The Redating Game

by LiteroCat

Copyright© 2011 by LiteroCat

Erotica Sex Story: Friends help find a long lost love and use a game show to set a 'blind date' with her. Will the reunion lead to romantic group sex and a twist? [FYI, my first adult story.]

Caution: This Erotica Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa   Fa/Fa   Consensual   Romantic   Reluctant   Magic   BiSexual   Heterosexual   Fiction   True Story   Mystery   Group Sex   First   Oral Sex   Anal Sex   Masturbation   Petting   Exhibitionism   Voyeurism   Transformation   .

Well OK, since you ask, I'll tell you a small part of my story. This all happened several years ago. Since my divorce four years earlier, I had become a recluse but recently decided to push myself to date. Friends set me up with friends and blind dates, I even tried online and dating services before I stooped down to trolling bars. Nothing worked. Besides not trusting people anymore, I also feared STDs and cons, so I was reluctant to pick up a stranger, even if just for casual fun - and I don't mean sex.

Though it had been seven years since I last had sex, I didn't crave it anymore. Hmmm, since we recycle all our body cells over seven years, was I a born-again virgin? The urge mellowed after a year or so - until I saw an intimate moment. A long warm hug or passionate kiss would draw me into their emotions and I felt my loneliness.

E.g., The romantic kiss on DS9 between Dax and her former wife was hot enough, but the single strand of saliva that stretched between them made the kiss feel guttural and so much more real. I groaned and felt their remorse. Airports became horrific for me. Lovers and friends leaving reminded me of my pain; lovers and friends greeting with joy reminded me of what I missed. I avoided friends, mostly because they reminded me I missed having a loving, compassionate woman in my life.

Sunny day friends and lovers split at the first storm. Real friends don't give up on you and THEY are the ones willing to follow you into hell because they care. One couple kept looking out for me, and I felt blessed to have these two with me. Without telling me, they signed me up for an unusual TV dating game. They knew my romance history and passed some helpful details to the show. People who knew the show would only run on HBO and Cinemax knew it wasn't your standard Dating Game.

I knew NOTHING. The hook this show used was to reconnect lost loves and watch the results. My friends knew I wanted to reconnect with a couple of girls from college. Marg especially was very important to me and could have been the great love of my life. Circumstances forced us to limit our romantic involvement and eventually, when it was about to become *very hot*, we had to cut off contact abruptly. I couldn't blame her, but it broke my heart.

After so many years, I still cherish the fond memories. I had been looking for her for years. We were the type of true friends who always watched out for each other, were in constant, welcome contact and sometimes fell asleep on the phone after hours of chat. Just hearing each other's voice was a joy. Sacrifices were insignificant if we could help the other. Remembering her and feeling the loss again always took my breath away and brought on the tears.

My friends convinced me that the TV show could find lost loves and IF they did, they'd arrange a date. They took a list of names and searched for several at once. If they couldn't find an old love, they'd find an interesting match. With TV money backing them, they could ensure a clean medical clearance. That removed one of my fears.

Since they would not want bad publicity, they would also help flush out the cons and help settle problems. Wellllll, since they addressed my biggest fears, I had no excuse to say no. After signing a contract and a release to air any footage, the show, RG, told me very little except they hoped to surprise me.

With so many years gone, there was no telling what happened to her. My thoughts roamed to possibilities: happily married with kids; divorced and embittered; dead; substantially a different person. Hell, did she remember ME fondly, or was I a thorn in her life? Would she even want to see me after 25 years?

... Weeks passed and I thought they had forgotten me. They hadn't. One day they called with instructions on how to prepare for the surprise date. Basically, just dress comfortably, neatly, and be extra thorough with bathing. Hmmmm, I wondered why?

The blind date came with an unusual scenario. I reported to a tall, new, wood trestle I had to scale alone. About 40 feet up was a 'floor' under an open, attic style gable. I didn't know they had already begun taping and transmitting even before I'd reached the trestle. What an unusual setting for a dating program!

My male host - in a dark suit and white shirt - pushed his interview mic. at me. He directed an invisible camera crew that waited for me. The wide-open floor encouraged winds to gather before trying to whoosh us off the platform. The date officially "started" when I scaled the trestle. No one said this would be televised LIVE to tape.

The second release they insisted I sign had more than the usual liability concerns. It essentially read that I knew there would be some unusual, risky and perhaps explicit events in which I agreed to participate *fully*. Severe penalties were implied. What could they do? I wasn't paid, so I had nothing to forfeit. Maybe they planned to sue me and take all I had if I broke the contract? I signed LIVE, on-air, and the date took its first surprise step.

