The Best Week of my Life Pt6 by scouting4girls

Waking up on my couch in the lounge at my parents’ bungalow following the fractured knee at the start of the week, I reflected wistfully on the past five days. Packed with sexual imagery, it was like an x-rated version of the montage afforded to vanquished contestants on Big Brother, with some satisfying revenge thrown in for good measure. With five hours to find a date for the match, time was on my side to do what needed to be done next.

After a brief exchange with the folks over breakfast, I let myself out of the house, stood to admire my old car with a sentimental eye, before easing up behind the wheel. My ex-girlfriend Debbie normally worked at NatWest, whose local branch opened on Saturdays, and I was banking on her not having taken the morning off.

Opening the door in just a t-shirt and knickers, her seventeen-year old brat of a daughter, Shannon, regarded me like something the cat had dragged in before making a derogatory comment. My benign demeanour and current good humour said let it drop, and I stated my business simply: retrieving my CD’s and DVD’s. I had no wish to take anything of Debbie’s or even that we’d jointly-owned, and certainly had no intention of fleecing her mother. Grudgingly Shannon ushered me over the threshhold, to which I observed: “It’s ten o’clock, do you not think you should put some clothes on?”

She rose to the bait like a perch to a tasty fat maggot. “You’re not my fucking father, never were and certainly never will be.”

Still upbeat from fleecing her biological father, the odious Ronnie Carver, at cards and indeed flush from the win, I reached into my shorts, fishing out two twenties. “Shannon, here’s some money, why don’t you run along to the shops or the cinema for a couple of hours so I can get on with this in peace?”

Shannon surveyed the money covetously, before turning up her nose and shaking her head. “I’m keeping my eye on you,” she stated, as if I was going to run off with the family silver or something.

Ironically, in my current state of incapacity I couldn’t run off with anything. I knew deep down she wanted the cash, and she knew that I knew she wanted it, but she didn’t want to allow me the satisfaction. “Last chance to take £40,” I bargained.

She was having none of it, as ever happier to see someone else suffer than benefit herself. Fuck it, I thought, I’ll really take my time and see how she likes that. It wouldn’t surprise if she had some boy coming around later. Well, I could cramp her style big time. Taking a seat in an armchair, I started on the CD rack, taking each case out, carefully studying it before deciding whether it was mine.

As half an hour passed, I could see Shannon out of my peripheral vision, huffing and puffing. I bet she wished she’d taken the money now, her agitation manifesting in a series of teenaged grunts. I, on the other hand, was quite enjoying the romp down memory lane prompted by these albums, almost as much as the teenager’s discomfort. “Okay, okay, I’ll take your money,” she said finally with a resigned air.

Once a negotiator, always a negotiator, I stifled the urge to grin, instead forming a poker face. “That offer was withdrawn.”

She gave me that ‘fuck-you’ type of glare teenagers have a monopoly on. Getting into our little game with relish, no longer was I burdened with having to bite my tongue and hold my anger in check for the sake of keeping the peace in the household. Many a time in the past, I would have enjoyed nothing less than putting her over my knee, big girl or not, and teaching her a proper lesson. Well, I’d be out of her life for good soon enough, so what if I did piss her off – or more? “Excuse me, but didn’t I say earlier for you to get dressed?”

She hovered in the room, still evidently in the mistaken belief that she was in control in her own house. “You what…? Who the fuck are you to tell me what to do?”

I waited for the words, almost a catchphrase, and she didn’t disappoint, adding almost like clockwork: “You’re not my fucking dad.”

I reckoned that young Shannon needed some new lines if she was to spar verbally with me. Bringing her dad into the conversation was a huge mistake. “Oh yeah,” I observed matter-of-factly, still rummaging idly through the CD collection. “I saw your dad in The Crown on Thursday. So, when was the last time you saw him?”

Immediately I knew I’d touched a raw nerve, wincing at my own audacity. If she deemed me a loser – and I’d be the first to admit I’d had my moments – her father surely wrote the book on losers. Seizing the opportunity, I added with barbed intent: “He ever-so-generously gave me all of his money. No wonder he’s never paid a penny in child support for ten years, always gambling it or pissing it up the wall.”

