The Booster Club Chinese Auction

©2009 Herb Cat. Do not reproduce or distribute this story without the author's permission.

As an author, I welcome feedback from readers. Please send any comments about this story, positive or negative, to Herbcatwriter@yahoo.com. Thank you.

.oOo.

"Hey, Hey! Wow! Lookit Her!" Male voices! Young male voices.

Toni-Jo raised her head. ((Oh, No! Football players, one after another, are coming into the room. I've been caught lying on their massage table. I'm so embarrassed. What kind of story can I make up. I wish I didn't have this scarf in my mouth. What are they all looking at? Oh, no! I'm naked, and my ankles are tied down so my legs are spread open. They can see my girlhood! I feel so ashamed.))

((They look so handsome. They're my heroes. They're wearing their jerseys. Not the uniforms they wear on the field. The jerseys they sport in school, to show everyone they're on the team. More boys are coming in. The room is so small. Oh, no. There's Zach! How awful for him to see me like this. He must be thinking I'm really a terrible person. Oh, he smiled. He wants me to know it'll be ok. That he'll still love me. He's so gallant.))

((Oh, no, there are some men following the boys in. There's Coach himself. I want to tell him I'm sorry I lay on his massage table. Who is that man? He's coming forward. He looks familiar. Of course, that's vice-principal Hollander. Now I'm really in trouble. Oh God, I hope he doesn't tell Daddy what I did.))

But Ron Hollander didn't say anything to Toni-Jo. He addressed the players. "Now, Boys, you all know the rules. You bought your tickets and you better check you wrote your name on each one. Remember, you must place at least one ticket in every sack, but then you can put the rest of them in any sacks you want."

Toni-Jo wanted to interrupt. ((That's not the way a Chinese auction works. You don't have to put a ticket in every sack. This stupid scarf. I can't say anything.))

But the special rules for this auction just made it fair. The men there, the Booster Club, could put the tickets they bought in any damn sack they wanted. They purposely avoided certain sacks and that assured that some of the boys would at least win some prizes.

It was all so confusing for Toni-Jo. Some of the boys walked past her, leering down at her, to the counter behind her head. She could hear them joking about the sacks and the pictures and which ones they wanted to put their tickets in.

The boys at the counter came back to ogle her some more. And more boys went up with their fists full of tickets. Then she saw the men also had tickets. ((They must have bought lots of tickets. But what's happening? Why is it happening? Is it a cruel joke. Maybe, I'm asleep and it's all a terrible nightmare.))

Suddenly, she saw her savior. Merle Lewis had finished putting his tickets in the sacks and now came to stand beside his poor daughter. She looked up at him through tear-filled eyes. He bent down and touched her lips. "Now listen, Sweetie," he spoke softly and lovingly. "I'm going to untie the gag but you have to promise not to scream." She nodded her head. "Good Girl."

He untied the scarf and now she could speak, though her jaws were still sore. "Oh Daddy. You're here. I'm sorry for what I did. Please take me home."

"My Sweet Baby, I know you feel bad." Again she nodded. "So Daddy has something here to make you feel better." He lovingly placed a pill between her lips, then held a sports bottle for her to suck from. Toni-Jo did soon start to feel better, not sleepy,--in fact, fully alert,--but better for some reason. Merle saw his darling daughter was becoming compliant and he reached down to untie her wrists and ankles.

"Thank you daddy." Toni-Jo started to get up.

"No, Sweetie, stay there. You aren't ready to stand up yet." He stroked her hair. She was confused, but ((Daddy knows best.)) She sat up and crossed her arms across her tits trying to hide. ((Why doesn't he take off his shirt and cover me? Oh my, now I see that the boys aren't wearing pants. I can see their jock straps. I wonder if this is the way Coach punishes them for losing the game, making them parade pantless in front of a girl. I feel sorry for them. Some of the boys are so embarrassed they're even covering their crotches with their hands, and pressing them. In their attempt to hide from me, they're even rubbing themselves. I'll try not to look at them. I feel ashamed again but, hehe, excited at the same time. Oh my, my girlhood is getting wet.))

