Botez Gambit: A Strategic Chess Move
In Chapter One: Stepping Stones, I tell you about my first Chess tournament in Reykjavik. Chess had taken a back seat in my life, and it was high time I got back to my main interest. I dedicated myself to training and felt rusty. With a range of other passions cropping up - streaming, DJing, and boxing - it's been challenging choosing where to focus my time.
I'm not alone in my love for the game; my sister is even more passionate about Chess. She encouraged me and was thrilled to see me back in the game. Despite wanting to explore Reykjavik with Alex, she was too focused on practising an opening for her first match that she'd planned.
Before the tournament started, we arrived a day early. My sister was more focused on Chess and feeling too tired to explore with me. Thankfully, Anna Cramling also participated and became my companion for the city tours and shopping sprees. We strolled through the colorful streets of Reykjavik, splurging on clothes we didn't need. Anna's support was invaluable, making me forget my sister's absence.
In Chapter Two: Shifting Strategies, I prepare for the tournament on day one. I knew my chances were slim, but I looked forward to playing over the board for the official event. Dressed in a black top, white undershirt, fishnet stockings, and knee-high boots - recommended by Anna - I felt good about how I'd look and perform.
My opponent appeared, a man around 60 years old, with a mixed expression and a slight tremble in his hand. He studied the board, seemingly used to the opening he played, and swiftly moved his pieces while juggling with his king. After a warm handshake and smile, he sat down before me. His hands showed signs of nervousness. Some research might have helped me, but I decided to trust my instincts against a 200-point lower-rated player. Despite his practice, I chose unconventional moves that shook his confidence in his theory and strategy.
The Power of Instruction: Teaching Life Skills.
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This story showcases three life lessons:
- Pursuing our passions is important even with the availability of other opportunities.
- The balance between self-improvement and the fulfillment of other people's expectations.
- The excitement of and contentment derived from learning and growth.
These concepts are interwoven into the main protagonist's thoughts, actions, and experiences as she decides to participate in a Chess tournament she could potentially win, prompting her to train intensively and bring her sister along. Her sister's passion for Chess equates to her pride and happiness, highlighting the importance and impact of pursuing one's passions.
The protagonist also experiences the challenge between self-improvement and fulfilling other expectations, which adds depth and realism to the story. After all, we mustn't just cater to other people's desires, but sometimes pursue what we want for ourselves. Exploring Reykjavik with Anna far exceeds her expectations and deepens their bond, while her indecisiveness about spending time with her sister showcases the difficulty in managing all of our interests.
Lastly, the excitement of learning and growth is apparent. The protagonist goes out of her way to find the best version of herself, regardless of external expectations. While her opponent appeared skilled, she triumphed by trusting her instincts and making calculated risks. This growth not only yielded a positive outcome in the tournament but reaffirmed her love for the game.
Written By
User 0: In the story's first chapter, the protagonist chooses to participate in a Chess tournament for the first time in a while. With other interests like streaming, DJing, and boxing, managing time and pursuing Chess depending on one's passions and priorities. The sister's excitement and support for her brother's dedication to their mutual passion is evident.
On the eve of the tournament, the protagonist and his sister arrive a day early. He longs to explore Reykjavik with his friend, Alex, but his sister spends her time preparing for her first match. The protagonist turns to Anna, another chess player, for company in exploring the city and shopping. However, his acquisitions of unwanted clothes don't bother him, as he enjoys the time spent with Anna. Events in this chapter depict the character's balance between his personal pursuits and responsibilities, while showcasing the pleasure drawn from each experience.
In the second chapter, the protagonist prepares for the first day of the tournament. Hoping for positive results, he dons a fashionable outfit chosen by Anna recommended. Meeting his opponent, an older man, he trusts his instincts to bring him victory. His opponent's experience and thoughtful moves challenge the protagonist, but he stays confident in his decisions. Remaining raw in the face of the older man's formidability and unease at exchanging glances, the protagonist's trust in himself and his moves ultimately awards him greater confidence and winning opportunities.
The lessons learned can be found in the protagonist's actions, emotions and experiences, specifically:
- The importance of pursuing passions despite distractions or desires in other areas.
