Match of the Day

Moderately Hot

This moderately hot story concerns a trip to Manchester to watch a football match, and a chance encounter with two sexy supporters.

I’ve been a Manchester United fan all my life, through good times and bad, thick and thin. Fortunately, they’ve been mostly good times, although I was there in 1974’s relegation season. Being from ‘down south’, I’m often mocked for not supporting a more local team, such as one of the London clubs. I’ve been accused of being a ‘pot-hunter’ during the Reds’ ‘glory years’, although I never got as much criticism during the years that they didn’t do so well. Truth is, I’m old enough to have been brought up in the post ‘Busby Babes’ era, when United were the team to follow.

 

One of my best friends, Lily, is also an ardent United fan. Lily and I have been good mates for several years. Lily is considerably younger than me and therefore missed out on many of the best years of United. We often talk about the ‘old days’ and some of the players she never got to see: George Best, Bobbie Charlton, Dennis Law, Cantona, Steve Bruce, Bryan Robson, Roy Keane, amongst others. She enjoys listening to my stories of past players and of historic rivalries. I regularly recall clashes with old rivals such as Leeds, Liverpool and City, whereas for Lily, the team she most likes to see us beat is Chelsea.

 

I should explain that my friendship with Lily is purely platonic. Lily is an attractive girl, but, as I’ve mentioned, she is much younger than me. But age is not the reason our relationship has not developed into something more. You see, Lily is a bit of a Tomboy: one who prefers girls, to be precise. There has never been any intimacy in our relationship - unfortunately. That doesn’t stop me from fancying her, despite the age gap. We enjoy each other’s company, especially when football is involved. Match days are always special. We usually arrange to meet up at either her place or mine to watch the Reds on TV. If Lily is seeing anyone at the time, they’re expected to watch the match with us, even if they aren’t interested in football.

 

At the time of this story, Lily’s current girlfriend is called Katie. She is slightly younger than Lily and very good-looking. Although she doesn’t share Lily’s passion for football, she tolerates it. By association, she has become a United fan and even knows most of the current players, although she’s yet to get to grips with the offside rule. On match days, she joins us in front of the TV and cheers the Reds on enthusiastically. For my part, I don’t mind watching the match with two attractive young females.

 

Living so far from Manchester means I rarely get to a home game of ‘The Reds’ at Old Trafford – the ‘Theatre of Dreams’; and Lily has never been, something she is deeply ashamed of.

 

For my birthday – I won’t tell you which one, but it was a significant one – Lily and Katie bought the three of us tickets to Old Trafford to see Manchester United play in the European Champions League. They’d also splashed out on train tickets to Manchester and overnight accommodation for all three of us. They promised me a birthday to remember. The thought of seeing the Reds play at Old Trafford as well as spending a couple of days – and a night – with my two favourite girls, was exciting beyond words. I couldn’t wait!

 

For weeks, I was counting the days down to match day. Then, with just two days to go, disaster struck. Katie was taken ill with a flu-like bug. She was too poorly to travel. Despite Katie’s protestations, Lily said she would forego our planned trip to Manchester and stay at home to care for her. I said I would miss the trip too, but the girls insisted that I should still go.

 

On the Wednesday of the match, I travelled up to Manchester by train on my own. It was a long, lonely journey. I made my way to the hotel, which was situated in the Media City Salford Quays area, not far from the stadium. I arrived at the hotel at about 4 pm. This gave me enough time to freshen up after the journey, look around the local area, and grab a bite to eat before kick-off, which was scheduled for 8 pm. I phoned the girls to let them know I’d arrived safely; Katie was still not well.

 

Although the hotel was at the budget end of the scale, it was well-located and had received good reviews. The girls had managed to book a family room with a double bed and a single bed. The room was pleasant enough and clean, but as you would expect for an inexpensive hotel, it was only small. The beds took up most of the space, but there was a bedside cabinet between the beds, a low chest of drawers, a built-in wardrobe, a wall-mounted TV, and tea-making facilities. It had an ensuite toilet/shower room. A window gave a good view over The Quays, and you could even see the football stadium. As I was only going to use it as a base for the night, it was more than adequate. I just wish the girls had been here to share it.

