Girls Rules of Gamesmanship

Game Day

A club is formed for the purpose of undressing males

Over the years, there were very few families with boys in the neighborhood. It was a spacious suburban neighborhood with fertilized lawns and slate roofs, and over time the girls had admitted one of the few boys, Carl, into their games for the very base reason that, for as long as they could remember, he willingly did almost everything they asked. Besides, Carl was a bit younger and despite being a male was the more self-conscious of them. Though almost fully grown now, often when they were children he went along with acting out their games as a means of gaining their acceptance. All the while, as is often the case in this world, the girls were really the planners and schemers.

The Anderson girl, known affectionately as Cleo, lived across the street from and was best friends with Roberta. Cleo had strong Danish lineage with a doe-like forehead, crescent-shaped eyes and deep cheekbones. She worked the cash register on weekends at the super market, smiling cheerily at everyone, and was well liked by almost everyone. Roberta was small and tight and effervescent, like a gypsy with fluffy hair and easy dimples, but puberty had done wonders for her frame, and she carried her voluptuous 18 year old stature like a goddess.

Another playmate of theirs was Shantel Boyardi, of Italian descent, who had exceedingly expensive-looking black hair. Her eyebrows were straight, ultra dark, full charcoal, highlighting irresistible, languid brown eyes. She was a year or so older than Carl, lived across the street from him, and was distractingly and almost artificially beautiful to look at. And she knew it.

Carl was attracted to her without even realizing it, as any self-respecting male would be who gave her the slightest amount of attention. Her dark beauty, especially her spacious brown eyes, could hold the average male gaze like a magnet, but she found that that gaze faltered slightly when she returned it, which she had learned to do, piercingly, with a child’s unwitting incredulity, causing the beholder to look away in recognition and take stock of his emotions as if an indecent and unbearably rare event had just taken place between them.

Shantel had grown accustomed to such attention. It happened frequently enough, and with experience she realized that some men seemed utterly uncertain of how to deal with her, and wore their attraction to her openly, even eagerly. For them she had come to understand that they held no clear remedy for this gift of their admiration. They could not help themselves, and accordingly she grew accustomed to exercising the potent and swift power to subdue them through no greater act than meaningfully returning their looks.

Despite this awareness, Shantel was not smug or self-conscious. Even now as a young adult she was quite outgoing, a lot of fun to play with, and in the vibrant warmth of summer she had not outgrown her childhood inclination to wear pink and white striped polo shirts and ruggedly tight denim shorts.

When Roberta mischievously announced late one weary afternoon that she and Cleo were forming a club, which she did with Cleo, Shantel and Carl on the front porch of Shantel’s house, she told Shantel that she wanted her to be a member. It was a game club, they would be taking turns rolling dice, and she knew that Shantel knew a lot about dice, she said with coy naughtiness, implying that dice was a metaphor for something both more base and more adult. Knowing anything at all about dice seemed to them like reason enough to invite Shantel into the club.

“A club,” said Shantel acceptingly, rocking in the porch swing, her black hair swishing onto her face and then flailing behind her. “That sounds like fun.” She glided in slow undulations, acutely tuned into the underlying messages coming from Roberta.

Carl sat on the short sandstone-topped side wall of the porch wearing a t-shirt and shorts, and because it seemed obvious to him that he was not clearly invited into the conversation, he was expertly kicking a pillar with his buff-colored tennis shoes, but he was listening, suspecting something odd was going on based on the tone of the conversation and how it seemed designed to keep him at a distance.

“This isn’t only a game club,” Roberta said informatively.

Shantel stopped rocking. “No?” She asked.

“Oh, no, it’s a women’s club, mostly,” said Cleo, with a joyful idiocy in her voice, purposefully encompassing the three girls and giving Carl the message that they were up to something that might include him, but definitely not yet.

Carl tilted his head, listening. He was used to this treatment and not put off by it. Yet, based on the blithe tone of their talk, he had the vague feeling that today they were talking about something important, more important than usual. He could not put his finger on it, but there was an odd feeling to it, as if underneath it all was something sacrosanct, tenable to women but not initially to boys, and he suspected that the girls-only bond they were keeping meant even a peripheral admittance to it might come with a price for the male sex. As he thought about it, it put a sense of daring into him, finally putting him a little on edge.

