Package Holiday
Chapter Six:
I made may way back to my cabin wondering how I would survive tonight's challenge with Simon after my treatment at the hands of Marj and Irene.
"The moment of truth, then!" challenged Simon, as I entered the cabin. "It's nearly midnight, Si, and I'm dog tired!" I protested. I went into the bathroom and had a shower. When I came out, I said "Can't we put this off until tomorrow?" "Chicken already, eh?" he smiled, drawing the curtains closed. There was no way he was going to let me off the hook, and I couldn't face recounting my humiliation by the girls. "Course not!" I grinned, deciding I would have to throw my heart into this. "Simon! Haven't you got the message yet? I can't wait to get you stripped off!" I grabbed his package through his jeans, and gave it a gentle squeeze.
"Let's check we're playing fair, then," he said, and counted out his clothes to me - sweater, shirt, jeans, pants, trainers, and socks. "Want to double check?" he asked. I felt him all over, and satisfied myself that he wasn't cheating by wearing anything extra. "Fine!" I agreed. "Want to check me over?" He came over to me and pointed at my feet. "Trainers, socks, OK. Sweater I can see." He lifted my sweater. "T-shirt. Fine!" He lifted the waist of my T-shirt, and ran his hand up around my chest. "Nothing else there, that's OK. Then there's your jeans. What's the betting you've got two pairs of underpants on?" he winked, unzipping my flies, and sliding his hand down inside the front of my pants. "Uh! No! Nothing else covering you down there, that's for sure!" he announced. After my recent experience at the hands of Marj and Irene, it had little effect other than to slightly startle me.
Having both agreed we had the correct number of clothes on, I was still bearing in mind that the rules I had laid down meant that the loser of our lunchtime game of darts - me - not only had to take off clothes in the order dictated by the random order of six shuffled cards, but both shoes counted as one item, as did both socks, effectively giving Simon two extra items to remove in the order in which he decided, during the strip game.
We sat down, and Simon took two packs of cards, pulling out the six cards required for my removal sequence, shuffled them, and asked me to cut them. I did so, and laid them face down on the dressing table. He handed me the other pack to deal.
We started playing, and the bulk of cards went to and fro between us, finally all ending up in my hands. "You win that one!" grinned Simon, choosing to remove one of his trainers. "Open a bottle of wine, then, while I'm dealing!" he suggested, and soon we were sipping and into the second hand.
He couldn't have shuffled very well, for he almost played his cards straight into my hand, and lost again. "I think I'll take my other trainer off!" he smiled. If only I had won the darts game I could have had his jeans and underpants off by now! "You see!" I said, putting a brave face on my situation, which, I was sure, wouldn't continue for much longer. "Just as I predicted. I'll have you naked before I lose a hand!"
Of course, I lost the very next hand. "Turn the top card up, then!" said Simon, eagerly waiting to see what I would have to remove. I nervously turned it over. My heart sunk! It was a two! "Off with the jeans!" laughed Simon. "Give them to me!" I took off my trousers and surrendered them to Simon..
I beat him twice more on the trot, and he chose to take off his sweater and a sock. The next game I lost, and was relieved when I turned up a three. Had it been an ace, I would have been disadvantaged very early in the game. I took my T shirt off, and put my sweater back on.
Once again Simon lost, and to my delight he kept on losing. He lost three games in succession, and he decided to remove another sock, his T shirt, and his jeans, leaving him wearing nothing but his underpants.
It was my turn to lose again, and I drew a six, taking off a trainer. It was obviously my turn to have a bad streak, for I ended up, like Si, wearing only one item. As it happened, the cards had been in my favour, and the last item I retained, too, was my underpants. Despite the biased rules, we were level pegging. The loser of the next hand would end up naked, and start paying forfeits in the nude.
I could see Simon was looking extremely nervous. Simon dealt, and the cards just would not settle in either his hands or mine for ages. One minute Simon was down to three or four cards, and the next minute he had bounced back and I was running out. It was all very nerve racking in this critical game.
Eventually, Simon was down to three cards, and I played an ace. He had to put down four. My heart sank as his second card was played and it was a jack. But my next card was a king, and he ran out of cards. I had won the hand!
"Off with those underpants!" I demanded triumphantly. "OK! You win!" conceded Simon. "Time for bed!" "You must be joking! This time I spelled out the rules, like you said. And this time they'll come off!"
