I had just turned twenty-two when I first started working at the KAILOR EAST FOOTY CLUB. It was just bar work on a Thursday and Friday night and all day and night Saturday.

It was a second job for me as I already had a full-time job working in ad min in a store that sold plumbing fittings. Neither job was particularly exciting, but my boyfriend and I were saving for a deposit for a house so we wanted all the money we could get.

Unlike most of the other girls who worked at the footy club, I had no direct involvement in the club other than the fact that I worked there. By that I mean I didn’t play netball for the club nor did my boyfriend play for the footy team; in fact, far from it.

Although he watched AFL and supported a team, he had no real love for the sort of guys who played local footy. He thought they were “arrogant wankers” and I must confess I tended to agree. In fact when I first applied for the job he was quite upset and tried to convince me not to even apply let alone take the job when it was offered.

At this point, I probably should say that I have always been an attractive girl, even if I say so myself. From a young age, I have received a lot of male attention and am aware of the power I have over men. I know that must sound very arrogant but it’s true.

As I grew older and my body started to develop I sometimes found the attention a little embarrassing and I certainly never actively sought out male attention or dressed in an overly provocative way, but as I am about five foot five with large breasts, slim build, blonde hair and an attractive face, the attention came regardless.

My boyfriend, on the other hand, was not the most handsome man in the world, but I loved him very much. We had met through a mutual friend and I had found him somewhat intriguing. However, I was acutely aware of the fact that he was quite insecure about me, and hated the fact that I had done a lot of bar work over the years, in environments where obviously I received a great deal of male attention.

Naturally, I received a lot of offers from many men. Anything from being asked out on dates, invited to parties (on my own of course), to pose for photos by “aspiring photographers”, to flat out requests for “a fuck”. But I never had any trouble refusing all of these. I had been with my boyfriend Nathan for about two years and prior to him had only ever had three other boyfriends. These four young men were the only sexual partners I’d ever had.

That’s not to say that I didn’t have rather strong sexual desires. On the contrary, I really enjoyed sex, and I would on occasions have some wild fantasies. It’s just that I was raised with very firm sexual morals and I believed that if you had a partner then that was the only person with whom you should have sex with.

I sometimes used to wonder what it would be like to be a stripper (although I would never actually do it) and on a couple of occasions when I was single I had considered offers to pose for risqué photos (risqué, but not nude). However, in the end, I had always declined the offers.

So, when I started working at the footy club, despite Nathans concerns, I had no thoughts of doing anything other than work to the best of my ability and then come home.

The place I worked at was a typical suburban footy club room. A single large voluminous room, it had been built in the mid to late nineteen eighties and consisted of a tiled floor and brick walls adorned with the photos of various club premierships teams, best and fairest winners etc. The bar was a large, fluoro lit room with enough room to service any number of drunken men and allow enough room inside for the women to prepare the meals for them.

For the first few weeks, it was pretty much exactly what I had expected. The girls I worked with were pleasant enough and worked quite well. But they were all pretty much enamoured of the players; especially their respective boyfriends in the team. And the players themselves; they were friendly enough after training on a Thursday night and when they first came in after the game on Saturday evenings. But when the beer started flowing they could become quite belligerent, obviously some more than others.

On Saturday nights Nathan would usually drive out to pick me up and would wait in the car until I came out. As I left the bar I would usually have to run the gamut of young blokes inviting me to stay for a drink or go back to someone’s house for more drinks. Despite my polite refusals they would persist until their girlfriends would intervene on my behalf and say, “she wants to go home to her boyfriend; leave her alone” or something along those lines. I’d smile a “thank you” to her whilst the boyfriend would invariably slur, “Well he can come, too”.

On one or two occasions I’d mention these drunken invitations to Nathan and his look of disgust would be all the answer I needed. That was okay. I had no interest in going either.

Obviously, after a period of some weeks, I got to know some of the other girls better and we had several chats. As it was a community run football club and not a “normal business”, we often had far more staff working than was actually required. So there was a lot of time to talk.

The Captain of the team, Tom, was an extremely handsome young man, about twenty-five years of age. Tall, with olive skin, rather penetrating green eyes, thick dark hair and slim but well-defined build, he wasn’t the best player in the team but he had a natural leadership style about him and the rest of the players readily followed his direction. But I hardly knew him.

He certainly drank as much as the rest of them and he was always very polite and respectful toward me, but unlike the others, he never even attempted to engage me in conversation. At first, I didn’t give it a moment’s thought as I assumed he was either very shy or very arrogant or both. And what’s more, I had no connection to the club so I didn’t really care either way. I did my job and went home to Nathan.

I had a lot to learn about the camaraderie and bond that existed at such clubs.

After a while, I noticed that I was being excluded from conversations. The invitations to the various drunken after parties stopped coming and, to my surprise, I actually cared.

After several weeks I asked one of the other girls about this.

“You haven’t been initiated,” she said to me.

“What?” I asked, “Initiated?”

“You don’t seem to want to be a part of the club so you’ve been, sort of, ostracised”.

I couldn’t understand but apparently because I had declined the invitations to late night drinks and after closure parties, I was seen as “not part of the team” and therefore not to be trusted. The odd thing was that this actually bothered me. A few weeks earlier I would have told them to shove their club up their arse and would have happily been an outsider. But now I found that I actually enjoyed the company of the girls I worked with and even found some of the players to be genuine people.

“What do I need to do,” I asked, “to be included?”

The answer absolutely shocked me.

“Well, there’s a sort of initiation thing we do here,” she said, “We’ve all done it”.

“What?” I asked blankly.

