Going for Gold (18 page)

Sunday

Bryce

Alina looked so fucking hot dancing around in her dress, with
the high slits giving glimpses of her lingerie and the low cut neckline
exposing her cleavage. Part of my brain was focused on my dance moves, but the
majority of my concentration went into not getting an erection. My tight
American flag morph suit showed the outline of my penis even when I was
flaccid, so I could only imagine what would happen if I got a full on boner. It
would turn my crotch into an extremely patriotic teepee.

Two of my fellow dancers stepped forward so that they were
standing on either side of Alina as she gyrated her hips. One of them grabbed
her arm and pulled her against his body. She ran her hands through his hair and
grinded on him for a second before the other guy snatched her away and received
the same treatment. Jealousy shot through me. It was tough watching her dressed
the way she was and dancing on those guys. I just kept telling myself that this
was just a performance. She was mine, and after the dance, I was going to show
her exactly what that meant.

When Alina spun away from the two guys, the one she had been
grinding on kept hold of her dress, causing her to spin right out of it.

Wow.
I had to blink to make sure I wasn't dreaming.
Alina was now dancing around wearing nothing but red, white, and blue lingerie.
Her garter belt squeezed her tiny waist to accentuate her perfect figure, but
my favorite part was the way the straps holding her stockings up framed her
magnificent ass. I already thought it was the greatest ass I had ever seen when
I watched her play volleyball in her spandex shorts, but seeing her dance
around in her thong and heels took it to an entirely different level.

All of the hard work I had done earlier to not get an
erection was immediately wasted. The fabric of the morph suit felt strange as
it pressed against my growing erection.

Fuck.
It was like every ten year old boy's worst fear
coming true: having a boner with nothing to hide behind. When I was in grade
school, I had this irrational fear of having to stand up in class while I had a
boner. I would always get so nervous every time I had a boner, and by some
cruel twist of fate, thinking about having a boner just made it even worse.
During those terrifying moments, my mind would race and come up with ridiculous
plans for how I could hide my erection if my worst fear came true and I had to
stand up for something. One plan involved stalling to stand up while I
discretely tucked it into the waist band of my pants. Another was to stand up
close enough to the desk so that my boner would be pinned down. I even made
sure that I always had a book easily accessible in my desk so that I could hide
my junk behind it in a dire situation.

Those were all great plans for hiding a classroom boner, but
they were worthless on stage. And thinking about it was just making it worse.
Visions flashed through my head of "boner guy" becoming an internet
sensation, much like "left shark" did after Katy Perry's half time
performance.

Then I realized something. Even though the morph suit made my
boner ridiculously visible, it also covered my face. I could let my boner go
crazy, and no one except for those familiar with the choreography would know it
was me.

Sunday

Alina

Since finding out that I would be dancing in Kristen's place,
I had been mortified by the thought of getting my dress ripped off on stage.
It's just like wearing a bikini, I had told myself, but it really wasn't. For
starters, I was wearing a thong rather than a bikini that actually covered my
ass. But the biggest difference was that I was dancing provocatively in front
of thousands of spectators rather than happily playing in waves while no one
paid any attention to me besides for a few perverts hoping my tits would pop
out when a wave hit me.

For a second, it was every bit as mortifying as I thought it
would be. But then the thunderous applause swept over me. Nothing could have
made me feel totally okay with dancing around in this lingerie, but the
enthusiasm of the crowd at least gave me enough confidence to keep me from
running off the stage.

I began to wonder what Bryce was thinking about all of this.
I had never been this scantily clothed in front of him before. I spun around,
trying to search for him, but it was hard to tell which was him with all of the
backup dancers faces covered. Hopefully he was enjoying this just as much as
the crowd. It was almost like I was doing a strip tease for him. Because if he
didn't pull me off this stage and bang me immediately after this was over, I
was going to lose my fucking mind. Every touch by one of the dancers seemed to
turn me on even more. Were they all being extra handsy because I was in my
lingerie or was I imagining it?

I decided it was best to focus on my dance rather than my
lack of clothing. The only thing worse than stripping in front of the whole
world would have been stripping in front of the whole world and losing to
Gabriela. I did a few moves, thankfully ones that kept me facing forward so I
wasn't mooning the audience, and then put my arms out and allowed two of my
backup dancers to carry me over to a turn table on the side of the stage. They
lifted me onto the table and then all eight dancers spread out around it.