Shannon’s bottom lip quivered and momentarily the girl was lost for words. She knew it only too well, just would never admit it in front of me. Fathers are supposed to be hero figures right? Well, she would be defending the indefensible and look even more stupid if she tried to argue her father was anything other than a lowlife waster. Not only that, the girl seemed to have all too conveniently forgotten my contributions over the past year that had helped put her through school. She hated the fact that I’d been more of a father to her in a year than Ronnie had in seventeen. But again it wasn’t something she was even prepared to acknowledge, let alone admit. “Have you finished there yet?” she enquired, looking uncomfortable.

“I don’t suppose you’ve met his new GIRL-friend yet,” I added. “GIRL being the operative word. A horrible little tart she is, about your age, if not younger. He seems to like his girls real young does your dad.”

Pots and kettles on my part, I’ll admit, but she didn’t know that. I was beginning to get right under her skin, cheeks flushing with anger. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“I’m only saying as I see. Quite a reputation he has down your school…”

Suddenly Shannon flew at me, the nerve end I’d touched now fully exposed. Little powder-puff clenched fists glanced off my chest as she worked herself into a hissy fit. I let the girl vent her anger before finding a cruel retort. “Shame you didn’t fight him off quite so readily when you were thirteen,” I countered, wincing at words that were as far below the belt as one of Ronnie’s grabs at his daughter’s virgin cunt.

Shannon floundered, mouth agape and caught somewhere between rage and hurt. Stunned, once more she seemed lost for words, finally mustering with bloodshot eyes: “My dad never touched me. Ever.”

I smiled inwardly whilst maintaining a cool exterior. Shannon was, it seemed, quite adept at giving it out, not so at taking it, just like her father really, and especially when it was as close to home as this. Finally erupting in tears, she made to flee. “Oh no you don’t, young lady” I taunted, standing to reach out and catch hold of a skinny wrist, reeling her back towards me like we were ballroom dancing. “You really do disappoint me, Shannon,” I continued, adopting a paternal demeanour. “I thought you had more fight in you than that.”

She remained still and silent, but for a few stray tears, my grip on her wrist tightening until the bone was pinched lightly, inducing a whimper. The truth was that, despite the hard-faced exterior, now exposed under pressure as little more than a veneer, Shannon was just a na? young girl. She tried to pull away, though the harder she pulled the more it hurt her wrist. “Ouch, get off, you’re hurting me.”

“I think It’s time you learnt a valuable lesson, young lady.”

It took the girl by complete surprise as I hoisted her up and across my lap. She bit and scratched and wriggled and caterwauled as we fought, but there was only ever going to be one winner. “If you make any more noise, young lady, I’m going to go and get an orange and shove it in your mouth, okay? Then I’ll duct tape it in place to shut you up properly. That stuff can rip off whole layers of skin when it’s removed. Do you understand what I’m saying, Shannon?”

Suddenly she stilled from the thrashing and stopped screeching, my threat taken seriously as she issued a little whispered affirmation. This was power like I’d never felt before and something that before this week I’d never have dreamt of. My eyes and my mind had certainly been opened by the events I’d taken part in and witnessed. Almost subconsciously I found myself fondling the prone girl’s arsecheeks idly through the light panties. “So is this what your daddy used to do to you when you were young, Shannon?”

“Nooooooo,” she protested weakly. “He never laid a finger on me, I swear. Now, please let me go, Steven, I’ve learned my lesson.”

I exhaled deeply, almost unable to believe how easily the seemingly feisty teenager had been broken. Though I was in no mind to let her off the hook so readily. “I’ll let you go when you tell me the truth.”

“I am telling you the truth,” she whined.

I sighed long and hard to convey the ever increasing annoyance. “Okay Shannon I’m going to give you one last chance. I just want to get to the bottom of it.”

Talking of getting to the bottom of it, my hand was on her pantied backside giving it a good rub and squeeze. It was her own fault: she really should have gotten dressed when given the chance. “I need to know if the rumours are true, Shannon. That will help explain a lot about your shitty little attitude this past year, and then we can move on. All this time I’ve been thinking maybe it was my fault.”

