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.

"Come on, Little Girl, you can't lie there forever. There's work to be done. Look at these boys. Can't you see how anxious they are? Some of them can't hold it much longer." Hollander pulled her up to sit again. She looked around the room and no longer saw faces, or jerseys. She only saw cocks. Big throbbing dripping cocks. Cocks enclosed in fierce fists. All the jockstraps were now either pushed aside or tossed about the floor.

6
THE SIXTH SACK "Now, Little Girl, this is always a fun sack. You see the picture? Yes, that's right. Those are elbows. Your little friend Carrie drew a nice picture, didn't she? I bet when she drew it, she remembered all the fun she had, or I should say, all the fun the boys had with her elbows."

Poor Toni-Jo couldn't imagine what terrible torture this would entail. She just wanted to get it over with. She reached in, grabbed a ticket, yelled "Frank," and tossed the bag back at Hollander.

"No, no, Little Girl. This time you pick two names. You have two elbows, so you want two winners, right?"

She drew another ticket. "Mel." Then flopped down on the table, hoping to die. Mel got on one side and Frank on the other, each taking an arm. ((Oh dear God, please, why are they doing this to me? What terrible thing did I do to the team? Why aren't they letting Daddy come up and take me home? Now both boys are running their fingers on my elbows. Outside and inside. Oh my. Mr. Hollander mentioned Carrie, didn't he. She went through this last week. Oh dear. No wonder she didn't want to talk about it. Now the boys are kissing my elbows, of course. Did the team do all these things to Kathy also a few weeks ago? How many sacks is this now? How many more are left? eight? ten? Oh dear. Now they're licking the crook in my elbow. Licking, licking, licking. I never want to see a boy's tongue again. Carrie, yeah, my Zach said hi to her in the cafeteria. What sack did he win last week? Did he rub her feet on his boyhood? her hair? Did he spray that nasty icky white stuff on her armpits or her belly? Or some other part of her body? Oh God. There are still so many other parts left? Yeah, now I feel it. Frank, or is it Mel, I forget who's on my right. I could look, but I don't really care. Whoever it is has his boyhood in my elbow and he's pressing my arm tight around it. Do all boys like to hurt themselves like that? Or is it just football players? I don't fuckin care. Oh God, I'm sorry I said the F word. Now you're definitely not going to listen to my prayers. The other boy is squeezing his boyhood now also with my other elbow. They're clenching my arms tight. My hands can touch my titties. Oh, I can feel my fingers on my titties. What did Mr. Hollander mean, "You have two elbows, so you want two winners, right?" I got two feet, but only Kevin got to play with both of them. I got two armpits but only my Zach was up there. Ow, they keep jerking my arms. I feel like they're ripping me apart. I guess it won't end until they spray that stuff. They icky white stuff. I hope they both spray it real quick. Come on, Frank, spray it. Come on, Mel, Let me have it.)) Toni-Jo didn't realize she was beginning to talk out loud. "Come on, Frank, spray it. Come on, Mel, Let me have it."

"All riiiiiight," said the two boys in unison.

The rest of the team looked at each other and laughed. Now she's being a real little whore! "You heard the bitch, Mel, let her have it, Frank! Let her have it! Let her have it!" Soon the whole room had taken up the chant. Mel was the first. He bent her arm, so his cock was pointing up and soon a jizz-geyser was spouting all over his side of the table, his side of Toni-Jo, and a few spectators. Half a minute later, Frank duplicated the scene in symmetry. Paul was jubilant about the audio. He knew Toni-Jo's unconscious outburst and the team's chant would make the elbow fuck one of the highlights of this week's DVD.

"We are so happy, Little Girl. So fuckin happy to see you entering into the spirit of the game. Merle, you got a great kid here." She sat up again. Maybe she could speed things along after all. But Mr. Hollander told her this time to get up on all fours. She frowned at him, but he insisted. She got around and positioned herself on the table on her hands and knees. He helped make sure she didn't fall off in the process. She glanced down at the leather where her bottom had been. ((Oh no! It's all wet there. Some of it is my peepee. Some must be the juice from my wet girlhood. And then some of it is that icky white stuff. I hope noone else sees it.)) But of course, everyone saw it, and Paul was getting the puddle cocktail on film for posterity. He then circled around this little doggie bitch to capture her tight little ass and her titties which, small though they were, now hung a couple more inches down. Her once pretty hair however was not hanging down over her lily white shoulders, being now crusted in dried Tommy juice.

