Go Raiders Go

by: Steve Matyas

 

"The Raiders are staying here, dude!"

Those were the words I was awakened with one morning. I worked at a hotel in Miami in the exercise room, mostly handing out towels and rubbing down retirees who overdid their workouts. My roommate Donny was a bartender in the hotel and it was he who shouted out the news.

The Riders, my favorite football team was scheduled to appear in the Super Bowl here in Miami and now, apparently, was going to stay at our hotel for the two weeks before the game. I couldn’t believe-my favorite team staying here. Surely, they’d use the exercise area and I’d be able to meet them.

Later that afternoon, Mr. Shell, the hotel’s manager, confirmed the news. He called all employees into a meeting room and told us the Raiders were indeed staying at our place and outlined the procedures for dealing with them. They were being given the top two floors and access to this area was to be strictly limited and enforced. Only employees with special access passes were to be allowed up there and anyone caught trying to sneak in would be fired on the spot. Of course, I wasn’t given a pass, but I figured I’d see plenty of players anyway.

When the team arrived, we were all taken outside to line the driveway and give them an ovation as they got off their bus. I was thrilled even though I could barely see them as they hurried through the lobby and into the elevators.

For a couple of days, I saw two or three players who came down to use the exercise equipment, but they were older guys who had injuries they wanted to work on. None of the big-name players showed up.

Then one evening as I was settling in to watch some tube, Donny burst in, smiling wildly and saying he had a way for us to get into the players’ area. He produced two sportswriters’ passes and told me he had taken them from a couple of writers from some small paper who were passed out in the bar.

"C’mon, dude", he said, "this is our ticket."

I didn’t hesitate, throwing on a sports jacket and tie and following Donny out.

When we arrived on the top floor, we flashed our passes at the security geeks and were told to enjoy ourselves. We went to a banquet room and found a party in full progress. Everywhere I looked, there were Raiders, cheerleaders, sportswriters, and broadcasters. Champagne and alcohol were being consumed at an alarming rate and I saw some people snorting white powder. Donny told me to have fun and proceeded to lose himself in the crowd.

I was nervous at first, but after a few stiff drinks, I started to relax and talk to people. I was "interviewing" Jake Garner, the starting quarterback when a cheerleader came up, looked at my pass, and said, "Hey, you write for my hometown paper. That’s totally cool."

Jake suggested I should talk to her and left us alone. I introduced myself, using the name on the pass and she said her name was Stacy. I told her the folks at home would probably love to hear her perspective on the whole Super Bowl experience and asked if I could do an in-depth interview. She agreed and suggested that we find a quiet spot where we could talk.

Stacy led me down the hall, trying doors until she found an empty room. She led me in, turned on the lights, and said, "Okay buddy. I know you’re not who you claim. I went to high school with him and he doesn’t look anything like you. Spill it."

I confessed who I was and how I had gotten there. She listened quietly and didn’t say anything until I begged her not to tell anyone, explaining I would be fired and I needed this job. She sighed, gave me a peck on the cheek and said, "Well, at least you’ve got balls. Your secret’s safe with me."

Just then, someone pounded on the door and a woman’s voice cried out, "Stacy, if you’ve got a man in there your ass is grass."

Stacy looked at me wide-eyed and whispered that it was Sally, the head cheerleader and that the squad members were not allowed to be alone with men for the two weeks before the game. She called out, "It’s okay Sally, I’m just with an old girlfriend from high school who works here, We’re catching up on old times."

Sally grunted suspiciously and said, "Alright, but I want to meet her later."

After we heard Sally walk away, Stacy turned to me and said, "What’ll we do now? I can’t get bounced from the squad and Sally’ expecting me to produce a girl friend."

Tears welled up in her eyes and I tried desperately to comfort her. After a couple of minutes, she said, "Wait a minute. I think this is Brenda’s room. She’s got wigs and clothes that will probably fit you. We can pass you off as my friend."

I said there was no way, but she reminded me that both our asses were on the line and our only hope was to cover for each other. I realized she was right and agreed to her plan.

