My game at the game

A note before I begin:
I always try to make my stories contain the sorts of perversions that men like. The story is brief, but I hope that you find it sexy and exciting, (I did in writing it,) and of course, I’m sure that some other women will find it stimulating as well.
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I wasn’t all that keen on going to the game with my husband Rob. Although he’s an ardent supporter of the local team, those sorts of sporting events really aren’t my thing
I’d seen the television coverage of some of these games; the cameramen, besides covering the action on the field, frequently picking out any sexy looking tarts in the largely male dominated crowd. I think that it was with that sort of thing in mind, that my husband wanted me to go with him. This idea was further borne out when he suggested that I wear a particular micro-mini skirt of mine, along with a little white, cotton top that is very revealing.

I really don’t know why I bought that ridiculously tiny skirt in the first place; to tease my husband with I suppose. It’s flared and made of the softest, thinnest cloth that flounces about with every movement and is terrible in any sort of breeze; I don’t know how many times I’ve had it blow up around my hips and shown off my panties.
Anyway, I’ve been quite embarrassed the few times that I’ve worn it in public.

Well, the Saturday came and at least it was a lovely, warm, sunny day. I don’t think that I’d have been too keen to go if it had been cold and rainy.
I dressed as my husband wanted, and to tell the truth, felt half naked and protested that I couldn’t wear such an outfit. Rob was so enthusiastic though, that in the end I went as he desired. (The things that we do to please men.)
The top that I had on is a little, thin, hugging, cotton one, that, because I wear no bra with it, shows off my small breasts and is almost obscene the way that my nipples bulge out. That, along with the tiny little flared skirt with just a pair of panties underneath, and sandals on my feet, made up my costume. You can see why I felt a bit embarrassed at appearing amongst the largely male crowd.

I was pleased when Rob said that we’d drive the car rather than take a train or bus; I’d be exposed enough as it was without going on public transport.

We drove to the ground, and parked the car nearby. As soon as we joined the crowds of people streaming towards the ground, I could see everyone having a good long look at me.
Men don’t know what it’s like to be always getting scrutinised the way women are when ever we wear anything a bit sexy. And of course there’s the difference between just looking, and openly staring the way that men do when we dress a little bit daring. They seem to think that because a woman is scantily clad, they have the right to blatantly stare.
Anyhow, that’s how it was as we walked towards the ground.
One rough group of men even called out, “Ooo baby, I can almost see it.” Rob just laughed and said that I had plenty of admirers.

I was relieved when we finally got to our seats so that I could sit down out of the general gaze.
We were on an upper level, and just a couple of rows from the front. It was quite interesting watching all of the comings and goings and general activity prior to the game.
We didn’t have to wait long though, before play started, and after a short while I began to find it a bit tedious even though all of the fans around about were so enthralled.
Eventually I decided to go and get some coffee from one of the food stands that we’d passed on the way to our seats. I tugged at my husband’s sleeve to gain his attention to tell him where I was off to.

Luckily, we were just a couple of seats in from the end of the row, because it was embarrassing squeezing past the couple of men on the end. Once past them and out to the stairs that led up through all of the tiers of seating, I was daunted at having to make my way up all of those stairs in my little skirt. I knew that at every step, as I raised each knee, the hem of my skirt would lift and almost certainly show a glimpse of my panties. Sitting in the seats I had needed to keep my legs firmly together and to fold my hands in my lap, but I could hardly walk up the long flight of stairs holding my hands in front of my pussy.

I hesitated momentarily, but then, grasping the side of my skirt in one hand to try to keep it down, I began my ascent.
I tried not to look directly at all of the men in the stands on either side of me, instead keeping my gaze on the steps, but I could nevertheless tell that all eyes were fixed on me as I made my way.
I became more and more embarrassed, and by the time that I reached the top rows of the stand, I could feel my face glowing red with the shame of being so perved on by the hundreds of men.