Since this type of strip dance was most popular in South
America, Tim had choreographed this part of the dance to be me doing the samba
while my dancers rotated the platform. Kristen had put hours into practicing
the samba and just about mastered it. I hadn't.

I started to do the moves, but rather than looking like the
samba, I was pretty sure I just twerking. Chris had somehow convinced me to
learn how to twerk a year or so ago, so I was actually pretty good at it. I
cringed as the platform rotated to reveal my jiggling ass to the audience, but
there was no going back now. I put my hands on my knees, arched my back more,
and moved to the beat. If I was lucky, the judges would just think I meant to
be twerking rather than doing the samba.

To my surprise, a guy in a morph suit suddenly ran across the
stage doing back flips and hand springs. It wasn't part of the routine, but
maybe Tim had recruited an extra backup dancer to fly across stage doing crazy
acrobatics to distract the judges whenever I was screwing shit up. If that
really was his plan, Tim was a genius.

When the acrobat disappeared, my backup dancers all formed a
group so that I could fall backwards into their arms.
Oh God, their hands
are all over me. Focus, Alina!
They carried me back to center stage, and
for the dismount, they flipped me over two dancers who had crouched in front of
us. The crowd cheered when I stuck the landing. Or maybe they were just excited
about the view of my ass I had given them during my flip.

I took a deep breath as all eight of my dancers formed a line
across the front of the stage, all with their hands on their hips. I walked
behind the first dancer in line and slid my hands under his arms and around to
his stomach. I was supposed to be feeling for a tab to pull, but I was
distracted by his muscles. My fingers caressed the ridges of his abs, like a
buggy riding over sand dunes. Sexy, rock hard sand dunes.
Is this Bryce?
I felt around for a little longer than I should have before pulling the tab to
rip his American flag body suit open.

The crowd and judges gasped as his suit tore open.
I guess
his abs look as nice as they feel.

I moved to the next man and repeated the process.
Unfortunately the tab on his suit was easier to find now that I had some practice,
but I still let my fingers wander for a bit. I didn't remember what order the
guys were in for this, so it was possible that this was Bryce.

Sunday

Bryce

I kept my arms on my hips and stared out into the crowd as
Alina went down the line, slowly ripping our morph suits open to show off our
abs. After watching Alina twerk on that platform, my boner had grown even more.
Thick jeans wouldn't have even been able to hide it, much less this paper-thin
spandex. Not that I was checking out their junk, but I had noticed that most of
the dancers were enjoying Alina's performance as much as I was.

I heard a rip next to me and then felt Alina's hands slide
around my waist onto my stomach. She traced the contours of my abs with her
fingers and even let them wander to my pecs for a second before pulling the
tab.
Did she do that with all the dancers?

The rush of air against my skin was extremely refreshing
after dancing around in an outfit with so little ventilation. I would have
thought I would only feel the air against my abs where the fabric had been
pulled away, but I felt the breeze all down the front of me. Not only that, but
the uncomfortably tight fabric now felt much looser.
It almost felt
like...

Oh shit.

I looked down and confirmed my suspicions. Rather than a
small part of the fabric tearing away to reveal my abs like it was designed to
do, the entire front of my suit had broken at the seams, leaving my erection
waving freely in the air. In front of thousands of people.

Fuck! Did my boner combined with Alina pulling the tab
really make my suit explode? Or did someone tamper with my suit like I had done
to poor Yao Kai? Why the fuck did I let Tim convince me to go commando under
the morph suit?

My first instinct was to put my hands over my junk, but I
quickly decided that wasn't an option. This was a choreographed dance, but the
audience didn't know
what
we had been choreographed to do. As a result,
all we had to do was make it look like everything was planned. And that meant
not covering my junk. As far as the audience and judges knew, male nudity was
just part of the routine.

I glanced to the side to see if I was the only one suffering
a wardrobe malfunction. Part of me assumed that my dick was the biggest and
therefore most likely to rip my suit open, but it turned out that wasn't the
case. Well, actually, my penis was definitely the biggest, but that didn't mean
that my suit was the only one to rip open. We were all standing in a row,
erections pointed right at the judges.