 

I made myself a cup of tea, showered and changed into my match gear: jeans and a red United football top. Unusually for the North West, the weather was mild and dry; I risked not wearing a coat. I made my way out into Salford Quays. Although I’m a country boy at heart, I do admit to having a liking for the Quays. With each visit, the area seems more developed, more ‘grown up’ – and busier. For those unfamiliar with the location, I’ll do my best ‘Judith Chalmers’ impression and tell you a bit about it.

 

Salford Quays occupy the site of the former docks on the Manchester Ship Canal, once at the heart of the Industrial Revolution. At their height, the docks were the third-busiest port in Britain. In the 1970s, the docks declined, closing completely in 1982. Soon after, the area was rebranded as Salford Quays, and redevelopment started. Many of the former dock buildings were demolished, pollution problems addressed, and water quality improved to the extent that coarse fish now live and thrive in the quays that once were barren of aquatic life. The docks were modified to create waterways, roads, bridges and open spaces. By the 1990s, a hotel, cinema, housing and offices had been built. In 2000, The Lowry Theatre – a world-renowned performing arts venue - became a landmark building on the site, with associated cafes, bars and restaurants. The following year, the Imperial War Museum North was established on the site. Perhaps the most famous part of the redevelopment is the area known as Media City, where my hotel was located. This area is home to many creative industries, including the BBC and ITV Grenada. It can be a great place for celebrity spotting, although I’ve yet to see anyone famous on my visits. Today, the area is a young, vibrant, modern location, buzzing with activity.

 

Anyway, enough of the history lesson and sightseeing, and back to the story. As I walked around the Quays, I noticed there were already a few fans milling about, both home and away. It would soon get much busier. I decided it was probably best to get something to eat now rather than wait. I thought it would be prudent to dine in the Quays area rather than closer to Old Trafford itself. There’s a large selection of eateries, ranging from those common in every town to more bespoke venues. I picked one of the latter that appeared to be fairly busy but not overcrowded. It had a pleasant waterside terrace that I’m sure was popular during the summer, but given that the autumn sun was already sinking in the west, I opted to dine inside. The interior was modern – all polished chrome and glass.

 

I was greeted by a young, pretty waitress dressed in a white blouse, a short black skirt, and a grey apron. She guided me to a table initially set out for two. I thanked her and sat down. I couldn’t help but notice the occupants of the adjacent table. There were just the two of them, but they were sitting at a four-top table. They were two of the most drop-dead gorgeous girls I’d ever had the pleasure of setting eyes on. Aged in their early to mid-twenties, they were both naturally beautiful, with long, wavy, golden blonde hair, parted centrally so that it framed their perfectly delightful, roundish faces, a fair complexion with silky smooth skin, kind, almond-shaped grey-blue eyes, and charming smiles. Because they were sitting down, I couldn’t tell how tall they were, but one was slightly taller than the other. I could see that they were both slim with well-developed breasts. If you'd asked AI to produce two picture-perfect girls, these two would be the result.

 

At first I thought they could be twins, but at second glance the taller one looked slightly older. They certainly could be sisters. They were both wearing the latest Manchester United home shirts in signature red, along with tight blue denim jeans. They had the grace, presence, and looks of models. I thought perhaps they could be Scandinavian – they had that look about them, and I know The Reds are very popular in Norway and Sweden. They didn’t appear to have any tattoos or piercings, which reinforced my belief that they may be visiting from overseas. So many English girls these days spoil themselves with unattractive body-art. They didn’t appear to be waiting for anyone, although it was hard to believe that they could be single.  One thing was for sure: they were both stunning!