Attaining the top of the rows of seating, I heaved a sigh of relief and made my way along the largely deserted galleries of the huge concrete structure of the stadium.
I immediately heard a footfall behind me of someone who must also have come from the stairway I had ascended. A guy came alongside of me and I heard him saying, in such a straightforward, matter of fact tone of voice, and with something of a chuckle, “that would have to be the shortest skirt I’ve ever seen.”
I turned and looked up to him in some shock at his so blatant comment about my dress. He was tallish, dark and swarthy, but with an open and smiling face, though not the sort of person who would ever attract me.

I was, as I said, somewhat shocked and didn’t know what, if anything, to say in reply. I did find myself replying though; “gosh, you don’t have to be so ……….. ,” but then my words tailed off as I was lost how to describe his boldness.
He simply laughed. “Aw c’mon, you can’t tell me you’re not here to show yourself off.”

I really didn’t like the look of this man, but I nevertheless felt sexual stirrings mingled with the extreme embarrassment that I felt.
“I could see your little pink panties all the way up those stairs,” the guy snickered.
I gave an audible little gasp at his words. “Do you have to be so rude,” I said, trying to make my voice sound disdainful.
“You’re the one who’s rude,” he laughed, then added, “lewd even.”
Goodness! I could feel my face glowing with shame.

It was no distance to the food and drink stand, and we’d now reached it. There were a small number of people standing at the counter waiting to be served, and I took up my position there with the guy also moving in close to my side.
I was there just a moment when I jumped in alarm and gave a shrill little squeal. The guy had placed his hand firmly on my bottom. The other customers looked around to see what the disturbance was.
I tried to move away from the guy but he simply took a step to come close again.
Again I felt his hand on my bottom, and I pushed him away. “Will you stop that,” I complained in a hushed voice, not wanting to attract more attention.
The woman behind the counter, having been attending to a man alongside, now turned to serve me. I ordered coffee, and as I was being served I felt the guys hand caressing my bottom. I moved slightly, but to no effect, but not wanting to make a scene I had no option but to do nothing further. The guy, leaning closer, had said to the woman, “make that two coffees please.”
As soon as the woman turned her back, I pushed the guy’s hand away. “Stop it,” I whispered again, frowning slightly.

The coffees were brought, and the guy paid for both. “Come and sit over here and we’ll drink them,” the guy said in his continuing friendly, undeterred tone of voice.
I considered for a moment, and then said “I suppose that I might as well, you’ll only follow me where ever I go.”
The guy made a couple of frivolous comments, then asked which team I followed.
“Oh neither,” I replied, “I just came with my husband.”
“Ah, I wondered who you would have come with. You’d hardly come by yourself dressed like that.” He then continued, “doesn’t your husband object to you showing yourself off for everyone to perv on?”
His words made me feel a tingle of excitement. “No, he likes me wearing this skirt,” I replied.
What he next asked made me gasp. “Do you fuck around with other guys?”

“Oh God, you’re so crude,” I gasped.
He just laughed at my words and stood up. He slightly thrust his hips forward and said, “you’d like this wouldn’t you baby.”
He’d stood close before me, and I couldn’t help but see the outline of his large and hard cock bulging under the front of his pants as he thrust it forward.
Again I gave a little cry of surprise, and I couldn’t help but stare at the shape of his cock in his pants.

He was leaning towards me, taking my hand. “C’mon baby, it’s deserted up the end there.”
My heart was pounding as he gently pulled me to my feet.
He kept a hold of my hand and I found myself walking with him towards a deserted part of the understructure of the stands. My mind was in shock. “No, I can’t,” I said in a soft and meek voice. He took no notice.
Leading me into an alcove he took me behind one of the large steel pillars.
I was mesmerised as he quickly ran his zipper down and took his beautiful hard cock out. Taking my hand he put it on his cock and was then leaning forward kissing me on my mouth as I grasped the warm, hard, bare flesh of his hard, erect cock.

I felt his parted lips on mine. I felt his tongue pressing between my lips. I let my mouth open slightly and his tongue found mine and licked. I began to kiss back, also using my tongue. We were panting, now kissing with passionate lust. I felt his hand grope its way under my skirt and press against my pussy. Now his fingers were pushing under my pants and sliding into my suddenly wet and slippery vagina. I squeezed his gorgeous cock and slid my fingers up and down it.
My panties were pulled down around my thighs. He was pressing close to me. I felt his cock probing around my pussy. I could hear people walking nearby, “no, no, not here,” I gasped.