Across a very wide street was another, similar, trestle. A tall female host - in a snug jacket, blouse and knee-high skirt, all white, waited to start her part. She was with my blind date who was too far away to identify, assuming I knew her. Though puzzled, I approached my host. He started the TV banter, but I focused on my surroundings, what they wanted me to do, and what I *would* do.

My date and I were told to look down at the sidewalk café table below. It was reminiscent of Little Italy, complete with a heavy man with a walking stick who sat, looking straight ahead in a daze, and sipped his café. They hinted that the walking stick might help us with the next step. The hosts gave us instructions that would cause us to meet, but not necessarily know it. They told us BOTH that we had met before and would know each other.

We climbed down, below street level, to a huge enclosed and busy cafeteria. We were told to get lunch and try to spot each other. That, I thought, must be the 'game show' hook. But they weren't done with us yet. I walked around, searching, with plate in hand and jaw slack. I thought I knew many people, but didn't greet them.

One of the people looked like a still petite, but very chubby Marg from college. After a closer look, I decided that couldn't be she. After a long search, I sat alone to eat and sadly wondered if this were just a hoax. Carrying a plate like mine, a familiar looking petite woman circled me. It *was* Marg! We locked eyes and stared a long moment, then both knew. We ran and hugged each other. Her head still only reached my nose, but we silently held the hug in joy.

I was tempted to kiss her hard right then, but felt I should know more first and wondered if she were my date or just a happy coincidence. Either way, I was thrilled to meet her again. Even better, she seemed thrilled to see ME again. I had tried searching for her for at least ten years before I gave up all expectations of finding her.

Slowly, I realized that two camera crews were circling us. It was still hard to accept that someone had tracked her down and set this up so quickly - I dared to hope they had. I pulled her away an inch and asked hopefully "Are YOU my blind date?" She grinned and hugged me tighter. Relief, joy and gratitude brought me to tears. I kissed her forehead, then slowly our mouths found each other. This was a surprisingly warm greeting after a 25-year separation.

She felt tight and still looked great. A hint of the passion we'd both avoided in college swelled in us. It showed in our eyes and the hug. Long before we were ready to break, the cameras intruded. We were given an overview of what they expected. Yes, Marg had signed the same release ensuring her cooperation. Maybe the penalty was that we'd be separated again with no contact information and lost again to each other? Could they be that cruel - on the air?

What would we be willing to do to stay together? The show people were relieved that this meeting meant so much to us, or else that penalty would be an empty threat. Instead we nearly skipped, hand in hand, smiling broadly. I can feel that joy even today. They said the next 'event' was to take a long ride in an odd carriage. Were there horses? Dunno.

The skip to the carriage took long enough for us to do a bit of catching up and a lot of kissing. Happily, the camera crews kept some distance, though I was sure we were still on camera. We didn't care.

The carriage was small and shaped like those in fairy tales. It also struck me as a smaller version of the Queen of England's, but without the gold leaf and ornaments. It was earth tone, with two plain wood facing benches just wide enough to hold two comfortably.

We climbed in to find the female host on the opposite bench, dressed the same as before but with her skirt pulled up a few inches past her knees - enough for both of us to take notice. Now I could see she was a blue-eyed blonde, about 30 and quite good looking. Her white jacket was gone, her white blouse, which had been closed to her collar, was now open well below her bright white bra. Holding her interview mic., she grinned and asked questions we barely heard. She leaned toward us far more than necessary, with her blouse open we could see most of her moderate, small C maybe, breasts fighting to spill over her lacy demi bra.

This abruptly reminded me of an old girlfriend, Sue who wouldn't wear a bra when she flaunted herself like this in bars and especially at a particular dinner party with two friends. That night, her oversized top let the small V neck opening drop down and let us all see all of her little breasts and well past her nipples. She enjoyed pretending that she didn't know her tits were on display.

Marg and I didn't realize that Jane, the host, was brazenly pushing her tits at us until MUCH later, when we figured she was trying to set a bawdy mood. We kept kissing and grinning thru all her unheard questions.

There were some pouches and several small pillows under the benches for use LATER. When we saw these, we also noticed her knees could not decide how tightly to stay closed or which way to face. She was teasing us, but seemed to be expected, by the show, to expose more and more of herself until we took an interest. Maybe for cable ratings?