As if to assuage his fears, Roberta spoke up, saying, “Males are allowed, but they have to follow all the rules, right?”

“It’s all in the dice,” answered Cleo giddily. Roberta looked at her and simultaneously they flitted their eyes up to the heavens.

“Yeah. It’s a dice club for sure,” Roberta said instructively. Then she asked Shantel, “Do you have some dice?” It was clearly meant as a way forward, a way to get started on whatever the next part of this adventure would turn out to be.

Shantel lifted her feet and let her rocking come to a still while she pondered the question.

“Here’s the game,” Roberta went on. “It’s a little old-fashioned. You roll the dice and based on what you roll you have to go to a certain base. Like anything under 5 and you go to first base.” Roberta then looked quizzically at Carl to see if this baseball reference had any meaning to him. He was staring slack-jawed at them, but his eyes revealed his thoughts, narrowing keenly, and his mind focused and buzzed with attention.

Shantel stood up thoughtfully, pulling back her hair and staring myopically into the middle distance, realizing that there might be very interesting consequences to playing this game with Carl. If she understood things at all properly, the game meant experimenting with sexual themes.

“Males have to follow all the rules,” said Cleo, emphasizing the world ‘all,’ “because it’s a girls club, but sometimes girls don’t.”

“Right,” said Roberta in a drawn out tone of mockery.

Shantel wanted to know if Carl understood what they were talking about. She skipped over and stood looking at him, enveloping him with candid eyes, purposefully inspecting him to see what was going on in his face. She locked eyes with him and he rather abruptly seemed to surrender his gaze to hers. He looked down between them, then returned her gaze with conciliation written all over his face, his eyes daubed with an unspoken pleading, and, even though it was not her intention, she felt again the satisfaction that comes from the look of a male publicly revealing the effect she had on him, his gaze confessing a private need to please her.

“You know this club is for ladies,” she said instinctively to his face, smiling wickedly, then with a wave she beckoned the other girls over.

“Males can play the game, like I said” said Roberta, walking over to Carl. Then Cleo sauntered over and suddenly there were three girls all fencing him off from the rest of the porch. “It’ll be fun,” she announced conclusively, giving Carl a mad smile.

Carl’s mind was tilting all over. To him, what hung in the air most, and which he could not see beyond, was at least the possibility of some kind of sex with three very grown up girls. He had almost no experience of sex, but he believed they were going to include him in the game they were taking about, and it hardly mattered to him what was actually meant by sex. The idea of joining in a game of titillation with the older girls seemed fun, and the idea of anything sexually suggestive with Shantel held a magnificent drama of its own.

“Let me go look for the dice,” said Shantel joyfully. Pivoting like a ballerina, hair radiating, she turned away from the group and made her way into the house. A moment later she returned with a dice, holding it tremulously like you might handle a delicate moth. When Roberta and Cleo saw it, they gave each other down-lows followed by hi-fives. They looked at Carl to get his reaction, and he gave everyone a grand smile meant to say, I’m in no matter what.

“We have to play this game somewhere inside,” said Roberta, taking the dice. “We need a table and maybe another room too.”

“My older sister is here watching TV,” said Shantel, referring to Georgia, he sister home from college, 2 years older at 20, “but we can go upstairs to the playroom. There’s a spare room there with some junk on the floor.”

“Oh,” said Cleo smugly, ‘We’ll have to see if Georgia wants to play at some point.” She shared a lighthearted look of conspiracy with Roberta.

“If only,” said Roberta bravely.

The playroom was a large arched room filling most of the attic. Short walls lined with paneled bookshelves led to the slanted walls that arched up to the ceiling. The ceiling was painted white. There was a long, beat up, blotched wooden table in the middle surrounded by chairs.

“Here are the rules,” announced Roberta.

Cleo let out a soft, whimpering laugh which interrupted Roberta. She held up a finger to pause Roberta’s speech, then moved around the room studying it, and whispered in Shantel’s ear. Shantel’s eyes widened appreciatively. She looked back at Cleo with amazement, then looked at Roberta and said incredulously just the single word, “really,” and then turned and gave Carl a snickering omniscient scan of appraisal, her eyes traveling up and down the entire length of him.

