Going for Gold

by Ivy Smoak

  "That's great. That means she'll be on the silver medal podium to watch you get gold. You ready to crush this bitch?"

  "Yeah, let's do this," I said as confidently as I could muster. Or maybe I should pull a fire alarm.

  I moved the curtain again to see the spotlight focus on Owen Harris. Oh my God, I'm going to be performing a strip dance in front of Owen Harris. I wasn't sure why I hadn't realized it before. My heart started beating even faster. This was going to be absolutely mortifying. "I can't do this with Owen Harris watching. I'm going to embarrass myself."

  "Whatever," Kristen said. "He's no Professor Hunter."

  I laughed. I remembered Professor Hunter's marketing class at the University of New Castle. Kristen had always been so nervous whenever he called on her. I looked back at the stage. Kristen was right to a certain extent. But I wasn't thinking about Professor Hunter. I was thinking about Bryce. And one thing was damn sure. Owen Harris was no Bryce Walker.

  Owen Harris raised the mic to his mouth. "Ladies and gentlemen, Alina Smith performing for the USA!" The crowd cheered as Owen Harris left the stage. The spotlight dimmed to black. In the darkness, my backup dancers rushed on stage and formed two lines from the front of the stage back to the curtain. One by one, blue spotlights focused on each of them as they stood up and pointed towards me behind the curtain.

  "Go show Gabriela how to dance," said Kristen as the dance track started playing over the loud speakers. "I'm going to go watch from the audience to get a better view. You got this, Alina. Make that bitch wish she never fucked with you. "

  It's time.

  I didn't have time to think. I just had to burst onto stage. The crowd erupted in cheers as I strutted towards the front of the stage. Hearing that applause and not falling on my face within the first three seconds of my dance was a huge confidence boost. In fact, the applause was electric. And unlike volleyball where people were cheering for the entire team, this applause was just for me.

  My confidence grew with every move I hit. For a second I even tricked myself into thinking that it wasn't going to be bad at all, but then I remembered that Tim had choreographed it so that the start was fairly tame. I tried not to think about what was coming.

  Grinding was the first sexy thing I had to do, but luckily it was with Bryce.

  "You're doing awesome," he said as I dipped low and then pushed up on him. It felt like he was starting to get that erection he had promised me. I wasn't sure if I could do this without him here for support. Or without his hands on my waist.

  My mind started to wander to what I would do with his erection after this dance. God, I was so horny. Focus, Alina!

  Chapter 36

  Sunday

  Bryce

  Alina looked so fucking hot dancing around in her dress, with the high slits giving glimpses of her lingerie and the low cut neckline exposing her cleavage. Part of my brain was focused on my dance moves, but the majority of my concentration went into not getting an erection. My tight American flag morph suit showed the outline of my penis even when I was flaccid, so I could only imagine what would happen if I got a full on boner. It would turn my crotch into an extremely patriotic teepee.

  Two of my fellow dancers stepped forward so that they were standing on either side of Alina as she gyrated her hips. One of them grabbed her arm and pulled her against his body. She ran her hands through his hair and grinded on him for a second before the other guy snatched her away and received the same treatment. Jealousy shot through me. It was tough watching her dressed the way she was and dancing on those guys. I just kept telling myself that this was just a performance. She was mine, and after the dance, I was going to show her exactly what that meant.

  When Alina spun away from the two guys, the one she had been grinding on kept hold of her dress, causing her to spin right out of it.

  Wow. I had to blink to make sure I wasn't dreaming. Alina was now dancing around wearing nothing but red, white, and blue lingerie. Her garter belt squeezed her tiny waist to accentuate her perfect figure, but my favorite part was the way the straps holding her stockings up framed her magnificent ass. I already thought it was the greatest ass I had ever seen when I watched her play volleyball in her spandex shorts, but seeing her dance around in her thong and heels took it to an entirely different level.

  All of the hard work I had done earlier to not get an erection was immediately wasted. The fabric of the morph suit felt strange as it pressed against my growing erection.

  Fuck. It was like every ten year old boy's worst fear coming true: having a boner with nothing to hide behind. When I was in grade school, I had this irrational fear of having to stand up in class while I had a boner. I would always get so nervous every time I had a boner, and by some cruel twist of fate, thinking about having a boner just made it even worse. During those terrifying moments, my mind would race and come up with ridiculous plans for how I could hide my erection if my worst fear came true and I had to stand up for something. One plan involved stalling to stand up while I discretely tucked it into the waist band of my pants. Another was to stand up close enough to the desk so that my boner would be pinned down. I even made sure that I always had a book easily accessible in my desk so that I could hide my junk behind it in a dire situation.

  Those were all great plans for hiding a classroom boner, but they were worthless on stage. And thinking about it was just making it worse. Visions flashed through my head of "boner guy" becoming an internet sensation, much like "left shark" did after Katy Perry's half time performance.

  Then I realized something. Even though the morph suit made my boner ridiculously visible, it also covered my face. I could let my boner go crazy, and no one except for those familiar with the choreography would know it was me.