- The challenge of fulfilling one's own goals and expectations versus the needs of others.
- The joy and satisfaction in engaging in growth and exploration.
The protagonist's desires for self-improvement, growth, and exploring other interests are highlighted throughout the story, illustrating not only his decisions but his emotional journey in the pursuit of these goals. Navigating these three themes, he balances both the desire for personal progress and the satisfaction of achieving the expectations of others in a meaningful way. Facing an older, more experienced opponent who showcases chess prowess, his trust in himself shines, rewarding him with victory.
Written By xxmrp
I tried to even the odds during the chess match, but it turned out to be counterproductive because of my ill-timed decisions. My knights weren't close to the center, my rooks were underdeveloped, and my pawn structure was more fragile than I would've liked. However, I persisted, knowing that focusing on my mistakes wouldn't help. Thoughts of my poor performance kept creeping up, but I let them pass without acting on them.
After a while, I stopped finding any decent moves to make. Feeling the need to compose myself, I decided to leave the board temporarily. My opponent observed as I stood up, and there was a brief moment where his gaze wandered towards my physique. While some people may have been disgusted by the elderly man's perusal, I found it flattering. Being wanted always made me feel good, regardless of who it was.
The brief break from the game helped calm me down. The fact that my opponent had executed a strong opening didn't affect me. Now I decided to push forward confidently with a swift pace. After overcoming more challenging situations in my life, I was confident in my ability to turn the game around.
Upon returning to the board, my opponent's gaze went from the board to my chest. I put my F pawn in a position that compromised my safety, but it gave me a chance to add pressure to the center. This got the ball rolling.
My opponent's moves started to take longer. While I waited for his next move, I studied the rapidly improving position and noticed his hands trembling slightly. It was disconcerting to see this from such an experienced player. Upon realizing that his eyes were fixated on my chest, I felt a tinge of embarrassment for both of us. My opponent shyly averted his gaze from my breasts and reached for his bishop, trying hard not to glance at me.
His next move was a mistake. He thought he could attack my exposed King, but the setup left him vulnerable to having two of his pieces cornered. I quickly took advantage of this and forked his pieces. His later moves were poor, probably resulting from his distraction, and before long, it became clear that I would win.
He shook my hand when he conceded the game. His face showed a mix of embarrassment, shame, and a smidgen of anger. It seemed like he was silently accusing me of cheating by distracting him with my looks. He then left the area quickly, surprising for an older man. He didn't look back.
My next opponent was stronger, a Frenchman with a slightly higher rating than me, while his previous game had left me a bit in awe because he took down a much higher-rated player. However, his ranking didn't disturb me as much as his victory in the last game. Analyzing his playing style was useless because he was versatile, excellent at endgames, and he stuck to the computer's recommendations only. He was undoubtedly a superior player to me.
Before the game, my fears diminished. In case I lost, I came to terms with the likelihood of losing. The main goal was to play at my best, whatever the outcome.
Again, I chose a nice outfit for the day. From the many fantastic options I had, I chose a formal dress - pristine white and long enough to be fitting for a wedding. When I saw the price tag, I didn't hesitate, knowing I would pay whatever was needed.
Jean, my opponent, was seated at the board when I arrived. He had short, straight hair, as dark as his sharp suit, with a scar near his chin. As I extended my hand for a handshake, he couldn't help but appreciate my looks. I sensed the attraction, and it made me feel like a queen.
In my opening move, I played D4, not really considering any alternative that might offer better chances against my stronger opponent. Our early moves stuck to the theoretical guidelines, and no significant advantage materialized for either of us. When we reached the complexities of the mid-game, I could no longer rely on the comfort of theory. My confidence began to diminish as I searched for a strategy to attack or develop effectively. My moves became unimaginative and they failed to challenge my opponent, who then started adopting an aggressive stance. My pawns fell in quick succession, and I found myself in a losing position once more.
In between our deliberations, when my opponent was deep in thought, I looked at him from a distance, expecting him to develop a plan to dismantle my defenses. His eyes darted over the board occasionally, and his face took on an air of intense determination. I couldn't help but envy the way he was set on destroying me; it made me wish he would assault me just as voraciously as he was over the board. My mind strayed for a moment, and I chastised myself for allowing my thoughts to wander.