“We’ve all slept with Tom,” and before I could ask, she continued, “All of us girls."

I stared in disbelief.

“You are joking," I said.

“No. It’s just, sorta, what we do. Oh, my God,” she went on excitedly “He is an amazing lover."

She stared off into the distance for a moment before continuing. “It’s just become a bit of a tradition. Honestly Andrea,” she implored, “you’ve got to try it!”

At first, I didn’t believe the story. It sounded like a joke. But other girls assured me that it was true. I then found it even harder to believe. How could it be that these girls all allowed themselves to be objectified and frankly, degraded like this?

“He is great in bed," one of the girls told me. Samantha, her name was, and she had a boyfriend who played in the team.

“What did your boyfriend think?”

“Well,” she said, shrugging her shoulders, “that happened before I hooked up with Hadley”.

“And he knows this?” I asked, incredulously.

“Yeah, I think so,” she said nonchalantly.

I assured Samantha and anybody else to whom I spoke to about this that I would definitely not be participating in any such initiation. And I meant it! To me, this was nothing more than some sort of dirty swingers club and I had no interest in swingers clubs.

Obviously, I mentioned none of this to Nathan. That would have only reinforced his belief that every bloke at that club was only interested in getting into my pants. So I continued to go to work every week with the view that everybody at the club was a bit sick, to be honest.

As the weeks went by the girls didn’t really mention it much. But from time to time they would tell me I didn’t know what I was missing out on. They said that Tom was an amazing lover and that he had an enormous cock. They always giggled when they said that but nonetheless assured me it was true.

Slowly but surely, as time went by, I found myself thinking about Tom quite a lot, especially when I was at work. Often, without realising it, I’d find myself looking at him when I should have been serving customers. I’d either catch myself doing it or, more embarrassingly, he’d catch me.

I hated that. Because I didn’t want him thinking that I was interested in him. Except the truth was, I was interested in him. Not romantically. I mean, I hardly knew him. And besides, I was in love with my boyfriend. I didn’t really know why or how I was interested, I just was.

But, he still wouldn’t talk to me other than to order a drink and say thanks. Other than that it was the same as it had always been.

I found myself deliberately staying back after work and making an effort to talk to the other girls. And, without really meaning to, I found myself asking a lot of questions about Tom. I found out that he didn’t have a girlfriend (at least not one that anyone knew about) and seemed happy to “play the field”.

I think I was slightly annoyed that he wasn’t even trying to flirt with me. I wanted to ask, “What’s wrong with me? Doesn’t he find me attractive?” But, of course, I couldn’t. But I kept mentioning his name. Naturally, the other girls picked up on this and started to tease me about it. They started asking me tongue-in-cheek if I was in love with him etc.

Then, one day, something very unexpected happened.

It was a Saturday night towards the end of the season. That afternoon the footy team had suffered a crushing loss in a game they had expected to win. It meant that they could not now make the finals and everyone was a little down about it. The players and coaches and the older men from the committee all drank even more than they usually did. Even the girls behind the bar had a few drinks; quite a few in fact.

For most of the night, I resisted having a drink until I got a text message from Nathan saying that he was at a friend’s place and had been drinking and wouldn’t be able to pick me up. I told him that that was ok. I said I could get one of the other girls to drop me off. I knew this would not be possible because nearly everybody at the footy club was drunk too. But I figured I’d work something out. In reality, I was glad to have an opportunity to spend some time at the club rooms and hopefully talk to Tom. So I also snuck a few drinks in.

Later that night, as things were winding down, I was with the other girls washing and polishing and putting away glasses behind the bar. As had become customary, the others were standing away from me a bit and talking amongst themselves and not really including me. This time, however, I was keen to participate. I’d had a couple of drinks already and had another bourbon and cola next to me.

So, there I was, trying to listen in to their conversation for an opportunity to join in. I was watching Tom leaning on the bar talking with the coach and I was finding him really attractive. He looked so earnest and serious. And he was talking with such passion about the team and season and today’s loss etc. etc.

The rest of the players, committee men, wives, girlfriends, supporters etc. were scattered around the cavernous room or standing with their backs to the bar engrossed in their own conversations and oblivious to us girls. There were perhaps thirty people still in the club.

As I strained to listen to the other girls' conversation, I heard one of them say something along the lines of stripping off. By this stage, I have to admit, I was feeling quite naughty, not to mention, a little drunk.

“What was that?” I asked, laughing.

They all stopped and looked at me.

“Oh, we’re just talking about the calendar,” one of the girls, Amanda, said.

“What, are you doing a nude calendar?” I asked, laughing.

“Yes,” she said.

A shiver ran through me. Instantly I was extremely aroused.

“Really?” I asked, trying to sound only mildly interested. “What for?”

“It’s a fundraiser for the club”.

“And you guys pose naked for this calendar?” I asked, praying that the answer would be ‘yes’.

“Yeah,” said another girl, Genevieve.

“Yeah,” followed Amanda. “We did it a couple of years ago and it sold really well, so they’ve asked us to do it again”.

She and Gen went on to explain that they took all the photos on a Sunday at the club. The photos had all been taken by one of the older guys on the committee. It was all tastefully done, they assured me.

“After all," Gen had said, “we’re selling it to grandmas and grandpas as well as kids and stuff."

“Can I see one?” I asked, feeling myself tingling at the thought of what I might see.

They managed to find one hidden in a cupboard somewhere, creased and a bit battered, but there it was. As I looked through it, I must confess, I felt my panties become extremely wet. Page after page of the girls whom I knew and worked with, and others who had since left the club, completely naked, standing with a different player or group of players each page. The players were dressed, usually in just their shorts or perhaps a towel.