Carl returned her look with one of awakened oblivion. He had been friends with these girls most of his life and could not bring himself to sense uneasiness, but then the odd thing happened in that Shantel and Roberta and Cleo all went into the other room for a minute, leaving Carl alone, and their barely audible whispering shot through the closed door right into him, their hushed group sounding so quietly excited, triggering an ineffable stirring in his body. He became cognizant of a change to his physical state, how he was zinging with the faintest pageantry of exhilaration, awakening a greater awareness of the surroundings, of the upcoming game, and of who might do what with whom. His face lit up, his eyes bolted awake. His urge to play expanded, and he found himself feeling light, pliant, and willing.

The girls came back, all three of them trying to hide an open interest in Carl by patently ignoring him. They went to the table and focused on the dice. Fluttering lightness continued in Carl’s body, finding its way everywhere.

“Like I was saying, ” said Roberta, “the game goes way back to a game from older days. The rule for under 5 is first base. Five is second base. Six is third base, or roller’s choice, but we don’t go all the way.”

Carl reviewed in his head the vague sense he had of the meanings of these bases. First base was kissing, he knew, and second base he imagined was using your hands to feel the other person. Third base? Carl wasn’t sure, maybe feeling without clothes.

“OK, we take turns. I go first. All ladies go first.” Roberta confidently rolled out the dice on the table top. It came up a 1.

“That’s first base,” said Cleo. “Kiss someone.”

The girls’ eyes went briefly to her and then shifted away to land with permanence on Carl, the only male.

Carl dared not move. Roberta turned toward him and in a fiery instant she turned into something brazen, sexy, and daring. The idea that he was about to be kissed by her, by this suddenly real, larger-than-life female body, seemed oddly affecting to him, as though if it had to happen some time in his life, it might as well be now. He felt fidgety but he felt ready for it. Electricity waved through him with force as he turned his face to meet Roberta who walked over and proceeded to give him a real kiss on the lips. Her soft lips pressed on his with tenderness and his thoughts turned inward with amazement at the perilously gentle touch of the girl. He was moved to a suddenly heightened awareness of being the lone male. His thoughts whirled into chaos, and his body grew tense and anxious. His penis seemed to wake up out of nowhere.

Roberta pulled away and said to the room at large, “Well, how’d you like that?”

There was unequivocal silence. Everyone watched the two of them for a moment. Then Cleo said, “Now Roberta has kissed Carl. She doesn’t have to do that again.”

“What if she rolls another first base roll?” Asked Shantel with genuine interest.

“Girls club rules say she can skip it if she wants, or invoke the girl’s choice rule,” answered Cleo.

Shantel had been paying close attention when Roberta kissed Carl. She had watched both of their faces, and saw what she thought was heated but calculated indifference in Roberta. When she pulled away, however, she saw that Roberta moved with a new nimble grace. And Shantel saw that Carl was flush with embarrassment, obviously deeply affected. Was it because maybe he enjoyed it, and that he was turning red from that, or maybe because he was incapable of hiding before all the girls how embarrassing it was to be kissed by a girl.

Then she saw him quickly drop a hand to his crotch and with the deftest of movements adjust his clothing, and something new occurred to her about what might be happening to him. She got his attention by theatrically covering her mouth with one hand as if to say, oh no! I saw that! And when he did look at her, which she knew eventually her actions would cause him to do, she gave him a knowing smile. The effect of this was apparently to profoundly disconcert Carl, for she watched as he tried unsuccessfully to look away from her, and she manifestly held his eyes while his entire face radiated entreaty. Then, as Carl sat down, he winced and squirmed uncomfortably into one of the chairs, but still did not look away from her, his face going redder.

“Cleo next,” announced Shantel liltingly, eying Carl mostly. She was beginning to enjoy the game more than she had expected.

Everyone watched as Cleo sat down and carefully shook the dice then rolled a 4. She then banged it down on the table and rather matter of factly said, “I have to kiss Carl too.”

“No,” said Roberta. “Carl has to kiss you. Or at least you have to kiss each other.” This distinction in ownership made sense to them all.

“Yes, kiss each other,” said Shantel.