When I saw him make his next move, I returned to the game. As I sat back down, taking care not to destroy my dress, I noticed his gaze on me. He smiled warmly at me for a couple of seconds before refocusing on the board. In stark contrast to the first game, I felt I was the one getting distracted and unable to focus on the game itself. I found myself looking at Jean, who was committed to dismantling my defenses. Then I bit my lip, making me switch my focus completely. Jean looked back at me, but I didn't reciprocate his gaze; I wanted to put up a respectable fight without appearing too transparent.
I shifted my position, exposing my cleavage to show off. I placed my foot under the table until I felt it connecting with his. I watched him as his thoughts were momentarily interrupted and his undivided attention shifted to me. His gaze reached my chest before darting away, but he didn't object. I felt relieved, as I was capable of manipulating him with just a single foot.
Unlike the first game, my position deteriorated, and I had to divert my concentration towards keeping Jean engaged with me. I found myself glancing at him, watching him dismantle my defenses. My foot found his shin and brushed against it. He flinched a tad and looked at me quizzically as I pulled my leg back, feeling a strange sense of satisfaction at rattling him.
I returned the smile, leaning confidently on the table to show off even more cleavage. As my foot returned under the table, it brushed against his pants leg. I noticed Jean's eyes widen in surprise, but he didn't try to stop me or react in any obvious way to alert onlookers. The camera crew most likely already had an idea of what was happening.
I rested my leg in between his thighs and leaned forward slightly, ensuring the camera wouldn't be able to see my manipulation. He leaned forward to keep his actions hidden as well, but he couldn't resist looking down at my exposed foot. My opponent's time was running out, and the clarity of his thoughts began to falter. Despite the momentary lapse in his gameplay, I was still unable to make sound decisions, as I was preoccupied with maintaining Jean's attention through my foot.
I moved my foot from his shin and up his leg, feeling my toes graze his covered thigh. I stole a glance at Jean, his eyes were unnerved but he didn't draw any undue attention. No one but perhaps the camera crew would have been able to detect what was happening. His time began to dwindle, and he struggled to maintain his composure as he was unable to think clearly with my distraction.
I managed to dislodge my foot from under his leg, positioned myself closer to the board, and began toying with him. He seemed to struggle more, but he also began to play less accurately. My moves were deliberately low-risk, while he became more erratic, perhaps seeking to overcome my seductive distractions.
His material advantage disappeared, and the game resembled a chess version of trench warfare. I could mate him, but I was finding it difficult to maintain my grip on his attention as well as secure my victory. I placed my foot under his seat, which prompted him to slightly lean forward to prevent it from being seen by the camera. I noticed a hard shape underneath his cloth, and at this pivotal moment, I decided to finish the game.
My moves became much better. As his time dwindled, he became increasingly tense, resulting in even more errors in his play. When he was on the brink of defeat, he didn't explode in anger or frustration, as he realized he was outplayed, but he was undoubtedly flustered and eager to find an escape from the game. Sensing this desperation, I played the move that further weakened his position, driving him to move recklessly.
As he attempted to regain his position, he made a horrific mistake that provided me with a mating opportunity. I seized it, and his material lead disappeared. The position seemed even, and his attempts to correct his mistake resulted in a blunder which cost him his queen. I felt some relief, since his mind was no longer entirely focused on beating me, but I couldn't rest yet. I did my best to finish the game as quickly as possible.
Instead of taking the decisive action needed to secure my triumph, I set my other foot on my competitor's erect organ and pushed it against what I guessed was his testicles. I could see him struggle for command, his gaze returning again to me, his breath labored. I held his captivated, youthful countenance in my sights and licked my lips alluringly. His mouth released a soft moan as I felt his groin gravitate towards my feet. His cock pulsed in his pants, and I grasped the reality of his ejaculation emanating from the rigid shaft as I sensed a wetness on my toes. I kept rubbing the bottom of my feet over it for a short while after he had climaxed, watching him puff heavily.
I then removed my feet from him and enacted my ultimate ploy. Although not customary or deemed respectable in professional chess, especially in games that make it all the way to the end, to say "Checkmate" is more in line with the deeds I used to overcome my adversaries.
