This is a sequel to "Tickle Training."  I had considerably more 
input (beyond mere stylistic and mechanical matters) than in the 
earlier one.            
 

            

                       THE BIG GAME

                            by 

                  Feline and C. Lakewood



A month had passed since Sara started coaching the boys' soccer 
team, and an important away match against their biggest rivals 
was looming.  After her experiences the first time, she had 
very nearly told Mary that she couldn't continue to coach the boys.  
She was far too embarrassed about what had happened, however, 
and she just couldn't bring herself to explain to Mary WHY she 
had to stop...and, in fact, a deep, secret part of her actually 
didn't want to stop.

Sara had told herself that she couldn't face wearing that same 
tracksuit in front of the boys on her second night coaching them, 
so she found herself "forced" into wearing her old netball skirt.  
Even after a month she found it hard to admit to herself that she 
liked wearing it.  It was so short that, unless she stood quite 
still and upright, she was constantly flashing her knickers.

At first she had worn large, plain white knickers, the sort of 
thing she felt her mother would have worn.  Over the last four 
weeks, though, she had been slowly moving towards ever more 
skimpy and transparent ones, using them to deliberately tease 
and taunt the boys.

Sara had both feared and hoped something would happen with them, 
but so far nothing had.  Oh, they looked, leered, and even produced 
the occasional wolf whistle, but not one of them ever touched her.  
They didn't even brush up against her accidentally.

Every week, after practice, Sara asked herself, "Why don't they do 
something?"  She started to worry that they didn't find her sexy 
any more, that the way she had humiliated and embarrassed herself 
the first week had put them off her.

For the last practice before the competition, Sara decided to wear 
her thinnest, most see-through pair of knickers.  They had been a 
favourite of her last boyfriend; he said they made her look like 
"sex on legs."  

For the entire practice, she was parading around the playing field, 
letting the wind blow her skirt up, bending down, standing with her 
legs wide apart.  Every one of the boys got a perfect view of every 
paltry square inch of her knickers, but they didn't seem to care!
  
She put on a brave face, but, by the end of the practice session, 
she was nearly in tears inside.  How could they care more about 
some stupid football match than her?  As she sat at home that 
night, nursing a glass of wine, she realised with a start she 
was no longer thinking about them as children, but as boyfriends.  
Of course, they WERE all 18 or older...no longer really "boys" 
(though that's what she continued to call them), but not quite 
"men," either.  Maybe it was hormonal, but they certainly were 
reminding her of her last boyfriend, who turned out to be a 
complete ass who cared more about sport than her.

Feeling hurt and rejected, she was starting to consider giving up 
coaching.  When Mary rang her, all in a flap, on Friday night, Sara 
was still unsure about what to do.

"Sara, look, I AM sorry to do this to you, but there is a problem 
with the bus that was supposed to take the team to their match 
this Sunday."

"Oh?  Is it serious?"  Sara was in two minds about this news; one 
was sad for the boys, but the other was thinking that this was the 
perfect excuse to simply drop the whole silly exercise.

"The only transport we can get is a minibus.  There is enough room 
for the boys, but we are one seat short.  So, in order for you to 
go -- and you have to go, otherwise the school won't pay for the 
minibus -- two people are going to have to share a seat.  Since 
you are the smallest person going, we are going to have to ask you 
to sit on the lap of one of the boys...both there and back."

It was clear from Mary's tone of voice that she expected Sara to 
blow her top at this news.  For what seemed like forever, Sara 
simply sat there, holding the phone, trying to picture herself 
sitting on the lap of one of the boys, in a cramped minibus, his 
hard-muscled chest pressing into her, her arms holding onto him 
tightly for safety and stability.

Eventually Mary said, "You are very quiet.  Are you okay?"

With a jolt, Sara realised that her left hand had been caressing 
her pussy while she sat here, thinking about what the trip would 
be like.

Struggling to hide her excitement, she replied that she was "fine," 
and that such an arrangement would be "fi-"...um..."satisfactory."