Obviously, because it was for public sale not too much was visible. The girls all had an arm or a piece of gym equipment or something covering any vital bits, but it was obvious that they were all fully nude.

I turned the pages I found myself transfixed by what I was seeing. In themselves the images were quite tame; very tame, in fact. Just a bunch of fit and attractive young male athletes standing around in various states of undress, with fully naked girls standing with them in tasteful poses but with nothing too provocative showing. But it was what the whole thing implied, to me at least, that I found so erotic. The girls had obviously allowed the boys, plus the photographer, to see them fully nude. And their poses suggested a submissive element. Now, normally that sort of thing would piss me off no end, but now, seeing it in front of me, it didn’t.

Without lifting my gaze from the calendar, I asked about the photo shoot itself. The other girls giggled at my question.

“It was pretty wild,” said Gen.

That caused me to stop looking at the calendar and turn around. They definitely had my attention now. “Who was there?” I asked.

“Oh, the whole club, pretty much. It was good fun,” said Gen. “But later on, after we’d all had a few drinks, it got a bit wild."

I was desperate to know more. But I didn’t want to appear too eager. I thought I’d just pretend like I wasn’t particularly interested and hope they’d tell me more. They didn’t. But they started talking about the next shoot.

“When are you doing it?” I blurted out, sounding a lot more interested than I meant to.

“Probably in a couple of weeks," said Amanda.

“Who joins in?” I asked.

“We all do,” said another girl, Chloe.

Once again they all looked away from me and kept talking. I desperately wanted an invitation to participate, but it was quite obvious that none would be coming. I was going to have to ask.

At this point, a saviour walked in behind the bar, although I didn’t realise it at first and he certainly didn’t look like a saviour.

He was one of the committee men, called Ian. He was a nice enough bloke, in his 50’s, with a wife and a bit of a gut. He had a car dealership in the area and had a bit of money. He came behind the bar to settle up the tills as the bar was about to close. Looking around for a money bag to put the takings in he noticed the calendar on the cupboard.

“Ah, one of the old calendars,” he said raising his eyebrows, “You girls had a good day that day, I hear.”

The other girls laughed. “Neverrrr...” Gen said, mockingly. The other girls laughed again.

“You looking forward to this one, the new one?” he asked.

The other girls feigned indifference. “Yeah,” they said.

Then he looked at me. “What about you Andrea?” he asked, with an only partly lecherous smile.

That didn’t bother me. I wanted in. But before I could answer, Chloe answered for me.

“Nah, she won’t. Nathan wouldn’t let her. Plus, she wouldn’t want to anyway.” It was said without malice, but the other girls all nodded in agreement.

“Who’s Nathan?” Ian asked.

“My boyfriend,” I replied.

“Oh well,” he said, “Nathan doesn’t have to find out, does he, girls?”

Feigning naivety, I asked, “Are we expected to participate?”

He shrugged his shoulders, “We prefer everyone gets involved.”

Having seen the calendar, I realised that by “everyone” he meant the young girls.

“You wouldn’t join in, would ya?” asked Amanda, looking questioningly at me.

“I might.”

“No you wouldn’t,” said Chloe, “You have to take your clothes off, in front of everybody.”

The other girls nodded in agreement.

I kept polishing glasses. “I might,” I repeated sassily. I then half turned, picked up my drink and downed it.

Sensing something interesting about to happen, Ian asked, “You want another drink, Andrea?”

“Sure,” I gleefully replied, I was sensing something exciting developing too.

“Nathan would kill you if you took your clothes off in front of a roomful of other guys, and you wouldn’t do it anyway,” said Gen.

“What are you drinking, Andrea?” asked Ian as he held the glass up to the overhead pourers.

“Bourbon and Coke, thanks,” I said, before shifting my gaze to the three girls and adding, teasingly, “You might be surprised what I’d do.”

“You girls didn’t mind taking your clothes off, did you?” suggested Ian, grinning like a bit of an idiot now.

“Nah,” said Chloe, all of a sudden looking rather nubile and enticing, as she held my gaze with hers, “we had a great day”.

At this point, the entire bar area was invaded by what seemed like a hundred people as the various wives and partners of the committee men and assorted helpers came in to collect their pots and trays and casserole dishes etc. which they had brought to the club filled with food to be sold during the day. So all talk of the calendar came to a sudden stop in the swell of raucous laughter and various carryings on as the wives started to lead their mostly drunk and bleary-eyed husbands out to their cars.

But my mind was racing. About the calendar, about Tom, about being naked in front of him and all the other guys, and of course, about Nathan, and how he would react if he found out. I knew that it was wrong to do it. It was wrong to Nathan, but I wanted to do it so badly. I didn’t really know why, but it just excited me like nothing else had for a long time.

About an hour later, everything had quietened down. Most of the older ones had gone, except for Ian and a couple of others; although their wives had gone. Most of the players were still there, including Tom, and several of the girlfriends.

The entire place was dark except for the light shining from the fluoros behind the bar.

We were sitting around the tables in front of the bar having quiet drinks, listening to the players carry on the way drunk young men do. Talking about the season, today’s game, and various other things which, quite frankly, bored me to tears.

I tried not to stare at Tom, but it was difficult. He looked gorgeous. His long hair, which he usually wore in a short ponytail, was down and his slim muscled frame was accentuated by a tight-fitting grey t-shirt. I said very little, even when a few people remarked how it was unusual to have me there after service for drinks.