1
"Thank you, Mr. Lewis." Mr. Hollander was talking again. He reached over to the counter, picked up the FIRST SACK, and handed it to Toni-Jo. She was relieved she had something, however small, to hide her nakedness. ((I wish I could give the boys something to hide behind also.))

The sack was the one with the picture of the camera. It seemed to have hundreds of tickets in it. Mr. Hollander turned to Toni-Jo. "Now, Little Girl, reach in the sack, draw the lucky ticket and read the name on the back." She looked around the room still confused. ((Why are only the team and a few men at this Chinese auction? They could have made more money opening it to everyone. Why do I have to be naked to select the winners of the prizes? And where are the prizes? Where is the camera or the gift certificate to the Street Photo Shop?)) She reached in the sack and pulled out a ticket. Trembling, she read, "P-P-Paul Vich, Vichin, Vichinsky."

Of course! Paul wins the camera sack every week. He buys 300 tickets, more than any other kid could afford, and puts them all in this one sack. Furthermore, all his teammates know enough not to put any of their own tickets in there, though if Mr. Hollander is watching they pretend to. Paul is the team's official photographer rather than an actual player. He records the highlights from all the games, and then assembles a specific DVD for each player to send off to prospective college coaches. Since the team has such a lousy record, any possibility of a sports scholarship depends on looking good on camera, and Paul's editing skills can either make or break any chance you have.

Paul, fully dressed like the five men in the room, is already setting up his lights and equipment. He has one camera on a tripod and another on his shoulder. Poor Toni-Jo was still clueless. ((Wow, Paul had just won two new video cameras along with lighting. I hope he likes his new equipment. He seems to; he's playing with all the things already. I hope he's a little pleased with my small role.)) But the prize he won was not a new camera; all this expensive equipment was his own. The prize was the privilege of filming the night's activity. The DVDs that result each week earn him more than ten times what he spends on tickets. He'll sell some to the men and boys present, and others to his online customers all over the globe. "The Taking of Toni-Jo," professionally edited and complete with her delicious audio, will soon be ogled by Chinese businessmen, Arab sheiks, and German pedophiles. Paul doesn't need to worry about the men competing for his job. They know he has plenty of incriminating footage to ruin any man who crosses him.

Unlike the jocks here, Paul is all business. A senior, he knows he has a great future as a cinematographer. His heroes are not the Manning brothers or Favre, but rather directors whose work he admires and tries to emulate: Michael Ninn, Brad Armstrong, Jules Jordan, The Dark brothers, Rinse Dream, Andrew Blake. He's studied them all.

Mr. Hollander took the first sack away from Toni-Jo and Paul zoomed in for a good view. ((He's pointing the camera at me. At my titties. It must not be turned on. Hehe. I would just die if someone else saw me like this. Hey, Daddy isn't stroking my hair any more.)) She looked around; he was now well out of camera range.

2
Hollander handed her the SECOND SACK, which she grabbed to cover up again. It had few tickets, thirty at the most. She looked at the picture. It was the one she'd drawn of her feet. That brought an unconscious smile to her face, which did not go unnoticed by all around her or the camera. Yes, she was naked; yes, all these men and boys were looking at her; but she was starting to enter into the spirit of the sale now. She was pleased to help the Boosters raise some money.

She shook the sack, again smiled, reached in and drew a ticket. "Kevin Duffy," she called out with no hesitation. She looked at the wide receiver. ((Oh dear. He doesn't look very pleased. Well of course. He's a great big macho eleventh grader. He doesn't want a silly old pedicure. The poor boy. If I knew ahead of time, I would have gotten better prizes, that boys like, like the Bowl-a-Rama or Sport Shop.))

"Shit, I really wanted something else!"