"You know, it almost sounds like you are enjoying this idea," Mary 
said, in a teasing voice.

At Sara's spluttered denials, Mary started to chant, "Sara's got a 
toy boy...Sara's got a toy boy."

Sara tried to explain there was nothing going on and that she was 
too young to qualify as having a toy boy, but Mary just kept on 
chanting.  In the end, Sara simply put down the phone with Mary 
still in mid-chant.

Sara spent a fair part of Saturday thinking about the coming match 
-- and especially about the trip there and back.  What to wear 
became a major question.  Her tiny skirt was a must, she quickly 
decided, but what else?

In the end, after considerable debate, she settled on a dark blue 
thong, a sports bra, and a skimpy top that was slightly too small.  
Trying on the outfit and considering herself in the mirror, Sara 
felt massively embarrassed when she saw that, if the back of the 
skirt blew up, it would look like she had nothing on underneath.  
Adding in the effect of how the top showed off her chest, she felt 
more like a prostitute than a team coach.

She also noticed in the mirror that her thong was too small to 
cover her pubic hair entirely.  She tried a bit of pruning, but 
kept failing to get it right, and, in the end wound up shaving 
herself completely smooth.

When she remembered that other people would be seeing her at this 
match, she almost chickened out, but her anger and resentment over 
how the boys had been ignoring her was too strong.  She was 
determined to get a reaction from them this time, no matter what.

So, as midday Sunday arrived, Sara found herself filled with an 
almost overwhelming feeling of both trepidation and determination.  
"How will the boys react?  Will the boys react?  What if the boys 
don't react?"

Then the minibus was drawing up, and there was no more time to 
wonder.  She busied herself in mothering the boys, ticking their 
names off, making sure everyone had his kit and that no one had 
forgotten anything.  As she checked each boy, she told him to 
find an empty seat on the bus.  Soon, they were all on board, 
and, taking a deep breath to calm her nerves, Sara climbed on, 
too.  A sea of curious faces met her, and Todd called out from 
the back of the bus, "Where are you going to sit, Miss?"

As she started walking up the bus towards the back seat, she was 
aware of a lot of whispering, the boys guessing that she would have 
to sit on a lap somewhere.  Overhearing this, and the speculation 
that she would never do that, Sara smiled to herself.  The feeling 
of being in control, of being the powerful adult surrounded by a 
sea of boys gave her the courage to continue.

Careful to act as if it was totally normal, something she did every 
day, she turned as she reached Todd, lifted up the back of her 
skirt, and sat down firmly right on his lap.  As she wiggled her 
bottom to make sure she was well-seated, she was thrilled to feel 
his solid erection pressing into her.

Half-turning on his lap and wrapping his arms around her waist, she 
said, "I will just sit here, if that's okay with you, Todd."

Watching the boys' expressions -- the looks of mingled shock, 
surprise, and lust -- Sara felt herself growing increasingly 
wet.  She knew she should have been blushing bright red, feeling 
overwhelming embarrassment at the way she was exhibiting herself, 
but instead she felt sexy, alive, powerful, and desirable.

Seeing the bus was getting ready to move off, she gripped Todd's 
arms and took the opportunity to brush her chest across his body. 

For the first ten minutes of the journey, she pretended that 
everything was normal and chatted politely with the boys all 
around her about the game, the other team, and what they thought 
their chances were.

During a lull in the conversation, one of the boys remarked with 
a smirk that the playing field was fairly exposed, and, with any 
luck, it would be nice and windy.  "That should give us a real 
advantage, since the other team will be too busy looking at you 
to play properly."  Even as he said it, Matthew wished he hadn't.  
He was afraid he'd gone too far.  After that first episode, the 
boys had all agreed to be very careful.  If word of what had 
occurred ever got out, well, they didn't know what would happen, 
but they were sure it wouldn't be good.

The comment was followed by a nervous silence.  None of the boys 
knew how Sara would react.  They had all noted her increasingly 
sexy outfits, but none of them could really believe it was for 
them.  They were all sure she was teasing her boyfriend, although 
none of them had ever spotted him.

