Dress Off: Sasha vs Tara (Part 2) - Sex Stories

Dress Off: Sasha vs Tara (Part 2)

... it. Sasha dashed on, compelling her now tired legs to one last exertion, to keep her in the game one clue longer. No sign of Tara! No sign of that smug bitch! No self-satisfied announcements from the earpiece as she arrived at the Cathedral steps. A wedding was clearly in progress inside, and Sasha desperately cast around the outside for something that looked like the next clue. She couldn’t help but steal the occasional glance over her shoulder to see if Tara was hot on her heels, and when she couldn’t see her coming down the street in either direction, Sasha permitted herself a slight feeling of calmness. There was still the matter of finding the clue, and still the undeniable fact that she was standing outside a prominent religious landmark in a sports bra and glorified panties. But she was about to even up the ledger a little, and Sasha pushed on determinedly. It was then that she noticed the figure hanging back in the shadows of an alcove by the entrance to the Cathedral. A figure that looked all the world like a twenty-odd year old female. It was then that she heard a voice come from the figure, a voice that she instantly recognised with absolute, undiluted dread. “Hey Sasha. Short time, no see. Of course, now I’m seeing more than enough of you to make up for those precious few minutes of together time we missed out on!” Tara Tennyson stepped out of the shadows, smirking. As Sasha began to grasp what she was seeing, she couldn’t help but notice that Tara had also ...

... lost her yellow baggy shorts, and was now wearing the skin tight shirt and pants that Sasha herself had sported an entire clue back. That outfit now looked positively prudish to Sasha, even though a mere fifteen minutes ago it had been the cause of acute self-consciousness. The voice once again sprang into life, this time in both Sasha and Tara’s earpieces. “Ladies. Well played both of you. Sasha, I’m sure you’re wondering about Tara’s predicament clothing-wise, and perhaps slightly more on how she beat you to the clue. Well, it turns out, Miss Sinclair, that you were entirely right to consider Miss Tennyson a blatant cheat, and she is certainly one of the most devious players of this game that we’ve ever had the pleasure of penalising. Please rest assured, Miss Sinclair, that Miss Tennyson was greatly reprimanded for asking a group of innocent bystanders to solve the latest clue for her, and that her yellow sports shorts were consigned to the scrap heap without delay!” Tara smirked anyway, the anticipation of what was to come overpowering the embarrassment of the memory of feeling her sports shorts melt away in front of a crowd of suddenly very aroused men. “Of course, with that penalty so swiftly paid, Miss Tennyson was nonetheless able to make her way here with all due speed, and so we find ourselves in this current situation.” The voice paused for effect and then continued on, a relish in the voice foreshadowing what was to come “You see Miss Sinclair, you find yourself ...