"Yeah, we all want the something else," one of his teammates laughed.

"But remember, Kevin," Hollander said, "you could win another sack later." It was possible mathematically to be drawn more than once but not probable. Every few weeks the same name is drawn twice. Conceivably the same name might even be drawn from every single sack but the odds against that are astronomical. Toni-Jo nodded and gave Kevin a sympathetic smile. ((Mommy often wins two prizes at her Chinese auctions. Maybe if I pray real hard, Kevin might get lucky again. Oh my, his jockstrap is really bulging. He probably doesn't realize it. I heard that sometimes a boy's boyhood grows bigger, and they can't help it. I won't embarrass him by looking at it. I wonder what a boyhood looks like. Oh my, he's kneeling on the floor by my feet! He's taking my right foot in his hand and oh he's caressing it. He's being so sweet. I guess he liked my smile. Oh, maybe the prize is to give me a pedicure, hehe. Oh my, he's kissing my foot. I'm glad I wore my red nail polish? I hope my foot doesn't stink too bad. I haven't showered since this morn... oh dear, now he's licking the bottom of my foot. How gross. He's taking my other foot and licking it also. Why is Paul pointing his camera at him? Kevin must feel so humiliated.))

Kevin stood up, then bent down and firmly grasped her feet, one in each strong hand. He lifted them up on to the table. Then this muscular athlete turned his wrists and Toni-Jo's knees started to separate. As they spread further, she was forced to put her hands behind her for support leaving her tits exposed again. He keeps turning her feet until the two soles are flat against each other. Her wet pussy is wide open for all to see. The camera zooms in for a close-up, the lens extended like a hardon. She looks toward her daddy in the back of the room. He nods and smiles staring at her cunt. ((Oh he smiled at me. He's trying to tell me "Don't worry, Sweetie. It'll all be all right. Oh, Kevin's hands are on my knees now. When did he let go of my feet? His armspread is so wide. Oh dear, his boyhood somehow slipped out of the side of his jockstrap. I shouldn't look at it, buy I have to. So that's what a boyhood looks like. Oh dear, I feel my pussy getting even wetter. And all these boys can see it. I could just die. Oh my, he's pressing on my knees, pushing my feet tighter together. I don't understand. Wait a minute, there's something in between my feet now. I think, I think, oh dear. It's his boyhood. I'm sorry Kevin. Maybe he doesn't realize it got stuck in there. He's pressing so hard on my knees. I think his boyhood must hurt getting squeezed like that. He's looking down at it. Now he can see it's caught in there. Yes, he's letting go of my knees. Oh no, he just grabbed my feet with his hands and his boyhood is still squeezed in there. He's squeezing them tighter. His big hands are wrapped all around my feet and his poor boyhood is stuck inside. He's lifting my feet up off the table. I have to lean back even more to keep my balance but I can't lay down. I have to watch. In between my heels I see something pink. I like pink. It must be the tip of his boyhood. It looks wet. I don't understand why he keeps on squeezing my feet tighter. Now he's moving them back and forth like he's trying to pull his boyhood out. Kevin, silly, just let go and you can get it out. He keeps on squeezing and pushing back and forth. Why does he do that?))

Kevin let out a loud scream and shot a big load. Toni-Jo saw this white blob coming out between her heels. She watched it as though in slow motion as it flew through the air. With a splat it landed dead center right on her wet pussy. Right on her little clit. The team erupted in cheers. Kevin grinned. Someone else might win the privilege of deflowering, getting his cock inside, but Kevin could always brag his was the first jizz to touch this little cunt. He shot several times as his teammates whooped and slapped his ass. ((Oh dear. What in the world is that white stuff? Now my girlhood feels all icky. I wonder if I'm still a virgin.))