The Celtic defiance in her blood prompted Shannon to wriggle like an eel in a vain attempt to break free, as further pained denials about her father’s duplicity spilled out. Either she really was telling the truth, or she wanted to test how far I was prepared to take this. As I eased my grip momentarily, she relaxed discernibly, perhaps believing I was going to let her go. A week ago I would have. But now my balls were as big as tennis balls and there were to be no more half measures or unfulfiled threats.

Instead, I reached down and tugged at her knickers, a quick jerk and her bare arse was fully exposed. As she wriggled, the wiry mesh of a bushy nest chafed at my upper thigh and I grinned. Having seen, touched and tasted so many fashionably shaven twats of late, to feel a little hair was quite refreshing. “Nooooooo,” she screeched, the resistance returning.

“Right, that’s it, I’m going to get the orange and the duct tape. That is, unless unless you shut the fuck up right now,” I warned, feeling her body go limp once more. “Lift your arms above your head, Shannon – NOW!” I ordered, the words met with immediate compliance.

The t-shirt slid up and off, ruffling the tangle of brunette hair. “W-what are y-you g-going to do to m-me?” she stammered, fully naked now on my lap, the words little more than a child’s whisper.

I allowed a moment to pass. “What do you think I should do?”

“I think you should let me go,” she suggested in hopeful optimism. “I won’t say anything…to anyone.”

I paused for effect, allowing her hope to rise before cruelly snatching it away. “And you think I’d do that after the crap you’ve given me this past year? Not just me but your mother too. That woman works all the hours God gives to keep you in designer trainers and expensive holidays.”

Her head bowed as she took a moment to reflect upon the trouble she’d caused her poor mother with skiving school, petty thieving and staying out late at night. “So, come on, what do you think I should do?” I reiterated in reverent tones.

“Let me go,” she maintained.

Things had changed completely in our relationship, the power having shifted away from her and my way, now that I could be myself and do exactly what I wanted without fear of sparking a family feud. I’d been treading on eggshells for the past year for the sake of her mother and a relationship I’d hoped might see us through to old age. Well, no more and frankly, I couldn’t care less if she told her mother about this. My only real fear, if I saw this through, was the police, though I could hardly see that happening. I think Shannon realised it too, and knew that I had little to lose. Deep down, I hoped she appreciated just how deserved this was. “Well, I’m not going to let you go, so you can get that thought out of your head, not at least until the slate is wiped clean,” I clarified.

I heard Shannon swallow hard, throat constricting in fear as she shivered naked across my lap. “Personally, I believe you need to be taught a lesson in manners. I think you might even want it.”

Verbally she denied it of course, yet bodily she was betrayed, almost subconsciously grinding a furry moistening young twat down on my thigh. As she shifted position, the first telltale drops of juice leaked through the nest at her middle to dab my flesh. “T-taught a l-lesson? H-how?”

“I’m going to spank you, Shannon.”

“Nooooooo,” she squealed, a last vain attempt at defiance. “Oh my God no, that’s just wrong,” fell the words hoarsely.

I let her twist and squirm all she liked until she was breathless and that little act of defiance was out of her system. “And while I’m spanking you I want you to count to ten and call me daddy, you understand Shannon?”

No verbal response, the lips of her pronounced pussy dragged on my thigh like a snail trail. I angled her into the prime position, belly on my lap, rump prominent and plumped up. It had to be the most spankable bum I’d laid eyes upon since Ally Tranter’s. Yet Shannon was two years older and the humiliation tenfold. Raising a firm hand I let it rest shakily at shoulder height, Shannon’s backside quivering, her heavy breathing the only sound in the room. The air rippled as my hand descended. SPANK! “This is the least you deserve,” I cried. “Now count!”

“One,” she whimpered.

SPANK! “That’s for making me spend six hours at the police station that time.”

“Two.”

“Good girl.” SPANK! “That’s for making your mother have to beg the headmaster to let you stay at school.”

“Three.”

SPANK! “That’s for waking me up at four in the morning more times than I care to remember.”

“Owwwwwww. Four,” she moaned, shaking furiously. “No more, oh God Steven, please no more…”

“It’s not Steven. What did I tell you to call me.”

