Poncho Ilia - With this ring, I thee lust

two-thirds. I limited myself to one glass of champagne a night. It worked. And I lost the three pounds I put on by screwing.

A really active girl can burn up a lot of calories screwing, and Carlo gave me opportunity to use up a few. Then he put me onto the English judge, a nice, middle-aged Lord Something or Other, who was staid, except when he got in bed, and then he was a wild man who liked to have his male nipples pinched like hell. That put two judges into my bag. And, with me taking care of both Carlo and Lord What's His Name, I burned off about two hundred calories each time we crawled into a bed. Not a lot, but every little bit helped.

Meanwhile, old Ruf was having the time of his life. Ms. Viv introduced him to the blond viking from Norway. He told me about her. She liked to be on top, he said, pretending that she was the man. It wasn't bad, he said, since she did all the work and really knew how to throw her ass. That was three judges out of fifteen in the bag.

I was assured by Ms. Viv that the American judge would vote for me if I had a hare-lip and warts. Four. The judge from Iceland was leaning toward me, Ms. Viv said, because Iceland hadn't sent a contestant. Five.

The commies had five sure votes on their side. The U.S.S.R., East Germany, Poland, Mongolia, which had entered this really beautiful Eurasian chick, and Hungary. There were contestants from all the Iron Curtain countries, but Ms. Viv thought they'd all decide, after casting a vote for the home town girl, to put their weight behind one Iron Curtain maiden, probably, just to show that Russia wasn't calling the tune, to the Mongolian chick. With five block votes for the Reds and five for me that left five uncommitted: France, West Germany, Brazil, Canada and Japan. The Frenchman would die with his French girl, West Germany was unpredictable. We had to work on Brazil, Canada and Japan.

The Canadian judge was a nice looking man who ran a model agency with New York connections. His name was Frank. He had wild assed socialist political beliefs, according to Ms. Viv, and was expected to go with the Iron Curtain judges. But Ms. Viv also had other information on him. He was a frustrated cock hound. He had the reputation of being a lousy lover. Ms. Viv had had someone talk to models working in his agency. He chased all of them, caught some of them, frustrated them and then had a hell of a time catching them again, because when a girl gets laid she wants to get her jollies out of it.

Carlo and I were spending a lot of time together. There were official functions, of course, but they ended at some hour or the other and left the rest of the night If it wasn't Carlo it was Lord England. Meanwhile, Ms. Viv was trying to gain the Canadian's interest and not doing too well. I was getting to know Carlo pretty well and I asked him, one night, after one of our nutty bouts with whips and things, if he knew this Canadian Frank, He laughed. "Ah, it is not assured for you yet, eh? You want to bribe one more judge?" "It take? one to know one," I said.

"Little one," Carlo said. "I have plans for you whether or not you win." He'd made hints like that before, and I kept begging him to tell me what he meant, but he wasn't talking. His time, he said, was being taken up by the Miss One World gig and until he finished with it he would not make plans, "But I want to win," I said. 135

"It would be better for both of us if you won," he said. "O.K.," I said, "help me get to this Canadian."

"We are brothers, comrades, for we are both members of the Communist Party," Carlo said. "You're a Red?"

"I am what it is profitable to be," he said. "At the moment, certain people think that having a member in the movie industry is worth a lot of money." "And this Canadian?"

"I have talked with him. I am not sure why, but he is an unhappy man. I get the most, how you say, clear impression that he is fighting himself, but thinking that he is fighting the world." "I don't get it," I said. "I think he is a latent homo," Carlo said.

"That would explain his lack of success with girls," I said.

"He talks a great fuck," Carlo said, "saying how would you like to dick that one and how would you like to eat that and other things." He shrugged expressively. "But all the time he talks he looks at my crotch. I think, he, himself, does not know what is eating on him."

"Makes it sound hard to get him into a case of hots over me," I said.

"I have thought," Carlo said. "Why not get him a case of hots over us?"

So, with a couple of slick maneuvers, Carlo got Frank into his pad the night before the actual competition was to begin. There's been almost two weeks of preliminary things, public appearances, rehearsals, posing for pictures. Now the real thing was about to get under way and, try as he might, Ruf had been unable to lure the cute little Jap judge into bed to get her on our side. She told him, "My son, you are too huge. Although my body craves you, I have enough intelligence to know that you would hurt me. Besides, I am married woman." So it was vital that we convert this Canadian.

He was a nice looking guy, blond, tall, well built. He had deep green eyes and shaggy eyebrows. He was very sophisticated. He spoke perfect English and handled himself very well. Carlo fed us and wined us. He'd picked out.my dress, a naked-look thing which showed all of my back to the crease in my butt and most of my chest down to the brown circles of the nipples. He, himself, wore tight double-knit pants and I swear the crazy wop didn't have on any-underwear. His cock and balls showed through. And old Frank couldn't keep his eyes off them. I saw him eyeball Carlo every time Carlo crossed the room to mix a drink or something.

Well, it got drunk out for Carlo and the Canadian. I limited myself, counting calories. I waited for Carlo. Oh, I vamped the Canadian all evening, batting my eyes and arching my back at him to thrust out my un-braed tits. He looked and seemed to be interested at times.

Long about eleven, with both of the men feeling no pain, Carlo started talking about the movie industry and he said, "I have a little hobby which might interest you." We were interested. He pushed buttons and a screen came down over the bar and a hole opened in the wall and a projector came out. He said, "Not many people know about this side of my business, so I trust I am among friends who will not talk."

We assured him that we'd keep quiet. He dimmed lights and started the goddamedest film that I'd ever seen. It was my first fuck movie. The first one was a good looking, heavy assed dark girl and a slim, strong stud who ate and screwed with a certain verve.

I got the delicious trembles, watching the girl have a huge weiner put into her bun and apparently loving it. Then there was another and this time there were two men and one girl. They took turns..One ate and one screwed. Then they sandwiched the girl and one had her in the cunt and the other in the ass. When it was over Frank was breathing hard. "I say," he whispered, "that was rather interesting."

Then Carlo put on the killer. It was a homo film. Two pretty boys, who were hung with truly unbelievable cocks, played with each other and ate each other and then, with wild contortions and evident enjoyment, browned each other with those huge cocks.

Old Frank was figeting and breathing hard and his face was flushed and he could hardly talk. Carlo looked at me, with the lights back on low, and winked. "I must ask you to excuse me," he said, going off in the direction of the bathroom. That was my cue, I guessed. I rose, stretched. I arched my boobs at Frank and he licked his lips.

"Whee," I said, "is a girl supposed to watch that stuff and remain perfectly calm?"

"I would think not," he drawled, "depending on the girl, of course."

"Well, this girl found it very exciting," I said, moving closer. "I mean well, I guess it's natural, seeing all those sexy people, to feel the way I feel."