7
Hollander placed the SEVENTH SACK in front of her. She lifted one hand, lost her balance, and put it back down. On her second attempt, she managed to pull out a ticket. "Look at the picture, Little Girl. Two knees. That means two tickets again." She pulled out the second ticket and called Ian and George, who took their places on opposite sides of the table.

Just like all the others, well, all except Tommy, these two started by kissing the inside of her knees. ((I never knew until today there were so many places to kiss a person. I like when Daddy kisses me on the forehead. And he kisses Mommy on the mouth. I wish Zach would kiss me on the mouth. And in Italy I think a man might kiss a lady on the hand. Or is it Spain? But that's it. Nowhere else on the body. At least that's what I thought. Oh yes, the cheeks, that's where relatives kiss you. Now they're licking my knees. I have so much boy spit on my body I need a good bath. Oh, not to mention that other stuff. Yeah, I probably have more of that than spit. I can hang my head down and see them. Yeah, I see them. They see me also. I'll smile at Ian and maybe wink at George, hehe. They're laughing. Oh dear, if they look up, they'll see right up my girlhood. I hope they don't look up. Oh, they're both standing up now. Ian is laying his boyhood on my knee. George can't reach. He's pulling my leg over to the edge of the table. Now my legs are spread wide and my girlhood is even more visible. There's Paul. I see him between my legs. He's upside down. No, I'm upside down. Oh dear, he'd be able to see my girlhood but luckily the camera is in the way, so he can't see it. OK, George and Ian both have their boyhoods on my knees. Now what? They're pulling my shoulders back. They want me to sit back now. OK. I'm sitting again. But my legs are splayed out from under me and my bottom is back touching the leather. And, oh, they both have their boyhoods trapped in my knees. Should I get up again. No, they want me to stay down. I must be hurting them. I can see the tips of both their boyhoods sticking out of my knees. Ian's is sort of red, and George's is black. I never saw a colored boy's boyhood before. I hear people joke that colored boys have big boyhoods. His is pretty big, but I think some of the other boys have boyhoods just as big. I think Zach's is bigger. Oh dear, my girlhood is feeling wet again. They're holding my knees and pushing in and out against the table. George is saying the F word a lot. I'm surprised Coach doesn't disqualify him for talking dirty. Will George make white stuff like the white boys? Or will he make black stuff instead. I have to watch to see. I wonder why we don't got more colored boys on our team. The Mustangs have lots of colored boys. Oh, but we have a Chinese boy. Or is he Japanese. I can't tell. Oh, Ian and George let go of my knees and now they're holding each other's arms across my lap, pulling each other. How nice, a white boy and a colored boy holding each other. Peace!))

Toni-Jo's mind started to wander as she imagined how beautiful it would be if world leaders could meet this way: Netanyahu and Ahmadinejad, Bin Laden and Obama. Her knees could become the perfect place to iron out their differences. Her knees could even be awarded the Nobel Peace Prize! Needless to say, Toni-Jo doesn't really know any of these guys' names, nor could she tell you the difference between a Nobel and an Obie! She only knows that men and countries often fight about things she doesn't understand, and she wonders if she could help them stop by allowing them to put the manhoods in her knees.

((Ian's making shrieking noises. Oh, they both stopped. It's like they suddenly both froze. What happened? Did I kill their boyhoods? I'm sorry)) At that instant, both boys shot their wads toward each other, spraying Toni-Jo's knees and thighs, as well as each other's abs. She made sure to check the color of the cum.

Toni-Jo raised herself up to release her grip on Ian and George, crossed her heels behind her and sat back down with a little giggle. ((That didn't hurt me like some of the others.))

Hollander looked at her. "You look happy, Little Girl."

"Hehe."

8
"That wasn't so bad was it?" Toni-Jo shook her head with a giggle. "In fact, it was sort of fun wasn't it?" She put her finger in her teeth and nodded. "Well, then, I think you're going to like this next one too." He placed the EIGHTH SACK between her knees. She looked at the picture and turned beet red. She crossed her arms to cover up her breasts. The smile was gone. "Now, now, Little Girl. You have beautiful boobs. Boys, tell her."

"You have beautiful boobs, Toni-Jo." Except some boys said tits and one said bazookas.