Finally, after a painfully long silence, she asked, "Why won't YOU 
fellows be distracted?  Don't you like what I am wearing?"

Looking from boy to boy, she found that none of them was prepared 
to meet her gaze.  They were all blushing to varying degrees and 
looking embarrassed.

Finally she looked at Todd.  As the oldest boy and the team 
captain, he was their natural spokesman.  But even he seemed 
unable to look her in the eye...though the constant pressure 
of his erection was answer enough.

Slowly, almost tenderly, Sara reached out to lift up Todd's 
face, to make him look at her, to get him to answer her question.

Blushing deep red and wishing for all the world he was somewhere 
else, Todd tried to avoid her stare.  However, that was impossible.  
He tried to shift and shuffle.  However, this only made him even 
more aware of her presence on his lap and made things worse for 
him.

With a sigh, he started, "Well, after the first time you coached 
us, we agreed it was best not to look."  Seeing that she obviously 
wanted more, he reluctantly continued.  "See, the thing is, we have 
seen it all before, and, um, well, this game, it IS important to 
us."

Sara sat back, while the boys waited for an explosion.  She found 
that she didn't know what to feel.  On one hand, they were showing 
more sensitivity for her feelings than any of her recent boyfriends 
had ever managed.  But, at the same time, she DID want them to look. 

Reaching a decision (and using her most sexy and alluring voice), 
she turned to face Todd fully and asked, "What if I wanted you -- 
all of you -- to look?"

Todd just sat there, not knowing what to say to this.  Suddenly 
Matthew shouted out, "We WOULD look if you were naked under your 
skirt."

Sara was silent for several moments, slowly starting to turn bright 
red.  She could see from Todd's expression that he was trying to 
work out what to say, and that he was having great difficulty.  
However, while the boys thought she was angry, Sara was suddenly 
feeling very aware of just how short the skirt really was...and 
that she was about to parade around in front of a large number of 
total strangers.  These thoughts were leaving her both terrified 
and incredibly excited as she considered just how much everyone 
would be able to see if she really was naked underneath.

Remembering her earlier promise to herself to reawaken the boys' 
interest in her, she reached down and grabbed Todd's right wrist, 
and placed his hand on the front of her skirt, right over her very 
wet pussy.  "Yes, I bet you would all look if I were naked 
underneath.  What a shame I am not."  Her voice and her actions 
were an open invitation to the boys, but no one was quite sure 
what to do.

Sara looked around the bus at the boys, and then she returned her 
gaze to Todd, who by now was blushing bright red, and looked to be 
close to having an orgasm in his pants right then and there.

Inspired by his raging erection, Todd asked, "What if we are in 
the lead at half-time, Miss?  If we are, will you take off your 
knickers for us?  As our coach, you are supposed to help inspire 
us, you know."  Todd finished in a defensive tone, obviously 
prepared for an offended refusal.

By now Sara's breathing had become very shallow as she once more 
imagined just how incredibly embarrassing this would be.

After nearly a minute of simply sitting on Todd's lap, wriggling 
and squirming occasionally, she replied, "The thing is that you 
are favoured to win, so you will almost certainly be in the lead 
at half time.  Why, then, should I agree?"

It was clear from the expressions of the boys that, whatever 
reaction they had expected to get, this wasn't it.

With a gulp, Todd answered, "What would you like if we aren't in 
the lead?"

With a shiver, Sara reached a sudden decision.  Turning and looking 
straight at Todd, she said, "When I first became your coach, you 
were very bad boys.  And bad boys should be spanked.  So, if you 
are behind at half-time, I will spank each and every one of you, 
naked, of course.  But, if you are in the lead...then, yes, you 
can have my knickers at half time."  

One of the boys piped up then, asking, "And what if the score's 
tied?"

Sara hesitated.  Prudence dictated that the bet would simply be a 
no-contest, but prurience had a different idea.

"In that case, BOTH penalties will apply.  Shall we shake on it?"

