Strip karaoke

The DJ would take it in turns to play hits that were in the charts on the week each of the competitors was born. He would cut the music and either Amy or Boris would have to sing the next line. Get the words wrong and the contestant would have to remove an item of clothing, but if both sang their lines correctly, the audience would cheer for which one sang the best. He or she would win a prize and the other would strip. It sounded awful to Amy, but she felt trapped with no easy way off the tight stage. Down on the dancefloor, Suzie was mortified for her friend, whilst Samantha was quietly exultant.

The disc jockey played the first track, top of the hit parade when Amy was born. Using his remote control, he stopped it at the beginning of the chorus and held his microphone to Amy's lips, but the song dated from well before the poor girl had developed any interest in music and she had no idea what to say. After a deathly pause, the music started again and at the end of the chorus, the DJ paused it to give Boris a chance.

The older man had been in his twenties when the track was all the rage and knew it well, but his knowledge of lyrics was patchy, to say the least, so he was delighted when his strangled rendition matched the recorded version. For her part, Amy instinctively covered her ears at his horrendous singing voice, which gave her a flicker of hope. She might not be the best singer, but if she knew the words, she could definitely do better than him. Unfortunately, that didn't help her here.

"Sorry, Amy," said the compère, who wasn't sorry at all, "you have to strip."

The pretty blonde gulped and looked down at her shapely body. The backless dress had made it impossible for her to wear a brassière, so she thought she had only two items to choose. Losing her dress would expose her perky breasts to the clubbers, so instead she reached up under her hemline and pulled down her plain, unsexy black briefs, stepping out of them and holding them up sheepishly to prove she'd taken something off. There were some sarcastic wolf whistles from the crowd and then it was on to round two.

This was from the week Boris was born and to Amy's surprise, she recognized it. Unfortunately, it was an absolute classic and Boris managed to belt out the required line with a voice that would make dogs run and hide. Amy made a passable attempt at hers and waited confidently for the spectators to confirm her victory, but when the DJ asked them to cheer, they went crazy for Boris, whereas her own support was muted and lacklustre. Even amongst her friends, most of the boys only gave half-hearted cheers, eager to see their gorgeous pal unclothed. Samantha went one step further and whooped for the opposition. It was only much later that Amy realized the people in the club just wanted to see the fit teen strip instead of the overweight middle-aged bloke.

Getting the dress off without showing anything was impossible, so she bit the bullet and pulled it over her head, briefly flashing everybody until she could slap one arm over her pert breasts and cover her crotch with the other. This time the cheers and wolf whistles were real.

The DJ announced round three and, alarmed, Amy tried to attract his attention by pulling at his shirt, which entailed removing the hand protecting her modesty. She tried to cover by crossing her legs and standing at an angle, but all she achieved was showing the crowd her peachy bottom, instead.

"Sir, sir," she interrupted the spiel.

"What is it?" The DJ was a bit distracted by having to run the game and responded brusquely.

"I don't have any clothes left."

He looked her over, appreciating for the first time how exposed this stunning girl, who'd seemed so shy when she came on stage, now was.

"What about your shoes?"

Amy would have put her face in her hands, but she needed them to cover her nakedness. She had just stripped naked in front of hundreds of people, when she could have simply taken off her shoes instead. They must think she was a complete exhibitionist. To add to her travails, removing her shoes would have been easy when fully clothed, but unbuckling the ankle straps whilst naked would make it impossible to stay covered. With a bit of luck, she could hide from the spectators, but Boris and the compère would see everything.

Distracted by her thoughts, she was caught unprepared when the microphone came to her again, but since she didn't recognize the song anyway, it didn't make much difference. Boris managed to complete his line and it was Amy's turn to strip again. The ravishing blonde bent over, her hands shaking so much that it took an eternity to unfasten her shoe.

"Need any help, there?" The quip from her opponent raised a laugh from the spectators, but did nothing to ease the lovely girl's rising panic. Finally, she undid the strap and stepped out of her shoe with a huff of triumph. However, the DJ reminded her to show it to the crowd, so she had to bend over again and then use one of her hands to display the shiny stiletto. A few flashes from the dance floor showed that people were trying to take photographs while she was unable to cover herself properly, but they didn't turn out too well. Little did they know they would have a much better opportunity to memorialize the event later on.

Round four was a total disaster: both players were clueless about the song and had to remove shoes, but only one of them found the task deeply humiliating. Now naked for real, the teenager hoped the nightmare would finally be over. How wrong she was.

"It looks like one of our contestants is out of clothes," the DJ observed, "so it's time for the final round." A click of his remote control played a strident sting over the club's loudspeakers to raise the tension, then he continued: "Amy, if you lose this round, you have to wave your arms above your head for ten seconds, but if you win, you can choose any two of the discount vouchers on offer."

The birthday girl no longer cared about prizes. Losing would mean exposing herself to the sight (and photography) of hundreds of clubbers. When the music played, her heard sank as it was another tune from when she was born which she didn't remotely recognize.