  Chapter 37

  Sunday

  Alina

  Since finding out that I would be dancing in Kristen's place, I had been mortified by the thought of getting my dress ripped off on stage. It's just like wearing a bikini, I had told myself, but it really wasn't. For starters, I was wearing a thong rather than a bikini that actually covered my ass. But the biggest difference was that I was dancing provocatively in front of thousands of spectators rather than happily playing in waves while no one paid any attention to me besides for a few perverts hoping my tits would pop out when a wave hit me.

  For a second, it was every bit as mortifying as I thought it would be. But then the thunderous applause swept over me. Nothing could have made me feel totally okay with dancing around in this lingerie, but the enthusiasm of the crowd at least gave me enough confidence to keep me from running off the stage.

  I began to wonder what Bryce was thinking about all of this. I had never been this scantily clothed in front of him before. I spun around, trying to search for him, but it was hard to tell which was him with all of the backup dancers faces covered. Hopefully he was enjoying this just as much as the crowd. It was almost like I was doing a strip tease for him. Because if he didn't pull me off this stage and bang me immediately after this was over, I was going to lose my fucking mind. Every touch by one of the dancers seemed to turn me on even more. Were they all being extra handsy because I was in my lingerie or was I imagining it?

  I decided it was best to focus on my dance rather than my lack of clothing. The only thing worse than stripping in front of the whole world would have been stripping in front of the whole world and losing to Gabriela. I did a few moves, thankfully ones that kept me facing forward so I wasn't mooning the audience, and then put my arms out and allowed two of my backup dancers to carry me over to a turn table on the side of the stage. They lifted me onto the table and then all eight dancers spread out around it.

  Since this type of strip dance was most popular in South America, Tim had choreographed this part of the dance to be me doing the samba while my dancers rotated the platform. Kristen had put hours into practicing the samba and just about mastered it. I hadn't.

  I started to do the moves, but rather than looking like the s
amba, I was pretty sure I just twerking. Chris had somehow convinced me to learn how to twerk a year or so ago, so I was actually pretty good at it. I cringed as the platform rotated to reveal my jiggling ass to the audience, but there was no going back now. I put my hands on my knees, arched my back more, and moved to the beat. If I was lucky, the judges would just think I meant to be twerking rather than doing the samba.

  To my surprise, a guy in a morph suit suddenly ran across the stage doing back flips and hand springs. It wasn't part of the routine, but maybe Tim had recruited an extra backup dancer to fly across stage doing crazy acrobatics to distract the judges whenever I was screwing shit up. If that really was his plan, Tim was a genius.

  When the acrobat disappeared, my backup dancers all formed a group so that I could fall backwards into their arms. Oh God, their hands are all over me. Focus, Alina! They carried me back to center stage, and for the dismount, they flipped me over two dancers who had crouched in front of us. The crowd cheered when I stuck the landing. Or maybe they were just excited about the view of my ass I had given them during my flip.

  I took a deep breath as all eight of my dancers formed a line across the front of the stage, all with their hands on their hips. I walked behind the first dancer in line and slid my hands under his arms and around to his stomach. I was supposed to be feeling for a tab to pull, but I was distracted by his muscles. My fingers caressed the ridges of his abs, like a buggy riding over sand dunes. Sexy, rock hard sand dunes. Is this Bryce? I felt around for a little longer than I should have before pulling the tab to rip his American flag body suit open.

  The crowd and judges gasped as his suit tore open. I guess his abs look as nice as they feel.

  I moved to the next man and repeated the process. Unfortunately the tab on his suit was easier to find now that I had some practice, but I still let my fingers wander for a bit. I didn't remember what order the guys were in for this, so it was possible that this was Bryce.

  Chapter 38

  Sunday

  Bryce

  I kept my arms on my hips and stared out into the crowd as Alina went down the line, slowly ripping our morph suits open to show off our abs. After watching Alina twerk on that platform, my boner had grown even more. Thick jeans wouldn't have even been able to hide it, much less this paper-thin spandex. Not that I was checking out their junk, but I had noticed that most of the dancers were enjoying Alina's performance as much as I was.

  I heard a rip next to me and then felt Alina's hands slide around my waist onto my stomach. She traced the contours of my abs with her fingers and even let them wander to my pecs for a second before pulling the tab. Did she do that with all the dancers?

  The rush of air against my skin was extremely refreshing after dancing around in an outfit with so little ventilation. I would have thought I would only feel the air against my abs where the fabric had been pulled away, but I felt the breeze all down the front of me. Not only that, but the uncomfortably tight fabric now felt much looser. It almost felt like...

  Oh shit.

  I looked down and confirmed my suspicions. Rather than a small part of the fabric tearing away to reveal my abs like it was designed to do, the entire front of my suit had broken at the seams, leaving my erection waving freely in the air. In front of thousands of people.

  Fuck! Did my boner combined with Alina pulling the tab really make my suit explode? Or did someone tamper with my suit like I had done to poor Yao Kai? Why the fuck did I let Tim convince me to go commando under the morph suit?

  My first instinct was to put my hands over my junk, but I quickly decided that wasn't an option. This was a choreographed dance, but the audience didn't know what we had been choreographed to do. As a result, all we had to do was make it look like everything was planned. And that meant not covering my junk. As far as the audience and judges knew, male nudity was just part of the routine.