“Nathan’s let you off the leash tonight?” slurred one of the players, his red flushed face grinning wetly.

“He’s busy tonight,” I said quietly.

“So, you’re on the loose tonight, eh?” said the wet talker again, staring at me.

“Shut up, Paul, ya dickhead,” said his girlfriend, “leave her alone."

I just wanted somebody to mention the calendar. Anybody. Ian did.

“Andrea was asking about the calendar, earlier on."

For probably the first time that night, Tom suddenly looked at me.

He had an intense look that seemed to probe my mind. He seemed to be asking, with his eyes, “Is this true? I haven’t seen this side of you before.” Yet, he actually said nothing. He just stared.

This was the moment I had wanted, but I didn’t know what to say. Chloe spoke for me.

“She reckons she’d get involved.”

Chloe was clearly simmering with sexual energy. Her eyes sparkled; she leered at me in a sexy way, with a smile that I could only describe as wicked, or even naughty.

The wet talker sprang to life again. “Yeah?” He looked as if he wanted to have a wank right there in front of me, such was his excitement.

“Well, you know,” I said quietly, looking at Chloe, “I just wanna help out if I can.”

“You done this sorta thing before?” asked Paul, the wet talker, in a slurring, high pitched, slightly hysterical voice which trailed up to an even higher note at the end of every question, his eyes remaining steady as his body swayed on the stool he was slouched on, one leg on the ground.

“No, never,” I answered truthfully.

“You done nude modelin’ and stuff in the past, have ya?” he went on, hopefully, his eyes taking on a slightly repulsive, slightly pathetic look.

“Shut UP, Paul!” his exasperated girlfriend said again, reaching over to slap his arm.

The attention from Paul I found slightly revolting, but the looks I was getting from everybody else was exciting. And truth be told, I was kinda glad that Paul was asking the questions that, I guess, some of the other guys were wondering but weren’t drunk or uncouth enough to ask.

Chloe was obviously quite wound up now, and I’m not sure whose look was more arousing to me, hers or Tom’s.

“You’ve got a great body, Andrea,” she said, “you should show it off.”

“I do,” I protested, “to Nathan.” It was an intentionally provocative reply, and it got the desired response.

“He’s a lucky man,” came the words from Tom’s mouth. I looked at him and he held my gaze.

I felt a tingle run through my body and, I must confess, I felt my panties become extremely wet. I said nothing.

“Show us yer tits now,” said Paul, the wet talker, almost hysterically. His eyes were wide and he appeared as though he couldn’t believe what was happening. I guess I couldn’t quite, either.

The truth is I wanted to. Not to him, although the way I felt, I didn’t care if he saw my breasts, but I was loving the attention and I would’ve given anything to strip my clothes off at that very point.

“She doesn’t want to, Paul! Leave her alone,” said the long-suffering girlfriend.

The room fell silent. Tom kept looking at me, but not in a threatening or predatory way, rather in an interested sort of way, as though he found me fascinating. Perhaps he was finding me attractive. I didn’t know, but I hoped so.

Perhaps I was the only one in the room who felt the silence, but to me, it seemed to last a long time.

Tom snapped his gaze from me.

“You still going to Fuzz’s place on Tuesday?” he asked someone, turning away from me.

The heavy silence was broken.

It was as if he’d analysed me, summed me up and then moved on. As though once he’d decided he had me worked out he’d lost interest. Or maybe he thought I was embarrassed and needed saving. I wasn’t sure.

The wet talker kept leering at me revoltingly, but that didn’t really bother me, I just realised he was as horny as fuck. I actually found that kind of amusing.

By the time I got home, Nathan was sound asleep. I was definitely still aroused, and had he been awake I would’ve probably attacked him. But the truth was I was probably more intrigued.

Intrigued by Tom and his opinion of me, but more so intrigued by my own feelings.

As I lay next to Nathan, so many thoughts were going through my mind.

I’d never felt this way before. Frankly, I’d never wanted to be someone’s “slut” before or to behave like one in any way. But now I felt differently. Despite everything that I kept telling myself, I wanted to be naked in front of those guys. I wanted them to lust over me. I wanted Tom to want me. I wasn’t sure if I wanted him to fuck me. I just didn’t know. But one thing I did know, I definitely wanted to be part of that calendar.

The next week seemed to pass very slowly. My regular week job in admin seemed even more boring than usual as all I could think about was the approaching weekend and further talk about the calendar.

Unfortunately, I still wasn’t friendly enough with the other girls at the footy club to be in contact with them socially, so I couldn’t talk to them during the week.

On several occasions, I thought of ringing the club to get the phone numbers of one of the girls to discuss the photo shoot. But I was worried that would make me appear foolish and I didn’t know the other girls well enough to let them know of my true feelings. I still wanted to keep those to myself.

Then, on the Thursday, my mobile phone rang whilst I was at my day job. It was Chloe from the footy club.

“Hey, sorry to ring you at work,” she said, not knowing that I was delighted to take the call, “we need someone to work behind the bar tonight. They’ve got a meeting about the calendar and it’s usually a pretty big night ‘cos the guys from the team come in for a few drinks ‘cos there’s no training and stuff. Can you come in?” Then, in a slightly pleading tone, “Otherwise I’ll be on my own”.

Immediately I felt the tingle down my body again. I couldn’t believe I was feeling like this. I struggled to remain calm.

“Umm... yeah, I can do that. What time?”

“Five. Five thirty. Six. Whatever time you can make it.” Then she asked me, “So, are you still keen to do the calendar? Some of the girls have been asking”.

Here was my moment. I could back out. I felt that I should back out.