“No, it’s OK,” said Cleo peacefully. She stood up and went over to where Carl sat in his chair. “C’mon,” she said, encouraging him to stand up.

Carl’s complexion was still flushed from the impact on him of the kiss from Roberta, but his eyes had returned to the room, looking bright and aware. Very reluctantly he stood up, and Shantel clearly could tell that something about being a male had begun working its magic on him. “I think he needs to kiss Cleo with his eyes open,” offered Shantel.

“Good idea,” said Roberta. “Strategy, I think you call it,” she said observationally.

Cleo planted a soft-lipped and prolonged kiss on Carl, who did keep his eyes open. He looked at Cleo with mild appeasement and tried to kiss her back, but he did not move or flinch or react in any other way. It was ever so slightly less novel than the first kiss with Roberta. But the look in his eyes was one of wonder and greed, and after they had parted and Carl was back in the chair, Shantel could sense that something about him was changing even more.

In a hurry, Shantel then took the seat and rolled the dice, which turned out to be another 4.

“My turn,” she announced. “After this, we all will have kissed Carl. If we keep this up, something’s got’a give.”

For Carl, the erotic excitement of kissing or being kissed by a girl, the soft, warm, receptive touch of a girl’s lips covering his, felt somewhere between fine and abnormal. He replayed the lurid physical sensations of it in his mind, and as he did, he relished that they were new and wondrous. His mind dashed into high gear, and he began trying to make sense of the fact that they were all doing this together, that there were no scruples in anyone’s actions. Like nothing in his life before, the open-ended sexual freedom of the situation started to pry the lid off of lust in his psyche, and for the first time in his young life truly uncontrollable arousal rose up hot and fantastical from the natural abyss within. He was spellbound by it, carried on a wave of it, and feeling intense shame lest he be the only one unable to conceal such excitement.

Shantel approached him, her eyes dark, wide and free. “Are you ready for a real kiss?” She asked with good humor. She came before him and beckoned him up from the chair like a cheerleader waving both hands in an upward fashion. He rose mechanically. She gave him a riveting look, full of challenge. Her face seemed to Carl to be one big invitation.

“Eyes open, now,” she admonished him.

He looked back at her with longing and sheepishly said, “I’m ready.” His heart was pounding out a frantic drumbeat of desire that moved him forward. Their faces came together. Shantel looked at him and Carl found himself fixated looking back into Shantel’s steady, spacious brown eyes and sensing an existential well of allure far behind them. Her eyes beckoned and he wanted to pour himself into her.

To his utter amazement, when Shantel kissed him, she opened her mouth a little and lushly licked both his lips with her soft, flat tongue. He dared not move. Chemistry poured into his bloodstream. Her eyes were suddenly brimming with light and never left his. His physical body began slipping away, and soon a full erection sprouted fabulously in the confines of his shorts, at least partially disguised by the surrounding material. It felt sensational, stiff and hot and pleasurably swollen, and he was preoccupied with it and whether he could hide it from all three girls.

Roberta and Cleo, watching the kiss, looked at each other and nodded their heads ostentatiously. As Shantel pulled back from Carl, their view took in his entire body, and for the most part they saw that Carl was pink with embarrassment. It took them by surprise that when it was over he stood stock still. Having little experience pondering the male form, they had only the crudest expectation of a penis let alone an erection, but it was hugely obvious from the front of his shorts that Carl was now fully aroused. They studied him with new appreciation, enjoying the scene before them, both thinking that, because of Shantel, the girls club was playing out far better than they hoped it would.

“Carl’s turn, ” said Roberta, offering him the dice with a gesture of her hand, openly examining his crotch. He looked at her with a touch of fright, but he sat down and rolled a 5.

“A five! Wow!” Roberta larked. She drew her head back swiftly. “That’s like third base.”

“Does that mean Carl gets to feel one of us up?” Asked Shantel.

“Yeah. I guess so,” said Cleo.

“His choice,” said Roberta, refereeing the event now. “Third base means with no bra.”

This announcement was met with taciturn agreement, as though Carl’s feeling of one of the girl’s naked breasts was simply part of an agreement they’d already entered into, like terms of a lease.

“I’ll do it,” continued Roberta.