“No more DADDY, pleeeeeeease.”

I grinned. SPANNNNNNK!

“Five.”

“Tell daddy what you are, Shannon.”

Her lower cheeks had started to blush nicely to match the upper ones that were flushed with embarrassment. She hesitated a brief moment, catching the breath that had been shot from her lungs like a ball from a cannon as I administred the glorious fifth. she struggled to re-compose, wailing miserably. “Tell daddy what you are,” I reasoned.

She turned aside and up to look me in the eye. “I’m daddy’s naughty little girl,” she responded breathlessly.

A smug look settled on my face.

The volley of slaps had pushed her cunt back onto my lap and I found her busily rubbing herself. “Oh God, yes you are daddy’s naughty little girl,” I heard myself saying in throaty tones.

Not one to break a promise, I doled out five more powerful, butt slaps, each dutifully counted out and supplemented by a “thank you daddy” at the end. Gingerly she reached up to touch her stung arse, then purring sensuously as the initial pain turned to liquid desire. A complete turnaround, I couldn’t be sure who of us was the more turned on. “Oh daddy, no more pain please. Your little girl will make it up to you.”

Her voice, a near adult speaking in a childish tone, was so arousing my cock sprang up fully to attention, scraping painfully on the crotch of my shorts. “And how do you intend to do that?”

Shannon lifted up and eased off my lap, a mischievous little look on her face as she slid down to the carpet before me. I could hardly get my fly open quick enough, cock springing out telescopically. She reared back as if it this were the first time she’d seen a man’s excited cock so close. “Shannon…?”

It was then that the stunning confession came. And boy was it ever a revelation. Evidently it was the first time she’d seen a man’s excited cock so close, the admission to being a virgin taking me by complete surprise. It seemed that whilst she’d been indulging in mindless truancy, underage drinking and shoplifting, cock remained on Shannon’s ‘to do’ list.

I supposed, somewhat disappointedly, that the confession got Ronnie Carver off the hook, a shame because I’d love to have used it to my advantage if ever he showed his face again in the pub. On the other hand, the foresting of his daughter’s virginity that I was about to embark upon offered ample compensation. I think Shannon only intended to offer a blowjob but I’d had loads of those lately and hadn’t had a good fuck in ages. Reaching over, I pushed her onto her back. Leaning up, supported on her elbows, she watched as I clambered off the armchair and took up a position beside her on the carpet. Her breath was erratic and she was shivering. “Daddy, I’m a little scared.”

In silence I leaned across her body to bestow the first kiss, something that yesterday wouldn’t even have figured in my wildest fantasies – nor hers I suspect. Unsure of such tenderness, Shannon flinched, groaning beneath her breath, a breath that quickened as I lowered to find her soft neck. Closing her eyes, she allowed me to suck, then nibble, then kiss the tender flesh. Lifting a hand, I guided her face back round ninety degrees. This time she held fast, our lips moulding. “Ohhhhhhh daddy,” she moaned back, the words muffled as our tongues collided.

Within no time we were exploring one another’s mouths eagerly, tongues lashing. We remained entangled, licking, sucking and slurping. Shannon eased back and I bent forward with her, holding the embrace. As she flattened out, bathed in my shadow, I saw her smile contentedly. As I lowered, her pert breasts pressed tight to my chest. Reaching over I caressed the brunette twines of hair at the girl’s temple. Still the kiss persisted and, going beyond the point of comfort, I craved oxygen. Finally we uncoupled, exhaling like marathon runners and looking at one another as if we couldn’t quite believe it was happening.

I took a moment to admire the naked seventeen-year old, hands instinctively crossed at her crotch for modesty’s sake. Placing a hand on a soft inner thigh I stroked up, sliding it under her two. She gasped at the intimate contact, the heat radiating from between her legs warming my palm. Bending my thumb I moved it the length of her slit and back, scooping up a light film of cunt dew. Bringing it to my lips I sucked, tasting the bittersweet deposit with delight as Shannon lay dreamily, half-smiling but twitching nervously. Lifting her hands, she made a point of placing them by her sides. “Take me now daddy,” she mouthed.

