out and push it away. Then empty all your pockets," she told him. Every movement was painful for him as a result of her blows and the barrel of the gun on his balls, but he managed to do as she directed him. The pistol turned out to be a small Smith & Wesson .45 caliber one of the types her self-defense instructors had schooled her in handling. She had no trouble finding the safety. She quietly set the shotgun down and chambered a round. "Lay still, motherfucker, or they'll find you here without your balls," she warned him as she trained the pistol on him while releasing her mother. Five Bright Smiles - Conclusion Between the two, they were able to strip off the remainder of his clothing, restrain him, and drag him into the store retail area where he would be found the next day. With only a few threats which included threatening to attach a mousetrap to his genitals, he provided them the information necessary to get the pumps turned on. They filled the SUV using a credit card they located in his wallet and left. * Chapter 8 The rest of the New Orleans trip had gone well. Paige had won the pageant and they had had a pleasant visit in the Big Easy. Now she stood with the other four waiting for the decision of the judges on who would be Miss Tru-Bolt. This win would be seminal one. With the education, she could find herself a career that would allow her to make money and develop independence for those years when she'd no longer be able to win beauty contests. Was there anything she could do now that would help that win? She was lost in thought as they were once again brought onto the stage. This time was the last time. She looked to catch the eye of her mother but found her gone from the mothers' seating area. The judges weren't back yet either. Where ever they were, they would return shortly. She hoped her mother wasn't sick or otherwise indisposed. She always felt better when her mother was there looking on. Seconds before the judges returned to their places, she noticed her mother slide into her seat. As she sat she saw her mother uncharacteristically wipe her mouth with the back of her hand. Mr. Breeman was there telling the girls to do this and do that. Then suddenly one more turn and it was over. They were sent back to the dressing area where a glass of wine awaited each along with a tray of snacks. In what seemed to be no time at all the call came for them to return to the stage. As they entered from the stage door and crossed to its center Paige noted that her mother looked strikingly confident. After an interminable stream of bullshit from Mr. Breeman, he made a great deal of opening an envelope with the name of the winner. "Paige Stuart is this year's Miss Tru-Bolt," he announced. Paige put on her best "Oh, I can't believe its poor little old me" act and accepted the congratulations of the other four. There were no runners up in this contest so Paige stayed alone on the stage to be showered by gifts and have her ass slapped and sundry other body parts pawed by the male well-wishers. The others made for the dressing room to pick up their clothes and plan for the next pageant. When the moment appeared right, Stephanie whispered in Paige's ear, "I made some promises for you to keep. You may have to do one or two of them tomorrow, but I think I've pretty much taken care of all of them for tonight." She wiped her mouth again, then downed a glass of champagne. Five Bright Smiles As an afterthought he buzzed the changing room and told the escort to let him know when the girls were ready. The escort told Mr. Breeman he would handle it. Handle it he would. The next event was the swim suit event. This was probably his best chance to see the girls as they changed. The room was abuzz with the girls' conversations. The escort made no move to leave. Instead he sat in an upholstered chair, one of those used by the moms, but there were no mom's here now, he thought. Candy looked at him with some befuddlement. "Are you going to sit there while we change?" He sat for a moment trying to think of a legitimate reason why he should stay, when Wendy interceded for him. "I'll bet he's never seen a girl naked. How about it . . .?" She stumbled without a name. "What's your name, anyway?" "Paul," he said his face reddening. "He's kinda cute," Jane offered. "So, what about it, Paul, ever seen a girl naked?" "Uh, well, uh . . . ," he began. "So the answer is no. Right?" Candy had taken up the interrogation. All five of the girls had gathered in a semicircle around where Paul sat. "No," he admitted sheepishly. "Let's give him a thrill," Jane said with a smirk and unzipped the zipper on the side of her gown. Paul's eyes widened. His breathing quickened. He became lightheaded as he watched. She was going to take off her gown! "Wait a minute," Wendy said softly, then whispered something to Jane. Jane nodded agreement. The two girls called the other three to the back of the room where they had a quick conference. Several minutes later the five returned smiling. The smiles were not the bright smiles they used in the