Carl felt outnumbered and like he could not argue one way or another about which girl, if any of them, would let him feel her breasts. Certainly Roberta’s breasts were a fair sight more developed than Cleo’s or Shantel’s. He actually felt relieved that it had been so easily decided how this would take place.

“I’m going into the other room,” Roberta said, “and when I’m ready I’ll knock. Carl can come in.”

She left the room and in just 20 seconds knocked and opened the door. She looked in all respects like nothing had changed, but she dangled her bra to show everyone in the room that she had removed it from underneath her shirt. Her face was active with excitement as she looked from person to person. She beamed a glorious look of allure on Carl.

When Carl did enter the adjoining room, he found it was a small space where Roberta had turned off the light. He had some difficulty locating her, but she guided him in front of her. His eyes adjusted and he found that the rim of light leaking in around the door gave him just enough vision to sense his surroundings.

“You can use both hands,” Roberta said quietly, a raspy shudder in her voice. She was standing so close to him, nervously anticipating the touch of Carl’s hands. She pulled the bottom of her shirt away from her midriff with both hands and, trembling, said, “Here.”

Carl had to force himself to touch her. He managed to land the heels of both hands on the sides of her abdomen, then moved them more to the front and let his palms and fingers play out onto her warm, smooth skin. She sighed with quiet elegance in the small space of the room, and Carl moved his hands up the soft, hot flesh off her body until he felt the undersides of her breasts break his movements. Roberta’s breathing came and went audibly and without pattern.

This small act of Carl’s had lifted her shirt up such that it was now pulled out of her hands, rising in front even with her breasts, under the guidance of his movements. He moved his hands up and enveloped both of her firm breasts, bringing her shirt up and over them, freeing them completely into the space between them. She began to lean, to press herself against his touch with hushed murmurs of delight. Her hard nipples felt like thick buttons sticking out from a surrounding opulence of softness, and she twisted ever so sightly so they raked obscenely into the sensitive skin of his palms.

“God, Carl,” she said to him with a soft warm breath across his face, giving in to the experience. He fondled her breasts imaginatively, feeling the soft mounds of tissue, having the sense in the moment that their bodies had crashed into each other rather than formed a caring bond.

He held her breasts for fifteen seconds or so, thrilling, and in the small darkness listened to the sound of her breathing as she filled her chest and let it out with intermittent purring. He felt moved, and he had the overwhelming desire to fall to his knees out of the need to express the power of his sexual urges. He could tell that, just like him, she wanted it to continue. She began to rock herself back and forth against his hands, smushing her breasts one at a time into him.

“God damn, Carl,” she said meaningfully, leaning into him, setting fire to the intensity of the experience for them both. Carl held onto her in the near dark, so close and alive and warm, and a part of him questioned whether this unthinkable intimacy was a secret that she was purposefully revealing, to show him what a woman felt like.

Carl’s erection was straining against his shorts with rigid distress, shifting its angle on its own. The unremitting confines of his clothes felt both good and bad, and eventually his erect penis found its way to pointing straight up toward his abdomen. In this position it was in a natural state from which it could hardly subside, and it caused the fabric of his underwear to stretch uncomfortably taut over his testicles and left him acutely aware of the need for some kind of relief. He was grateful that all of this was happening in near darkness in a separate room.

Then there was a knock on the door, abrupt and interrupting. Carl withdrew his hands just as the door was flung open and in an instant Shantel and Cleo watched Roberta’s shirt fall back down in place in front. Carl turned away a bit, but Roberta picked up her bra from the floor and bounded out of the room, ridiculously animated. Both girls knew that something had happened, and they seemed to want an explanation.

But, because he was so aroused and embarrassed, they had to coax Carl back into the room. The state of his erection-tented shorts was instantly obvious and attention-getting. He could not make up his mind whether he wanted the attention or not, but for the girls it took greater precedence in the moment than what had happened between Roberta and him.

“Geez, Carl,” said Cleo suggestively, her gaze locking on his crotch. She looked back and forth between his eyes and his tented shorts for at least fifteen seconds, then said, “While you two were out there, I rolled again and got a 2. The rules say I don’t have to kiss you, but I think they say I can make you take off clothes instead.” She smiled wickedly ear to ear and fixed her gaze on him as he stood awkwardly ashamed, apart from the girls.

