Forfeit & Interview

You don’t want to draw it out. You mean, you do because having passionate sex with your girlfriend is always a nice way to pass the time. But doing so in front of a large audience and an even larger televised audience, isn’t exactly what you want.

You slip one hand into Jack’s pants, finding her dampness waiting for you. A purr of excitement escapes her throat. She pulls you close, her hands gripping your ass, your dress riding up from behind. Your body pressed against hers, your fingers exploring her depths once again, reintroducing themselves to the familiar surroundings.

Jack buries her face against your neck. Her voice low and rumbly, “We might cause a riot if we don’t do more.” The mirage of close intimacy is shattered for the harshening sounds of the crowd.

She backs away a couple steps, your hand slipping from its home in her pants. She quickly gets to work on the buttons of her vest and blouse. Out of your periphery you see Lance looking at his phone, his thumb flying over the screen as he types something. Never stopping and not looking to the forfeit happening on the battlefield. Jack’s tops drop to the ground, and the crowd returns to cheers.

You never grow tired of the sight. Jack’s perfect modest chest free to the air. You gulp and slide your dress off your shoulders, letting it fall to around your ankles. Nudity the greatest of crowd pleasers. Jack starts back towards you, and you reach behind your back unhooking your bra. The crowd cheers at the sight of your pierced tits. And Lance continues to stare at his phone.

Jack’s fingers tease your nipples. Her tongue plunges into your mouth. You press your panty-clad sex against her leg. She grabs your ass, her fingers hot against your skin, her pressure guiding you in your gyrations against her pants.

The pressure builds, Jack’s hand digging into your ass. She kisses down your neck, your head lulls back a moan erupts from your depths. Your thrusts going in sync with the ebb and flow of the crowd. The energy around you feeding into you, and your energy feeding into the crowd.

You buck backwards, Jack’s arm reaching around you to catch your back. She leans forward, pressing her face between your tits. Her kisses brush against your hot skin. She scrapes her teeth across your plump flesh, before flicking her tongue over your nipple. Your legs quiver, Jack stays strong supporting you on her thigh, in her arms.

Your orgasm crashes, you fly forward against Jack. She hugs you tight, your face buried in her neck as you moan in ecstasy. Your breathing heavy, as the crowd cheers. “I love you,” Jack whispers.

“I love you, too,” you huff. The swell of emotions mixing with the lingering pleasure dripping from you.

Lance coughs into the microphone, calling attention back to himself. “That was great. A big round of applause for these two amazing trainers.”

You separate from Jack, a large wet spot on her thigh, her pants soaked through. You slip back into your dress. Jack pulls her arms through her shirt, her vest slung over her arm, as she guides you from the battlefield.

She kisses you once again as you’re out of sight of cameras. Before another cough interrupts you. You break the sensual embrace to see Erika waiting for you. “I just wanted to remind you that the interviews with the media are important. Don’t skip them again.” Her usual persona slipping, she knows that you know her involvement with Team Rocket so she isn’t trying to be the cheery Erika, dancer, theater actress, gym leader.

She doesn’t wait for a response instead just leaving you and Jack alone. In the waiting room, Dede Devin waits for you. “Amber, how nice to see you.” She smiles, her teal braid hanging over her shoulder. “Do you have a minute?”

You would prefer not to give her the time of day. She probably just wants to know if you’d rather lose to Blue or Ashley. And honestly who knows there. But that’s not what you want to talk about. “Sure,” you answer, Erika’s words still fresh.

“Great, so after your recent match against John of Viridian City,” she starts in. Ah, so she’s not going to ask about future sexual contact, instead harping on your past dalliances. “It appeared as if you were claiming a forfeit from the defeated hunk. Which has sparked a renewed interest in the radical feminist movement revolving around equality in the sexual forfeit system. Namely the claiming of sexual forfeits from male trainers. How does it feel to be the face of the newest surge of the movement?”

You pause, not expecting any of that. A face of a radical feminist movement? You hadn’t heard any of this. Although you hadn’t really been following any of the news around the Rookie Tournament. Why would you need to see the replays if you’re living it, right? “I didn’t realize it meant that much.”

“It’s quite the buzz among the masses. While many men seem to welcome women claiming them for their own prize, there are just as many concerned about what that would mean for same sex claims. What do you say to that?”

You clear your throat, stalling for time as you wrangle your racing mind into coherent sentences. “I, well, as you just saw, women are **** into same sex claims all the time. So, if equality was the goal, why wouldn’t men be free to claim sexual forfeits from other men?”

“Indeed, so is that your ultimate reasoning behind becoming a trainer?”

“I, no, or I mean yes. I signed up with the league in hopes of equality. But not in this way. I want to dissolve the sexual forfeit, or at least make it non-mandatory. Let the trainers choose their path.”

Dede eyes the camera, “You heard it folks. Amber of Pallet Town wants to deny you of free sex. So you’d better get out there and fuck while you still can, before this up and comer cock blocks you forever. This has been Dede Devin and stay tuned for the second half of the semifinals.” The cameraman lowers the camera. “That was great, have fun out there,” Dede smiles, knowing the target she just painted on your back.