His mouth left mine, panting lustfully. “Come to the toilets, I’ll fuck you there,” he said somewhat roughly.
He’d done up his pants and was leading me by the hand before my mind even came to grips with what he’d said. “God, what if we’re seen going in,” the thought raced through my brain.

We were approaching the toilets. He was leading me towards the door with the sign that said “MENS.” I’d somehow not thought of going in there. I pulled back. “No I can’t,” I pleaded in a weak voice.
“I’ll make sure it’s ok,” he said, and he left me standing there while he took the few steps to the door and momentarily disappeared inside. He was back almost immediately and grabbed my hand, “come on baby.”
I let myself be almost pulled forward, and we went through the door marked “MENS.”
I gave a little gasping yell of horror as I saw a number of men standing at a urinal. I froze but was wrenched forward and pulled behind the guy into one of the cubicles.
“Bend over baby, I’ll fuck you like a dog,” the guy said as he eagerly dragged his pants down then got behind me and pulled my panties off my bum.
He more or less shoved me down into a bending position. I felt his hands grasp my hips and his cock locate my wet and slippery pussy, then easily slide right in. “Fuck, you’re ready for this aren’t you,” he sneered, no doubt referring to just how wet my pussy was.
He fucked me with deep, rapid plunges of his cock into my vagina.

I moved my feet a little further apart and lowered my shoulders a little more so that my backside lifted more into the air for him to fuck me.
I was panting lustfully as I considered that it was almost unbelievable to me that this thing had happened. Even though I’d not gotten over my nervousness about those other men outside, I felt so beautifully dirty at the thought of being fucked by a total stranger, in the men’s toilet block, while my husband was nearby happily watching the game.
Oh my God, how lustful I felt being fucked in that way. How I panted and gave moans of delight. How I rocked back and forth with the thrusts of his cock. How I shoved myself back onto his gorgeous, big, hard cock in response to his own lustful thrusts.

It was all over in a couple of minutes. It had been so crude and dirty, fucked like a whore, with no love only sexual desire.
I felt both lustful and frustrated as the guy pulled away and began pulling his pants up. I did, in a way, feel excited satisfaction at having done such an obscene, crude thing, but I’d really wanted more fucking.

I pulled my panties up and was adjusting my skirt when I jumped with fright at hearing a voice just above my head, saying, “how was the slut, a good fuck?”
I looked up staring in disbelief. A guy was looking over the adjoining wall of the cubicle, and had apparently been watching us fucking.
The guy who had taken me there, also looked up in surprise, but then simply broke into a grin and answered, “Yeh, she fucks like a whore.”
I felt myself blush with shame, but at the same time felt so lustful at the crudeness of the way I was being looked upon by these two men.

The man disappeared from his position looking over the wall.
The guy that I was with slipped the bolt of the door. I moved closer to him and took his hand for protection, ready for us to quickly get out of the toilet and away from there.
On opening the door however, our way was blocked by, not only the man who had watched over the wall, but two others as well.
I didn’t consider it at the time, but later on knew that these other two must have been watching through the cracks at the edge of the door.

Anyhow, on us opening the door of the cubicle, one of these men outside said, in a tone which implied that it was the obvious thing to do, “my turn next.”
My mind wasn’t functioning normally in this extreme situation which was totally outside my level of experience. I moved to make a run for it out of the toilet, but the guy who’s hand I’d taken for protection, now hung on to me tightly. “Why not,” he laughed.

This took literally no more than a few seconds, during which fleeting time I hardly had time to think, even if I could have thought straight.
A moment later I was being bent over and my panties were down around my thighs again.
I felt hands on my waist, and then a cock plunging into my sperm filled pussy.
“Oh my God,” I gasped, my fear being assuaged by my feelings of surging lust as I was being fucked by this guy who’s face I’d hardly glimpsed.