  I glanced to the side to see if I was the only one suffering a wardrobe malfunction. Part of me assumed that my dick was the biggest and therefore most likely to rip my suit open, but it turned out that wasn't the case. Well, actually, my penis was definitely the biggest, but that didn't mean that my suit was the only one to rip open. We were all standing in a row, erections pointed right at the judges.

  I tried to get a read on how the judges felt about our collective wardrobe malfunction. The Asian lady had her lips tightly pursed, clearly not impressed. But the French lady looked amused, and I was sure the three male judges were enjoying Alina's dance. If we were lucky, eight guys whipping their dicks out would boost the creativity portion of Alina's score.

  After unleashing the penis of the eighth and final backup dancer, Alina spun around and lay on the stage. Then she got on all fours and began crawling in front of us. If I didn't already have a boner, watching her arch her back and crawl across the stage definitely would have given me one. It was impossible not to picture myself walking up behind her, ripping her thong off, and fucking her right there on stage. God, her ass was a thing of beauty.

  The only problem was that every other guy in the world watching her performance, including the seven men standing next to me, were likely thinking the same thing. Whatever. They could look and want all they wanted, but at the end of the day, she was mine. Hell, in less than five minutes she'll be mine.

  As Alina crawled in front of us, the dancer to my left began tearing the remnants of his suit off, leaving only his head covered. It was probably a good idea, because if we didn't take them off, the torn suits could have been a tripping hazard during the end of the routine. One of the other dancers followed his lead, and then another. Soon we were all tearing our suits off.

  Chapter 39

  Sunday

  Alina

  Tim really did a wonderful job of choreographing this dance to make it as awkward as possible for someone wearing a thong. Sure, any dance would be uncomfortable to perform in a thong, but this one especially so. Every other move I had done since losing my dress required me to bend over or arch my back. I looked at the jumbotron where they were showing video from the HD cameras positioned around the stage. Unsurprisingly, the current feed was a close-up of my ass.

  Seeing the video made me feel even more self conscious than I already did, so I turned my head to look at my backup dancers instead. Not only would it give me an opportunity to be sexy and whip my hair around, but I also hadn't gotten to enjoy the view of my backup dancers' abs.

  Whoa! What the fuck is happening? I expected to see a line of beautiful six packs, but instead I found myself staring at eight throbbing erections. It took a second for me to process how it had happened, but it appeared that the seams on the morph suits had all busted when I pulled the tabs that should have only torn away a small portion of the fabric. The men all began tearing the fabric away from the neck down, leaving only their faces covered.

  As the men finished stripping, more cheers erupted from the audience, mainly from women. And I could see why. Just as an artist can spend countless hours perfecting a painting or sculpture, so too did these men. Only their works of art were their bodies, with every muscle sculpted to perfection. It's natural for humans to identify each other by their facial features, partially because usually our faces are exposed and our bodies are covered, but here on this stage, the script was flipped. Their faces were still covered by the American flag morph suits, but their bodies were exposed in all their glory. And each of their bodies told a story. Some had woven a tale of years in gym, adding bulk to specific muscles. Others had spent more time running, whittling away body fat to leave every fiber and ripple of their muscles just visible below the skin. Despite the differences, their stories all had the same ending: a throbbing erection. For me. God, I'm so fucking horny. Focus.

  I wondered which one was Bryce. When I had fooled around with him in the dorm, he had a happy trail that I could probably identify. But Tim had made him get waxed at the spa. And he must have had all the other backup dancers get waxed too, because they were all comple
tely hairless. I focused on the abs next. All of them were shredded, and at least half, maybe more, looked like they could belong to a runner. And all of them had impressive erections.

  Wait, did I really make all of these men that excited? The thought was exhilarating. My ass had been the focal point of the dance thus far, and I had been expecting everyone to find it repulsive. But instead, the opposite had happened. Just looking at my body had given all eight of my dancers full erections. Then a crazy thought came to me: From my sample size of eight men, I had given all of them erections. Did I have the same effect on the millions of men watching around the world? Oh my God. Why the hell am I thinking about this? Why the hell am I checking all of them out?

  I turned towards the final backup dancer, crawling towards him. I was supposed to climb up him like a sexy cat, which wouldn't have been that weird if the tabs had worked correctly and only exposed his abs. But with him naked, the climb took on a much sexier tone. I reached up and grabbed his naked thighs, feeling his smooth skin and tight muscles. As I continued my climb, I had to dodge to the side to avoid his cock slapping me in the face. But there was no avoiding it bouncing against my cleavage and poking into my stomach. I tried to ignore the excitement caused by coming into contact with his hard cock, but despite my best efforts, my heart beat accelerated and my body tingled with desire.

  "Sorry," I muttered. I was pretty sure that the climb wasn't supposed to be done on Bryce, which meant I was molesting some random guy. Awkward.

  "I don't mind at all," he said. "In fact, I like slapping you with my cock."

  Did he really just say that? I spun away from him, and as I did, I caught a glimpse of Gabriela standing backstage, laughing at me.