"Now you take this arm, your left, and you put it behind you like a good little girl. That's it. In fact, sit on it for now. That's a good girl. Now take your right arm away from your boobs and reach in and pull out the ticket." ((Everyone is looking at my titties, the feature so pornographically drawn in the picture on the sack. Wow, this sack is very full. More tickets than any sack so far. Well, not as many as the camera sack, but hundreds anyway. Lots more boys want to play with my titties than with my knees.)) She quickly grabbed two tickets and crossed her arm over her breasts again. "Oh no, Little Girl. Just one ticket this time." There were some awwws in the crowd.

((But you said before if I got two, then there are two winners. What am I saying? I don't want two boys touching my titties. I don't want any boys touching my titties.)) "OK I'll throw one back. Let's see, which one?"

"No, no, don't look at the names. That's not fair. Just close your eyes and throw one back." Everyone in the room was praying it wasn't his chance being thrown away. To come so close and not go all the way. To reach the ten yard line and not make it into the end zone. That would be worse than not playing at all.

"Randolph?" Toni-Jo didn't know any boy named Randolph. Or Randy. Or Dolph. She looked around.

Randolph Hartman, the owner of the hardware store, was making his way forward. A big supporter of the team. He provides sealer for the grandstands, bulbs for the floodlights, lime for the line markings, lots of supplies for free. He's been the secretary for the Booster Club for two years, responsible for sending out the financial appeals and receipts for taxes. The men, the Boosters, each week concentrated their tickets in a handful of sacks, and boobs was definitely one of them. The boys gave a collective aaww. It's been five weeks since a boy won what they call the booby prize.

"You lie back down now, my Dear," Randall said as he kicked off his shoes and began removing his trousers. He handed them to his son, Ray, the halfback. Trembling, Toni-Jo obeyed and instinctively crossed her arms over her breast again. "That's the way, lie still just like you did for Bob before. I'm going to be working just a little bit higher than Bob." He handed Jay his boxer briefs.

"You really do have very lovely breasts, my Dear. You mustn't hide them." He lifted her arms off them. "Your daddy told me you're only twelve, my Dear. That's a lovely age." He spoke kindly, trying to put Toni-Jo at ease. "In a few years, these little bee-stings will grow into big melons. You'll see. You will have a lovely rack one day. But already I love them even as small as they are." Now he was stroking them with his finger. "My boy Ray here he thinks a girl has to have gigantic bazoombas. I'm trying to teach him better. You have wonderful breasts. Soft yet formed. Ray, you want to touch them?"

"Hey! Hey!" Loud protests filled the room. It startled Toni-Jo to have Mr. Hartman's soothing monologue interrupted.

"Come on, Randy, you know better," said the Coach. "The winner can't share the prize. It's the rule."

"Sorry, Coach. You're right. I forgot myself. Sorry, Ray. But don't worry, I'm sure you'll have a chance to feel them some time." The players all nodded. After tonight, Toni-Jo will be fair game.

Hartman tried to reestablish the mood. "Sorry, my Dear. As I was saying, I really love your jugs. That's why I put fifty tickets in that sack. You see how valuable they are? Like two perfect little jewels. And jewels should not be kept hidden away. They should be taken out and shown off." By now, he was squeezing her mammaries and flicking the nipples. "They look so nice. They feel so nice. I bet they smell nice too." He bent his face low over her and breathed warm breath on her breasts. Then he tenderly kissed each one. "Hmmmm, yes. And I know they're going to taste nice as well." He placed his mouth over one nipple and licked it, then suckled it. Toni-Jo's audible moan delighted Paul. Hartman sucked on the other breast. Faster. Paul came in close to capture the hardening little teats. Toni-Jo didn't see Paul, didn't see Ray or any of the others in the room, not even her Daddy. She looked up and only saw Randall Hartman, this darling man. ((Mrs. Hartman must be so lucky to have such a man. If Ray takes after his father, he'll make a fine husband some day also. If I wasn't so in love with Zach, I might consider letting Ray touch my titties some time like he wants to. Maybe Ray could ask Zach for permission. That way it wouldn't be cheating. Oh, the man stopped sucking my breasts. Oh, that's too bad. It ended so soon. No wait, he's not done yet, he's getting up on the table just like Bob. He's straddling me. Now I can see his boyhood, I mean his manhood. He's so much hairier than Ray, hairier than all the boys. He's rubbing my titties with both hands again, not caressing them like before, but squeezing them hard. Oh dear, my girlhood is getting wet again. But no one can see it now, I guess, because Mr. Hartman's bottom is in the way. Good. Now he stopped squeezing my titties and he's squeezing his manhood. Just like the boys did. He seems to like hurting his also. Now that clear drippy stuff is coming out, and I know now what that means. Oh, he's leaning forward. Oh my. He's coming right down on top of me. His manhood is right between my breasts. He's sorta heavy. He's pressing down on my chest. I can't breathe too good. He's holding my breasts again with his hands and pressing them into his manhood. What did he say? He whispered something?))