pageant, these looked almost malevolent. Paul cringed. It didn't seem that this would be good. He feared he was not going to get to see anyone naked. Wendy said, "Look Paul we're considering letting you see us naked, but you have to do something for us." "OK," he said warily. "You'll do what we ask," Wendy probed. "Well, what is it," Paul parried. "Simple," Wendy began her explanation. "We want you naked so we don't feel that you just want to look without giving us the same chance. Like giving us something in return. That OK with you?" Paul was still wary. "Well, OK, but . . . " "You're right," Wendy interrupted, "we want to see your butt too. The only small catch, and it is a small one, is that you have to take your clothes off first. That's just so you won't renege after we get our clothes off. Will you do that for us." She rubbed her fingers lightly on his head and face. "Come on, I'll help." Before Paul could decide whether this was a good idea or not, she knelt in front of the chair. Carefully she undid the knot on his tie then began unbuttoning his dress shirt. As she leaned into her task Paul was treated to a full view down the front of her gown. She wore no bra since the dress was designed to be worn without one. It had just enough give in front that he could see almost down to her nipples. Wendy noticed his eyes focused on her breasts. She stopped working on the buttons and pulled the bodice of the gown forward even more. "Do you like what you see," she asked pleasantly. "Yes," Paul responded weakly never taking his eyes from her breasts. How cute, she thought, he's even beginning to sweat a little. Gently raising his chin with one finger so their eyes could meet, something of a challenge, she noted, she asked, "Is your dad here?" Now, actually looking her in the eyes, he answered quite proudly, "Yes, I'm Paul Tyson, Jr. My dad's Southwest Regional Manager." "He's the one wearing cowboy boots," she noted aloud. "How old are you, Paul junior?" "I just turned 18," he said puffing himself up a bit as he sat in the upholstered chair. His eyes quickly returned to her breasts. She shrugged her bodice back slightly. The motion covered the tips of her breasts. Disappointed his eyes returned to look into hers. "Well, Paul junior, I'm not sure that you're old enough to look at a naked girl. Are you still in high school?" "I graduate this year," he said defensively, clearly unhappy with this turn of events. "How old do you have to be to look at a girl, . . . you know, . . . without . . . her . . . clothes?" He stammered and struggled to finish the sentence. He plowed ahead, "I think I'm old enough. I've seen the magazines my dad has. I even saw a video he has." Immediately he cut his eyes away as the general atmosphere in the room cooled at the mention of magazines and videos. He knew he was in trouble and experience had taught him that the best idea when you have your foot in your mouth is to just shut up while you attempt to extract it. Wendy looked at him appraisingly. He was still sweating, but maybe she thought they'd had enough fun with him. They did have to change and no one knew how much time they'd have until they were called back to the stage. She stood and called the others to another quick discussion. They agreed to let him watch as they changed as long as he would be naked the whole time. They also agreed that they would all help each other get ready since their mothers had not been permitted to accompany them to the dressing room. Wendy returned to where Paul sat waiting. "Paul junior, we think it would be OK for you to watch. We are concerned about your age. We would feel a lot better about it if we could see that you have a real man's . . . ah . . . penis." She was surprised at how difficult it was for her to say out loud in front of everybody any word that referred to a man's cock. She'd never said penis out loud before. With her friends and in her thoughts, it was always a cock. He nodded thoughtfully. "Go ahead and get your clothes off, we need to start getting ready." She reached out to him and, taking his arm, encouraged him to stand. "Come on now, we don't have a lot of time." Paul hurriedly undressed revealing modest, but nicely muscled chest and arms. Nothing to swoon over, but not bad. Disappointingly he wore plain white briefs which were bulging appropriately. At this final moment he hesitated. "Come on, we're in a hurry," Wendy said matter-of-factly, but watching closely. They all were, Paul noted. Every girl was waiting to give judgment on his cock. He couldn't remember being so nervous. With an audible breath, he pulled his briefs off. His cock jumped out, but instead of letting them have a proper viewing, he covered it with his hand and quickly sat again. Wendy took his arm, then decided on the offending hand instead. She picked it up and set it on the arm of the chair. The cock had withered some. She moved his other hand to the arm of the chair as well. "Leave your hands there," she admonished him. Then reaching down she grabbed his cock at its head and attempted to pull