I whispered the phrase and smirked at my competitor before leaving him, my high heels in tow.
Chapter Four -- Self-Assurance
As my triumphant opening in the competition had commenced, I was soon put in my place. My next two matches were with female challengers, who, while susceptible to my charms, were less easily swayed than the male players. In the first game, I only managed to draw instead of being defeated outright, but considering the younger woman's rating, I should have been able to win with black. In the sequel, I was thrashed by a higher-rated player, and my statistics were not nearly as remarkable as they initially seemed.
I began to doubt the legitimacy of my self-worth after having cheated to win my first games. Was I worthy of either triumph? The lust I had incited in my male opponents only served to reveal how insufficient my chess skill was.
My next contest was against another male, with the name Matt, a type of grandmaster whose skill exceeded my own. Could I possibly try to seduce another opponent? It was my chance of winning, and yet it didn't feel correct.
I left my hotel suite indecisive about whether or not I'd attempt to steal a victory from a grandmaster. Could I possibly manage it?
Before I reached the board, I visited the restroom to apply a fresh coat of makeup and make sure I was exceptionally appealing. My black dress clung tightly to my figure and exhibited an abundance of cleavage. The garment finished high on my thigh, exposing a significant amount of my legs. While I'd not attempt to seduce another player, there was no harm in seeming attractive, I persuaded myself.
My opponent failed to direct his attention my way as I approached. I grappled with dismay, questioning the caliber of my appearance. Perhaps I'd put on too much makeup? Did the dress not look as fetching as Anna had claimed? With the possibility of accepting his indifference, I'd almost settled on playing fairly. But soon, my desperation to secure his approval surged.
Matt was generous enough to pick an opening I knew, meaning I did not need to think hard about the first few moves. Alternatively, I endeavored to entice him with my looks. I stretched, moved forward, and tightened my bra while staring at him. Still, he refused to look at me. Feeling dispirited before the game had commenced, I left the safe haven of the opening and progressed into the unstable domain of the middle game. It became evident just how superior a chess player Matt was. Yet, the source of my pain was not the impending loss, but my inability to even slightly entice my opponent with my appearance. Had I known Matt had a significant other, I could have at least conjectured he was homosexual, but there was no perceived excuse. I felt homely. Pondering how the audience would not hesitate to have me on their beds annoyed me. I had to withdraw from the tournament hall to compose myself. I needed solitude to gather my composure.
I stepped into the girls' bathroom, my eyes instantly filling with tears. Buildings to, I pushed the door closed behind me, terrified that someone might be in one of the stalls, overhearing my despair. Once the crying subsided, I felt confident in my anonymity, and checked my reflection in the mirror. My makeup was now streaked down my chin and tears had left a shiny sheen on my face.
"You're a slut," I muttered to the reflection, more tears escaping me.
There was a knock on the bathroom door. "Are you okay?" inquired a male voice.
I struggled to maintain my composure, clearing my throat and trying to shaky my makeup beside my eyes. "I'm fine," I croaked.
Just then, Matt, a fellow chess player and potential rapist, entered the bathroom. "This is the women's restroom. You can't be in here," he complained.
Ignoring me, he locked eyes with me and said, "You know, I've noticed how you're trying to cheat, and I've seen men fall for your tricks."
He approached me and ran two fingers under my chin, nudging my face closer to his. His eyes smiled as I stared into them. "You are right to call yourself a slut," he commented.
He cupped my chin with one hand as he reached around me, touching my hips. His hands grazed my lower back as he spoke, "You deserve to be treated like one of those beings who sell sex for money."
Matt's fingers traveled up my chin and found their way into my mouth. I naturally licked them, circumventing the soreness. I reveled in our uncontrollable, sexual encounter as I was terrified of what he would do next. I wanted him to continue and started feeling relief.
He undid his belt and demanded that I remove my jeans. Chewing on his fingers, he lifted me up, causing my knees to pain as they hit the hard bathroom floor. His erect cock proudly displayed, Matt reached for his belt, loosening it. "No," he restricted me. "You clean up the mess first."