Kevin dropped her feet, turned towards his buddies, and raised his hands in the air, like he'd just scored the first touchdown of the game. Long ropes of cum dangled from his swinging pole as he high fived his friends. She stared at his departing ass, noticing how hairy it was. She was too stunned to move. Her legs remained spread until Paul pointed his camera between them to capture the drippy evidence. Then she quickly closed them, lay down, and curled up like a fetus. ((It's over. It's finally all over. I don't know why they had to punish me like this. I must have done something really bad. But now it's over. Daddy will come over in a minute and take me home.))

3
"OK, sit up, Little Girl." It was Mr. Hollander's voice. When she didn't obey right away, he took her shoulders and made her sit up. "No time to waste, Little Girl. It's time for the next drawing." THE THIRD SACK. "Aren't you anxious to see who the next winner will be? We are. Here, take the next sack." She stared at him. He was grinning like a cat. She looked around the room. All she saw was smiles. ((Oh, I feel so weak. I just want to lie down. But I see, the auction isn't over yet.)) She took a deep breath, shook her head a little, and tried to be the little girl they all apparently wanted her to be. ((What sack is this one. I never saw this picture. What is it? A shoulder? What kind of prize is that?)) She smiled weakly, gave the sack a tiny little shake and reached in to grab a ticket. She looked at the name. She blinked her eyes. She wasn't sure if she was seeing it right. "Zach."

She almost swooned again when she saw Zach Krissel, her crush, pushing his way forward. He sauntered over to her, looked her up and down, and grinned. ((Oooooh, he looks happy. I don't know what his prize is, but he's smiling. I feel like I'm dreaming, but I have to stay alert. I can't let him down. Not him.)) She gave Zach a demure little smile, a flirtatious little smile. He strutted over to her left side and took her upper arm in his hand. Gently, not roughly. ((Oh he's touching me, holding me, of Zach, Zach. I'm yours.)) He lifted the arm up and her hand flopped on to her head. He ran the back of his fingers along her armpit approvingly. ((Oooooh, that feels so funny. I'm glad I don't have any pit hair there. Mommy has to shave her armpits a couple times a week. She says ladies shouldn't have pit hair. It's ok for guys, but guys don't like girls with pit hair. So I guess Zach likes me. Ooooh, he's bending over. He's kissing my armpit. Zach kissed me! Oh dear, it must stink terrible. I think I was sweating a lot when Kevin was, well, you know, when Kevin did what he did. I'm sorry, Zach. Next time, when you want to kiss my armpit, I'll be well washed. Oh dear, he's licking it. What is it with all these boys and their tongues and their licking? It's gross. But it's ticklish also. Hehe. His tongue really tickles. Hehe. Oh dear. He'll think I'm really a silly girl for giggling. But I can't help it! I wonder why I didn't giggle when Kevin was licking the bottoms of my feet. Maybe cause Zach licks more gentle. Hehe. Maybe it's just because he's Zach. Hehe. Oh dear. I hope he stops soon. It's making me want to pee. I haven't peed since half time. Oh dear, I think I'm leaking a few drops. I hope no one sees I'm leaking. When I was in fifth grade, I wet my panties on the playground. It was soooo embarrassing. Oh good, he stopped.))

((What's he doing now? He's getting up on the table with me. He's kneeling behind me. He has his hands on my shoulders. Oh, Zach, I love you. I'm all alone with you on the beach. I'm leaning back against you as you caress my shoulders. Your strong arm comes around my neck to warm me against the cold wind coming off the lake. Your hands feel so strong, so secure, so attentive. You move your arm and just for a brief moment, your hand accidentally brushes my left tittie.))

"Hey!!" In an instant, Toni-Jo and Zach are back in the rubdown room, surrounded by angry boys. "Watch it, Zach. You can't touch her boob! Only her shoulders! Coach! He touched her boob. He's disqualified. He's gotta come off the field now."

Coach raised his hand and they got quiet. "Zach, they're right. You know the rules. No boobs."

"Come on, Coach. My hand slipped."