I smiled reassuringly, cocking my legs across, knees resting between hers. At the same time I lifted her arse, slipping a plumped-up cushion beneath for leverage. Her mound, fringed with wispy curls, pulsed gently. Jockeying for position, my cock head scraped the soft flesh of her inner thigh. As Shannon arched her back, the spongy head met a willing young pussy. Hands at her shoulders I pushed gently yet purposefully. Shannon gasped as she was penetrated by a real cock for the first time ever, her elbows tight to my neck, hands clasped. The tip nudging open the soft moist labia, her cunt, naturally, was extraordinarily tight. As I eased in the first inch to rest the head against her hymen, Shannon issued a series of ‘oohs’ and ‘arghs’, chewing at her bottom lip as she was stretched.

Further penetration impeded by the maidenhead, the two of us took the opportunity to catch a lungful. Bodies pressed tightly together at the middle and basted in sweat, we exchanged awkward yet heartfelt glances. Shannon knew the significance, offering a little nod of acknowledgement and encouragement before clamping her eyes shut. I blew, joyous in the knowledge that future boyfriends, and her husband, would never find her as tight as this. A short sharp stab bust through the barrier in one go, a little squeal and a surprisingly low blood count. Taking her mouth in mine to muffle the whimpers of pain, we kissed like long time lovers and I couldn’t help but be reminded of her mother and the many intimate moments we’d shared.

Drawing back my buttocks, I started out on a gentle, affectionate rhythm, savouring the tightness. As I moved, Shannon’s virgin cunt gripped my inflated cock as tightly as a finger of OJ Simpson’s glove. In and out I probed, becoming slightly more forceful as the vagina became accustomed, until finally the teenager opened up like a flower in spring. Her nails dug the flesh of my shoulders as she beckoned me deeper. Buttocks pumping up and down with newfound purpose, I was in ecstasy as Shannon spread her thighs wider, heels hooked around my calves. “Fuck me hard, daddy,” she begged, staying in character, hands shifting from my shoulders to my arse.

With her consent I began to pump furiously, ravaging the tight young pussy. “Yesssssss daddy,” she screamed. “Harder!”

Stealing a fresh lungful of air, I observed her wish, slamming harder, our bodies locked. My pumping became so intense the cushion beneath her was flattened. Shannon moved with me, quickly picking up on what was expected of her like a fledgling filly finding its feet. Up and down I pounded, the constricted pussy walls bringing me ever closer. Shannon came with a glazed-eyed little whimper, the flow of juices making her pussy more malleable, enabling me to plough deeper. Unable to hold back any longer, such was the vice-like grip of her tight cunt walls on my rock hard cock, one final hammer and I exploded inside her. She squealed, experiencing a second orgasm that lasted ten times as long as mine, before we collapsed in a heap.

—

I awoke some time later, with Shannon curled up in my arms. Issuing a glance at the clock, I was surprised to see it was ten past two, just fifty minutes to get to the match. Though as long as I made it for halftime, I wasn’t unduly concerned. Careful not to wake her, I slipped away from the contented teen, deciding to leave the CD’s and DVD’s. I’d taken enough that morning.

—

Little chance of finding a date for the match, there was barely time to grab a quick refresher in The Crown, but I did so anyway. My arrival coinciding with the end of Natalya’s shift, the proverbial two birds were killed with one stone. I was surprised at the keenness with which she accepted the invitation, though perhaps the prospect of watching twenty-two fit young lads run around a pitch wasn’t without appeal to a certified nymphomaniac. Still unsure of the girl and her extreme brand of fetishes, my intentions were purely honourable, her company preferable to going alone.

With my busted knee necessitating finding a parking spot as near to the gate as possible, the fans’ car park was a whole lot busier than the night before. These under-eighteen games could be hotly contested, typically attracting around three thousand spectators. Already ten minutes into the game owing to the extra time I’d spent with Shannon, three circuits found all the spaces filled. Pulling up by a steward, I explained my predicament, pointing to the plaster cast whilst holding out the tickets. “This way sir,” he heralded, indicating for a barrier to the players and staff area to be raised.

“I must know the right people,” I observed after alighting and pressing a tenner into his palm.