I tried to get a read on how the judges felt about our
collective wardrobe malfunction. The Asian lady had her lips tightly pursed,
clearly not impressed. But the French lady looked amused, and I was sure the
three male judges were enjoying Alina's dance. If we were lucky, eight guys
whipping their dicks out would boost the creativity portion of Alina's score.

After unleashing the penis of the eighth and final backup
dancer, Alina spun around and lay on the stage. Then she got on all fours and
began crawling in front of us. If I didn't already have a boner, watching her
arch her back and crawl across the stage definitely would have given me one. It
was impossible not to picture myself walking up behind her, ripping her thong
off, and fucking her right there on stage. God, her ass was a thing of beauty.

The only problem was that every other guy in the world
watching her performance, including the seven men standing next to me, were
likely thinking the same thing.
Whatever.
They could look and want all
they wanted, but at the end of the day, she was mine.
Hell, in less than
five minutes she'll be mine.

As Alina crawled in front of us, the dancer to my left began
tearing the remnants of his suit off, leaving only his head covered. It was
probably a good idea, because if we didn't take them off, the torn suits could
have been a tripping hazard during the end of the routine. One of the other
dancers followed his lead, and then another. Soon we were all tearing our suits
off.

Sunday

Alina

Tim really did a wonderful job of choreographing this dance
to make it as awkward as possible for someone wearing a thong. Sure, any dance
would be uncomfortable to perform in a thong, but this one especially so. Every
other move I had done since losing my dress required me to bend over or arch my
back. I looked at the jumbotron where they were showing video from the HD
cameras positioned around the stage. Unsurprisingly, the current feed was a
close-up of my ass.

Seeing the video made me feel even more self conscious than I
already did, so I turned my head to look at my backup dancers instead. Not only
would it give me an opportunity to be sexy and whip my hair around, but I also
hadn't gotten to enjoy the view of my backup dancers' abs.

Whoa! What the fuck is happening?
I expected to see a
line of beautiful six packs, but instead I found myself staring at eight
throbbing erections. It took a second for me to process how it had happened,
but it appeared that the seams on the morph suits had all busted when I pulled
the tabs that should have only torn away a small portion of the fabric. The men
all began tearing the fabric away from the neck down, leaving only their faces
covered.

As the men finished stripping, more cheers erupted from the
audience, mainly from women. And I could see why. Just as an artist can spend
countless hours perfecting a painting or sculpture, so too did these men. Only
their works of art were their bodies, with every muscle sculpted to perfection.
It's natural for humans to identify each other by their facial features,
partially because usually our faces are exposed and our bodies are covered, but
here on this stage, the script was flipped. Their faces were still covered by
the American flag morph suits, but their bodies were exposed in all their
glory. And each of their bodies told a story. Some had woven a tale of years in
gym, adding bulk to specific muscles. Others had spent more time running,
whittling away body fat to leave every fiber and ripple of their muscles just
visible below the skin. Despite the differences, their stories all had the same
ending: a throbbing erection.
For me. God, I'm so fucking horny. Focus.

I wondered which one was Bryce. When I had fooled around with
him in the dorm, he had a happy trail that I could probably identify. But Tim
had made him get waxed at the spa. And he must have had all the other backup
dancers get waxed too, because they were all completely hairless. I focused on
the abs next. All of them were shredded, and at least half, maybe more, looked
like they could belong to a runner. And all of them had impressive erections.

Wait, did I really make all of these men that excited?
The thought was exhilarating. My ass had been the focal point of the dance thus
far, and I had been expecting everyone to find it repulsive. But instead, the
opposite had happened. Just looking at my body had given all eight of my
dancers full erections. Then a crazy thought came to me: From my sample size of
eight men, I had given all of them erections. Did I have the same effect on the
millions of men watching around the world?
Oh my God. Why the hell am I
thinking about this? Why the hell am I checking all of them out?

I turned towards the final backup dancer, crawling towards
him. I was supposed to climb up him like a sexy cat, which wouldn't have been
that weird if the tabs had worked correctly and only exposed his abs. But with
him naked, the climb took on a much sexier tone. I reached up and grabbed his
naked thighs, feeling his smooth skin and tight muscles. As I continued my
climb, I had to dodge to the side to avoid his cock slapping me in the face.
But there was no avoiding it bouncing against my cleavage and poking into my
stomach. I tried to ignore the excitement caused by coming into contact with
his hard cock, but despite my best efforts, my heart beat accelerated and my
body tingled with desire.