A bit of silence filled the space. Carl hung his head ever so slightly, acknowledging that he understood the rule. All three girls examined Carl’s obvious state of anguish, realizing, based partly on his pink countenance, quick breathing, and his inability to look them back in the eye, that this had now become a small trial for him. Shantel was not about to let pass this opportunity to test her ability to control a boy. She determined that she was going to see how far she could take it.

“Shoes and socks. Off!” said Shantel emphatically. She pointed with one outstretched arm to the top of the bookshelf. “Over there now,” she declared.

Carl decided he had no choice. He had already been moved so far in what had until now been a forbidden direction by his encounter with Roberta’s body that he felt like he had crossed a threshold and that he must observe some obligation to reciprocate. He went to take a chair and Shantel moved with alacrity to cut him off, getting right in front of him. She took hold of one of his arms, stilling him, and stared hard into his face. Her eyes opened wide and beautifully and froze him in place. She let go of him and slowly poked him in the abdomen just inches away from his rigid erection, and said, “you’re hard, aren’t you?”.

Carl stammered out, “Yes.”

“Do it standing up,” she said with utter complacency in her voice. “We want to watch.” She smiled at both Cleo and Roberta as if to say: I’m in charge now. She smiled for Carl’s benefit at his bulging crotch, then locked her eyes onto his, steadfastly sending the message that she expected him to obey. And when he looked at her, his gaze was brimming with deference. His emotional state was charged with the sexuality of the situation, causing his penis to ache and send breathtaking chemistry throughout his whole body.

He robotically pried off his shoes and socks and placed them on the bookshelf. The sensation of being barefoot, the air on a newly naked part of him, sent fresh pangs of arousal coursing through his veins. He began having true difficulty returning the looks of the girls as the power balance in the room shifted. He was deeply aware of a need to aid this rebalancing, a need to continue to please the girls, even to reveal his desire to satisfy their curiosity and desires.

“Let’s keep this going,” said Cleo. “It’s Roberta’s turn.” A hint of excitement sounded in her voice.

Carl stood patiently in his spot in the room.

Roberta sat down and rolled a four.

“Good,” said Shantel happily. She looked knowingly at Carl and then smiled conspiratorially at both girls who began to fidget with the knowledge that Carl was now beholden to remove another piece of clothing. Everyone in the room became sensationally aware that the male was about to become topless, leaving him in only two items of clothing, and Shantel still had her turn to take.

Shantel wanted to have input into this situation. She went over to stand with the other girls, turned her look upon Carl, glanced at his shorts with open purpose, and said, “What about it, Carl? Top off, I think. Right?” Her words were sensationally sarcastic but also musical and sweet and sounded like the very expression of delight, generating broad smiles in the girls. Their eyes roamed over his entire form as he looked back at them with self-demeaning fretting. They weren’t about to back down now in their intention to make him carry through with the game.

“I think he wants to do it,” Shantel said appraisingly.

“You do, don’t you,” said Roberta with sudden understanding. She put one arm over Cleo’s shoulder and dangled her bra from the other.

Carl held his position in the room, shifting from foot to foot. He could not return the looks of any of the girls. He considered whether Roberta’s question was rhetorical, or whether the whole environment that they all found themselves in now, with him the center of erotic attention and yet still playing along, was answer enough. He did want to remove his shirt. Taking off his shoes was exciting, but going down to his shorts would be better. He felt some small, fluttering beat of yearning driving him toward nakedness before the three girls.

“You can tell us if you want to,” said Shantel womanly, baiting him.

That was all the encouragement he needed. He turned red and mumbled something incoherent in the direction of his feet. Shantel was about to ask him to repeat it when he pulled his shirt over his head and placed it on the bookshelf, stunning her, quieting her, filling her with glee. All three girls examined the half naked boy before them with uncertain looks of appraisal. This was the first time they had ever witnessed a boy intentionally taking off his clothes, and they fully appreciated that it was happening at their direction.

As Carl looked around the room at each of the girls, his face sentient with exhilaration, it became clearer with every shared gaze that something was driving Carl, that he wanted very much to play on. Each girl pondered the scene openly, and when Carl did manage to look into her eyes each reached their own conclusions about what was going on.