She took me into the bathroom, ordered me to strip, and went back into the bedroom. When she came back in. she was carrying a dress, high heels, nylons, a matching bra and panty set, a wig, and a makeup case. She told me to put on the panties and nylons and helped me into the bra, which she stuffed with Kleenex. She pulled the dress over my head, slapped on the wig, and told me to sit on the toilet seat. She started applying liquid makeup to my face, saying it was good I had little facial hair, and smeared lipstick onto my lips. She stepped back, studied me and said, "Not perfect by any means but good enough for now.

Take a look and we’ll get out of here."

She giggled as I stood up and nearly toppled over in the heels. "You’ll get used to them", she said. "Now let’s go."

I glanced in the mirror as she pulled me past it and saw a passably feminine face. She pulled me through the bedroom and out the door, cautioning me to speak softly and say as little as possible.

"Everybody’s really trashed", she commented, "so they shouldn’t pay too much attention to your voice. But be careful. And for God’s sake if you hear something funny, giggle."

As we went down the hall, an athletic woman who Stacy introduced as Sally, the head cheerleader, intercepted us. She told Sally I was Terri, her college friend and Sally looked me over suspiciously as she said, "You two were in there long enough. Is there something you want to tell me?"

Stacy giggled and said, "C’mon Sal, you know I’m totally straight, After all I’ve never hit on you, have I?"

Sally let us go into the party area and I started for the door. Stacy grabbed my arm and whispered, "You have to stay for awhile or everybody will be suspicious. Just have a few drinks and try to relax."

I tottered over to the bar and ordered bourbon. The bartender winked at me, said, "Sure, toots", and produced a glass filled with a pink-colored ice cream drink.

"A pink lady for a pretty lady", he said as he set the drink down and winked again. I drank it in one long gulp and ordered another. He looked surprised but quickly produced a second drink. I slammed this one too, and three others before finally having the courage to leave the bar and enter the crowd.

Between the fast drinks and the high heels, I was unsteady as I worked my way through the throng of people, looking for Stacy or Donny. Several people looked at me and turned away smiling, but I soon realized it was because I looked so wasted. A couple of sportswriters tried to get me to dance with them, but I shook my head and hurried away each time.

After a few more drinks and no luck in locating Stacy, I felt a pressing need to use the bathroom. I walked to the nearest one, wondering how I was going to pee in a dress and pantyhose. I walked in only to find a huge Raiders lineman standing at the toilet and peeing noisily. I stammered an apology and turned to leave, but he grabbed me, spun me around, and shut the door behind me in one swift move. When his stream stopped, he turned and my eyes were drawn to his humungous member. He clamped both huge hands around my arms, laughed drunkenly and said, "Like what you see, darlin’?"

He pressed his body against me, pushed me against the wall, and started to kiss me, forcing my lips apart and probing my mouth with his tongue. Amazingly, his member started to grow even bigger and jabbed aggressively against my stomach. Just as he reached down toward my skirt, someone knocked on the door and he loosened his grip on me enough that I could shove him off-balance and hurry out.

I spotted Stacy with a group of women and headed over to join them. I heard laughter from the bathroom and looked away when the lineman emerged with another player. I pretended to be absorbed in conversation as they passed behind me and I felt a large hand grab my butt. I must have blushed because several of the women giggled and exchanged knowing looks.

As I listened, I realized that the topic of conversation concerned a member of the cheerleading squad who had broken her leg and would be unable to perform. Sally was lamenting how difficult it would be to find a replacement quickly enough and the rest of the girls were nodding in sympathy.

Suddenly, Stacy piped up and said excitedly, "Wait a minute. Terri was a cheerleader in high school and college. Maybe she can fill in. She’s a natural."

Sally looked me up and down, thought for a minute and said, "That’s a possibility. But I’d have to see you move. Get out there and dance."

I started to protest, but Stacy dragged me away, whispering a warning that I would be sure to be exposed if I didn’t cooperate.

"Just relax and let the music make you move", she instructed. "You’ve seen women in aerobics classes and on dance floors. Besides, you’re dancing with me so it’s no big deal."