Our kissing didn't go too far, but with lots of tongue and passion, it was hard to stop at 2nd base. I did, mostly because we stayed vaguely aware of the cameras. Marg used to be a little shy and conservative, so I respected those feelings and had to see if that had changed before I'd let the cameras embarrass her. Already different, she didn't object to some groping on camera.

After riding several minutes, we stopped and picked up another couple. SURPRISE! They were also on a blind date with the same contract. Both were 30ish and short. Because the carriage was so small, we had to interlace feet and legs. We all had our feet at the opposite benches.

Marg wore a black top and dark genes, so she was OK with spreading her legs, but the other girl, Nancy, wore a straight cut snug pink dress with a little lace below the low cut straight cut top which showed an inch or so of cleavage and promised much more. She sat between Paul and Jane, facing me with her dress pulled up enough (mid thigh) to let her spread her legs around mine and maybe to try to grab my attention. Apparently we were required to alternate feet so we'd each be between the legs of the opposite sex.

The rules revealed themselves slooowly. Jane was grinning broadly, like she KNEW something none of us knew, and said the game could finally begin its final phase. There was only the barest implication of a grand prize for the 'winner' - the couple considered *the most willing to act on suggestions and keep the audience interested*.

The shocking implications forced us to forget the cameras were sending our game/dates to a big TV audience. Or, I suppose, to enjoy the exhibitionistic exposure! Go away Sue! I was totally focused on Marg and didn't care at all about the game or prize. Only she and the penalty counted. Hey, give love a chance!

The two female dates trembled, jumped abruptly like rag dolls and reversed positions. Marg was suddenly opposite me and wearing Nancy's dress! What the hell? Was Houdini on the crew? Marg was surprised to see what Nancy was doing next to me, apparently in HER clothes. It was lucky I had scraped the rust off my dick, for I felt it would soon be put to good use!

Paul had asked, and then helped Nancy IN MARG's CLOTHES, unbutton her black top until it was wide open. Nancy was short, but I saw LONG legs stretched between Paul's legs. Following those legs up, I saw *Sue slouching far down*, knees wide apart, hand down her pants, her small black bra loose around her tiny tits. How did she get there? How could the show do 'magic'? What the hell was SHE doing here?

I had no time to ponder this. Jane, squeezed into the corner enjoying all the action, was about to turn up the heat ... Her blouse was open to her skirt and her hand was under her bra, teasing a nipple. Her knees were twitching and one kept rising apparently so she could tickle her clit in the tight space and maybe give us a look up her skirt.

Paul -Didn't he realize his date was gone?- told Sue he wanted to see her tits. She casually obliged without hesitation and pulled the bra up to her chin. Her eyes were squeezed tight in arousal as she let us ALL see her now drooping, skinny and yet still tiny tits. Her nipples were a little more aged than I remembered, but still perfect. They tempted me to suck them, but I focused on the host and Marg instead.

Jane was breathing heavily and told Marg and me to join the fun. Sue never said a word, but her bright red, clenched and twisted face and mottled chest told all.

While staring at Sue's perfect nipples, I blindly reached across to Marg to put my hand down the pink dress. I wasn't convinced it really was Marg. When I looked, *Marg was gone!* Completely! Sue was still next to me and still trying to cum.

The pink dress was back on Nancy, across from me again, and too tight in front. So I reached into the back and found she was wearing a tight pink bra without a back clasp. I stretched it some, but she filled it too well and everything was too tight. I took my eyes off Sue's nipples to pull Nancy to me so I could unzip the back of her dress. Once it was loose, I ran my hand under the bra toward the front. It was still too tight.

Nancy slipped off the top of the dress so I could find and release the clasp. Since when do they clasp under an armpit?! As the dress and her bra slid over her arms, I noticed her sad look. Though she was very pretty and now topless, Paul, the hostess and I were still locked on Sue's torpedo tits jiggling openly under her bra, her nipples hard in the cool quiet carriage. One camera seemed to zoom in to show the world what perfect nipples look like up close.

Nancy looked disappointed and rejected, though still embarrassed. I helped her with her dress and bra, noticing that Jane had her right breast out and in hand trying to suck her nipple. No one seemed to care that Nancy's firm and shapely breasts were exposed. They seemed to be squeaky clean and pristine, yet NOT virginal.

We heard Sue shout "NO" and looked to see that she had pulled her tight dark genes to mid thigh. Paul had a grip, between her legs, on both sides of the genes and was trying hard to pull them lower. THAT wasn't what Sue yelled about. We all looked closer to see he had one finger stretched and outlining her lips thru dark panty hose. She didn't mind that either.