"Sorry," I muttered. I was pretty sure that the
climb wasn't supposed to be done on Bryce, which meant I was molesting some
random guy.
Awkward.

 "I don't mind at all," he said. "In fact, I
like slapping you with my cock."

Did he really just say that?
I spun away from him, and
as I did, I caught a glimpse of Gabriela standing backstage, laughing at me.

That fucking bitch! She sabotaged my dancers' costumes to
try to throw me off!

I started my weird samba/twerk combo dance again while my
backup dancers fanned out to form a circle around me. I couldn't believe it,
but the dance was almost over. It really had gone by in a flash. Probably not
for the guys though. I could only imagine how mortified they were that they had
accidentally gotten nude in front of thousands of people.

The only problem was that I didn't know if I had done enough
to win gold. I wasn't the best dancer and the wardrobe malfunction may have
hurt us more than helped us.

The next move involved me going to the front of the stage, so
that gave me an opportunity to look at the judges' faces. They all looked
moderately entertained, but their expressions weren't enough to make me feel
super confident that I was going to win gold.
Fuck.
I had to do
something. Time was running out.

Should I take my bra off like Gabriela did?
I pushed
the thought out of my mind as quickly as it had come. But when I turned around
and saw all my backup dancers standing there with their cocks out, I knew I had
to do it. They hadn't even flinched when it had happened to them. If they were
willing to do that, I could certainly take my bra off.
Thank God for these
pasties.

I unhooked my bra and covered myself with one arm as I turned
back towards the crowd. The crowd cheered as I threw my bra off the stage. And
they cheered even louder when I moved my other hand off my breasts.

I kept my arms up for a few seconds before two of the guys
came around and held an American flag in front of me.

From practice, I knew that Bryce would be to my left. I
couldn't help myself from glancing down to see which erection belonged to him.
I was not at all disappointed.

"Did you guys mean to whip your cocks out?" I said
to Bryce. I felt like I had to yell to talk to him over the cheer of the crowd.

"No. I think someone sabotaged them," he replied.

"Gabriela. That bitch!" I looked over to the side
stage. Gabriela was standing there in her thong and pasties with a stupid smirk
on her face. First she stole my boyfriend to mess with my head before our
volleyball match, and now she sabotaged the costumes for my dance.
I can't
let this bitch win gold.

The music cut out and the crowd cheered. But they weren't
cheering nearly as loud as they did for Gabriela. It was obvious that she was
going to get the gold and Brazil was going to win the medal count, and it was
all my fault.

"Think I did enough to win?" I asked.

"You did incredible, Alina. But honestly, no. I mean,
Gabriela made out with someone at the end of her dance and only got a 15 for
sensuality."

"Shit, we should have put a kiss in."

"There's still time."

"Okay, take your mask off."

"That's too complicated. And anyway, you're going to
have to outdo Gabriela in order to beat her." He glanced down at his
erection.

What?!
"You want me to give you a blowjob in front
of thousands of people?"
Shit, maybe he wasn't joking about not waiting
to get off stage before fucking me.

He shrugged. "They'll just be able to see the shadow
behind the flag. If anyone asks, you can just say you didn't actually do
it."

"No way, Bryce."

"Alright. I guess silver is pretty good."

I looked over at Gabriela again. Chris was standing next to
her and she was saying something to him. My blood started to boil. I couldn't
imagine Gabriela up on that gold podium looking down at me with my silver.
Again.

My eyes returned to Bryce's cock. If I had been thinking
clearly, I would have told him he was crazy. But I wasn't thinking clearly. My
desire to beat Gabriela combined with my starved sex drive overpowered my
rationale with surprising ease.
Fuck it.
"This better get me the
gold."

Before I could change my mind, I dropped to my knees and
grabbed his erection. It was huge. I could have easily fit both hands on it.
But this wasn't a handjob. This was a fucking blowjob. I pumped my hand down
his length as I swirled my tongue around the tip. I looked up to see the look
on his face as I took him into my mouth, but all I could see was his creepy
American flag morph suit covering his face.

Cheers and some gasps erupted from the crowd when they saw
the silhouette of what I was doing behind the flag. My dance track started
pumping through the speakers again.

God, this was so hot. After all this waiting, I was finally
able to have him. With the cheers as encouragement, I brought my hand up to
meet my mouth and then slid my hand and my lips down his shaft in unison. Bryce
moaned loudly. I pulled back and started bobbing up and down to the beat of the
music.