it to an upright position. Paul jumped and attempted to avoid her by moving back further in the chair. He looked quite uncomfortable. Some said later that he actually looked frightened. Nonetheless he kept his hands on the arms of the chair. Wendy released her grip. "I suppose it will stand up on it's own after a while," Wendy commented having turned to the others. "We'll just have to wait and see." She turned back to Paul with a scowl and made a point of looking directly at his lap while she unzipped her dress. "Jane, little help please," she said over her shoulder. Jane took hold of the dress and with Candy protecting Wendy's hair, helped get the dress off. All of this took place facing Paul who stared open mouthed. "Thanks," Wendy said to her assistants looking, however, at Paul. She stood in front of him half naked. Now she watched his lap as she began to remove her panties. Any questions about whether Paul's cock could stand on it's own had already been answered. It began to throb as Wendy's panties slowly revealed a fully shaved pussy. He gripped the arms of the chair tightly. His cock throbbed. Candy was next. They had agreed to give him a view one at a time to improve his concentration. It wouldn't be a strip tease. They were under pressure to be ready whenever they were called. Candy was able to have Jane unzip her. From here the dress fell forward. The naked Wendy kept it from falling to the floor and provided a steadying hand so Candy could step out. She stood in front of Paul in bra and panties, but wasted no time finishing her disrobing task. She handed the bra to Wendy, then quickly removed her panties. Paul's eyes widened. It was the second pussy in less than five minutes. Candy carried off her clothes and was immediately replaced by Jane. They were all in a hurry now, not knowing when they would be called, but she slowed enough to put a show on for Paul. She teased him holding up her unzipped dress. Slowly she allowed the bodice slide down her body. On either side a naked Wendy and a naked Candy danced to unheard music as Jane stripped. Candy caught her dress as it fell from her hips. She took the dress away while Wendy snuck up behind Jane and released the catch on her bra. Jane took the prank in stride catching the bra just after it's absence had exposed her to Paul. Wendy finished the process by pressing her naked body tightly against Jane's back. The two danced together trying desperately to get into some kind of rhythm. Wendy took Jane's breasts in her hands briefly then ran her hands down Jane's body seductively as they struggled to dance together. On encountering her panties, Wendy hooked her thumbs inside the waistband and slowly pulled them off as Jane continued her music-less dance. Wendy stood, Jane's panties held high. The three naked girls danced for a few more seconds then fell into each other's arms laughing uproariously. Paul sat unable to believe his good fortune. His cock was so hard it hurt. Time was short so Patricia grabbed Paige's hand and the two of them did a similar version of the music-less dance as they stripped each other more for their own delight than Paul's. Naked now, all five did a semblance of a dance that threatened to knock over chairs and dressing tables. Breathless, they finally turned toward Paul who was still maintaining a painful hard on. "I know what he needs," Wendy laughed. She grabbed Paul's hand and placed it on her breast while reaching for his cock. She knelt in front of him. While the others watched she began to stroke Paul. Her mere touch could have been enough, but having her stroke him while he held her breast was all that was necessary. Cum shot from his cock to the cheers of the girls. Wendy kept stroking succeeding in milking much more cum from his straining cock. One of the girls threw a towel which hit him squarely in the face. Wendy used it to wipe her hand then grabbed her swim suit and began the process of makeup repairs for the next round. Paul, still in disbelief, wiped himself down. He knew he should dress, but he hesitated. The girls got their swim suits on quickly enough, but the makeup and repairs to hairdos took longer. When the call still had not come, they turned to Paul. Jane stared at his upright cock and said, "Paul, you better not have that hard on when you lead us back in. Whatever would people think?" Paul squirmed uncomfortably. He had no idea how he was going to get rid of his hard on. Chapter 4 The call came about fifteen minutes later. Paul had been watching the girls as they primped, a touch of makeup here, hair spray there. He was still marveling that they had actually stripped naked for him and that one had actually let him touch her and she had jerked him off. He had been trying not to think about it since it kept his cock hard, but it had not been a forgettable event. Once the call came, he dressed and felt he had his hard on under control. Now he was prepared to lead them back to the stage. "I must have something twisted," Jane said obviously frustrated, "would you look, Paul. If one of the girls