Teen BlowJob Tournament

 

I was shivering all over, and my stomach was in my throat. What
the heck was I doing here, standing in this large gymnasium along
with dozens of American girls? Whatever possessed me to join this
event? How could I possibly go through with this? A Blow-Job
tournament, of all things?!?

And to think, only two months ago I had never even heard of a blow
job. I came from China to attend school here. I was supposed to
study, work hard, and learn, and my university was one of the top
schools in the US for science and engineering. I had no idea I
would be learning anything like this. But that time, two or three
weeks after school started, I noticed this advertisement on the
bulletin board. A guy suggested that I enter, and everyone else
crowded around me and kept telling me, “Yes! Do it!” How could I
say no?

A voice called out over the intercom, “Team C, report to the
(something) room. Team C, report to the (something) room.” I
couldn’t properly hear and understand that word. I checked my card
again, just to make sure. I was on team H. They combined us
randomly into teams of twelve for the first round, and we were all
scored by teams. Everyone in the top five teams would advance to
the next round. I didn’t know how this worked; I didn’t know
anything, just wanted to get this over with.

As far as I could tell, I was the only asian. Nope, not quite. I
saw a few other asians scattered among us. I also noticed a few
boys here as well. Boys? What were boys doing on this side with
us? Were THEY going to Give as well? The boys were all supposed
to be on the other side; boys were supposed to Receive, the girls
to Give. Whatever. I had other things to worry about.

I was thinking of just getting up and leaving, but I thought of the
deposit. They required a deposit of $500, which would be refunded
upon my participation in the first round. I was sore tempted to
withdraw and forfeit the $500. But $500 was a LOT for me — half
my total wealth here in the US. It was a stupid thing to do, I
realize that now. Had I been born just a week later, I wouldn’t be
going through this. My birthday was last week, and I was now
eighteen years old. The form that I filled out, with all those
disclaimers and other fine print, said they would love to have
participants as young as fifteen, but the law only allowed people
eighteen years old or over. So everyone around me was either
eighteen or nineteen.

“Team F, report to the (something) room. Team F, report to the
(something) room.” There was that word again, that I couldn’t pick
out. But no matter, I was two teams closer to the big event. I’d
missed the announcement for Team D. I shuddered in embarrassment
and nervous anticipation.

Admittedly, I wasn’t exactly a virgin. A senior in my dorm had
persuaded me to do it with him one Saturday about a week after
school started. Brad was terribly nice and gentle, and took things
very slowly. He even stood in front of me and let me look at him
first. I was still embarrassed when he finally persuaded me to
remove my clothes and let him look, but it seemed unfair not to
show him mine after he showed me his. He started at my lack of
hair down there, and my embarrassment returned as I feared that
something was wrong. He kept looking, and eventually touched me.
I’m very ticklish, and when he licked and kissed me down there he
drove me out of my mind. He wanted me to lick his thing, but I
just couldn’t; that was where he — what was the word? Pees? I
did touch it, though, a bit. It felt bouncy and elastic, like
rubber. He kept licking me down there, and finally I let him get
on top and slide his thing into me.

I enjoyed it, and as I said, he was very nice, yet afterwards I
felt so embarrassed and humiliated that I felt like I couldn’t face
anyone. I got over that, but couldn’t face Brad for a long time
afterwards. But a few days ago, I worked up the nerve and asked
him about blow-jobs. He offered to let me practice on him, and to
teach me a little about my body too. I had one practice session
with him the day before coming out here.

“Team H, report to the Touch-Up Room. Team H, report to the Touch
Up room.” That was mine team letter! I looked about desperately,
wondering where I should go. A couple other girls were heading
somewhere, so I followed them, out into a hall. I asked one of
them, “Is this Team H?” and she answered yes.

We entered a room. A lady at the door took our names and checked
us off. A boy was with us, and he looked as terrified as I felt.
The other girls — some were stoic, some were excited and
enthusiastic, some were frightened. One was gasping, and looked
almost ready to cry.

The lady closed the door and called in a loud voice, “May I have
your attention, please? Now, all of you I assume know how this
works. The twelve of you are all a team for this round, and you
will be scored together. Your team will be scored based on such
factors as average intensity of groans, total volume of ejaculate,
average length of your job,…” the lady went on and on, and I
tuned her out. She handed out blinders for all of us. “You will
all be blindfolded. There are several reasons for this. We
believe that you will ultimately be more comfortable not seeing the
other person and the audience who will be watching you all this
time.” She didn’t have to remind us, did she? “Also, we do not
wish to raise false hopes about you and your partner. You don’t
know who he is, and after this round, you will probably never see
him again.” I put on my blindfold, sweeping aside my long hair and
letting it fall back down. I couldn’t see a thing.

“Okay,” continued the lady. “Now, everyone, take off all your
clothes and leave them in the box in front of you. They’ll be
right here when you get back.” I froze, just couldn’t do anything.
Then, slowly, I removed sandals, and then my tee-shirt. I hesi-
tated, and then removed my bra. Finally, I lowered my shorts and
my panties and stepped out of them. I shivered, even though it
wasn’t cold. I felt naked.

