Composing Ourselves

Chrissie and I regained our senses with a gasp, still clenched in each other's arms. We blushed simultaneously, then scrambled apart.

Michael was standing there. "Ah, ladies, could you please control your friends? They're distracting my crew," he said.

Chrissie and I nodded, straightening our clothes as surreptitiously as possible. "Yeah, yeah, we're on it," said Chrissie.

We followed Michael to a storeroom. A burly, dark-haired stagehand had Tonya pressed against a wall, her legs wrapped around his waist. He was holding the little blonde by her hips and bouncing her on his cock. Laura was bent over a table, another stagehand behind her, and he was stroking into her from behind, her red hair still perfect. The moans reached a crescendo even as we watched, indicating that all parties involved were reaching orgasm nearly simultaneously.

"So," I said, "is this what they mean by 'work party'?"

Michael didn't laugh. Chrissie snickered a little, though.

We got the two of them under control and walked them back to the stage door. Tonya's eyes were already glazing from her vagina bumps by the time we got the waiting area.

I could hear the audience filing in and taking their seats, and my heart started pounding. Chrissie and I were finally even, but I knew a lot of that was because of luck. I'd have to stay focused. Just one more round and we were done with this game show. After that...well, I'd either be a sex toy or be taking care of several sex toys.

Chrissie's silence indicated that she was probably having similar thoughts. I watched her for a short time, thinking that, even if I got fully bimboed, I'd never get tired of making fun of her pink perm. That thought was cheering me considerably when the opening music began to play.

It was time.