does it, she'll get this body makeup on her hands. I'll have to fix my makeup and she'll have to wash her hands." It was twisted. The strap between the cups of her bikini top was twisted. The girls gathered around pointing out the problem to Paul. "What should I do," he asked staring now at Jane's beautiful breasts. She had put a light makeup on them to achieve a more even coloring and cover tan lines. "You'll have to take the top off, straighten it, and put it back on," Patricia told him. They stepped back from Jane to allow him some space. "Be careful not to muss the make-up," Jane said. "Hurry up," someone chimed in, "we don't want to keep them waiting. In fact they didn't care about keeping them waiting. They were pissed about this event and knew that one would win and the others would go home regardless of how long they kept those horny salesmen waiting. What they wanted was to see how hard they could get Paul. Having a huge bulge in his pants as he led them in would be quite comical they had agreed. He unfastened the back which featured just a string to be tied. The top immediately fell away. Jane let it drop ostensibly so she didn't touch it and get makeup on it. Once again her breasts were bared for him. "You need to put some more color on your nipples," suggested Paige. "Have Paul do it so you don't have to wash your hands again." Paul stared at her breasts. Beautiful, shapely Jane needs me to color her nipples, went through his head. He became lightheaded. Someone pushed a very small jar of a reddish-pink paste in his hand. "Put a little on your finger and rub it on her nipples. Just rub it lightly." He took a deep breath and put a bit of the make-up on his finger. He reached the finger for her nipple. She moved it toward him. As he touched her nipple, he felt he would cum in his pants. Some of the make-up adhered to her nipple, but the nipple kept moving as he tried to spread it around. "Hang on to her boob or you'll smear it everywhere," Paige admonished him taking the jar from his hand. "I'll hold this," she volunteered. Paul took Jane's breast in one hand and began to apply the rouge with his finger. Touching her nipple, it hardened in his hand. As it did he could no long restrain himself and shot his load in his pants. Embarrassed beyond anything he had ever known, he said nothing. However, the girls could see it in his face as he pumped cum into his underwear. In spite of this, they let him apply the coloring to each breast until they were satisfied he was sufficiently hard again, then had him gently (to avoid messing up his makeup job) hold each breast as he carefully adjusted it into her bikini top and tied it. They were hurrying him now so much that there was nothing he could do about having cum in his pants and no way to deal with the erection he got while adjusting Jane's breasts inside the cups of her swim suit. He had been set up and didn't know it. Paul could hardly walk, but he led them onto the stage. Unfortunately for him he had selected khakis for this evening that looked especially good on him. Their tightness emphasized his butt and now made his hard on unmistakable. The girls followed Paul single file their heels tapping on the stage floor; their bright smiles filling the room. No one noticed the tinge of malevolence in their smiles. The mothers, from their side angle, were especially able to notice and be put off by Paul's display. No one, of course, said anything. A small darkened spot grew in size as he walked. He sat appalled that his chair faced the audience. The spot kept growing. "Well, girls, we have to apologize for our delay, but appreciate you putting up with us," Mr. Breeman smiled as though he had said something clever. "We will run through this Swim Suit Event, then end with the Business Casual Event." "Oh, my goodness," Jane cried out. The others looked to see what was wrong. The mothers looked and were on their feet instantly. The audience of salesmen gasped. The gasp was followed quickly by guffaws from the salesmen. "Oh, my," she said again, but made no move. He mother was the first to her. She picked up from the floor where it had fallen, the bikini top. The other mothers stood behind the girls for a moment then returned to their seats talking among themselves about the horrible tragedy that had befallen Jane. Jane's mother, Kate, said in very low tones, "Think that will clinch it?" She was still holding the top. Jane stood half naked as though she was unable to move. With great deliberation Kate stepped behind Jane, untwisted the top, then fastened and adjusted it. She returned to her seat. When he as able to catch his breath, Mr. Breeman said, "Uh, Miss Holden, would you like us to take a brief break?" "No," Jane responded holding her chin up slightly. In a quavering voice she said, "I'll be OK." The others could hardly contain their laughter. The five bright smiles returned as they all looked into the admiring audience and waited. Patricia wondered if there was a way to get the bottom of her bikini to 'accidentally' fall off. Chapter 6 The