The DJ was disappointed the game was ending so quickly. Usually, he managed to fudge it so the results were a lot closer, but the girl tonight was so bad there was not a lot he could do. He also realized he had a problem. Most girls who lost the final round (and wherever possible he fixed it so they did lose) only agreed to perform the forfeit when told they'd not get the prizes they'd won otherwise, but Amy had won nothing, so had nothing to lose. He just hoped the youngster was as much of an exhibitionist as she seemed and could be inveigled into participating for no gain.

Boris also fluffed his line, which meant he had to lose his other shoe, but that didn't matter, because the game was over and Amy was comprehensively defeated. The DJ prepared to use all his powers of persuasion to convince the delectable beauty to flash the crowd and was left dumbfounded when completely unprompted, she shuffled right up to the edge of the stage to give the clubbers a better view and raised her hands as high in the air as she could, waving them from side to side madly.

For Amy, it just seemed obvious that the forfeit would require her to take the most exposing position possible. What would be the point if she was allowed to hide at the back of the stage? Thus, she stood with her toes hanging over the front of the stage, screwed her eyes shut and waved her arms so energetically she set her pert boobies jiggling.

The crowd erupted with cheers, wolf whistles and, to Amy's surprise, compliments. Strangers' shouts of you're beautiful, Amy and shake it, girl were so unexpected that she opened her eyes and stared down, as if hoping to find the source of the comments. Endearingly unaware of just how hot she was, the calls were a much-needed boost to her confidence and she even felt herself beginning to smile.

"Marry me," came one voice. "Give us a twirl," said another. This was an instruction she didn't mind following and she turned to show off her fit and toned backside, instinctively sticking her bum out for a sexy pose. Immediately, multiple people yelled at her to twerk and having followed one order, it felt natural to follow the next. Moving her feet apart for better balance, she bent her knees and started shaking her assets, not thinking about the view she was giving everybody. Fortunately, the speed with which her pelvis was moving meant it was hard to see the first faint glistening drops of arousal between her legs.

Boris and the compère were enjoying their view, too, Amy's breasts bobbing as she kept waving her arms above her head as instructed. Suddenly, the DJ became aware the young blonde was trying to attract his attention.

"How much longer?"

He was one of the few people he knew who still wore a wristwatch and he looked at it now, as though it could tell him when Amy had started her forfeit. He never normally needed to time the task, because he was lucky if the losers showed their bodies for two seconds before covering up again and resolutely refusing to move their hands a millimetre from their private parts. Also, they usually only raised their hands to shoulder height, not right above their heads.

"Eight seconds," he guessed, then winced when she gaped at his plainly unbelievable reply. In fact, the shapely girl had been gyrating for twenty-four seconds already, but surmised that time seems to move more slowly when you're on a stage, flashing your naughty bits to hundreds of strangers.

Tiring of the twerk, Amy turned around again and started experimenting with other dance moves, despite being restricted by the need to keep her arms in the air. These went down very well with the crowd, whose increasingly amorous plaudits encouraged her to even greater efforts.

"Hey, can you do a straddle jump?" Boris's question took her by surprise. It was a while since she'd done gymnastics, but she was willing to give it a try.

Squatting down, she leapt high into the air, extending her legs in front and then snapping them smartly to the sides in a textbook over-split, before landing neatly on her feet. The spectators gave a collective gasp and then exploded in appreciation. This was the best response yet and inspired her to repeat the jump twice more, grinning deliriously at the sheer joy of making her audience happy. Amongst all the photographs taken of her performance that night, there were a few that perfectly captured the apex of her jump, including the shiny slickness coating her brazenly exposed pudenda.

Amy followed up with some high kicks and pelvic thrusts, having worked out exactly what her public wanted to see, but the disc jockey realized she was starting to tire and decided to call time. The grateful teenager immediately clamped her arms over her body again, as though there were any point in modesty after spending nearly two minutes exhibiting her most intimate parts to the crowd. A groan rose up from the dance floor, but pretty much everyone knew they'd been incredibly lucky to receive the show they had and didn't begrudge the girl her right to cover up.

"I hope you all enjoyed the birthday game," the DJ said into his microphone and received a roar of YES! in response. "Now for some more hits from yesteryear."

He returned to his booth, expecting the contestants to get dressed and leave. Boris had pushed his feet back into his loafers while Amy was putting on her show and departed straight away, more than happy with his vouchers for fifty percent off a round of six or fewer drinks, a free family meal from a local fast food chain and a makeover at the nearby salon which would make an ideal gift for his goddaughter. Getting to ogle the hot teenager was a bonus.

Amy, however, followed the disc jockey to the booth still naked and waited for him to set the next track so she could ask him a question without interrupting.

"I'm sorry, but I was wondering, am I allowed to put my clothes back on now?"