“Yes, the club owner’s wife,” the steward clarified, which explained a great deal about Bonnie. “Follow me and I’ll get to your places in the ground, sir, madam.”

Naturally I’d been expecting to sit in the main stand among the rabble, but none of it. The lovely Mrs Tranter had taken care of that. Though Kentbury Youth was no Man United or Chelsea, its ground did have four executive-style boxes and Natalya and I found ourselves sharing a suite with a dozen others, all men, all well-to-do in suits, shirts and ties.

The only female, my Russian chaperone, dressed as usual in a figure-hugging top and skimpy skirt, received some choice looks, regarded like a stripper at a stag party – which was appropriate really given her extra-curricular activities. Among them was the red-whiskered Ray Tranter who, I had to confess, I’d not adjudged to be a footballing magnate, albeit this was at the discount end of the scale. We’d barely been sat down for five minutes, watching the game through a huge glass panel, when Natalya turned and whispered in my ear: “All these men, Stee-vee, they make me so horny.”

I sighed, somewhat spent from the workout with Shannon. For once, sex was the furthest thing from my mind, and I brushed her hand away from my thigh. Sadly, the first half didn’t exactly prove to be riveting viewing, with the teams going off at the interval nil-nil. But at least we got complimentary drinks and weren’t exposed to the elements. And anyhow, it was the halftime entertainment I was here for, the chance to see my sister and her cheerleader chums strutting their stuff.

As if by magic, the sexy teen sextet took to the pitch to a rousing cheer from those outside in the stands, and rumblings of approval among the middle-aged men with whom we shared the box. The girls took up a position in the centre circle in two lines of three, the taller ones, Gina and the pair whose names I discovered in the program were Amber and Rachel at the back, Sophie, Ally and Mandy at the front. Though she smiled for her audience, I could tell from her body language that Sophie was a bag of nerves. Not that she’d anything to worry about for she looked perfect. The skimpy cheerleader outfit looked amazing against the glow of her tanned skin and the sparkles with the maroon and gold looked incredibly sexy.

She waited expectantly with her friends for the song to start, pom-poms by her knees. A blast of sound and the first routine got underway with energetic abandon, each girl throwing her arms back behind her hips at the side and arching her back athleticly. Stepping back and forth in a circling motion and a complex series of steps, they kept perfect time whilst holding toothy expressions. Marching on the spot, knees raised high, their young breasts, that ranged from Amber’s cute little developing a-cups to Gina’s oversized dd delights, moved freely within the revealing uniforms. At the same time, tresses of equally far ranging shades and styles of hair fell around their shoulders in a perfect rhythm.

I could feel my cock getting hard as, I suspected, was the case with many of the two thousand or so other male spectators in the ground. In the next seat along, I could hear Natalya purr beneath her breath then cross and uncross her legs quickly. I had no doubt she was wet, probably had been since she sat down, the breathtaking routine and sexy school-age female bodies bringing her nicely to the boil. A hand kept slipping to my groin and eventually I gave up pushing it away to concentrate on the performance.

Though all six girls were blessed with nubile beauty and the kind of figures that make men go weak at the knees, my eyes were trained exclusively throughout on my darling sister. With youthful dexterity, she kicked a leg in the air, first one then the other, allowing I and three thousand others to see quite clearly the line of her pussy as it ran up through the centre of her white knickers. My eyes stayed glued to that glorious young crotch, amid lewd thoughts of the treasure beneath.

I suspected that each man in the crowd had his favourite, the one he’d like to take home and do unspeakable things to. All had assets and all had weaknesses physically except, in my biased opinion, Sophie. There was nothing about the cute young blonde I’d change. Having to watch this, so near yet so far, was pure mental torture, and I was tempted to smash through the glass and clamber over heads onto the pitch to claim my prize. Cruelly, Sophie turned her back on me, bending forward to touch the ground. In doing so, her legs parted, the skirt rose up and her pussy stretched in the panties. A final dazzle and a twirl and the fist routine ended in perfect synchronicity.