“Okay, everyone. Line up and take your neighbors’ hands.” I
didn’t know where to go, but someone grabbed my hand, and I
followed her forward. Someone took my other hand as well. “Now,
ladies — and gentleman,” she added after a pause. “Don’t worry
about anything; you won’t get lost. We’ll be watching you and make
sure you’re in the right place. Okay, let’s go!”

I my right-hand neighbor tugged me, and we moved off, me following
my right hand neighbor and leading my left-hand neighbor. I felt a
sudden cold breeze on my bare skin as we left the room. After a
little walking, including some turns, I was totally lost. I just
followed where my hand was leading me.

I finally heard applause, which grew louder and louder. It came
from all about. The applause continued as we continued to walk,
periodically stopping a moment. My left-hand girl let go of me,
and I continued walking until someone took my right hand and
separated it from my neighbors. She stopped me here and placed my
hand on a railing.

I waited. The applause died down, and then an announcer commenced
introducing us. He first read out the men’s names, and then our
names, giving the name, major, college, and hometown. I listened
in fear, getting more and more nervous.

Finally, I heard, “Shuming Zhao, computer science, representing
***********” I’m not going to name my university; it’s too well
known. “Originally from Fuzhou, China.” He mispronounced my name
and my city, pronouncing the zh-sound like in pleasure. It’s
supposed to sound like a dz. The rest of it didn’t sound quite
right, either. Everyone applauded, and I raised my hands up and
out and turned around. I was glad of the blindfold; it all seemed
surreal. Even though I knew it in my mind, I couldn’t feel down in
that I was standing completely naked except for the blinder, in
front of a huge audience.

It only took a moment. The announcer went on to the next name, and
the introductions ended all too soon. A band began playing in the
distance, and that was our cue.

My hand on the railing, I followed it, stepping on — almost
tripping over — a mattress. I felt my unknown partner in front of
me, and stopped and reached forward with my other hand. I felt his
body, and he put his hands around my waist and pulled me in. He
was rather tall, and I put my hands on his shoulders. We were
supposed to start by kissing, so I turned my face up toward where I
thought his was, and bumped my nosed on his chin. We both jumped,
but we finally managed to find each other’s mouth, only bumping our
noses once.

We kissed, and I tasted his mouth. His thing — penis? — got hard
while we kissed, and pressed against my stomach. Then he sat down,
sort of pulling me down on him, between his legs. I slid down
backwards and took his penis and balls in my hands. I felt them a
little while, wondering if I could actually put it in my mouth. It
smelled very different from Brad; I didn’t really like it. Finally,
I leaned forward and licked it briefly. It rubbed over my face,
and the guy put his hands on my head and pulled me in toward him.

I licked him more, and he groaned. I put my mouth over that
strange bulb-like shape at the end and played with it with my
tongue. I used my teeth just a little too; not biting, and not
exactly nipping. A little chewing. I gently squeezed his balls,
then pulled off his shaft and took them in my mouth. His groans
grew louder, and he kept pulling my head in toward him, saying,
“Yes, yes, suck harder! More, more!” He was sweating, and his
sweat felt gooey and smelled something strange.

My mouth was back on his shaft, and I was going up and down pretty
hard, when he suddenly froze and gave a loud rasping gasp. The
next thing I knew, his penis was shooting spurts and spurts of
slimy goo into my mouth. I coughed and gagged, and almost vomited.
My stomach did give a couple heaves. I tried to pull away, but he
kept pushing my head onto him.

Finally he let me go. I lifted my head up and away, and spat out
as much of the goo as possible. The taste was awful, and I just
couldn’t get rid of it. I might have swallowed a little of it, I’m
not sure. I got up, felt for the railing, and followed it back to
the end. We were supposed to hug and kiss at the end, but I just
didn’t feel like it.

We were finally led off the arena and back to the dressing room,
and I promptly got dressed. They made us keep the blindfold until
after we were dressed, so for a moment I was scared that I might be
putting on someone else’s clothes. But they felt like mine, and
they were when I took the blindfold off. Well, at least it was
over now. Whew, what a relief! Some of the other girls were
talking about the experience among themselves, but I went off and
took a coke. I wanted to wash that taste out of my mouth.

Only a couple more teams followed us, and we would shortly learn
the final score. Four teams would advance; the rest of us would be
finished. I was relieved that we were not among the four. The
administrators gave me a check to refund my deposit, and a flier
which I held onto but didn’t look at.

I spent the night in a hotel, courtesy the tournament. I was in a
double, and my roommate was one of my team members. We talked
about the experience, and she said she thoroughly enjoyed it. She
had given blow-jobs many times before, and she’d had enough warning
to prevent him from coming in her mouth. I said that I didn’t like
it at all, but she didn’t believe me. “Come on, you liked it a
little. Didn’t you feel the power, the control? Like, it’s such a
powerful aphrodisiac.”

I finally admitted that there was something to the experience. She
pulled out a flier, advertising the 1998 Teen Cunnilingus
Tournament next spring. “Are you going to participate? I am.”

I declined, but the thought’s still on my mind.