"Yeah, we all know about your slippery hand!" In the third quarter, Zach had dropped the ball. One of the Mustangs grabbed it and ran, scoring a touchdown. "I'll let you off this time, Zach, but this is your last warning!"

((Wow. What was that all about? I'm glad Zach wasn't disqualified. I want him to stay with me. I want to feel his hands on my shoulders. I really didn't mind it too much when he accidentally touched my tittie. But it's nice to know that's one of the rules. These boys are so gallant. They make sure everyone treats a girl with respect. Even Kevin, now that I think of it, he never touched me anywhere but my feet. What's Zach doing now? He's lifting up my right arm this time. But only a little way. I feel his finger in my armpit. He's pressing my arm back down, holding it close to my side with his right hand. And now his left hand is on my left shoulder. So, wait a minute, that can't be his finger in my armpit. It feels too thick for a finger. Oh no. I think it's his boyhood. Oh dear. He's pressing my arm tight on my side. His poor boyhood is getting squeezed just like Kevin's. What is it with these boys and squeezing their boyhoods. Doesn't it hurt? Zach is breathing so hard, almost panting. And he's pushing against my back, pushing his boyhood further into my armpit. What are those peculiar sounds he's making, like grunts? Did he just say the F word? I wonder, if I look down, it's so close, but yes, I can see the pink end of his boyhood peeking out of my armpit. It looks sort of funny there. It's going in and out, in and out. I think it's wet, like Kevin's was, right before he, uh oh.))

Zach quickly released her arm, spun her around like a limp sack of fluff, held her right arm high and sprayed her armpit full of cum. Then just as quickly, spun her the other way and splattered the left armpit, leaving a trail of cum across her shoulder blade. He was breathing hard and hollering, "Yeah, oh, Yeah! Oh, Fuck! Oh, Yeah!" He gave Toni-Jo a hard slap on the back and hopped off the table. He pointed his cock, not yet deflating, at her to admire. He was laughing like a hyena. ((He seems so happy. I don't think I'll ever understand boys. Maybe he's happy cause his boyhood isn't being squeezed any more. I think he's proud of his boyhood. That's why he's showing it to me. I'll nod and smile and that way he'll know I like it too. 'Cause I really do. My armpits feel so icky now. And my pussy feels wet. Maybe it's pee. Maybe it's something else. I don't know. I liked what Zach did better than Kevin. I don't feel tired this time. I feel elated. Daddy, I'm ready to go home now. I had my precious time with Zach.))

4
((What's this? Oh, Mr. Hollander is handing me another sack.)) THE FOURTH SACK. ((Oh dear. I guess we're not done yet. What's this one. Oh, the hair. Well, now I know it's not a gift certificate for the Clipper. Hey, when Kathy drew this picture, she drew a ponytail just like mine!))

"Tommy." Tommy Deleo, the offensive tackle, came forward. His cock was already out of his jock and he was already beating the monkey. Other boys couldn't help rubbing theirs, dripping with precum, but were trying desperately not to shoot too soon. It's fucking embarrassing when you're standing there just watching and you shoot your wad, maybe splattering the guy's ass in front of you, and then ten seconds later your name is called and you're all limp and empty. Really fucking embarrassing. You end up getting teased for weeks about it.

Tommy also climbed up on the table and knelt behind Toni-Jo. He wiped his finger across her scapula and scrunched up his nose, like Zach's jizz was second-rate compared to his! Tommy wasn't gentle. No kissing. No licking her hair which he figured was probably full of foul tasting hair products. He just grabbed Toni-Jo's hair and mussed it all up with his rough hands. He pulled out the scrunchie that held her ponytail and then mussed her hair even more. She couldn't see Tommy taking the scrunchie and putting it over his cock, 'til it was behind his hairy balls.