She started to sway and shake seductively and I followed her lead. Soon all I could hear was the music and all I felt was the dress swishing sexily around my hips and my nylon-encased legs rubbing against each other. I didn’t even notice when a man took Stacy’s place. After several dances, I headed back to the group and was received with applause and compliments. Sally said she’d think about it and left. The rest of the night was a blur of giggling cheerleaders, drunken men making sloppy passes, and drinking way too much. Whenever I had to go to the bathroom, I asked Stacy to come with. She patiently showed me how to carefully pull down my pantyhose and put them back without running them. Each time, we spent a minute at the mirror repairing our makeup before leaving.

I don’t remember leaving the party, but I was startled awake the next morning by someone pounding on my door and yelling, "C’mon Terri. We’ll be late."

Bits and pieces of the previous night came back to me as I staggered to the door, opened it, and saw a flustered-looking Stacy. She gasped when she saw me and said,"Jesus, girlfriend. Don’t you remember what time we’re leaving?"

She pushed me back into the room and quickly told me that I was going to be on the cheerleading squad and that we were leaving for a spa treatment in ten minutes. I remembered something about cheerleading from the night before, and was reminded of everything when I saw myself in a full-length mirror wearing torn pantyhose and a bra. Stacy rummaged through my dresser drawer, produced a sweatsuit, and told me to put it on.

"But first", she said, "replace that Kleenex in your bra with these."

She handed me a pair of rubbery fake breasts and nodded approvingly as I stuffed them into the bra.

I pulled on the sweatsuit and she clamped a wig onto my head and said, "Let’s go."

I told her there was no way, but she grabbed my wrist and twisted it until tears sprang into my eyes.

"Basic self-defense", she chuckled. "If you’re with us next season, you’ll learn it too".

She led me out into the hall and to the elevators. As the door to my room closed behind me, I was relieved to see Donny hadn’t made it home last night.

We took the elevator down to the underground parking lot where a limo was waiting for us. We climbed into the back seat and were whisked away. After a short drive, we arrived at a large pink building and Stacy led me in. The other cheerleaders were gathered in the foyer and we joined them. Soon, Sally appeared, accompanied by a group of women in white smocks. They told us to stand in a line and proceeded to inspect us, telling each one where to go next. Stacy was told to go for a hair wash and set, but when they came to me, they all gasped in astonishment and agreed that I needed an all-morning full treatment.

I was led away alone and taken to a room down the hall. I entered and was told to strip completely and wait. I got undressed and sat down on the only chair in the room. Soon, one of the smock-clad women entered, told me to stand and smeared a foul-smelling cream over every inch of my body. She told me to stand as still as possible for five minutes and left. After what seemed like hours, she returned and wiped the cream off, taking all my body hair and leaving my skin looking pink and exposed.

"This stuff is amazing", she said. "You’ll only have to use it once a month, and each time, the hair grows back less thick. After five or six applications you’ll never have to do it again."

I didn’t get a chance to tell her that I’d never be doing it again, because she told me not to talk while she coated my face with a better-smelling version of the same stuff. She said while that cream worked, I should go next door and take a quick bath.

Next door, I found a large tub filled with hot water and rose-scented bubbles. I climbed in and soaked until somebody else came and got me, giving me a flowered bra and matching panties to put on.

"That’s a water bra", she explained. "Combined with these breast forms, it’ll give you a nice rack."

I put on the undies and slipped into a short silky kimono and was led to the next stopping point.

This turned out to be a room containing a large leather chair with straps on the armrests. I was ordered into it and my wrists and ankles were clamped tightly down. The chair was leaned back and raised so that I found myself lying prone about four feet off the ground. I heard footsteps and a large, mean-looking woman entered, leaned over me, and shook her head.

"I’ve worked miracles before", she muttered, "but this will take all my skill."

She started out by yanking off my wig and violently combing and twisting my real hair. After a few minutes, she grunted softly and mumbled to herself. She produced a pair of tweezers and painfully plucked my eyebrows. When she was satisfied with her results, she said, "You know, most of you bimboes have pierced ears. But you don’t. We’ll have to fix that."