Todd was clearly unsure about this, but he found himself unable to 
back down in front of her and the entire team, so he reached out 
and shook on it.  As Sara was shaking, a wide and mischievous grin 
stole across her face.  Letting go of Todd's hand, she slid her 
hand down the front of his trousers and gave his rock solid 
erection a single firm jerk.  This was more than enough to make 
him orgasm on the spot, with his grinning coach still sitting on 
his lap.

		******************************

At the grounds, Sara had to stand around for a time, while the boys 
rushed off to get changed for the match.  It had turned into a 
rather wet and windy day during the trip, but still very mild.  
A classic English summer day, Sara couldn't help thinking.

As she waited for the boys to emerge and the game to start, her 
eyes were drawn to the far side of the pitch.  There was some 
building work going on over there, and the ground seemed to have 
turned into one massive sea of cold water and thick, sticky mud.  
Sara shivered at the sight and felt heartily glad that she wasn't 
playing.

When the game began, the boys threw themselves into action with 
unusual enthusiasm.  Indeed, they were too eager...and far too 
careless.  

Within ten minutes they were a goal down!

At this distressing sight, Todd gathered the team into a quick 
huddle at mid-field.  As they talked, they kept throwing longing 
glances at Sara, standing on the side of the field and pretending 
not to notice how all the men were staring at her short skirt...and 
how it fluttered in the wind.

After the huddle, the boys pulled themselves together and, 
defending with skill and daring, managed to prevent another 
opposition goal.  They even succeeded in equalising just 
before the half ended.  

As the whistle blew, it suddenly hit Sara.  Here she was, in 
public, and she had to remove her thong, leaving herself with 
nothing under her skirt.  She was going to have to stand here 
for the rest of the match, in this gusting wind, under the 
watchful eyes of...well, everybody...and simply pray none of 
them saw anything.  HA!

She was already wet...and getting wetter.

Quickly the boys gathered around her, shouting and jumping, 
obviously excited at the prospect of what was about to happen.

Matthew seemed to have mixed feelings, however.  "They're cheating, 
Miss.  I heard some of them talking.  That big, oily bugger...the 
one who scored for them...a foreigner, he is...played more or less 
professionally off in Bulgaria or somewhere...." 

Sara was trying to comprehend this latest development while 
composing herself to face a fantasy becoming real.  It took 
a moment for her to realise that Todd was standing right in 
front of her.  He shrugged.  "Never mind, Miss.  I think we 
can deal with that one."  Then he grinned.  "First things 
first.  The score's tied; we have something to collect."  He 
dropped to his knees and snaked his hands up under her skirt.

"Oh my god, this isn't what I meant," thought Sara.  It was one 
thing to take off her thong herself, privately, but being stripped 
by someone else, in a very public place....

However, even as she was thinking this, Todd had her thong down 
around her ankles and was trying to get her to lift her right foot. 

As she hesitantly raised first one leg, and then the other, she 
reflected that he had no technique.  There were none of the gentle 
caresses or kisses she would have expected from a lover who was 
performing such an intimate act.

With a jolt, she realised she was once more comparing this boy, 
this relative child, to a lover!  What was she thinking?  And in 
public, too!  Suddenly her hands flew to the front of her skirt, 
pressing it down and in, to protect her suddenly naked and far 
too exposed pussy from public gaze.

Todd was now standing up again, holding onto the thong as if it 
were the World Cup.  It was clear from the massive grins on all 
the boys' faces that they were enjoying this immensely.

Somehow this left Sara feeling all the more vulnerable and exposed. 

		******************************

The rest of the game passed in a haze.  Sara spent all of the time 
looking around her -- and flinching -- rather than watching the 
play.  To her, the knowing smirks of the men standing around and 
openly ogling her outfit, seemed different now.  She was sure they 
knew she was butt-naked under her skirt.  She couldn't tell exactly 
whom she was flashing, or when, but she was afraid that all the 
people on or near the field were getting a share.

To make a bad situation worse, she was excruciatingly aware that 
she didn't even have the minimal screen of pubic hair to hide 
behind.