And so saying, I went for him, and we were pell mell on the carpet, my fingers at his waistband, desperately trying to drag the pants off him. We rolled over each other, and before long he had a grip of my waistband, and the question was, whether to concentrate on keeping mine on, or pulling his off. Deciding that attack was the best form of defence, I dragged his pants down around his knees, and was we rolled over again in the tussle, he got mine in the same position. In desperation, I rolled us both over again, so Simon was on his back, and I stretched my pants to their limit by kneeling each side of his head, my pants almost throttling him. I leaned forward as far as possible, and in one desperate movement, pulled his pants down and off the end of his feet, tossing them into the distance.
"You bastard!" he hissed. "You've stripped me!" Trouble was, that this left me lying flat on top of him, my feet near his head, and inevitably my pants were in his hands before I could recover my position. "You've done the same to me!" I complained, "and I didn't even lose the game!"
I shifted my position so that I straddled his chest, facing his feet. There in front of me at last was his naked cock, half hard and playful. I gave it a stroked and it sprang to attention.
"Now I see why you were so shy about stripping in front of me!" I laughed, looking at his balls. They had been shaved smooth, and his only pubic hair was a small carefully shaped area between his navel and his prick. I stroked the bald naked skin of his scrotum a few times, and his prick notched up a bit.
"Fair enough, I confess!" Simon said. "Sorry I tried to break the rules, but I knew you'd ridicule me when you saw my balls were shaved!" "I should think so! It makes you look really effeminate!" I mocked, stroking them again a few times. "You really think so?" asked Simon miserably.
I got off him, and stood up to face him. He looked at my balls. "You bastard!" He noticed, at last, that I was also shaved, if anything more than he was.
"Shall we continue the game?" I asked. I put my pants back on again, and the game continued. Soon my underpants came off again, as I lost the next hand, and we were both naked, playing for compulsory tickling, and a final forfeit.
It wasn't really Simon's night, which was a relief to me, as I had already had a strenuous session with the girls. He lost the next game, and I had him take up a doggy position with his knees wide apart I straddled him sitting on his back, facing his rear end, and for a whole minute, stroked his buttocks, crack, and perineum.
"Whew!" exclaimed Simon, getting up when time was called, his prick standing almost vertically. "You certainly know where to probe!"
I lost the next game, and he had me lying on the bed face up and legs apart, rippling his fingers up the insides of my legs and over my balls. Before my minute was up I had managed another hard on. I felt chuffed that I had seemingly recovered from my earlier ordeal.
Now came the killer hand. Two minutes touching up, followed by a forfeit for the loser. The hand was a walkover - for me! I had him beat in no time!
"Two whole minutes, and a forfeit!" I leered, rubbing my hands together in a lascivious manner. "Get your box of tissues over!" "Why should I want them?" asked Simon, naively. "Just a precaution!" I said, airily. "Lie flat on the floor for the tickling!"
It seemed that Simon's reluctance to follow the rules had evaporated following his eventual exposure. He lay down as I asked, and I put one knee on the floor each side of his chest, and sat on it, facing his feet. "Start counting!" I commanded.
Two minutes is a long time when you're already aroused and having your prick and balls excited at the hands of another. When the time limit was reached, I had already sensed that Simon was bracing himself to stop himself from coming, his prick straining at its maximum hardness, the head purple and shiny, with a drip or two of pre-cum oozing from its slit.
"Get up then!" Si demanded. "But you've got your forfeit to come!" I observed, innocuously. "Tell me what it is, then!" he demanded. "Your forfeit is to stay in that same position as you are, and remain there for as long as I say!" I replied. I handed him the tissues. "You'll definitely need these. Just warn me when you're about to come!" Simon groaned, and struggled to get free, but my position astride him made his escape almost impossible.
I continued, stroking the shaft of his prick, dwelling on the rim of the head, before diving back to his scrotum and perineum.
"Don't do it!" he moaned. "It's so embarrassing!" He brought his hands around in front of me, and took hold of my prick. "It's meant to be embarrassing - you lost, remember?" I replied, relentlessly keeping up the stimulation, and ignoring his hold on me. "But not so you could make me come!" he pleaded. "Stop! Stop!"
I took no notice, and continued rippling my fingers around his most sensitive areas. "Stop! Ooops! Too late! It's on its way!" I gripped the shaft of his prick tightly, and pumped it up and down, helping the spurting juices on their way. Simon just lay back and let me, drumming his hands on the floor in ecstasy.
"Pass the tissues!" I asked, breezily, when it was all over. I cleaned him up, and the got off him. As he stood up, before heading for the bathroom, he stopped and wrapped his arms around my waist. He gave me a big kiss on the lips. I suddenly got a full hard on, pressing against his tummy.
"Thanks!" he said. "I enjoyed that!" So saying, he disappeared into the bathroom, and before long I heard the sound of the shower.
To be continued ....