He stared at her incredulously, then answered, the sarcasm in his voice difficult to detect due to the background noise of a classic dance anthem blasting from the speakers.

"No, you have to stay naked all night long, obviously(!)"

Amy's jaw dropped and the DJ realized she thought he was serious, but before he could tell her he was joking, she spoke again:

"Well, please may I at least put my shoes back on? I don't want anyone treading on my toes. Pretty-please, I'll do anything!"

Amy was not completely naïve and knew the implications of a naked girl offering to do anything for a man, but she was fairly confident that in terms of fuckability status, a DJ ranked just below a celebrity. In other words, losing her virginity to the disc jockey would only enhance her reputation with her peer group. Besides, the sexy dance had left her feeling really horny and he was seriously dishy.

Unfortunately, although he thought she was absolutely gorgeous, the DJ was in love with his girlfriend. Besides, he was currently in an open booth overlooking a packed nightclub, which limited options for amorous encounters somewhat. The right thing to do would be to tell her she could get dressed, but everything he'd seen about her so far told him (wrongly) that she liked being exposed and wanted him to give her an excuse to make it continue. After a moment's consideration, he told her his decision.

"Okay, you can put your shoes on—"

"Thank-you, thank-you, thank-you!"

"—If! If you promise to dance properly tonight. No covering up." He mimed the way she was currently using her arms to hide her charms.

Amy stared at him for a couple of seconds in alarm. This was far worse than giving up her virginity to a handsome older man. Everybody would see everything and since she would hardly be able to explain the reason for her brazen actions, they would think she was an exhibitionist, or more likely, a complete slut. Also, it didn't help that she'd slightly misunderstood his terms and thought she had to dance all through the night until the club closed. If she could have refused the deal, she would have, but she had promised to do anything he said and felt honour bound to agree, even though it wasn't the anything she'd had in mind. Blushing, she slowly dropped her arms to her sides.

"Okay, deal. I promise to dance properly all night long with no covering up."

Not long after, the DJ watched her sexy bum swaying coquettishly as she stalked away in her high heels. The precipitous steps back down to the dancefloor necessitated the slightly unsteady teenager holding on to both handrails, so even without the deal for shoes, she would have ended up showing more than she wanted on the journey down. At the bottom, she was greeted by her friends, who'd congregated round the base of the steps to wait for her.

"Wow, Amy, you were so hot up there, I couldn't believe it was really you…" "…and so brave, you were amazing…" "…I wish I was as daring as you…" "…you're a natural, those dance moves were incredible…" "…what happened to your dress?"

The birthday girl, though still deeply embarrassed, glowed with all the praise, unable to suppress a smile at her friends' approval. Henceforth, she would always associate this feeling of euphoria with strip games and be powerless to resist the urge to repeat the experience. Then Suzie's question brought her back to earth with a bump.

"I'm not allowed to get dressed until tomorrow," she explained, "but I made a deal to dance all night long and not cover up in return for my shoes."

Her mates had noticed that she was making no attempt to conceal her charms, but hadn't wanted to mention it, in case she started to do so, but having found out they were going to benefit from the show until dawn, they made sure to express their support and congratulate her on a great deal. Well, it was great for all the people who would get to watch a knockout beauty gyrate naked, at least.

Reassured by her pals that she'd made the right decision, Amy started living up to her side of the bargain and began dancing, awkwardly at first, then with growing confidence and shrinking inhibitions. The boys and most of the girls delighted in dancing with her, basking in the reflected glory of knowing the newly famous beauty. They even competed to be in the frame when other clubbers recorded or streamed the scene. The only person unhappy with the turn of events was Samantha, who couldn't believe that she'd managed to utterly humiliate her rival and she seemed to be enjoying it.

Amy completely lost track of time and her dance partners until she heard a voice she'd never expected to hear again.

"Well, you're all grown up, aren't you, Amy?"

She looked up to see Conrad. Her first crush was four years above her at school and she doubted he even knew she existed. In fact, he had noticed her, but since she was fourteen at the time, he'd obviously had no amorous interest and had almost forgotten her after he left school. That changed tonight, when he saw her on stage and couldn't resist renewing their acquaintance.

Amy warbled unintelligibly, tongue tied by the unexpected sight of her crush, even more handsome than she remembered after four years at university, but it didn't matter, because he put his hands on her hips and started to sway in time to the music. He was a good dancer and with him guiding her, she felt like a good dancer, too. The close proximity, physical contact and her nudity soon saw passions rising and Conrad spun her round, pulling her against his manly torso.

The luscious blonde pressed back, grinding her buttocks against his bulging crotch, emboldened by the knowledge that she was exciting him. He massaged her breasts, making her moan with lust, then ran one hand down her body to her sex, stimulating her with his palm.

Amy could feel her orgasm approaching and suddenly remembered that they weren't alone, but were in full view of dozens of pairs of eyes and probably more than a few camera lenses as well. If she didn't do something soon, she would be disgracing herself far more than had done already.