I felt that I should say, “Oh, no. No, that’s not my thing at all. No. I won’t be taking my clothes in front of a bunch of strangers just so they have a perve and then go and wank off over me!”

I knew that I should say that.

What about Nathan? What about my self-respect? What about not being a sex object for men’s sexual gratification?

At this point, a customer walked into the shop and came and stood at the counter.

I was flustered. I was giddy and light headed. My panties were sopping. I was so fucking horny! The customer, obviously unaware of my feelings, stood there looking vaguely bored.

I already felt so naughty and excited and alive, just talking about this sort of thing whilst the rest of the world went on with the boring machinations of everyday life.

What do I say?

“Oh yeah. I guess. Why not.” I then threw in a little giggle to emphasise the point.

“Great,” said Chloe, “the other girls will be rapped.”

“Jesus!” I thought as I hung up the phone, “What am I doing?”

Then, feeling flustered and a little intoxicated, I looked up to my customer,

“Sorry about that, sir, how can I help you?”

I have no idea what he said next.

If Nathan noticed that I was acting a little strange that afternoon as I got ready for work at the footy club, he said nothing.

He and a mate sat playing video games involving lots of screaming and explosions whilst I showered more carefully and thoroughly than I had in a long while. I also applied make-up for the first time since my first couple of shifts at the club. None of the other girls had ever bothered so I had stopped too; despite the fact that I always wore it to my day job. Not much, just some eyeliner and lippy.

The giveaway, though, was the fact that I went rummaging through my wardrobe for the tightest pair of black pants that I could find. Again, I was almost in a bit of a trance as I did this. Kind of like watching myself as I did it. I wanted something that would cling to my bottom, leaving nothing to the imagination.

I slid these ultra tight pants up my legs and over my bottom and stood and admired myself in the mirror for a while. I reckoned I looked sexy.

As I hurried out the door Nathan stopped from his game long enough to ask, “What’s with the makeup?”

His mate looked too, and the wide-eyed, up and down look he gave me convinced me that I had achieved the desired result.

“Oh, it’s a bit more formal tonight. It’s a committee meeting or some shit,” I said, impressed by my own acting skills.

“I shouldn’t be too late,” I said. “I love you.” And I left.

I meant that. I did love Nathan. I truly did. But this was something else. Something naughty and wild and exciting. My love for Nathan wasn’t in question. I just wanted to be slutty.

I arrived at the club and walked in feeling incredibly naughty. I felt almost naked in my skin tight black pants. There weren’t many people in the bar when I first arrived. Some of the older committee guys were there and I could tell their eyes were nearly falling out of their heads as I walked in. From the corner of my eye I could see their heads following me as I walked behind the bar and (I must be honest) rather suggestively bent over to place my handbag in the cupboard beneath the bar.

I heard their conversations slow and pause as I walked in and heard a few muffled laughs and sniggers as I bent over. It honestly amazed me that these guys clearly thought I was so naive that I wouldn’t be aware of what they were saying or doing.

Before long the other players and committee men came in and I fielded quite a few comments and questions about my tight pants. Naturally, I played dumb to all of them.

“They were the only clean pair of pants I could find at such short notice,” I proffered to all comments and questions.

I was going to do this on my terms. I wasn’t about to just become a sex toy for their amusement. If that happened it would be for my amusement, not theirs.

Anyway, this was largely for Tom’s benefit.

Tom did eventually come in. Much later. By this stage, the saturation levels in my panties were at almost critical levels. He barely acknowledged me and hardly seemed to notice me at all.

“Oh, fuck him!” I thought, “Who the Hell is he anyway?”

But, as I watched him leaning on the bar talking to the other players, holding their absolute respect and attention, he looked so beautiful. It was me making surreptitious glances at him the way the other men were making glances at me.

I’d noticed them looking at me. Had Tom noticed me looking at him?

Chloe was almost open in her flirtations with him; despite the fact that she had a boyfriend who played with the team. But I wasn’t about to do that. That prick was going to notice me!

An hour or more dragged on.

Finally, towards the end of the night, after the meeting had finished, Ian came up to the bar. The players, including Tom, had moved away and were sitting around a table. It was just Chloe and me cleaning up.

“So, just double checking, Andrea. You’re okay for the photo shoot next weekend for the calendar?”

I was absolutely steadfast.

“Yeah. Sure. Why not.”

Ian looked down at his page, clearly nervous. “You’re happy to be naked?”

I looked at Chloe, who was polishing glasses. She looked back at me. She looked so sexy and so beautiful. She awaited my response. I knew she had already committed to it. I would’ve stripped off right then and there if Ian had asked me to. Instead, I looked down at a plate I was drying with a towel. “Yeah,” I said nonchalantly.

I spent a lot of the next week standing naked in front of the bathroom mirror appraising myself. I was quite sure that I was pretty sexy. And I’d seen the other girls in the previous calendar whom I thought were no sexier than me so I was fairly certain I’d look alright in the photo’s, but still, we’re never sure.

I had to mention to Nathan that I was required to go to the club on the Sunday and he didn’t seem to mind. He was obviously confident enough in our relationship that he would never think for even a second that I might do the wrong thing by him. Especially with a bunch of dumb footballers.

On the Saturday night, at the club, I was so nervous I could hardly function. Tom was there but again he barely acknowledged me. Yeah, he was as polite and courteous as always, but beyond that, he offered me nothing.

Word had got around that I had agreed to be part of the photo shoot the next day and most of the players and committee men were very supportive.

“Oh, it’s for a good cause,” they kept saying.

“It’s all a bit of fun,” was another favourite.