She then proceeded to punch several holes into each of my ears and cram pieces of jewelry into them.

"That’s better", she chortled. "Now let’s get to that hair. I think a just-fucked look for you."

She spent the next several minutes wrenching and rolling my hair, spraying it and spreading something on it as she went. When she was finished she told me it would take an hour to set and that I should relax and wait. She flipped a switch on the wall, saying, "This should help pass the time", and left.

A television screen set into the ceiling over my head flickered on and was soon filled with a video of a man giving oral sex to another. The scene switched after a few seconds to show two men having anal sex, followed by a shot of a man masturbating, and so on and on. I slammed my eyes shut but couldn’t close out the moaning and gasping coming from the speakers. I didn’t realize I was no longer alone in the room until I heard a voice say, "Ooh gross. But I guess it’s one way to see a lot of hot dick."

I opened my eyes and looked down to see a pretty young blonde standing next to the chair and looking up at the screen. I followed her gaze up to see a man shoot his wad all over another man’s smiling face. The blonde giggled and said, "Now that’s my kind of diet. How about you, hon?"

She sighed, set down the tray she was carrying and said, "Enough if that. Time to get to work. But if you see anything good, let me know."

She started out by massaging my feet and painting my toenails. Next she looked at my hands, said they were hopeless, and glued long artificial nails onto my fingers. Last, she moved up to my face and frowned in concentration as she applied makeup, eyeliner, and lipstick. I was so relieved to be seeing her pretty face hovering over me that I started to grow aroused. At one point, the moaning from the television got extremely heavy, she giggled and gently slapped my thigh, and I released a drop of pre-cum into my panties. When she stepped back to admire her work, she looked down and said, "Oh, so that video’s got you wet after all. We’ll have to take care of that."

She left and returned shortly with a young Oriental man. She told him that I was all worked up from a video and needed to relax. She left, and he pulled down my panties and took my member into his mouth. As his lips and tongue worked on me, I stared at a video showing the same kind of scene, and soon shot into his throat. He swallowed every drop, replaced my panties, and left without saying a word.

The big woman returned shortly after, ripped and pulled at my hair for awhile, and finally seemed satisfied. She released my wrists and ankles, put the chair upright, and told me I was finished. I stood up unsteadily and saw what looked like a heavily made up, short haired woman in the mirror on the wall. I stepped forward for a closer look, dazzled by the fiery red toenails and fingernails as well as the several pairs of gold earrings glistening.

I was told to go get dressed and followed her directions down the hall to a large room where the rest of the squad was assembled, all wearing matching black minidresses with silver sequined sleeves and black high-heeled boots. Stacy grabbed my arm, pulled me in, and told me to hurry. I was helpless in the artificial nails, so she helped me into a new bra and panties, but only after she had applied some sort of device which grabbed the tip of my member and pulled it back tightly against my balls.

" A smooth front is vital", she said as she stepped back and checked me out. She then helped me into a pair of sheer pantyhose and the dress, showing how to carefully manipulate it so I didn’t ruin my makeup. I put on a pair of boots and followed her out.

When we got to the door, Sally was there, inspecting us and letting us out one at a time. When my turn came, she nodded approvingly and told me to remember to work my walk when I left. She opened the door and a throng of men lining the sidewalk, calling out and whistling greeted me. And snapping pictures. I hesitated, but Sally shoved me and shut the door behind me. I walked quickly through the men, my head down andtrying to ignore the catcalls. When I got to my limo, I followed Stacy’s whispered instructions and got in after turning around, sitting down and swinging my legs in.

Back at the hotel, we had a quick lunch in our room (if you can call salad a lunch), changed into shorts, t-shirts, and aerobics shoes and headed downstairs to the exercise facility. I was nervous about being seen by my co-workers down there, but Stacy assured me I looked completely different and reminded to say as little as possible and speak quietly and softly. "Try a Southern accent", she suggested. "No man hears anything else when it’s coated in a drawl."

Nobody seemed to recognize me as they gave me the same once-over they greeted the real women with. When my buddy Ron handed me a locker key and towel, I just smiled and mouthed a thank-you.