((Why is he messing up my hair? Is that his prize? The chance to mess up a girl's hair? Billy used to do that in second grade. It's soooo immature.)) Toni-Jo was so turned off by his crass behavior, she tuned him out. She didn't hear him calling her a slut, a whore, a bitch. She couldn't see that Tommy wasn't just messing her hair with his hands. He was spreading the flaxen locks all over his engorged cock. It felt silky, erotic. He wrapped the long tresses around his tool and jacked off furiously. Her mind was some place else when suddenly she realized her hair was soaked. She reached up and felt this strange gel substance in her hair. It was gooey and icky. She knew she didn't look pretty any more. She must look like a drowned rat. All she wanted to do was go home and take a long shower. She didn't even miss her scrunchie which Tommy's scrotum would wear home as a souvenir.

5
THE FIFTH SACK. She looked at the picture. It looked like this
) . (
but colored pink, her favorite color. "OK, Boys," ((Hollander seems determined to continue the auction. Doesn't he see how awful I look?)) "Now we come to the navel, the umbilicus, the old belly button." ((Oh, so that's what the picture is. Yeah, I see it now. So that means, oh no, some boy is going to do nasty stuff in my belly?)) "Come on, Little Girl, we're all waiting. We don't want to be here all night, do we? Pick a ticket. Read the name."

The Running Back, Bob Andrews, told her to lie down. She was grateful. She was tired. She closed her eyes. Then she felt him kissing her belly. Normally, that would have tickled again, but she had run out of giggles. Now she felt the tongue. The damn licking started again. He kept licking all over her belly. The rest of the team had their eyes glued on him. Bob knew if he strayed too far south toward the cunnie, or too far north to the boobs, they'd all start yelling at him. He wouldn't blame them either. If she had picked some other name, then he would be watching with eagle eyes to make sure someone didn't go in an area he didn't earn.

Bob stopped licking, and ran his fingers through the spittle. He doffed the jockstrap and threw it to his buddy. Toni-Jo felt him climbing up on the table and opened her eyes. There he was, perched over her, one knee on each side of her hips. She stared up at him, saw his narrow eyes, his sneering lips, his pulsing chest, and then his mammoth boyhood. He had one hand wrapped around it, showing it to her, gripping it, massaging it, She studied the tip,--it wasn't pink like the others, but purple, like something very angry. He worked it up until Toni-Jo saw thin mucous strands of precum dripping off it.

Bob kept his hand in place, but lifted one leg and brought his knee down beside the other. Then he lifted the other leg over her belly, his untied sneaker passing right over her face, dragging its lace across her chin. Now his ass was pointing at her face. He looked over his shoulder and leered at her. Then he looked straight down at his target and spat a big goober right on her innie. The team laughed. He scooched his knees up towards her shoulders, forcing her to move her arms out of the way of his sneakers. Now her eyes were mere inches from his ass. ((I can see every hair, every pimple. He's bending forward now. Now I can see his terrible ugly anus, the hole he uses to make dirty poopie, and those smelly gas sounds. I gotta shut my eyes. I want to hold her nose, but my arms aren't positioned right.))

Bob finally let go of his throbbing cock. He leaned forward and planted his hands on either side of her knees. Now he lowered himself and then Toni-Jo felt it, his boyhood, hard as a stake, was pressing right into her belly button. It hurt. Then he began the thrusts. Up and down he kept hammering away, pounding that stake into her belly, like she was a vampire that needed to be slain. ((Why is he hurting me so? What did I do that was so bad?)) One final thrust down and then Bob raised his head and howled like a banshee. Toni-Jo's tiny goblet filled with his manjuice. Waves of cum flowed out from it in all directions over her belly. Some washed down to join Kevin's original splat on her clit. Some traveled up and touched the base of her two small hills.

Bob jumped down, nearly kicking her tittie in the process. He looked at the lake he'd created and smiled in satisfaction.

.oOo.

As an author, I welcome feedback from readers. Please send any comments about this story, positive or negative, to Herbcatwriter@yahoo.com. Thank you.