I didn't think of it until much later, but since she was in Marg's clothes, that meant that Marg didn't have underwear under her hose. Not a conservative act ... When he stretched the hole in the hose and started to push his finger inside her, she finally said STOP.

I had to wonder if that was just because he hadn't washed his hands. She was a germaphobe. She had to be really loving being exposed on TV thru no fault of her own. You could say she was a 'closet' exhibitionist who missed no chance to undress while looking out her window; wear an unsecured wrap-around dress on windy days; or after a shower, walk naked to the bathroom window to face the neighbors then stretch and finally dry herself.

Though she thought her beautiful pussy lips were UGLY, sharing her tits, nipples, pussy and probably her clit with everyone had to be a HIGH. I wondered briefly if that was enough for her, or did she need to stick her bare ass in the air too and show us all her cute asshole and shapely pussy from behind. I knew the answer.

Jane nodded toward Sue's swollen pussy, smiling, as though saying to me, "You better catch up if you want to stay in the game." She hiked her skirt up much higher and pushed her fingers into her snug BRIGHT white panties. I don't think she was allowed to show anything before the contestants did. Another strange rule? Her tit had stayed covered until Sue's were exposed; now that Sue had opened her pussy to us, Jane could show us all her furry blonde pussy and step up the heat again. This might get too hot even for HBO!

Marg abruptly replaced Sue, and Nancy took back her body and dress. Sue was finally gone! The body swaps weren't so shocking anymore. Nancy started to fidget with her lower dress as I looked over at Paul and how he was NOW enjoying my Marg. She was totally covered before the switch - not even a camel toe was visible. Now in Sue's position, her tits were exposed below her black bra, her genes pulled down to her knees, and the big hole in her hose exposed part of her pussy. They were all new to me!

It was all on camera, beamed to 10 million viewers. I felt embarrassed FOR her and needed to know if she wanted help covering up. She was still basically modest and briefly reacted to being suddenly exposed, then stopped trying to cover up. She remembered that there was a penalty for not complying with the game and had to decide if I was worth exposing everything to strangers AND friends, forever foregoing her modesty. It was, I was, and she was entering her hell for me. All these years later and still being a BEST friend. No wonder I loved her then, and still.

Though she didn't get a thrill from being exposed, she cooperated and spread her legs wider while looking apologetically at me. Now I had to make the same decision. I too was basically conservative and private. I had wanted our first sensual moment together to be private and loving, the wild sex could wait a bit. Covering her would break the rules and all contact and separate us.

I couldn't dismiss her actions and lose her again. Because she was willing to sacrifice for me, *I HAD to let her*. So I reluctantly did and shared her precious pussy with the millions whacking off at home ... Paul slipped two fingers into her and got her sweet and fragrant juices flowing.

My modesty had to go too. I rationalized that we weren't really being harmed and we could all survive this cruel joke. Obviously, Paul didn't have a close or hopeful relationship with Nancy, so he didn't care if she, a stranger, exposed herself completely to view or even do nasty circus tricks.

He later even said she could juggle lit candles with her pussy and he'd just watch, as we all would - no investment, no concern for her. Maybe they weren't truly playing the game. I wondered if they were just shills to push us as far as we'd go.

Pussy for prizes? Though it was still possible that Marg was an exhibitionist and was enjoying breaking taboos, I didn't feel that she was. Since I had never pushed to see Marg naked in college, this first time was 'tainted' by sharing her with everyone.

On her small frame, her full firm C cups looked just perfect. If I could momentarily forget the local and TV viewers, I could properly expose them to just me. My photography experience would let me dwell on their artistic beauty capped by the reddish, swelling, seductive nipples, then drool over them. Poor Nancy was now totally naked and still waiting for some attention.

Jane had pulled off her panties and hiked her skirt above her waist. She was more shapely than even the tight clothes teased. She was a gorgeous sight with her blouse wide open and pulled out of her skirt. Her skirt was rolled up into a 'belt' above her waist, letting her sparse blonde pussy hair, trimmed as an arrow, drew our eyes to her honeypot. Her full tits, still high set and beautifully rounded were outside her widely open bra and bounced very seductively as she plunged two, then three, then FOUR fingers deep into her sopping wet cunt.