I knew that was all bullshit. I knew they all just wanted to see me and the other girls naked and were keen to reassure any of us who may have been having second thoughts.

Some of the players, on the other hand, were almost gloating. As if we were now obliged to strip naked in front of them and they were relishing in it.

“We’ll be seeing more of you tomorrow,” they taunted as they were leaving, or even more upfront, “I can’t wait ‘til tomorrow to see the rest of you.” That sort of thing.

I didn’t really mind, to be honest. I was feeling sexy and confident.

It was only when Paul, the wet talker from the other week asked me, “How does Nathan feel about this?” that I felt a little uncomfortable.

I didn’t know how to respond.

Paul was sober now, or at least not as drunk as he had been the other week, and he almost seemed genuinely concerned.

Before I had a chance to say anything, Tom stepped in, I’d not been aware that he was even close by.

“Nathan’s not going to find out unless Andrea tells him. Isn’t that right, Andrea?”

He looked at Paul unblinking.

“Aw, yeah, of course,” said Paul, “I was just wondering if he was okay with it all. That’s all.”

“Let Andrea worry about that,” said Tom, calmly. “OKAY?”

“Yeah, yeah, of course,” Paul stammered.

Without even looking at me, Tom moved away from the bar.

The strange thing was, I kept looking at the wives of the older guys, the committee men and wondering what they thought of it all. They didn’t seem to exhibit any animosity to anyone. Not to their husbands, not to the players, not even to us younger girls who were preparing to expose our naked young bodies to their husbands. Some of them had been through it all before in previous years. In fact, the thought occurred to me that perhaps they themselves had participated in years gone by. But I was soon to learn that this was only a recent tradition, the stripping off of the young females associated with the club. So as to the quiet acceptance of the wives of the older men, I can only guess.

I can only guess that they understood their husband’s randy urges and decided to go along with them.

I kinda understood why. After all, we were just showing off our bodies. It was a natural thing to do. Was it really such a terrible thing? I guess, viewed from certain angles it could be seen as such. From my point of view, I couldn’t wait to be naked.

My dreams that night were amongst the most erotic I had ever had in my life. Nathan and I had made love before he went to sleep, and he was a good lover and he brought me to climax at least twice before he finally came. But my thoughts were about the next day.

Again, showered and cleaned immaculately, I arrived on Sunday morning for the photo shoot.

I was so excited I could barely contain myself.

The other girls arrived with their boyfriends and seemed quite relaxed about it all. We had been advised to wear tracksuits as it was easier to strip in and out of. Still, the other girls looked so beautiful. Most had applied make-up and their hair was done up more fancy than normal.

Finally, Ian arrived with the schedule of photo’s to be taken and featuring whom.

I was disappointed that I was only in one shot with Tom.

I was, however, surprised to see that I was in virtually every other shot. In fact, I was featured more than any other girl except for Chloe, who was in every shot.

As the time approached for the photos to begin, I must confess, I was a little surprised by how many men appeared. There was every committee man that I’d ever seen, plus several others that I’d never seen in my life. Some were grinning like idiots. Others had a serious face, pretending that they were there for something terribly important and official. Either way, the truth was that they were all there to perv on us naked, young girls.

The first shot was about to be set up. I wasn’t part of this particular photo and so I just followed and watched.

We all moved to the change rooms. The windows were obviously quite high up so there was no risk of anyone from outside seeing what was going on.

Chloe and another girl called Tammy were to be in this photo. On cue from Ian they both undressed. Firstly they removed their tops, both revealing gorgeous, round, firm nippled breasts.

Then they peeled off their track suit pants. Their bottoms were round and perfect. Chloe had shaved for the occasion, revealing a smooth pussy. Tammy had opted for a natural look. Her pussy was a small patch of fur.

I struggled to take my eyes off them as they walked around the set completely naked whilst a fully clothed footballer watched them unashamedly.

Finally, I looked at the men standing around watching them, transfixed. I giggled, without meaning to. With their wide-eyed, entranced expression, they looked like little boys on Christmas Day about to unwrap a much longed for present.

I could completely understand why. They both looked delicious. Chloe was fair skinned. She looked like a suckling pig; pink, firm and taught. Her nipples were a darker pink.

Tammy was different. Slightly tanned. She looked like a bronzed Goddess. Her nipples were brown and tight.

The photographer, an experienced letch (only slightly younger than the other letches that were milling around) played the game to the hilt. He instructed the girls to pose in all sorts of positions that could never possibly be published. But it allowed him, the footballer in the shot, and every other male in the room the most advantageous view of every part of these young girls’ bodies.

I was amazed when certain poses resulted in the girls’ vaginas and anuses being on display to the whole room. The girls were then told to hold that pose for far longer than was necessary for the photo. It was just so obviously for the benefit of the men in the room so they could take everything in.

Both girls had their boyfriends in the room, but they seemed to enjoy the experience as much as the girls themselves and the other guys in the room. Almost as though the more the other guys perved at your naked girl, the more prestige you acquired.

As the camera clicked, as the men in the room leered, as the girls presented themselves for the appraisal of so many men in the room, I found myself getting excited. The whole thing was so wrong.

Chloe’s little butt hole seemed to me to be the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen in my entire life. It was perfectly pink and tight. Tammy’s little hole was beautiful too; golden like the rest of her skin, just a shade darker. Both girls silken pussy’s glistened with their juices which betrayed their sense of arousal.

I found myself tingling with anticipation. As I watched the two girls, as I witnessed the sense of entitlement attitude of the middle-aged, overweight men who sat in judgment of these two beautiful young girls, as I watched the reactions of the gorgeous young players as the girls presented themselves for their appraisal, I found myself desperate to undress for them. I wanted them to appraise my nude body.