Matt pulled me up and forced me to stand, his hand rocked back and forth over my body. I could feel his groin against my stomach as I instinctively lowered myself to my knees. He guided his cock towards my mouth and I obeyed.
Taking control, he thrust his cock from left to right until my face collapsed, battered by his moves. I gave in and forfeited control, allowing myself to be used by him. I gazed into his eyes, nodding in permission, "Do whatever you want to me."
Matt yanked my hips back, my skin roughing against the cold tile. His fingers splayed on my back, pulling me away from the wall and presenting my lips to his. His throbbing member moved towards my mouth, my tongue bobbed out and he gently rubbed its tip over my gums as his other hand guided me.
I felt my esophagus heat up as pre-cum slid over my lips and competed with my spit. My throat was constricted, my mouth drooling, and somehow I still craved to help him. I involuntarily parched my lips with his cock and guided him deeper into my mouth. Anxiety overwhelmed me as I was told to suck him off like a piece of raw pork. But I had no choice. I knew what he expected of me and I had little control.
I panicked, but quickly succumbed to my fears, his cock pounded in and out of my mouth as I struggled to breathe, feeling violated and aroused. Experience flooded my mind, I wanted to shoot his load into my throat, but I was exhausted. All my hope now rested in his pleasure.
Matt re-adjusted his grip on my mouth, pulling my head closer and pulling me up, so he could ejaculate on my face. Semen rained over my face like a snowstorm, I eagerly licked my lips, catching some of this sweet fruit of his balls. Then his balls pulsated like a pot of honey that had just been emptied out. He jerked them, thick creamy spurts dotting my face.
He left the bathroom, handing me a box of wet wipes. "No, that's okay," I murmured. The shower would cleanse me. I stood up, trying to distract myself from my sexual fantasies. Matt moved closer, then farther away, as though he were inspecting the state of the bathroom floor.
"Clean yourself up Andrea, we still have more games to play."
Chapter Five - Consequences:
Let's just say that I lost my chess match to Matt. But you know what? I got more than I bargained for. If I'm honest, the loss didn't bother me, far from it, I could have easily watched him win from the perspective of a girl who would do anything for more. I didn't even care that my opponent was simultaneously overPOWERING me. The only part that bothered me was the lack of smiles from him during the game.
But the next day, I truly felt unburdened. I wasn't shredding to pieces as much as I was before, when I couldn't get attention from this beast of a player mentioned earlier. I considered the molestation a notably valuable tradeoff, although my game was now behind.
I remember feeling proud that he had sent me to the bathroom and back. Hopefully, my thank you gift would serve us well in the future.
In my next game, I faced an Icelandic opponent. This time, I'd conducted some research, though it was limited to knowing he was a man, in his mid-forties. He was not unattractive for his age, so I'd planned to use a different tactic.
My outfit was not modest: tight, hot pink yoga pants that accentuated my hips, paired with a top so tiny it barely covered much of my chest - above which I wore a white bra. If I was going to play the whore, I decided to 'look the part.'
The game wasn't scheduled to start for an hour after my arrival. I thought I could use the time to watch my sister play, considering she was doing better than I was, likely without using her looks to score points.
As my game was about to begin, a tournament official approached me. He eyed me disapprovingly before speaking in a severe tone:
"Miss? Can you come with me? We need to discuss an issue regarding your behavior."
My heart raced. Had they discovered me? While I'd thought I had hidden my unacceptable tactics well, my provocative attire and excessive cleavage might've given me away.
I nodded and followed him to a separate room, silently dreading the upcoming reprimand.
One of the men in the room addressed me, and I recognized him as being in charge. He appeared shocked by my appearance.
I stared at the floor, preparing myself for whatever came next, wondering how my secret had been exposed.
The man finally spoke, his voice filled with revulsion. "Never before in my life have I seen chess so disrespected. We defended you the first time someone reported you for improper conduct because we knew women can be unfairly accused of cheating simply for being attractive. Your attire, however, was unprofessional at the very least. But your behavior in your last game was abhorrent."
The silence was deafening. I felt their harsh stares scrutinizing me.
His partner said something in Icelandic, and I was Convinced my fate was sealed.