last time Patricia had been exposed in front of a group of men had been about five years ago. The recollection brought an appealing blush that engulfed her entire body. She had been the winner of some obscure beauty pageant and had, as part of her commitment, gone to a business meeting. It wasn't much different from this one or the ones she thought she'd have to go to if she won here. The men there were in about the same age range as the guys here. They must have ranged all the way from mid-twenties to late forties. She wasn't a good judge of men's ages, but that's what she had thought. The meeting was held in a motel halfway across the country. She had been told to bring several changes of clothes, a gown, a swim suit, a cocktail dress, and a simple dress in addition to what she would wear to travel. She was to receive a clothing allowance for the trip to encourage her to look her best regardless of cost, they had said. Initially the men were very polite, even if they did seem to be putting their hands on her overly much. At least they didn't touch her in places that might be considered to be inappropriate. This changed as the evening wore on. She put it down to the open bar as they began to take a lot of interest in her clothing and a few investigated her butt with slaps and squeezes. 'Teasingly' they pulled her bodice forward to get a better look. She resisted as much as she dared, but she was well aware that she was being paid to be here. She didn't want to lose the job. A waitress she met in the ladies room was quite sanguine. "Honey, you're here to put on a show. You're as much a part of the evening as the roast beef we're serving. Entertain them, but try to keep your clothes on. If you need help, call on the staff, but remember, if you do, you're history not only for this company, but probably for other jobs like it. It ain't pretty, but there it is." They had hugged. Patricia felt like a condemned person, but made a promise to herself to see it through. Returning to the room she was heartened to hear that they were going to have an auction, the benefits of which would go to some orphanage or other. She sat at a table with a few of the less obnoxious men and watched the stage waiting for the auction. The company president took the stage. "As usual our beauty queen will conduct the auction. We know she doesn't have any experience with being an auctioneer, but that won't matter. Come on up here, Patricia and make some money for this deserving cause!" A round of applause and Patricia realized she was compelled to go to the stage. She took the microphone. "Thanks. This will be fun. I love helping out kids in need." Turning to the president she continued, "What's the first item?" She was given a list of items seemingly standard for such auctions. There were iPads and iPhones, trips and even jewelry. "OK," Patricia had replied quite intrigued and began to behave as she thought an auctioneer would. As she came to the bottom of the list she was given a stack of envelopes. Five Bright Smiles "These are the mystery items. The guys bid on them and get what's inside. It could be wonderful or it might not be. Everything has value, but sometimes the value is different for different people. In fact some can be humorous or tongue in cheek. No one receives his envelope until all have been auctioned off. You just hand me the envelope and I'll write the amount and the name on it. When we have finished the auction, we'll pass them out one at a time. You call out their names, the guys come up on the stage, you open the envelope, and tell them what they've bought." "Well," she said to the crowd, "we've made $2,452 so far. Let's see how much we can improve on that with these mystery items." She looked at the pile of envelopes. Each was numbered. She picked up the first. How much will these envelopes bring, she wondered. The salesmen had bid on these envelopes before so had an idea of their value. Most went for somewhere between $400 and $500. Patricia thought they must offer some wonderful prizes. The auction ended. The president placed the envelopes on a small table near Patricia. "Just call the name and when he comes up, open the envelope and read off what he's purchased. By the way," he added, "some of these are a bit risque. I hope you don't offend easily." "Oh, no," she said hastily, thinking, I hope not. We'll see. The first envelope was a cruise for two, an incredible bargain. Several others proved to be great prizes especially for what they paid for them. "Can't wait to see what's in this next envelope," she said to her audience and to the president who stood next to her. She opened the envelope and removed the slip of paper. She stared at it, then shaking her head, she handed it to the president. "Are you serious?" He whispered in reply, "Go ahead, read it. It's what you get paid for." She nodded and thought, really? "Uh . . . ," she read haltingly. "The bra now worn by our beauty queen. Purchaser must remove it himself." She tried to smile, "You don't have to take it off, I can go into the ladies room