We were shown to a large mirror-lined exercise room and Sally led us through stretching routines. I was in pretty good shape, but some of the stretches worked strange muscles and I really felt them. After a short cool-down period, an aerobics instructor came in and took us through several routines. This pattern was repeated a number of times and, when Sally announced we were through, I was ready to collapse. We all trooped into the locker room to shower, and I found a corner to stand in with my back turned to the others. Nobody seemed to pay any attention to me and the water felt wonderful.

I stayed in the shower until I was sure everybody was gone, then stepped out. Stacy was waiting for me, explaining that as roommates we were required to stick together. She handed me my towel and a fuzzy robe, which matched the one she was wearing, and told me to hurry.

We went back up to our room, ate dinner, and drank a glass of wine. I was so beat I could barely keep my eyes open, so Stacy suggested I get into some pajamas and go to bed.

"I was thinking about watching a movie", she said, "but even pay-per-view doesn’t show the amount of cock I hear you like to look at. Don’t worry, though; they sell Playgirl in the lobby and we’ll pick one up for you in the morning."

I was too tired to even argue and headed for the bathroom to get ready for bed.

Stacy came along and showed me how to remove my makeup and apply a nighttime cream to my face. She pointed to a pair of neatly folded blue silk short pajamas on the toilet and told me to put them on. I did, and she led me out and tucked me into one of the double beds. As exhausted as I was, I couldn’t fall asleep. This whole thing was just too bizarre.

After a while, I felt Stacy climbing into bed with me. She stroked my hair and cheeks and cooed, "What’s the matter, girlfriend? Worried about learning the routines? Your job with the hotel? Not being as cute as the rest of us? Tell Auntie Stacy what’s bothering you."

She continued to caress me as I told her I knew we could never pull this off. I would be exposed, humiliated, and fired. And so would she.

She gently reminded me that the other girls all knew what was going on and assured me that the Raiders would take good care of me.

"You’ll make enough money from the game and personal appearances that you won’t have to work for a year", she said. "Besides, just think of it as a unique experience."

Between her stroking and her gentle voice, I felt myself becoming aroused. It didn’t take long for Stacy to notice and she giggled, said, "And look at my side. I get something special as a bonus."

She pulled down my bottoms, straddled me and took me in. She rode and bucked on my throbbing member until we both reached a shattering climax, and collapsed on top of me.

When the alarm went off in the morning, Stacy bolted out of bed and started scurrying madly about the room.

"We don’t want to be late", she said. "Sally can’t stand that."

She told me to get into the shower and wash off the sex smell, which lingered on my skin. While I was in there, she would lay out my clothes. Then she could shower while I got dressed and when she was done she’d help with my makeup.

When I emerged from the shower, she gave me a quick kiss and went into the bathroom. I found the penis-restraining device, a bra with enhancers, thong panties; fishnet stockings, a silk chemise and a flouncy flowered dress lay out on my bed. I struggled into the restraining device, bar, and panties, and was pulling the chemise over my head when Stacy emerged.

"Jesus, aren’t you dressed yet?" she sighed. "Come on, I’ll help."

The sight and feel of her naked body as she helped me finish caused my member to strain painfully against its restraint. When I complained, Stacy said I’d just have to live with it for awhile and reminded me of how obvious my erection would be otherwise.

She led me over to a makeup table, sat me down and started working. Admonishing me for being slow and telling me to pay attention so I could do this myself, she quickly transformed my face into that of a beautiful young woman. She told me to put on a pair of heels and wait for her.

She went back into the bathroom and returned wearing jeans, a sweatshirt, and sneakers. Her face was completely without makeup and her hair was uncombed. When I asked what was going on, she said I’d see soon. After inspecting my appearance and dousing me in perfume, she led me out.

The hall was deserted and Stacy gasped, "Oh no! We ARE late!" before breaking into a run toward the elevators. I followed as best as I could in heels and we headed for the third floor. Once there, we hurried to a conference room and, finding the doors tightly closed, Stacy said, "Sorry, Terri. But I guarantee you’ll never be late again. Unless of course you’re into such things."