Roberta understood that Carl was moved by their own encounter and was flush with the excitement of it. She let her eyes roam over his chest and his tented shorts and returned Carl’s appealing looks with intimations of her own sexuality. Cleo saw a boy who was half naked and could not stop thinking that he was probably about to get completely naked. She remarked happily to herself that he showed no inclination to leave, and she was deciding how to enjoy it. Shantel saw that Carl was self-consciously and hopelessly sexually alive, practically quivering, and she realized that she had somewhat expertly manipulated his behavior. Right in front of the girls, she had helped to cause his conflict. She saw that he was incapable of hiding his erection, that from it stemmed his struggle with the inner drive that males had, one that made men want to please her, and that here in front of her and the other girls, and at her bidding, was a male about to show the ultimate proof of it.

“Carl,” said Shantel smugly, “there’s only one way to go from here.”

Carl understood, and he brashly looked at each girl to confirm his understanding.

“Tell me, Carl,” she said sternly.

“Shantel, please,” was all he could say.

“You have to tell me if you want to keep going,” Shantel said. She walked over to him and took his chin in her hand. Directing him to look at her, she said peacefully, “We are enjoying ourselves. You know want we want you to do, don’t you? Tell me, Carl.”

“Yes. You want me to keep playing. If I follow the rules of the game, I will strip naked.” His whole body flushed, a sensitive heat rising in him.

Shantel released him, turned and looked at the girls with amazement on her face. She sat down at the table and rolled the dice. It was a six.

“Carl,” she said looking at him supremely, “into the other room, now.” She got up and before she could take a step Carl had turned more red. He willingly went into the other room. Shantel shared smiles with the girls, whispered the word “wait,” followed Carl and closed the door.

They stood together in the room for a bit and then Shantel turned the light on. It was a small attic room with odd things scattered on the floor by the walls. Shantel separated herself from Carl by several feet.

“I think you want to do this, right?” She asked him, her look stabbing into his eyes.

“I do,” he said honestly. “I want to do it for you Shantel.”

“Tell me,” she said.

“What?”

“What do you want to do for me?”

“Whatever the rules say, right?”

“Carl,” she said flippantly, “you know the rules. Males have to do what the women say, and when I roll a six, I can make you take off two pieces of clothing.”

There was a moment of silence as Carl contemplated this. Its effect was to go straight through his body with wonder and agitation, disturbing every other thought, opening the door to a deep space full of obligation and lust. If only he could, he thought. His penis continued raging against the boundaries of his clothing, easily the reigning impulse of his existence.

“Take off your shorts,” demanded Shantel.

Carl gave her a look of supplication. He unbuttoned and unzipped his shorts, and as he was pulling them down she said, “Don’t just take them off, give them to me.”

Carl stepped out of his shorts and offered them to Shantel. She took them with an outstretched arm, bunched them up in a fist, folded her arms across her chest and gazed openly down at his underwear where the outline of his penis formed in large detail. She observed this for a bit and then looked at Carl with authority in her wide smiling eyes.

Carl returned her look with pleading.

“Are you ready?” She asked.

Carl nodded.

“Do you want to?”

Carl nodded.

“Tell me you want to,” Shantel said in a reprimanding tone.

“I want to…” he whispered at her, but stopped.

“Want to what?” She let her voice carry the sound of exasperation.

“Please let me be naked for you,” he managed to say.

“That’s better,” she replied sweetly. “I’d like that. Tell me exactly what you want to do.”

“I want to be completely naked for you,” he said, the heat of honesty rising off of him in the small room. His world had reduced to the need to reveal himself to her.

“You can in a minute,” she said. “But first I’m going to give the girls your shorts.” Shantel looked at him as though he was certainly going to approve of this act. She opened the door just enough to slide her arm through holding his shorts, and said, “Here you go.” Roberta’s face appeared, radiating joy, then the door closed and Shantel did not have his shorts any more.

This triggered more releasing of chemistry in his body, generating a deeper well of difference to Shantel. He was amazed that she was able to so easily have him give his clothing away. The fact that he did not know how he would get them back was as thrilling as taking them off and giving them to her.