And that just made her wetter.

The one thing she was sure of was that she needed to get out of 
there...to get to somewhere with a bit of privacy as soon as 
possible...and have a bloody great orgasm.

The final whistle brought her back to the edge of awareness.  The 
boys were galloping (or limping) over, jubilant, and Sara became 
dimly aware...that they had WON! 

She was thunderstruck.  "Wh-what about th-that Bulgarian ringer?" 
she wondered aloud.

"Oh, well....  I guess he broke his leg...."  Matthew looked smug 
as his team-mates pounded him on the back.

"He wasn't properly watchin' where he was goin', was he, Miss?"

"Crikey!  Looked like 'e was...distracted by somefing, Miss...." 

Sara had just decided she didn't want to hear any more about THAT 
sequence of events, when things began to really spiral out of her 
control.  
  
Suddenly there were hands all over her -- lifting her up and 
spreading her legs.  She let out a loud yelp of surprise as 
she found herself being hoisted up and perched on shoulders 
-- two or three pairs of them.

Now she was terrified, shouting for the boys to stop their 
"nonsense" and put her down.  Up in the air with her legs 
held wide apart, she just knew that everyone -- whether or 
not they'd glimpsed anything before -- would now get a perfect 
and prolonged view of her wet and naked pussy!

Her voice was drowned out by the sounds of the boys celebrating 
their win, and her attempts to break free were simply shrugged 
aside.  Once more she found herself forcefully reminded of just 
how strong these boys were.

They all had their jerseys off, and the boys on the periphery of 
the pack were waving theirs in the air, as the team paraded her 
boisterously around the perimeter of the field.  Her perch proved 
precarious, however, and, when she began to wobble dangerously, 
there was no lack of volunteers to help steady her.  Eager hands 
supported her bare bottom and thighs, warm fingers wriggled their 
way into her.  (The metaphor of a bowling ball flickered across 
her mind.) 

When the group finally staggered to a halt, quite out of breath, 
and dumped her in a heap in the middle of the somewhat muddy field, 
Sara managed to gasp, "Oh, god, what are you doing?" 

"Why, we are looking," came the unexpected reply.  Sara looked up 
to see Todd standing in front of her, grinning like a maniac.  
"After all, you said you wanted us to look, so we decided to 
not only look ourselves but to put on a little show for the 
other team."

"Oh my god," thought Sara, the others!  In her shock at being 
manhandled by the boys, she had temporarily forgotten the other
people.

She started struggling, flailing with her arms and her legs, trying 
to break free...but it was at best a half-hearted effort to free 
herself from the hands that were holding her and, more importantly, 
taking advantage of this opportunity to grope her mercilessly.  
Although she would have denied it if asked, secretly she was 
enjoying the feeling of all these boys toying with her.

However, most of her attention was focused on Todd, who obviously 
had more to say.  

She shook her head, as if to clear it.  "Even MORE of a show?  
What k-kind of sh-show?" she asked.  Suddenly very aware of the 
implications of his words, she was trying (and failing) to sound 
nonchalant.

"Well," Todd started, enjoying the nervous look in her eyes as he 
kept her in suspense.  "We were thinking of seeing if you were 
ticklish...still."

As he said this, several of the boys started ferociously tickling 
her.  She had no time or breath to try and reason with them, since 
she was gasping for breath through the howls of laughter in no time 
at all.

As she struggled, one small part of her mind noticed that the boys 
were treating her differently.  There were two or three hands 
working up and down her sides all the time, and a couple more boys 
tormenting the backs of her knees and her inner thighs.  The 
fingers were constantly in motion, sometimes pressing hard enough 
to stop tickling and simply caress. Indeed, most of the boys 
weren't trying to tickle her at all; they were simply feeling 
her up.

As she squirmed and writhed, she vaguely noticed that a sizeable 
crowd had gathered at the edge of the playing field, but nearly 
all of her attention was taken up with the tickling and the boys 
fingering her naked pussy.