Finally, it was my turn.

The whole thing had taken on a rather tawdry atmosphere. Yet still, I was keen to be naked. It was cheap, it was sleazy, but still, I felt aroused.

“Okay, Andrea,” called Andrew, one of the committee men.

I couldn’t believe I was doing this. Although I was standing to the side of the room I was aware of every set of eyes in the room studying me and mentally recording every second.

I first removed my tracksuit top. I had decided to wear a bra underneath this. Still, standing there in just a bra in front of a room full of strange men was more risqué than anything I’d ever done before.

I then pulled my track suit pants down, as casually as I could; pretending that my heart wasn’t beating at a thousand miles an hour.

As I stepped out of my pants, feeling the cool air on my virtually naked skin, I felt truly vulnerable and aroused.

Just in my panties and bra, I realised I was about to show to these people more than I’d shown to anyone other than Nathan and a couple of boyfriends.

I reached around and unclipped my bra. Immediately I felt the release of the pressure on my breasts. I slipped the loops down my arms and felt, as much as heard the inhale of breath from the men in the room. Immediately I felt my nipples contracting into tight little buds with the combination of excitement and the cool air. Still, I held the bra up to my breasts for a few moments to prolong the moment.

Finally, I let the bra drop.

My breasts were now fully exposed to everyone in the room.

I scantily surveyed the room to see if Tom was there. I couldn’t see him. I couldn’t believe how much I loved the fact that every male eyeball in the room was fixated on my naked boobs. I just loved it.

The room fell silent in anticipation of me removing my panties. I purposely hadn’t shaved my pussy as I personally prefer it unshaved. And, as I have only a small little patch of fur, I think it looks quite good.

I had chosen my panties quite carefully as I suspected they’d be seen by quite a few blokes.

I deliberately chose white cottontails, befitting my small, little patch of fur.

I decided to make quite a show of removing my knickers. I deliberately slipped my thumbs under the side of my panties and slowly pulled them down exposing my full nakedness. I stood there for a second in complete silence to allow the room to fully assess my naked body.

“She’s a natural blonde,” I heard someone say.

“Ah, um, Andrea if you could just come over here and stand next to Paul,” said Andrew.

I couldn’t believe it. Of all the people to be in a photo with, it was Paul, the wet talker.

“Oh well,” I thought, “I guess he’s earned it.”

The photo involved me standing close to him as he wore just a pair of footy shorts. It was obvious he was gripped between being delighted to be in a shot with me and completely terrified.

I decided to make the most of it.

“Hello Paul,” I said as teasingly as I could, standing there allowing him to fully appraise me. “I told you I was up for it.”

“Yeah, I guess so,” was all he could offer.

“Um, so, um Andrea, if you could just stand next to Paul with your back to us,” asked Andrew. I walked up to Paul and pushed my naked breasts into his chest. By this stage, my nipples were as hard as little stones.

“And, um, just stick your bottom out a bit,” asked Andrew.

I knew exactly what they wanted. I spread my legs shoulder-width apart and stuck my bottom out. By the cool air I could feel on my little bum hole I could tell it was clearly visible. I could see from the corner of my eye the men moving into position for a clearer look.

My pussy was so wet now I was sure my nectar was running down my leg.

“Check out her thighs,” I heard someone whisper. Clearly my arousal was showing.

This went on for several minutes. I pretended to be blithely unaware of the implicit gratuity in the various poses I was instructed to adopt. Suffice to say there was not a person in that room that day who has not seen literally every inch of my body. Absolutely nothing was left to the imagination. My favourite pose was the one where I was instructed to position my back to the camera, spread my legs slightly and then bend right over and pretend I was trying to find something at the very bottom of Paul’s kit bag. This pose I was instructed to adopt for a full minute. And then, presumably because Paul hadn’t had the benefit of a good look, I was required to adopt the same pose but this time with my exposed bottom facing towards Paul.

Obviously these photos were not intended for the calendar. They couldn’t possibly be. I could only assume they were designed to be viewed and swapped and dissected by the committee guys. They probably had an entire dossier on the various young girls who had worked at the club over the years. Frankly, the way I was feeling at the moment, I didn’t care. Let ‘em all see me.

“I still reckon Chloe’s is the best,” I heard someone murmur.

“Nah, I reckon hers is fucking gorgeous,” came a reply. I’m not sure what part of my anatomy they were talking about, but I can guess.

Then I was told to stand next to Paul for the last photo of this particular shoot. He and I stood, pushing right up against one another. I put my arm around Paul’s waist. He immediately put his hand on my bottom. Obviously no one could see this. But I didn’t tell him not to. Then, as the camera clicked, I felt him slide his finger down the crack of my bottom and right onto my butthole. Again, I said and did nothing. Then he started to push his finger inside me, very gently. I inhaled deeply, with genuine pleasure. Not too obvious, though. Then I looked up at him and with a very deliberate, seductive look, I slightly parted my legs and subtlety pushed back onto his finger. I was so aroused his finger slipped effortlessly in. I held his almost shocked gaze with my own and slowly lowered my eyelids in further, genuine pleasure.

And so, there I stood, in front of a room full of virtually strange men; completely naked with this guy’s finger pushing deeper and deeper into my arse. I loved every second of it.

The shoot finished, I noticed Paul holding his finger that he had previously had up my butt hole up to his nose. His smile told me how much he had enjoyed it.