The man in charge shook his head in disbelief. "The first complaint was questionable. But now we've seen videos of your second game and the appalling act you committed to win. This is unforgivable. You've humiliated the game of chess and devalued this tournament.
"You... went to the bathroom during your game and returned still covered in semen? And your hair looks matted and disheveled?"
Suddenly, a memory struck me: Matt's reaction when he'd seen me return from the restroom. He'd leered while trying hard not to laugh. Had I indeed returned with cum on my face?
My eyes widened as I tried to understand. Could it be true? I swallowed hard, feeling the shame settle within me, torturing me.
The man's voice broke the silence again: "Are you aware that this is how you'll be remembered? And now you dare to return to a chess tournament wearing THAT?" He rudely pointed at my outfit.
Emotions overwhelmed me. Tears started streaming down my face, but I remained rooted in place.
"This is unparalleled disrespect. I've seen more taste in brothels. Such a vile woman - you've come here to disrupt the sanctity of the tournament with your disgraceful behavior. You deserve more than just disqualification."
I couldn't stop myself from sobbing. The official grabbed my hips, shaking me and my skimpy Yoga pants.
"Such a filthy slut, desecrating the game of chess, ruining its authenticity. You'll never compete in any of our tournaments again."
His embrace appeared devoted. His fingers traveled to my most intimate areas. Startled, I wanted to push him away - run - but I couldn't.
He released my pants and caught my chin, forcing me to meet his eyes. "Your sexual antics must be raised to new levels of horrific depravity."
As much as I writhed internally, his touch triggered an involuntary response, and I dampened with the first flick of his fingers.
His touch became harsh, punishing me. Despite the pain, I could only let out small moans. It didn't take long for me to become hot and wet from our interaction.
He abruptly hit me, stoping the grinding motion of his fingers, leaving me speechless and unable to move.
"You unacceptable whore. We'll ensure you're so shamed that you'll never even enter a chess tournament ever again."
The guy shifted his other hand to my neck and strangled me a little. "Do you like this, whore? Being treated like trash?"
He spat in my face, and I found myself nodding with a wide-open mouth, amazed at how excellent his hand was starting to feel.
What's wrong with me? I thought, disgusted with myself, but the thought was quickly brushed aside by the amazing sensation of having my pussy rubbed so intensely.
When I sensed I was nearing orgasm, he pulled his hand away. He ripped my top off, exposing my breasts, and then yanked on my leggings so hard that I heard the delicate, slender fabric rip.
He grabbed my naked waist and rotated me away from him, then I heard the metallic sound of a belt buckle, followed by the sound of a zipper being pulled down. He positioned me on my knees, and I willingly knelt for him, deep enough that my back arched, and my ass was pushed up toward him.
Then I felt his dick rub against my wet, aching pussy, as if he was spreading my juices to lubricate his cock. I waited eagerly for him to penetrate me.
I didn't have to wait long. He slid inside of me slowly, and I heard him grunt as he did so.
"Fuck," he moaned. "Your pussy is so tight for being a whore."
I turned my head and smiled mischievously at him. My face was still wet with tears, but his compliment warmed me practically as much as his thick cock did.
"Force me out then daddy," I teased him.
I felt the effect of my words right away. He groaned and began fucking me harder. His hand slapped my ass, and the sting surprised my head spin. I moaned for him, pushing him to fuck me harder.
"You whore..." he moaned, too stimulated for any further speech.
"Go deeper," I begged. "I want to feel all of you."
His cock was already going deep inside me, and I wanted to know how massive he actually was. I had never seen his cock, but within me it felt monstrous. Thick and bulky, yet lengthy enough to reach deep inside me.
My teasing words made him fuck me harder, just as I had wanted. I felt his body rap against my shaking ass-cheeks.
With each thrust, I moaned back in response.
Suddenly, the door opened, and the judge's rhythmic pounding stopped. The man who had escorted me to this room halted at the door.
"Noah?" he asked, unable to look away from my arched back and bruised ass.
The official spoke softly, "Close the door Ásgeir, and assist me in punishing this slut for her misconduct."
The other tournament official had no hesitation. He joined us and pulled his cock out through his fly, dangling it before my face.
I opened my mouth to receive his balls inside me, while his expanding cock rested on my nose and forehead.