Warm applause and cheers rang out from the crowd, greeted by gracious bows from the perspiring teenaged girls. A short respite and they stood to attention in readiness once more, pom-poms held diagonally from their bodies. The tannoy cranked out a fresh tune and immediately the six-strong team sprung into action, throwing their hands back, jumps forward, jumps back then falling to the floor in a sort of push up. Now up, and around, they lifted thier shapely legs, skirts falling down around their waists and over before doing the splits gymnastically, skirts falling around legs. They brought one leg each over and lay back on the grass, waving their pom-poms in the air.

A deft piece of leg movement and they were back on their feet, stepping by one another in a reel before, in a grand finale, pom-poms flew into the air and were caught as the music stopped. Cheers rang out as every spectator from eight to eighty basked in their glory. We were sad to see them leave, a bad case of the support upstaging the headline act. But leave they did, taking up a position near the tunnel to cheer the teams back out.

Starving hungry and, anxious not to have my semi-hard cock paraded before a dozen other men, I leapt up from the seat to go in search of something to eat. Returning ten minutes later with the half eaten burger and dragging on a strawberry shake, I found the suite surprisingly quiet and deserted. Well, not completely deserted, as Bonnie appeared from smewhere to greet me. “A good choice of date,” she observed with a smile before tilting to embrace me.

After returning the kiss warmly, I eased away, non-comprehending. She gestured, and I followed in her footsteps. At the far end of the suite was a wooden door marked ‘Physio room’. Reaching up, she switched on the TV in the corner, activating yet another of her spy cameras. I smiled, piecing together the clues like a detective and having a fair idea who was going to be the star of the show, and who’d comprise the supporting cast.

The inside of the treatment room was revealed, all white and airy with grey blinds over the windows. At first, nobody moved. Then one, a tall, handsome guy with blond hair, looseened his tie, tore off an Armani shirt, unbuckled his pinstripe trousers and edged forward. In a flash, like they were waiting a sign, everyone else did the same. As soon as the blond one who, I later learned was the club chairman, had his semi-hard dick out, a naked Natalya addressed him, fell to her knees, and the prick disappeared in her mouth. Suddenly the others started to cheer like a goal had been scored.

The enthusiasm and sight of Natalya with a cock in her mouth – doing what she does best – was truly intoxicating, even for a spectator. Bonnie moved closer and we stood side-by-side, our arms around one another, watching the action unfold. Occasionally she’d turn and we’d exchange kisses.

Inside, within no time a circle had formed around Natalya and eleven other pairs of hands were taking turns to grope her small, curvy body whilst stroking themselves hard. As Natalya eagerly deepthroated the blond guy, making loud slurping noises and clearly enjoying herself no end, two others muscled in at the sides, squeezing her tits and presenting their hard cocks as another, a middle-aged balding man, moved behind, shoving a finger into her wet slit. Natalya moaned all over the prick in her mouth. “Come on, slut suck it, suck it harder,” the chairman ordered.

Revelling in the show of authority, the Russian girl looked up with a faraway look, took his dick out of her mouth and said: “You do it for me, big boy. Don’t stand there and let me suck your cock, fuck my slutty mouth ya!”

It didn’t take a second for him one to rise to the challenge. In a flash, his large, thick cock was back inside Natalya’s mouth, but this time he held her by the hair and plunged it down her throat unceremoniously. The Russian stripper gagged and her cheeks flushed, looking as if she might pass out any second but, when mercifully the chairman let his dick slide out of her throat again, she admonished: “More, do it harder, make me choke ya!”

So that was what he did, ramming it in so hard down her eyes seemed to bulge out of their sockets. With her hands, taken by two other guys to their cocks that she wanked in unison, all she could do was to make sure her throat was open sufficiently to accept the pounding. “Take it all you filthy slut, choke on my dick, come on, choke,” Blondie roared.

He fucked Natalya’s face for a good minute, then pulled back. Natalya gagged, a thick line of saliva drooling down the corners of her mouth. “Oh yeah, that’s it,” she enthused between rapid intakes of breath. “Do it again, do it harder, use me ya.”

“She’s good,” observed Bonnie next to me, turning so that we could exchange another lingering kiss, as her husband Ray waited in the circle.