The afternoon wore on. I and the other girls in the shoot were made to do the most degrading things. Yet none of it was in any way actually degrading. It was all simply about letting these men look at us. It was actually all rather respectful. And we girls were simply happy to oblige their requests.

It wasn’t until the shoot that actually involved Tom that he finally appeared. By this stage, we were on a break and the other girls and I were wrapped in towels.

I was in the kitchen making a cup of tea facing towards the wall when he walked in. I might add that the towel didn’t cover much, just the bare essentials. For the first time in probably forever, Tom spoke first.

“Good afternoon Andrea,” he said casually but in a friendly way. I immediately recognised his voice.

“So you do know my name,” I replied sarcastically as I turned round.

As soon as I laid eyes on him I was almost breathless. He was dressed in a well-fitting, charcoal suit and vest. White shirt and no tie. He looked absolutely gorgeous; more so than he usually did. I momentarily lost the power of speech.

Again he said nothing. The prick had a knack for doing that. So I leant back on the bench and decided if we were going to talk he’d have to make the first move. A good few seconds went past in complete silence. It was ok from my point of view as I knew he was assessing me. And I was happy to be assessed by him. I fixed a smirk on my face ‘cos I knew I looked hot.

“So we have a photo together,” he finally said.

“Apparently,” I responded.

“I guess you should remove the towel. If you don’t mind,” he added, so politely.

I wanted him so much it felt almost physically painful. I unwrapped my towel to expose my body and almost involuntarily walked towards him, fully naked. My eyes were fixed on his gaze the entire time which was fixed on me, from the shoulders down, and slowly back up again. I still held the towel in my hand until he took it and casually tossed it aside.

He stood for a moment appraising my naked body. I loved that.

“Fuck!” He said, “You really are beautiful, aren’t you?” 

I didn’t know what to do. So I just stood there. I felt so vulnerable.

“Turn around,” he commanded, gently. I did as I was told. “Now, back to me,” he said after a few seconds. He then reached out his left hand and gently took my right nipple and slightly squeezed it. Instantaneously my pussy flooded as though there was a nerve which ran from my nipples straight to my pussy. His fingers were rough yet incredibly soft at the same time.

“C’mon,” he said, releasing his tender grip on my nipple and taking me by the hand.

He led me by the hand to the site of the next photo shoot.

Surprisingly, this shoot wasn’t anywhere as gratuitous as the others, just a lot more passionate. I was to discover later that he had arranged the entire thing.

It merely involved me standing with him, completely naked, of course, with him dressed in his charcoal suit and kissing me passionately. It was supposed to represent me congratulating him after he’d won some medal or something. I never actually found out. More to the point, I didn’t care.

Photo after photo was taken of us like this. It was one of the happiest afternoons of my life, just standing there naked being kissed by this gorgeous man. I knew he meant it. His tongue delicately caressed mine. He held me firmly yet gently. I could feel his powerful arms around me. I’m not sure if he realised this, but he was pretty much holding me up as my legs had virtually given way. I was like a rag doll in his arms. Seriously. He held me naked and kissed me with such genuine emotion and I just hung there in his arms and let him work out his sexual desires on me. His skin was smooth against my face yet there was just enough stubble to make it abrasive against me. I desperately wanted to feel that abrasion against my inner thighs. And he smelt so good. A spicy aftershave mixed with just a hint of sweat as the day wore on and the hot lights took their toll.

Occasionally he would stop kissing me momentarily. I’d just hang limp in his arms, gazing up at him, waiting for him to resume kissing me. No one said a word. Not the photographer, not the committee men, no one. They all stood silent, whilst Tom just looked at me, appraised me. Then he’d just kiss me again. And the photographer would keep photographing.

I felt so suppliant. I had surrendered to Tom entirely. I trusted him. I would have done absolutely anything he wanted me to do.

By the end of the afternoon, I felt thoroughly worn out. I was so incredibly horny but also exhausted.

Even the lecherous men seemed to have had enough. We girls were all instructed to dress and shortly afterwards the wives turned up.

Tom was once again distracted by his teammates. I wasn’t really sure what to make of this. I mean, I was still with Nathan. And I still loved him. I mean, yes, I’d just behaved like a complete slut, but I didn’t really see it like that. I had just done some erotic modeling. I guess I thought of it like an actor who performs a graphic sex scene in a movie. It’s about the art, not the sex.

At least, I tried to convince myself of that.

And I knew Tom was a player and I still was determined to not just be another notch on his bedpost. So whilst most of the others hung around the club for drinks and whatnot, I decided to go home. There were a few guys, including the wet talker, who asked for me to stay, but I’d had enough. So once again dressed and modest, having given the guys a thorough view of every little part of me, I went home.

Not surprisingly, Nathan was exactly where I had left him that morning, sitting in front of the TV playing his Wii or Xbox or whatever it was. He seemed happy to see me, but I felt a bit weird looking at him with the knowledge of what I’d been up to that day weighing heavily on me. If he ever found out, he’d be absolutely gutted. Of course, I knew he wouldn’t ever find out as he barely ever saw any of the footy club people let alone acknowledged or spoke to any of them.

It took months before the calendar was finally published. Again, I kinda had the feeling all along that the main aim of the photo shoot was not for some fundraising calendar.

When it was finally released it was as tame and “tasteful” as I had expected.

I liked the photos that featured me. I thought I looked nice. Tom, of course, looked fucking gorgeous. But the other girls at the club seemed to get a little resentful of the attention Tom had given me on the day of the shoot. I didn’t care.

Besides, the story of Tom and I didn’t end at the conclusion of the photo shoot.

But that is a story for another day.