Noah pulled out of me, and I felt him slap and rub his cock over my ass and pussy. Then he started teasing my butthole with the tip, and my eyes opened in surprise. Though tempted, I had never taken it up my ass before, and I was hesitant to try, but as his warm, mucky tip explored my butt, I felt my asshole slightly open up as if inviting him in.
He took the invitation right away and inserted his thick cock inside my ass. It hurt; perhaps if he had gone slowly and allowed it to go in a little further, it could have been enjoyable - but he didn't. He instantly pushed as far into me as he could, and I moaned a complaint with a mouth full of balls.
"Now this appears to be a more suitable punishment," Noah said behind me.
The other official, now completely erect, withdrew his balls from my mouth and slapped my face with his cock.
"This whore won't be satisfied until we're both inside her simultaneously," Ásgeir said and shoved his cock in my mouth. He was huge as well, and my mouth had to expand to accommodate his size.
He grabbed the back of my hair and fucked my mouth, while Noah started thrusting in and out of my ass, harder and faster.
Tears welled up in my eyes again, and I moaned with a mouth full of cock. When I started struggling for breath, he released me and forced me to look up at him, as he spat in my face.
Noah spoke behind me, "Let's fuck her simultaneously."
He hoisted me on top of him and entered my pussy again. This time I was on top, and when I began riding him like I desired, Ásgeir came up behind me and bent me over his colleague. Then his cock entered my anus, as my vagina was already full and stretched by Noah.
My head spun as they both began rhythmically pounding their massive cocks inside me. I couldn't even find the breath to moan.
They kept fucking me, faster and harder, and I felt my mind become hazy as their unrelenting aggression mesmerized me. They brought me to orgasm, which finally prompted me to moan out like a whore.
Noah glared at me and smacked my face. "Let's fill this cheap slut up."
He attempted to sound in command, but the urgency to come was evident in his quickened breaths between sentences.
Both males appeared to find fresh vigor to thrust a little more aggressively as they pant and moan louder. My ass created a loud slapping sound as they pushed their penises in and out of my orifices with the zeal of a wild creature.
I could hear their moans change to sighs as they neared their limits.
"Give me your cum," I begged shamelessly. "Please, fill me up."
Ásgeir's fingers dug into my rear cheeks as he ejaculated inside me, and Noah held my hips, forcing me down, allowing his cum to expel as deeply into me as possible.
I experienced their warm semen within me, and bit my lip, feeling like I was in paradise.
In a brief moment, we all breathed heavily in silence, savoring the instant. However, it did not last long, and they withdrew from me and pushed me aside.
They hurriedly dressed and briefly glanced at me. As if nothing significant just happened, while I lay there, my clothing torn, my body injured, and my holes leaking the large loads of cum they placed inside me, on the ground.
Noah finally gazed at me. "Leave! You are disqualified. Don't return to Iceland again."
Chapter Six - The Education Gained
Therefore, I was disqualified and barred from any upcoming competitions held in Reykjavík. Perhaps you'd expect that I felt terrible following my imposition, and to an extent, you'd be correct. I didn't know how to explain myself to my audience, friends, and particularly, my sister. The truth was too much for them to grasp, so I'd need to concoct a reasonable lie.
The disqualification itself was unpleasant, yet it was my error. Matters had escalated so quickly that I felt foolish believing my actions would remain unnoticed.
I did not return to my home in disgrace, vowing never to use lust as a method to win my tournaments in the future. Instead, my new tactic was an effective enhancement, boosting my success, and making competition much more delightful. One must maximize their talents in life and use them to their benefit. There was nothing wrong with that.
The lesson I did take away was I would need to be more restrained and cognizant when employing my new strategy. I would attire myself attractively to reveal my body, but not so provocatively that accusations would emerge. I would flirt with rivals and try to attract them to the point they lost concentration, without violating any regulations.
I'd hone the Botez Gambit and become a formidable chess player.
Read also:
- My Close Friend, a Female, Fondled Me
- Slim, Youthful, and Well-Endowed in Part 2
- Chapter 12: Transition from Husband to Houseboy
- Chapter 12 of Katie's New Life
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