and do that." "No, no," came a chorus from the men. "He bought it, he has to get it himself," the president told her firmly. She swallowed hard. She was in a cocktail dress. Under his breath the president said, "You'll get an extra $500 for each article of clothing." She waited, breathing hard. The purchaser approached the stage and looked closely at her dress. "How do I do this," he asked her. Flashes indicated that a number of photos were being taken. Feeling a modicum of triumph at his lack of experience, she said, "You'll have to unzip my dress a little." She could smell the alcohol on his breath and feel his damp fingers on her back. He found the zipper and swaying slightly pulled on the zipper. Instead of an inch or so to uncover the catch to her bra, he pulled the zipper all the way down. She was open in back to her butt. The dress fell forward. She caught it. "Not that far," she squeaked in a panic. "Pull it back up." Very unsteady on his feet he reached around her. "I can get it off from the front," he chortled as he pulled her bra up off her breasts. His hands raked across her breasts as he leaned over her shoulder. With his weight on her she had to struggle to stay on her feet and to keep the dress in place. Neither worked. His weight pushed her down. His foot caught on her dress as he went down on top of her, the dress was dragged to her waist. He lay on top of her for a moment then with help from others he found his feet. He held the bra aloft. Patricia lay quietly sobbing, her hands covering her breasts. Amid the general laughter the president stood her up. "Come on, you've had your boobs on display before," he grumbled. He handed her a napkin to dry her eyes. "Let's get on with it." Her dress was now at her feet. She bent to reclaim it. The president pulled her back up. "Come on, honey, next envelope." He handed her an envelope. The dress remained on the floor. Pissed and virtually naked, Patricia called out the name and while she waited for the purchaser to come forward, she took that 30 seconds or so to wheel about and and deliver a slap across the president's face hard enough to stagger him. Stooping she picked up her dress. He recovered slowly amid the growing howls of laughter, but was further humiliated when she shoved the dress into his hands telling him to hang it up. Not knowing where to hang it up, he took it and smoothing it out laid it across a chair. He said nothing and now slinked in the background. Alone on stage, now the center of attraction, Patricia took a deep breath, and read the name on the next envelope. On opening the envelope she found this one had purchased her panties. "I should have known," she muttered. She looked up to see a man looking quite unsure of himself making his way toward her. "He bought my panties," she said to the crowd. "If there is anyone who didn't come tonight to see me completely naked, or doesn't want to, they better leave now." Then, turning to the man, "OK buddy, you bought 'em, can you get them off by yourself?" She spat it out. Warily he bent down and pulled her panties from her hips downward. Quiet descended over the room as he timidly uncovered her. There were no hoots when her shaven pussy was uncovered. Once he had the panties at her ankles, she, with as much grace as she could manage stepped clear of them. She stood naked. There was not a sound in the room. The man knelt, his face near her pussy, but he made no move to touch her. He took the panties and returned quietly to his seat. Making no move to cover herself she picked up the last envelope and read the name. She opened the envelope and found no surprise. When the man was on the stage, she handed him the slip of paper from the envelope without comment. His eyes widened. "Your room or mine," she asked quietly. He looked down, "I have a roommate." She took his hand, picked up her dress from the chair and, completely naked, led him through the hallways to her room. She had clipped her room key inside her dress. Pulling it free she used it to open the door. The room was pleasant. Two queen beds took up much of it, but there were upholstered chairs, a desk and other amenities. She sat on the bed. Quietly she said, "Do you have any rubbers?" He nodded taking one from his wallet to show her. "You'll need more than one." Sheepishly he produced another two. "Good," she said. "You're going to get your money's worth. It's the least I can do." He was staring without thinking at her naked body. She spread her legs to make herself more visible. His mouth was slightly ajar. He was almost drooling. She leaned toward him and took a hand putting on her breast. He let it rest there, but made no move to take advantage and explore her. "I gotta pee and wash my face," she said standing at last and moved slowly to the bathroom. He was riveted on her nakedness as she walked. Her perfectly rounded ass swayed so appealing with each step. She is absolutely gorgeous, he thought. She's also been pretty worked over tonight. He'd sat on the edge of the bed. Should I leave her alone or get what I paid