Varying speed and scrapping as much delicious love juice onto her hand as possible, she quickly filled the small carriage with her sex scents that drove ALL of us to a frenzy. As Jane finally allowed her first crashing orgasm to escape with a loud "ohohohohhhhhhhhhh YES"! We finally caved. We all abandoned all modesty concerns. ALL of us wanted to taste her, see her, touch her and smell her swollen pussy up close with our tongues inside her. Even, not so conservative, Marg.

Jane became an active participant, not just the voyeur 'host'. With her outburst, Marg and Nancy began fingering their already moist cunts. With a deliberately loud PLOP, Jane pulled her tired, soaked hand out of her enticing pussy and offered us all a taste. Five folk on five fingers, our eyes glazed, we all licked her clean and dry.

Intoxicated with Jane's smell and taste, I had to allow Marg the freedom to do as she wished and express herself without judgment. I again rationalized that anyone touching the skin on her arm could just as well touch the skin on her nipples and pussy. By just touching her fingers, they were already inside her sweet pussy where that hand had often been. This was no easy thing for me after waiting so many years to have her to myself.

Assuming clean hands and no injuries or STDs, there's no harm in sharing her mouth, hands, pussy or ass with ANYone. She would still bring them, disease free and available, to me regardless of what anyone did to her. So I told myself. Any screaming orgasm could also be handled by enjoying her joy and believing that her screams had the same harmful effect on OUR lives as if someone stepped hard on her foot. All easily 'forgivable' if needed.

Certainly it would forever be hard for her to feel embarrassed after wantonly showing all her intimate parts and fetishes to the world. How many would tape this and replay it for themselves, or to try to embarrass Marg with it? I KNOW we would keep a copy of this orgy to enjoy it for many years.

Marg was still dressed as before. Paul and I were still fully dressed. He slouched a bit to try to look far up inside Marg's dark haired pussy. Though her fingers now blocked that view, she spread as wide as she could and showed him, the cameras and all of us some sweet pink and a swollen clit. She was well involved now and I wanted to bite that clit and suck her dizzying juices. NOW!

Well-aroused myself, and with Marg on her way to her own orgasm, I finally turned to Nancy. When she stood, I could see the short and beautiful figure she'd been hiding. Like Jane, she looked much better naked than clothed even in the snug dress. When I turned her, I saw her ass too was shapely, beautiful and inviting! I openly admired her form and glowing face that became more lustrous by the minute. I drew her to me and kissed her deeply. Her tongue had a sweet and pleasant/hardy taste I could only hope it would last her whole life. Our tongues danced long minutes, and my hand found her hardening nipples; with a small twist I drew out a deep guttural moan that rocked my knees.

That moan was louder and deeper than the one I remembered that Marg had let out into my ear so many years ago. That groan made me dizzy and my legs wobble. But back then, I'd only stolen a soft deep squeeze of her ass - forbidden ground 25 years ago and until that game show. Though we'd steamed up many car windows and even stopped an elevator, we never saw each other naked or topless. She'd asked me not to tongue kiss her either since she couldn't rationalize that much and keep feeling faithful to her fiancee. So all our increasing attraction and arousal were stirred without using hands, tongues, or genitals. It must be love!

I raised Nancy's left leg and rested her foot on the bench. When I reached between her legs, Jane's hand was already there. We shared the blossomed pussy. Our alternate plunges into her had an immediate effect on Nancy. In seconds she shivered, screamed and collapsed in orgasm. As she did, she squirted her juices on Jane and me. We loved it and were thrilled for her. Damn! I wanted that on my face. At least the camera caught her wonderful spurts. She squirted enough for four small meals, if we had captured it, though I preferred licking it in place to chugging. Jane and I spread some of Nancy's nectar on us and began licking each other clean. Nancy saw and blushed that we enjoyed her so much. Marg saw us and licked her lips, but kept pumping her pussy. There's something so lusty about watching a woman finger fuck herself.

Worried that she was taking so long, I was about to push my tongue into Marg's hot aching box when Jane tugged me back and started undressing me. She had me lick off more of Nancy's juice, some even mixed with her own. I think she wanted to see Paul do more with Marg. Was that another ploy for ratings? Did they want to provoke a strong reaction from me?

Paul stood and gently removed Marg's shirt and bra while she continued frigging herself. Getting her pants and hose off was trickier. Jane buried her tasty tongue in my throat in a delicious distraction as she removed my pants. Paul took the hint and started kissing Marg's belly, up to a sweet nipple and into her mouth. I desperately wanted to switch places with him. His fingers joined hers in bathing in her luscious juices.

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