Moving back into position, the chairman started over again, only harder, fingers wrapped even more tightly in her hair. Natalya’s face showed signs of discomfort, but also of unbelievable sexual hunger. Baldie decided he was tired of fingering, repositioning to jab a long thin cock forward. From the pained look on Natalya’s face, it was evident he hadn’t gone for her pussy. Meanwhile, the two getting handjobs were starting to show signs of orgasmic proximity as others surrounded, trying to get their hands on a precious piece of cunt, tit or arse and desperate for a turn. “Hey, let me underneath that slut,” one of the men called, and I noticed it was the big man Ray that stepped to the fray.

I felt a squeeze of the hand and Bonnie gush: “That’s my man,” the sexual freedom and openness between the pair like nothing I’d ever encountered.

The guy reaming Natalya’s ring dutifully shifted position for the big man and, within the blink of an eye, both dicks were being pushed into Natalya’s fuckholes. Her muffled screams rose an octave as they began pumping simultaneously, stretching her obscenely. Soon, the whole of Baldie’s shaft was embedded in her bowels as Ray pumped up from beneath. Displaying a wanton smile, it hadn’t taken Natalya long to get used to it. Indeed, she was grinding on both the cocks inside her body, trying to get them in even deeper, if that were possible whilst being face-fucked vigorously and wanking off two others.

Soon, those two side-on guys could hold back no longer, the first of many to cum, spraying her tits from both sides with thick seed. Next it was the turn of the chairman to spew his seed, ensuring to draw back and dump his load all over her face. Natalya blinked as some of the goo hit her eye. Within moments, the spent ones were replaced by three other guys with hard dicks and huge grins, who were soon plunging in and out of Natalya’s mouth or being wanked vigorously. Occasionally, she’d bring the two in closer, rubbing their cockheads on her tits and nipples.

Outside, in the stadium, a loud cheer went up as a goal was scored, though no one in the physio room paid the slightest heed. Bonnie had though, bouncing up and down like Dolly Parton on acid. We hugged, did a victory dance, then went back to our voyeuristic pursuit.

As Ray and Baldie worked hard, Natalya enjoyed her first orgasm, screaming madly and spitting the cock from her mouth. The erratic spasming of her body in turn sent the pair in her fuckholes over the edge and their faces contorted as two thick loads were dumped in her womb and bowels respectively. The final two took up positions, to make it a nice round dozen and when they, the latest two latest handjobs and the mouth fucker came with a series of grunts, her whole body, hair and holes were covered in sticky, cloying semen. Natalya had succeeded in bringing off all twelve, and the second half was only a third of the way through.

Bonnie reached up to turn off the TV as inside, suit trousers were pulled up, designer shirts buttoned and ties straightened. To supplement his sperm donation, each man threw a fifty onto the physio table before filing out. Bonnie pushed through the exodus and led Natalya off to the showers. That they were gone for the rest of the match told its own story. I imagined the lustful Mrs Tranter had a whale of a time helping Natalya freshen up, doubtless drinking the cocktail of cum from the girl’s cunt and arse holes.

An anti-climax thereafter, the match finished one-nil to the home side which was enough for the celebrations to begin in earnest. Enough excitement for one day, after a couple of glasses of champagne to show willing but with no wish to lose my licence or compromise what I had planned for the Sunday, I sloped off early. Besides, it meant I was able to intercept Sophie and get her home safely. Well, it’s what any considerate elder brother would have done. I wasted no time in telling her how talented a cheerleader she was and how she’d outshone the others. Again, it was the brotherly thing to do though I truly meant it.

As we pulled up outside the bungalow, she leaned over to kiss me. I puckered up, taken by surprise when her little tongue brushed over my lips. Opening my mouth, it slunk inside and I moved my hands to the middle of her back, stroking down to the hip. It was Sophie that broke away with a contented smile. “Hey, so what you have planned for tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow?”

“Your birthday, silly.”

In all that happened it would have been easy to forget that turning thirty-one was imminent, though it hadn’t quite escaped my mind. With a huge smile, I revealed: “We’d better have a party, hadn’t we?”

“Yay!”

Well, what better way to end the best week of my life?

—

Coming up in the final instalment of The Best Week of my Life:

The party to end all parties?