We entered the room to find all the cheerleaders seated in pairs, one of each dressed up like me and the other dressed down like Stacy. Sally sat at the front, glaring at her watch and frowning. "Well, well," she said when she saw us, "the sleeping beauties are finally here. Take your seats, ladies, and let’s get started."

We were handed a list of rules and told to read along as Sally went through them. Stacy kept jabbing me with her elbow and hissing at me to keep my legs together or cross them until I finally crossed them and stayed that way. After the rules were read, we signed our copies and returned them. Naturally Stacy reminded me to sign my name as Terri.

"Now we get to have a little fun as well as accomplish some work", Sally announced. Some of the girls who had been on the squad for a while giggled and looked at each other, but Sally shushed them and told them to be serious.

"I know you were all popular little prick-teasers in high school and college", Sally began. "And most of you are still prick-teasers now. That’s why you’re here. But remember you’re not dealing with boys now, you’re dealing with testosterone-laden men. Men who are, for the next two weeks, forbidden to have sex.

"Now I’m sure you all remember how we protected our precious virginity in school. When the boyfriend got too rambunctious, we gave him a hand job. So when you find yourself confronted with a player in the near future who doesn’t want to take no for an answer, pretend you’re in the back seat of Mom’s car and let your hand take care of him.

"Just so we all remember how it’s done, we’re going to have a little drill."

She walked to the corner, picked up a box, and opened it, pulling out a handful of realistic-looking fake penises.

"Those girls in drag can get one of these and put it in her pants", she said. "The princesses out there will sit demurely and fight off all advances until they’ve had enough and then they’ll unzip, stroke, and generally handle their partners. Tomorrow, we’ll switch roles."

There was a rush of jeans-clad girls to the front of the room, and much squealing and giggling as they fought over the dildos. Finally, they all seemed satisfied and started swaggering back to their seats, proudly displaying the bulges in their pants. Sally warned us not to start too soon, saying she wanted at least ten minutes of talk and struggle before any hand jobs started.

Stacy threw an arm around me, kissed me aggressively, and started whispering in my ear, describing our sex act of the night before and what she would do to me tonight. She rubbed my nylon-clad thigh and reached under my dress. I got so incredibly aroused that I thought my member would snap from its restraint. I jumped up, fled the room, and ran into a nearby men’s room.

I locked myself into a stall, hurriedly pulled down my hose and freed my aching member. A few pulls were all it took to cause a flood of semen.

After a few minutes to collect myself, I got redressed and left the stall, stopping dead in my tracks when I saw Raiders quarterback Jake Garner standing at the sink.

"Well, this is a new one", he said when he saw my reflection in the mirror. "I’ve had sluts follow me into the can, but never one waiting for me."

I tried to think of something to say, but before I could, he had grabbed me and shoved me against a wall.

"This isn’t the right place", he murmured, "but meet me in my room later and you can do all you want with Jakey’s snake."

I was declining his offer and trying to squirm free when the door opened and Billy Thornton, Jake’s rookie back up came in. He saw us, muttered an apology and turned to leave, but I called out in my best Southern drawl that Jake wouldn’t let me go. Billy turned around and asked if that was right. Jake told him to mind his own business and leave. The next thing I knew, Billy had grabbed Jake, spun him around, and laid him out with one quick punch. He took my arm and led me out with Jake’s voice ringing out behind us, "You’re through as a Raider, rook. And you too, you slut."

Billy escorted me back to the conference room, telling me not to worry and calling me "ma’am". He was so sweet and I was so relieved that when we got to the door, I stood on tiptoes to give him a kiss on the cheek. He blushed violently and walked away.

But Billy’s blush was mild compared to the one that lit up my face when I walked in and was greeted with a hailstorm of tampons, pads, and jeers. Sally shook her head, told me to sit down, and reminded all the girls how important it was to keep track of their cycles.

"And for Gods sake", she added, "if your period stars unexpectedly, take your purse to the john. Who knows how long you have to wait for a kind soul with an extra pad or some change."