They’d not even taken me back into the cubicle, and there I was being fucked dog fashion, with the other three men all around me.
As I say, the new guy was fucking me in absolutely no time flat, and while it was happening I’d seen one of the other men opening the front of his pants and lifting a magnificent hard cock into view. “Let’s fuck her mouth,” this guy said, moving in front of me.
The man who’d originally taken me there, released my hand which he’d still been holding firmly, and I then clutched the other guy’s legs and eagerly took his beautiful. gorgeous big cock into my mouth and began sucking up and down its entire length, working my tongue over and around the hard, bulbous head of it.

I became oblivious to everything but the cocks that were fucking my mouth and pussy. I lurched about impaled on the cocks as I was thrust around with the hard, driving thrusts of the man fucking me from behind.

“What the hell” I heard someone exclaim, and I realised that it was two men who had just entered the toilet block.
“Who’s the slut?” one of them asked as they came up. “Just some fucking whore I picked up,” my original adulterer replied. “Her husband’s out in the stands watching the game,” he added with a laugh.

The man fucking my pussy began moaning loudly and lustfully as he pummelled my slurping vagina which was sending trickles of sperm and my own lustful juices down the insides of my thighs. He clutched my back and panted with exhaustion. I knew that his sperm had filled my pussy.
In just a moment he released his grip on my body and withdrew his satisfied cock. Almost without pause, I felt a new man take his position and probe my oh so sloppy pussy with his hard, rigid cock.
My mind reeled. “Oh my God,” I thought to myself. I’d read stories of this sort of thing, but surely they weren’t true, and yet here it was actually happening. How many men now – it was four wasn’t it, my brain tried to determine through the tumult of thoughts that were swirling about.
These thoughts were brought to an abrupt halt by the guy who was fucking my mouth, suddenly grasping my head and nearly choking me with his cock which he pushed right to my throat as it gushed it’s tacky cum in copious amounts.
After this satisfied guy then pulling out, I barely had time to swallow down his sperm and to get my breath before a new cock was presented for me to suck.

I was sure more men had arrived. There seemed to be so many milling around me.
“I’m going to fuck the slut up her ass,” I heard one crude comment. It didn’t happen immediately, but when my pussy was again adulterated with another supply of cum, and I knew that someone else was preparing to mount me, I felt two hands on the cheeks of my bottom, pressing them apart, and then, after it plunging into my sloppy pussy for lubrication, the feeling of a cock pressing on my tight anus which, after a little resistance, opened up to accommodate this new, hard cock right deep within my rectal tunnel.

My mind and body wallowed in the filth and depravity of the situation as more and more men fucked me. I’ve no idea how many, I think more than ten.
I felt wonderful. I felt dirty. I certainly felt full of men’s sperm.
I loved the snatches of dirty talk that my brain managed to process. I loved the way I was referred to as “the dirty slut.” Under normal circumstances I’d have been horrified to be called such names, but under these circumstances I revelled in it. One can after all, be called a slut as an insult or as a compliment.

The events of that experience, afterwards seemed confused in my memory. I’ve no definite recollection of how it came to end. All I recall is that same guy who had taken me there, eventually taking me by the hand and leading me out.
I spent some time in the ladies, cleaning myself up and fixing my hair. There was no sign of the guy when I came out, so I then made my way back to the stands, wondering what my husband would say about my long absence.
“Where have you been?” he asked, taking his eyes from the game for a moment. “Oh, I had a coffee and have been sitting up the back,” I answered, trying to sound normal, but aware that I was blushing.
My husband seemed to take no notice, and simply turned back to watching the game.
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Later, when the game was finished and my husband’s team had won, he asked whether I’d enjoyed the day.
“Oh yes,” I said smiling to myself, “I had a wonderful time.”
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On the Monday, Rob came home from work and told me, “the guys at work were telling me that, at the game on Saturday, there was a whore turning it on in one of the men’s toilets. Can you believe that? They swear that it’s true though, the brother of one of the guys was involved. What sort of a woman would do something like that though?” then, answering his own question, he said, “some filthy, depraved whore I guess.”

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