“Where were we,” Shantel said, “oh, right, you want to give me your underwear, I think. Better yet, why don’t you ask me if you can.”

Carl had no will to stop, and responded by pleading with her to let him take off his underwear.

“I think you can take them off,” Shantel said, her tone intentionally offering him hope. She had been unremitting in her scrutiny of his near naked body and of the outline of the large erect penis probing the stretched white material still on him. “I think you need to get the OK from Roberta and Cleo too.”

Carl was stunned, and the thought of meeting their attention in his state of excitement subsumed his thinking. What would it be like to do it?

“I’m going to let you ask them if you can give them to me,” explained Shantel frivolously. She grabbed Carl by the arm. He looked at her with unconvincing protest as she guided him to the door. She opened it and propelled him so that he was slightly in front of her into the other room.

“Carl has something he wants to ask you,” she said smugly, still holding him by the arm and offering him for inspection like someone trying out for the neighborhood baseball game.

The girls let their shock register only momentarily, then their faces turned to glee as they took in the sight of Carl in his white underwear with the distinct profile of a fully erect penis absurdly visible. Carl made no effort to hide his erection, and girls made no effort to hide their delight in the scene.

Shantel then released Carl and with the same hand found the lip of his underwear right where it went around his waist. She grabbed it firmly and pulled the top of his underwear fiercely away from his body. Carl huffed and fought briefly with his hips, but the effect was to reveal details, the bulge of his testicles now apparent and the fat tube of his upward-facing erection revealed in clear outline, the bulbous head of it now fully discernible. The girls watched him squirm, flexing in his underwear, and they smiled delightedly, and gave Shantel looks of encouragement, the eyes of all three of them gloating with the knowledge that Carl would soon be completely naked before them.

Carl finally relented to her fast hold and allowed the scene to play out. Shantel had frozen his penis upright against his body, and he realized with shame and pounding obligation that he was now making a tremendous display of his erection as the fabric stretched taut over it. The girls scrutinized this as though the material were transparent, and he looked at them with steadfast embarrassment, his whole face showing how deep his sense of obligation was.

“Carl,” said Shantel magnificently, releasing his underwear, “ask them. Get on your knees and ask them.” She looked conspiratorially at both girls.

The chemistry pumping through Carl’s body, which had inflamed his existence, engorged his penis, and subsumed his mind, drove him solemnly to his knees before the twins, his gaze fixed on the floor in front of him, his erection bouncing gently against his abdomen.

“Please let me give my underwear to Shantel,” he asked softly, clearly distressed.

“Wow,” said Cleo.

“Yes, wow,” said Roberta.

“I take that as a yes,” said Shantel.

Carl looked up to her for direction.

“Let’s go back in the other room, Carl,” she told him.

Carl stood up, his penis shrugging against his underwear with every movement. He let Shantel maneuver him into the adjoining room where she shut the door and stepped away from him. She brought her look directly into his, her dark, candid eyes seeming so bright and hard. Carl had to look back, though. He could not turn away from her stare, which clearly now was one of marvel. Shantel gaped at him with curiosity, at the spectacle of his suffering, looking through him and filling the space of his psyche. She understood now that Carl was intoxicated throughout with the need to be obedient, and that she had and could set it ablaze almost at will.

“Let’s have the underwear, Carl,” she said complacently, holding out her hand, knowing that this instruction would be followed instantly, rendering him completely over to her.

Carl put his thumbs under the top of his underwear in front, right next to his navel, and gave her a prayerful look. She wiggled her fingers at him to make him comply. He pulled his underwear out and down, lifting them over his large penis, and yanking them down to his ankles. Shantel then put one foot on them as they lay on the floor just over his feet, and said, “Step out of them Carl and pick them up.”

With her standing on them, he pulled both feet out of the leg holes, knelt in a completely naked state, and reached down to retrieve them. Shantel took a second to lift her foot, watching the now naked boy kneeling before her, then she allowed him to pick up the clothing. Without being told, he placed his hands behind his back and stood back up and his raging erection presented itself to her, pointing nearly up towards the ceiling between them. It glistened, waved noticeably with his slightest movement, and even bobbed tremulously with his fast racing heart. She spent a long while fascinated by it, scrutinizing it, and alternating glances with it and his eyes.