"I'm gonna fuck your knockers like they were bums, you filthy little bitch, teasing me with these little puppies. If you were my daughter, I'd keep you locked up in the house 'til you were forty! Like my wife. 'Til you're not attractive to no one any more." Hartman started pumping away and when his body finally fell limp on top of her, he'd poured out his seed covering her pale chest.

He rolled off her but managed to stay on the table. She started coughing, catching her breath. "There, my Dear. You are so precious. Your sweet little rivets made my cock very happy." He ran his finger through his cum and traced fine filigree lines on her breasts. "You're so lovely, so sweet, so innocent." He softly kissed each honker one last time, stood up, smiled down at her, ran his finger across both teats and walked away.

((What did he say? Did he say I was a sweet girl? Did he use the B word? What did he say about his wife? I'm confused. I don't think I'll ever understand men or boys! I wonder if I'm still a virgin since I got his icky white stuff on my titties now. How many more fuckin sacks, sorry God, how many more sacks are there.))

Hollander sat her up again. She was used now to guys handling her body, manhandling it. So she didn't resist when Hollander pulled one foot over and hooked the heel on the side of the table and then did the same with the other foot on the other side, so her legs were splayed and everyone could look at her cunt again. Wet cum was dribbling down her breasts and dried cum was most everywhere else. She didn't bother trying to cover herself. Just rested her hands on her knees and waited.

9
Toni-Jo glanced at the counter and counted seven more sacks. Over half done. She tried to look at the pictures to get an idea of what was coming. But Hollander blocked her view when he brought over the NINTH SACK. No time to rest. No half time intermission.

She saw a picture of two ears. And they had little pink hearts drawn on the lobes. She felt her own studs. The picture was obviously her ears. Just as they'd been her feet, her hair, and lastly her newly budding titties. She looked at Hollander for guidance. ((Two tickets? One?)) She took out one ticket and held it while looking at him. He bent his head toward the sack, so she took out a second ticket and Hollander smiled.

She called for Duane and Petey. They came bounding up, smirking, one on each side of her. They peered into her ears and exchanged greetings. "Hi, Duane." "Hi, Petey." Everyone chuckled. Even Toni-Jo tittered. It was the same airhead joke the boys used every week, but this night it seemed most appropriate. Immediately, the boys began kissing her ears with loud sucks, which made her eardrums hurt. Then of course they lapped at her ears with their tongues and spat in her ears just for the hell of it. Then they pulled out her supporting arms and pushed her forward until her chest was down to the table between her legs.

"Hey, Duane, take a look at my prick." Petey stuck his hardon by one ear and waited for Duane to look at it through the other ear.

"Fuck, Petey, you call that a prick? That's nothin but an overgrown pinky. Why, Toni-Jo's clit is bigger than that!"

"Oh, yeah, well show me yours, you fuckin liar!" Petey bent down to look through Toni-Jo's head at Duane's cock. "I don't see it, you dickhead. All I see is a little pencil you musta stole from Bowl-a-Rama. Ha!!" Toni-Jo would have laughed at their repartee but she was sore from her doubled up position.

"Yeah, I bet my so-called pencil fucks more than your fuckin pinky."

"Oh, yeah? I'll meet you inside!" Both boys stuck their cocks into Toni-Jo's ears and started pushing. She couldn't pull her head away from either cock. She suddenly remembered something. ((When I was a little girl, Mommy took me to the doctor and he told me never put anything in your ear smaller than your elbow, and I giggled, cause it was such a funny thing to say, and I kept trying to bend my arm to put my elbow in my ear but I couldn't. Duane and Petey have pretty big boyhoods. I mean they're much much much fatter than a little pencil and fatter than my pinky too, lots fatter. And they may even be fatter than my elbow, least my elbow when I was a little girl in the doctor's office. So I guess the doctor would say it's ok for them to do this. My ears are getting wet. They seem to yell a lot. I'm kinda glad my ears are covered so it isn't so loud. Hehe. Two boyhoods would make funny earmuffs in the winter, hehe. They're really pushing hard now. Do you think they really might meet inside my head? Oh, they're backing off now. Oh, oh, oh, I'm being sprayed from both sides. Oh dear. My ears are full of icky stuff. And there's more icky stuff in my hair now. What's happening? Nothing's happening. Everyone is laughing.)) Toni-Jo raised herself up on her hands again and saw that Duane and Petey were already back with the other team members, pointing at her and laughing cruelly. They kept repeating, "Airhead! Airhead!"