I made my way back to my seat and sat down. Sally told us to go ahead and, when Stacy put her arm around me and started running her other hand up my leg, I unzipped her jeans, pulled out the dildo, and began stroking it. It felt strange pulling on a penis without feeling the strokes myself, so I wasn’t sure how hard to squeeze and tug. But before long, Stacy rolled her eyes up called out, "Oh baby!" and bucked her hips wildly. Sally yelled, "We’ve got a winner", and I stood and bowed and blew kisses to the others as they applauded me. Sally said I was going to get a special prize for my great work and told the group the session was over.

"But first", she said as we got ready to leave, "we have a little matter of tardiness to deal with. Stacy, Terri; up here, please."

Stacy led the way to the front of the room as the rest of the girls whispered to each other and called out remarks to us. When we reached Sally, she proceeded to lecture us on how important it was to be on time for every function and told us she was going to make sure we remembered just how important.

She clapped her hands and four Raiders linemen strolled in, accompanied by my friend Donny, who was carrying a large paddle. Two of the linemen grabbed Stacy’s arms and the other two grabbed mine. I was carried off to the side as Stacy was forced to bend over with her bottom facing the room and her wrists secured by the players. Donny stepped over to her and, with a huge smile on his face, started to paddle her. The paddle blows were extremely soft and couldn’t have hurt much through Stacy’s jeans, but she yelled and wiggled her hips wildly with each of the ten swats.

When my turn came, the bending over caused my skirt to ride up and expose my nylon-covered bottom. I heard Donny snicker and then felt a tremendous blow. After two more, it was obvious that I wasn’t getting off as easy as Stacy. My wiggle and cries of pain were real, and by the tenth swat tears were streaming down my face and my bottom was on fire.

When it was finally over, Sally told us to thank Donny for helping us learn our lesson. Stacy gave him a big kiss and thanked him loudly. I leaned toward him, saw him close his eyes, and bit his lip as hard as I could. His scream of pain and my satisfaction made the extra ten blows I received seem like nothing.

The rest of that first week was a blur of activity as we had meetings every morning and worked on our routines in the afternoons. Evenings were filled with personal appearances at hospitals, fire stations, and other public places, or interviews. I worked hard on my voice and accent, although I still said as little as possible, and grew quite comfortable with my artificial fingernails. I also secretly devised a plan to get even with Donny. As for Stacy, the nightly sex was incredible, but I felt betrayed by her role in getting me so severely spanked. I got her back the next morning when I got to be the one being jacked off by making sure I selected the biggest, ugliest-looking dildo and making her stroke forever without ever "releasing."

Two incidents stand out in my mind from that week. The first was a night on which, after a radio show appearance, we were taken to a bar. As we found our seats in front of a huge stage, the lights dimmed and a voice boomed out over a loudspeaker, announcing that the Raiders cheerleaders were in the house and this show was dedicated to them. A spotlight swept over us and then picked up a man on the stage that danced over to us and started stripping. Champagne flowed freely and the girls took turns dancing up to the stage and stuffing money into dancers’ g-strings. When my first turn came, I walked up reluctantly and shuddered as my hand came into contact with a real penis. But by the fourth or fifth one I was pretty wasted and started to dance myself and let my hand linger. I don’t remember the end of the night, but when I woke up the next morning, I found a g-string wrapped tightly around my wrist. Stacy just giggled when I asked her what had happened.

The other incident was my reward for being the quickest hand-job artist. Dawn, who had won on the second day, and I were taken to a spa and given a mud-bath, manicure, and full body massage. I felt weird being rubbed and prodded by some man, but he never let on whether he realized I wasn’t a woman and soon had me feeling very relaxed and wonderful. After the massage, I followed Dawn’s lead and gave my masseur a quick kiss and a pat on the butt before sashaying out.

The Sunday before game day was reserved for a huge party. The cheerleaders were instructed to wear their matching black and silver dresses and boots. We were taken to the beauty salon, where this time I got away with just a hair set and trade of my red artificial nails for black ones. Then it was back to the hotel to get ready.