"By the way, why do you keep calling me Bryce?" he
asked.

I pulled his cock out of my mouth and looked up at him.
"What!?"

"Yeah, I'm not Bryce. That's Bryce." He pointed to
the guy holding the other side of the flag.

"Shit, are you serious?" I tried to think back to
practice. I could have sworn Tim was always standing on this side of the flag,
which meant Bryce should have been there in his place. Maybe I switched the
sides in my head though.
Fuck.

He nodded.

I turned to the actual Bryce. "Oh my God, Bryce." I
put my hand over my mouth. "I'm so sorry. I thought that was you."

"It's my fault," he said, shaking his head. "I
went to the wrong side of the flag."

With me still on my knees, his erection was only a few inches
away from my face. I didn't know if he would ever forgive me for blowing some
other guy, but the only thing my irrational, oversexed mind could come up with
to make it up to him was to blow him too.

I grabbed his cock and went right to sucking, trying to do
better than I had done on the fake Bryce to show him how sorry I was.

The crowd cheered even louder than before. And they cheered
even louder when the guys dropped the flag.

Holy. Shit.
Having everyone see the silhouette of me
giving head behind the American flag was one thing. I could have said it was an
illusion, that I didn't really do it. But now, with the flag on the ground,
everyone could clearly see that it was no illusion. I was on my knees, on
stage, in front of thousands of live spectators and millions more on TV, with
my lips wrapped around Bryce's penis.

I immediately pulled back. "What the hell, Bryce?"

"If you're upset about that, you're probably going to be
even more upset when I tell you that I'm not Bryce either."

Fuck my life.
I scowled at him.

"Sorry, you just looked so hot that I couldn't pass up
the opportunity."

"Well that's very sweet of you. In exchange for the
blowjob, can you at least tell me which one is Bryce?" I looked over at my
other backup dancers. They were all standing in a row, with their perfect abs
and their cocks harder than ever. Their abs were all a little different. Some
had six packs, some had eight packs. Some had more defined abs than others.
Their cocks were equally as unique, with some being perfectly straight and
others bending up slightly or to the side. I thought I could identify Bryce by
his abs, but I had already blown the two that I thought were most likely to be
him.

Fake Bryce grabbed my hand and pulled me to my feet.
"You have to keep dancing." He spun me around and then dipped me.

"Please just tell me who it is." I needed to find
Bryce. I needed to apologize for what I just did. I suddenly felt sick to my
stomach.

"If I knew, I'd tell you, but I have no idea. Maybe you
should just keep pretending it's me." He spun me again.

"And why did the music start up again?"
What the
hell is going on?

He completely ignored my question. I felt the first guy I
thought was Bryce grab my hips and lift me in the air. He spun around.

"Put me down!" I hissed.

"We have to keep dancing," he said and placed me
down in front of the line of backup dancers. "But one of these guys must
be Bryce." He did some weird dance move and left me in front of the line
of men.

I was going to just stand there and ask which was Bryce, but
then I realized the judges could be counting this as part of my performance. To
make it a better show, I did one of my moves from earlier.

"If you're Bryce, tell me where we first met," I
said loud enough for all the men to hear me as I shimmied.
Shit, why would I
shimmy when I only have pasties on and no bra?
My boobs were bouncing
everywhere.

"The men's locker room," said one of the guys in
the middle of the group.

Bingo. I found Bryce.
I walked over to him and wrapped
my hand around his thick cock. "Bryce, I'm so, so sorry. I thought both of
those guys were you. They tricked me."

"It's okay, Alina."

"It's not okay, I'm so sorry."

"Let's just pretend that didn't happen. Maybe a nice
blowjob would make me forget all about it..."

"Bryce, can't we just go off stage? I just want this to
be over."

"This is still part of the performance, Alina. We have
to keep going if you want to win gold. And the crowd is loving this."

Everyone in the world had already seen me giving head. Now my
main priority was making sure Bryce didn't hate me. And I trusted him if he
thought this would get me gold. So I just smiled and dropped to my knees.
Why
the hell not?
I pushed his rock hard erection up and licked his length from
the base to the tip. I was going to tease him more, but he didn't want to wait.
He put one of his hands behind my head and pushed himself into my mouth.