10
No sooner had Toni-Jo composed herself, than she was given another sack. THE TENTH SACK. "Hold it up here, Little Girl. That's the way. Don't hide your little cunt. Everyone wants to look at your little cunt."

"Not just look!" Yelled a voice.

Toni-Jo stared at the sack and saw two blue eyes staring back at her. Two eyes. Two. So she reached in pulled out two tickets. Hollander shook his head. She put one ticket back and he nodded. It was so confusing. Two. One. She never knew which. Hollander took the sack and told her to read the name.

"Bob." ((Oh, Bob won again. He's so lucky. The other boys are shouting "No fair." But it was too fair. I didn't cheat. He won twice. It's possible. It's possible to win three times or four or... oh, here he is.)) "Hi again, Bob."

"Hi there, Bitch!" ((That wasn't nice calling me the B word. I was nice to him last time. He licked my belly button and squatted on top of me and even when he put his dirty old poopie hole practically in my face I didn't complain. I see he still has his jockstrap off. In fact, most of the boys' jockstraps are on the floor. I hope they can all find the right ones again. I hate to think of them wearing someone else's jockstrap. Ewww. He's gripping his boyhood again. I bet he didn't think he would have to do that again. He probably thought he was finished for the night. Yeah, I can see the purple part again now. This sack only had eyes on it, so the prize is he gets to show me his boyhood maybe real up close. Yeah, I bet that's it. Maybe he'll show me his back side again. No, he already did that, and the boys seem to get angry if you try to do something that's part of another prize. OK, I'll look at his boyhood real nice like and smile like I like it a lot.))

"Oh, you like my big schlong, don't you, you fuckin bitch! You can't wait for me to hop back up on the fuckin table with you." Bob did just that. Hopped up on the table and planted his knees between her legs. Now she really was getting a close look at his cock. ((Oh my, it really is big. There's a big fat vein running along the side. It looks like a river. The whole boyhood is throbbing. The purple part has a long hole in it. That's where the icky stuff comes out. I wonder where his pee comes out? That's not pee there now. It's that clear sticky stuff that comes out before the white icky stuff. He's got a big bag hanging down from his boyhood, with two big balls inside. I hear kids talking about their balls. That must be what they mean. Cause I thought they meant like baseballs and stuff and that didn't make no sense. Now I see. He's got a lot of hair around his boyhood. Dark black hair. He's handsome, but not as handsome as Zach. I wish I could see Zach's boyhood again really up close like this. Maybe if I ask him nice he'll show me. Oh my, Bob is leaning even closer. Oh, he put his hand behind my head so I can't back up. I'm getting cross eyed looking at his boyhood so close. Ew, he touched my eyeball with it. Now the other eye. He's pressing his boyhood right on my eyeballs. It hurts. He won't let me shut them. Oh, he stopped gripping it. Yow, he's spraying the icky white stuff right into my eyes. I'm gonna go blind!))

"There you are, you fuckin bitch. Bob made you happy twice tonight!" He hopped off the table. The other boys had been studying him very closely, making sure his fuckin cock didn't get near the fuckin bitch's fuckin mouth, because that was the next prize.

Toni-Jo sat there with her eyes stuck shut by Bob's cum. "Hey there, young man," Coach ordered him. "You get right back up there and finish the job. You can't leave the bitch like that, fuckin blind."

"Sorry, Coach." Bob hopped back on the table, lifted her chin up, stared down at her shut eyes and lobbed a big catarrh in each one, then rubbed it with his finger. Soon, Toni-Jo started fluttering her eyelids. ((I guess I'm not blind, after all. My pretty eyelashes must look terrible. But at least I can see again.)) "Thank you, Bob."

"Ha, don't mention it, Bitch! Any time you want me to fuckin spit in your fuckin face, you just fuckin call."

.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.