As Stacy helped me into my penis-restrainer, she seemed to take longer than usual and I felt something cold against my testicles. I asked her what was going on, but she shushed me and told me not to worry about it and get dressed. Once we were ready, she called Sally and told her to come look us over. I thought that was a little unusual, but Stacy shrugged and said, "You know how she is."

Sally came in and nodded approvingly. We grabbed our purses and headed for the door, but Sally halted us and said, "Just one more thing, Terri."

She reached into her purse, pulled out a remote control, and said, "I’ve noticed sometimes you’re a little shy, especially around men. Remember, dear, you’re a cheerleader now and men expect you to be a bimbo. So if you have a little trouble getting into your role tonight, this should help."

She pushed a button on the remote and searing pain shot through my testicles and stomach. As I doubled over and gasped for breath, she laughed and said, "How long do you think it will take them to find out you’re a man like this? Just be a good little airhead bimbo and everything will be fine."

We went up to the top floor of the hotel and entered a throng of people. Remembering Sally’s warning and still feeling pain in my crotch, I threw myself into the crowd and started dancing with any man I could find. After a few hours of dancing, drinking, doing coke, and flirting with wild abandon, I found myself slow-dancing with one of the players. He maneuvered me into a dark corner and started to kiss me passionately, sliding his tongue into my mouth and reaching for my skirt. I knew it was time to apply the lesson of the other day, and unzipped his pants, pulled out his stiff member and started stroking. He soon gasped and I felt hot liquid streaming over my fingers and onto my dress. I let go and hurried to a bathroom, where I scrubbed my dress and hand and perfumed them heavily. When I came out, I heard a cheerleader say, "Looks like we’ve got us a belle of this here ball." I didn’t know what she meant, but soon found out.

After a never-ending stream of dances into dark corners, maulings, and hand jobs, cramping pain racked my wrist and hand. I ran out of perfume and stopped doing more than rinsing my hand each time. It reeked of man and semen, but I didn’t care anymore.

Finally, I got a chance to be by myself for a few minutes. I headed for a bar and found Donny tending it. He greeted me with a leer and said he had been watching me and wishing I were dancing with him. I realized this was the perfect time to launch my plan for revenge and invited him out to the terrace.

I sat down in a swing and told Donny to stand facing me. I said I had noticed him watching me and wanted to apologize for biting him the other day. After reminding him of the rules against fraternization between the Raiders and hotel employees, I said, "But there’s no rule that says you can’t service yourself while looking at me."

I started swinging slowly back and forth, kicking off one boot and rubbing my foot against his crotch each time the swing arced forward. He soon dropped his pants and grabbed his member. I tried not to giggle when I saw how small he was compared to the penises I had been handling all night, and made encouraging sounds as he stroked himself. He shot onto my leg and I wanted to order him to lick it off, but I had other plans for him. Instead, I just pulled fresh pair of pantyhose from my purse, gave him the soiled ones, and told him to look me up after the game. I returned to the party and my hand-job duties with a new feeling of happiness and abandon. I sought out Billy Thornton and danced several dances with him, but he never tried anything. At last, out of frustration, I danced him into a corner myself, unzipped him, and was shocked to have him push my hand away and say, "No thanks, ma’am."

Two other cheerleaders who were looking on giggled and one said, "Word is that baby boy’s a virgin. He’s saving it."

"Yeah", the other said, "he’s saving it for Terri’s sweet little twat. Can’t you see the way he looks at her?"

I blushed and, seeing Sally glaring at me, went back to the party.

The next week floated by on a sea of workouts, sex with Stacy, and plans for revenge. We did get to go to the strip bar again and this time I really enjoyed myself, letting my hand linger inside the dancers’ g-strings and mentally comparing them to the players I had handled. Each time, after pulling my hand out, I made a big show of sniffing the man scent and licking my lips hungrily.

 

 

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© 2001 by Steve Matyas. All Rights Reserved. These documents (including, without limitation, all articles, text, images, logos, compilation design) may printed for personal use only. No portion of these documents may be stored electronically, distributed electronically, or otherwise made available without express written consent of the copyright holder.