An announcement ruins our make-out.

During our torrid, messy make-out, Ming Zhao slams me into the far wall again; enjoying her chance to switch between submission and dominance as I moan, kiss her and massage her dripping pussy through that skintight costume.

Tonguing the businesswoman's stiff nipples while she ravages my bubble-butt, huffing with arousal, we hear the tourney's announcer bellow through the intercom— calling for somebody who was in the middle of something very important, "Mystery Woman! Would you please come out to the tournament stage!"

That announcement is obnoxious enough—though not serious enough to make us stop making out—but he follows the rallying cry with a name I wasn't prepared to hear, "and Ahab Melville, too!"

Breaking our kiss in surprise, I look to Ming Zhao for an answer, but the sexy businesswoman is at least as bewildered as I am— it's not like I entered the tourney… right?

She turns the gears in her head, saying, "I'm a clandestine entrant, so… wait, Ahab, did you enter as a doubly clandestine entrant?!"

"What? No, I'm just a Booth Babe here! Why're they calling me out anyway? Aw, crap!" I look down to see my raging hard-on bared completely, and flush, "I'm still naked! Ming Zhao, can I borrow some of your costume? Please?"

"Uhh, double crap, I have nothing for you to wear! And I'm naked under this damned diving suit." My crush, upset, tries to re-cover her tits, but discovers an embarrassing misfortune, "Aaaand my zipper's stuck. Triple crap. I don't want that crowd to recognize my tits!"

So both of us are indecent? Quadruple crap.

"We can't actually go out there like this, can we?!"

The worry permeates me fully when I look at Ming Zhao, she's blushing and at a loss; her zipper remains stuck beneath her breasts, leaving her lack of a bra at least as obvious as her embarrassment over the racy wardrobe malfunction. When I look back at the businesswoman's reddened face, her eyes dart 'downstairs' and she bites her lip— hard. Painfully reminded of my own replete nudity, I flush crimson, imagining all those rowdy, camera-toting nerd girls ogling me naked on stage.

We both redouble the efforts to cover our privates, but with only my hands, it's a hopeless undertaking; my cock is too hard to properly obscure, and Ming Zhao is having no better a time as her breasts spill tantalizingly out of that skintight suit. My breath hitches at the sight of my crush playing with herself in a **** bid at modesty.

Why, God, would you do this to me? To us?

In the midst of our small scale mental breakdown, the P.A. system booms again, "Ahem, I said; would our mystery contestant and Ahab Melville please take the stage?"

Nooo! Too many women have seen me naked already! I can't just go out in front of Hall-C with an erection— can I!?