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Mating Attack

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Mating Attack by AnonymousAll my life I'd found chess clubs boring. Usually they were attended by gifted little nine year olds who thrashed adults on a regular basis, sixty year old men who could afford to devote time to the game after retirement, and hopeless losers who lived for chess and had no interests beyond it. It was with interest then, that I read the flyer someone had jammed under the windscreen wiper of my car. "Volunteers sought for adult chess club. If YOU are 18-30 and have a life, come and stretch your head." Come on, I thought; surely they mean stretch your mind. Well, anyway, I went at the time and to the place specified, and no sooner had I got in the door than I was pulled up by the bouncer - who was carrying a whip! "Do you have sixteen items of clothing?" he said. "No," I told him. "Nobody's allowed to play unless they have sixteen items. If you're only interested in lessons, though, just go into the small room on the left." I told him I was interested in advanced lessons, and he motioned me through, saying he hoped I was ready. When I got there, the room was filled with eager hopefuls; some men, some women. All wore fairly revealing clothing, as befitted the 40 degree celsius Australian summer. The lecturer, a well-known grandmaster, had just begun. "As you know," he said, "the important thing in chess is to clear the mind of all distractions. What you may not know is that excess genital secretions cause pressure on the higher centres and diminish your thinking. Close the door." We did. He said, "Chess is not about pawns, queens and mating for nothing. I will show you today the true nature of the game. The dark side of the force, if you will. You will become kings and queens of pawn. First you must rid yourself of your pressures. Disrobe." The others began to do so, and I followed suit. They were not surprised; evidently they had had a lesson or two already and were forewarned. "Now," he said, standing naked. "The first strategy of chess is an advance into the centre. Certain female grandmasters prefer to take this slowly, but the males - with their inbuilt aggression - do it faster." His hand was on his penis and he drew it forward. "It is important to advance straight down the middle." I thought the centre game had been abandoned years ago, but I wasn't about to argue with this interpretation! We all drew our cocks forward in imitation. We did not, by this time, have to worry about them flopping down; the sight of many attractive young women standing around naked was more than enough. "The opponent playing such a game must be prepared to receive and if they can, deflect such an attack." The women lined up facing the men. "This is accomplished in many cases by a SLOW!" (he reached out here and slapped an overeager penis down) "surrounding of the attacking elements, starting with a division of one's forces." The young lady opposite me cannot have been more than twenty; she was red-haired in both places, had bright blue eyes, a slim build and fair skin. She lay upon her back with legs divided and red-thatched mound open to view. There was a prominent clitoris among all this, and just the hint of moisture. Firm breasts peaked upwards, nor would they have drooped if she were standing. "The middlegame often starts with a teasing attack." We men simultaneously advanced, directing our rigidities at the entrances. Mine was seized by my partner, who gently proceeded to try to lengthen it. One by one we were directed to stay in a spot on the floor while the female players gradually pulled our penises towards them. Stretch my head, indeed. "What level of player are you?" my partner asked. "Amateur only," I said. "I'll teach you how to be a grand master," she said, and with that she pulled the very tip, the eye, of my dick forward to touch her clit and with her engorged miniphallus, to my amazement, began to fuck the eye of my dick! I had my hands on her firm thighs and was kneeling between them, eyes down, watching the amazing performance. Grand master indeed! My best friend liked this treatment and was enlarging to a degree I had not thought possible. Incredible messages were crawling up my spine to the animal centres of my brain. My balls were tensing and lifting ready for the release. Drops of precome were gathering at the tip but this only made things worse (or better) as the lubrication enabled her clit to slide further in. "Why," I asked, panting, "do you have to have sixteen items of clothing to play chess here?" "Strip chess," she corrected. She too was running out of breath now. "I see," I said. My heart rate, accustomed to sitting at 80/minute, was doing something like 200. Spasming, almost epileptic, pulsations were screaming down my shaft at 100mph. "You have a very good central attack," she panted. "It's withstanding my counterattack very well, and everything I can do only increases your advantage. You play so well..." (my hands had by this time moved to caress those incredible breasts) "....I may not be able to withstand your attack." "Beware the poisoned pawn variation," the instructor's voice leaked into my brain. A condom was cast in front of me. Poisoned porn, he meant! I put it on and said, "You almost had me there; I need to examine your defence closely for any faults." Leaning forward, I took the eager clitoris on my tongue and moisture began to ooze like nothing ever before from the fleshy crack. Moans came from her; she was already incoherent with ecstasy, and I could see the muscles about the vagina pulsing and twitching with eagerness, all the way to the muscles of the buttocks, which I had cupped in my hands. They were firm to begin with, firmer now they were tense. "...and when you feel you are familiar with the defences, you can charge through them to deliver mate." "And now," I said to her, "I think I will mate you, and so you lose this round." I entered, buried my almost nine inch rod within her, slid my tongue down her throat. My organ at this point lost all control. Fingers dug into backs as the mighty thing between my legs went into a full-on grand-mal epileptic fit, emitting stream after stream of hot gelatinous thickness that forced its way back down the condom to emerge and run down from the root of my dick, to merge with the hoselike flow of quim from her eager spasming pussy. She took it out of her, slipped the condom off, massaged it with her hands and oh my, the impossible happened and the eruptions began again, bursting forth, hoselike, with every gentle yet passionate stroke of her fingers. The blocked ideas were freed from my brain as the passions spent themselves, and like a novice who passes an initiation, I knew I was ready to assume the sixteen pieces of clothing."No," she said. "You may have mated me, but in finding you, I am sure that it is I who have won." COMING UP NEXT: Sixteen pieces.

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