for. He sat puzzling while she was in the bathroom. He was still dressed when she returned. He looked at her, puzzlement showing clearly in his expression. "You're wondering if you should fuck me or be a choir boy and go back to your roommate," she asked rhetorically. "The answer is, 'It's OK'. I should have known I'd end up here and you look like a nice enough fellow. Let me see you naked. If you're really ugly, I might throw you out." There was the faintest hint of humor in her voice. She pulled him up from where sat on the bed. Tugging at the plaid golf shirt he wore, she pulled it out from his pants then off over his head. Stepping back she looked critically at his chest for a moment. "Take you pants off," she told him with a sigh. He wasn't much to look at. She sat naked in one of the upholstered chairs and watched as he turned his back to remove his khakis. When he turned to face her, she said, "The boxers, too. Let me see it so I can decide." She was tired and bummed out. Her voice was flat. He turned again and pulled his boxers down. He dropped them on the floor where his pants lay. Embarrassed, he turned back to her. He wanted to cover himself, but he knew what it was she wanted to see. Would he be enough for her? She looked and sighed again. "Get the bed ready." If he was enough, she made it clear that he was just barely enough. He opened the bed smoothing the sheets and pillows. Slowly she rose and moved to the bed where she lay down. Spreading her legs widely, she said, "Lick my pussy. Get me in the mood." He froze. He'd never done that. His wife only let him do it the one way, and then only rarely. "Uh . . . ," came from his open mouth. She looked at him, then realizing his dilemma she choked back a smile and a ridiculing remark. "Sit," she said patting the bed. He was still not hard, she noted. "Does your wife ever have a climax," she asked gently. "I know that some women never do." "I don't think so," he responded shyly. She propped the pillows against the headboard and positioned herself against them. She took his hand. As she placed it between her legs she noted as his cock reacted. She moved his hand slowly against her shaved pussy lips. His mouth hung open even as his cock hardened. She slid her hips forward a few inches and took his index finger. She slid it against her pussy until it forced the lips apart slightly. She continued. This instruction was actually arousing her. Moving her hips forward against his finger, she forced it inside. Then, holding his hand at the wrist she pushed the finger all the way inside. She smiled at him. "You like that?" He nodded, but his cock showed his true level of appreciation. She took it in her other hand and caressed it slowly as she encouraged him to explore the inside of her pussy. Releasing both his hand and his cock, she opened the lips of her pussy and began an explanation of her clit. When she finished, she said, "Now I'm going to lie back and you're going to use your tongue on my clit." She moved into position. He lay down using his elbows to prop his face between her legs. She spread her legs wider to accommodate him. With his tongue he opened the soft lips guarding her entrance. He explored her inserting his tongue as far as it would reach. He braced her ass with his hands and pulled her into his face as he sought her clit. No longer did he seem unsure of himself. She groaned softly when he found it and stiffened as he used his tongue, teeth, and lips to woo her. Her legs began to clamp his head, then opened to his tongue. She bent her knees, then lay flat, finally arching her back. Then it all began over again. He used his tongue and fingers for long minutes until she pulled him upward. He knelt moving his face to hers. He nuzzled her neck as she found his cock and guided it inside. Once inside she grabbed his ass and pulled him into her. When he had filled her, she wrapped her legs around him. She felt his cock's every motion as he pounded inside her. His every thrust ended by crushing her clit sending lightning bolts through her body. She screamed, then moaned as he built her to a climax. Their mutual climax, however, did not end his pounding. He continued until she was thoroughly exhausted. They lay together in a sweaty embrace until their bodies allowed them quiet. "Thank you," she purred softly in his ear. "I think I got more out of that then you did." Patricia remembered well that the evening hadn't ended there. He brought her several more times to intense climaxes. In the morning, he made sure that she left her room fully satisfied and able to handle the day ahead. After he left the room that morning, it was with fond memories that she picked up all foil packets which had been scattered around the bed. She saw him again for a few minutes before she left. His badge identified him as David Trippet, Northeast Regional Manager. Every year since she had been invited back. Never had she had to undergo the humiliation of the first year. Never had he failed to win the auction for the last envelope. Next, the winner is crowned.