Her world was narrowing down.  Already Sara was hardly aware of the 
mud, or the damp, or even of the watchers.  All that mattered to 
her was the endless fingers working over her body -- her sides, her 
legs, her arm-pits...and (especially) her pussy.

The boys seemed to have learned from last time, and were focusing 
all of their attentions on her most ticklish spots.  While making 
a noise half way between a sob and a laugh, Sara thanked the gods 
they had left her feet alone so far.

Her pussy wasn't getting off so lightly, though.  Every one of her 
boys seemed to want to run his fingers over her exposed flesh, to 
feel her, to caress her.  All they were doing was rubbing her, but 
it was constant, random, demanding, and now and then one of them 
would brush her clitoris.  Sara didn't know whether it was 
more likely she'd orgasm from the mounting sexual tension...or 
piss herself from the mounting pressure on her bladder.

Suddenly, and without warning, all of the hands stopped moving, and 
Sara was left gasping like a fish out of water.  She was devastated 
that they had stopped rubbing her pussy, but was capable of voicing 
only the feeblest of protests, and even that died when a couple of 
the boys shook her insistently.  A voice (Matthew's by the sound of 
it) whispered into her ear, "Be quiet, now, Miss.  Listen to Todd." 

Sara snapped out of her sexual daze abruptly and, being only 
loosely held, was able to struggle up into a sitting position.  
The surrounding group of boys pulled back and opened ranks, and 
Sara got a good look at the excited spectators staring back at her.  
Omigod!  What was going on?  How could she possibly be trying to 
have an orgasm here in public, in front of all those strangers?  
Even as she started to blush bright red all over, she realized 
she was being spoken to -- firmly.

"Show your team spirit, Miss.  Take off your top and wave it," Todd 
seemed to be commanding her. 

She obeyed, though her demonstration was rather sheepish.  She was 
mortified by the way her breasts surged back and forth as she swung 
the top.

"Bra, too."

"Ung!" she replied.  But she obeyed...and heard applause from the 
on-lookers. 

"This just CANNOT be happening to me," Sara kept telling herself.  
However, deep inside a part of her was thrilled.  "Would they 
strip me completely and parade me naked around the playing field?" 

Only later did she look back on it all and wonder why she 
never really tried to resist...why she became so subMissive, 
so readily...and why she became so WET.  

At the time, though, she just realized she was grateful when the 
boys closed in around her again, forming once more a solid wall 
of protection with their bodies.  Sara felt safe in their midst 
and didn't blink when her top and bra were plucked from her grasp 
and she was given a team jersey to wear -- one that turned out to 
be both sweat-soaked and rather too small for her.  It molded to 
her breasts perfectly.

Todd said, "Show's over...for THEM."

The pack moved slowly away from the field.  The other team and 
the spectators stood back a few feet, giving them room to move, 
but close enough to get a good look should there be an encore.

Instead of heading for the showers as Sara had half-expected, the 
group returned all the way to the minibus.

"We can wait 'til we get back to shower and change....  You don't 
mind, do you, Miss?  Not too high-smelling, are we?"

"No...I-I think you all smell quite MANLY!  That is...um...um...."

Todd grinned and pulled her down onto his lap.  "Good.  And there's 
also the second penalty to be paid."  She wriggled about, happy 
that he had removed his cup.

"You do remember the EXACT terms of the agreement, right?" he 
prompted.

"'EXACT terms'?" she wondered.  She'd get to spank them, of course, 
and she licked her lips at that thought, but....  She thumbed 
through her memory and her own voice echoed back very clearly: 
"I will spank each and every one of you, naked, of course."  She 
gulped.  Exactly WHO was supposed to be "naked" was a trifle vague, 
admittedly, but....

She wriggled again and sighed, contentedly.

"Well, I suppose it does behoove me to be a good sport...."

The light inside the van had already grown dim, so she felt rather 
than saw eager, nimble fingers pulling off her shoes and socks and 
beginning to caress her sensitive feet.

She sensed it was going to be a long trip and a bumpy ride. 



  