 

The girls were quite animated in cheerful conversation when I arrived, but broke off as I sat down. They smiled at me pleasantly and both politely said ‘Hello’ in unison. I replied, noting that they didn’t have a discernible accent. My theory that they were Scandinavian appeared to be wrong.

 

The waitress handed me a menu and asked if I’d like a drink. I ordered a beer. The girls at the next table returned to their conversation; they were both drinking red wine. The waitress soon returned with my beer and asked if I was ready to order. I asked for the Teriyaki Chicken. Once the waitress had left me with my beer, the girls raised their glasses and said ‘Cheers’. I returned the salute. The shorter of the two girls then spoke:

 

“Are you here for the match?”

 

Now I must admit I was taken slightly off guard. Firstly, I’m a shrinking Southerner not used to strangers – especially hot girls - talking to me in public places, or anywhere else for that matter. Secondly, I found the girls strangely intimidating due to their attractiveness. I have heard models say that they are rarely approached by men because they are just too good-looking. I can believe that now. Then, there was the issue of the age difference. These girls were considerably younger than me. Finally, personally, I’m a bit of an introvert, even by Southern standards, and my shyness means that I’m rubbish at small talk that comes naturally to some people.

 

“Yes.” I replied softly and hesitantly, then, realising they’d probably not even heard me, I repeated slightly louder, “Yes.”

 

“Where are you from?” the shorter girl asked.

 

“Southern England,” I replied vaguely.

 

“Cool. I thought so,” the shorter girl replied. “Are you on your own?” she asked.

 

“Yes.” I answered, then sensing it sounded like I was a bit of a loner – a Billy-No-Mates - I added, “I was due to travel up with friends, but they’re not well.”

 

“Oh, that’s a shame.” The shorter girl said sympathetically, “You’re a long way from home to be on your own.”

 

I had held back on telling these two strangers that the friends I was due to travel up with were girlfriends – well, not girlfriends but you know what I mean. Why didn’t I mention it? I couldn’t tell you. There was a brief interlude of silence before the shorter girl spoke again.

 

“Have you got a ticket for the match?” she enquired.

 

“I’ve got three!” I declared, “I’ve got my friends’ tickets as well.”

 

I should explain at this point that Lily and I are both ‘Annual Members’ of Manchester United, which is a step down from being a Season Ticket Holder. Members are entitled to priority seat allocation for home matches. Unusually for this match, each member was also allowed to buy an additional guest ticket as well as their own. Hence, we were able to buy three tickets for adjacent seats. The tickets were printed in our names and strictly ‘not transferable’. The rationale for having all three tickets with me was that I desperately hoped Katie would make a miraculous recovery, and the girls would travel up on a later train to meet me at the stadium. Having spoken to Lily just before leaving the hotel, I knew that, disappointingly, this wasn’t going to happen. My plan now was to take the spare tickets to the ticket office to see if I could get at least some of the money back on them. I wasn’t hopeful.

 

Before the girls had a chance to comment, the waitress returned with two plates of steak and chips, which she set down in front of the girls. I must admit that the food looked good. The sight and smell suddenly made me realise how hungry I was. I’d only had a sandwich on the train. Fortunately, it wasn’t long after that the waitress returned with my Teriyaki Chicken.

 

“You don’t want to sit there on your own. Come and join us at our table,” the shorter of the girls said. 

 

As she had made the offer, she had shuffled around so that both girls were now sitting next to each other on a padded bench-seat with their backs to the wall. The height difference between the two was more noticeable like this. But it also emphasised how similar they looked, like peas in a pod. This freed up two vacant free-standing chairs facing them.

 

“Are you sure?” I said, taken by surprise at their boldness, “I wouldn’t want to intrude.”

 

“Please. Join us,” the shorter girl reiterated, sounding insistent.

 

I picked up my dinner and beer and moved across to the girls’ table. We chatted amicably as we ate. I found out that the girls were indeed sisters, but not twins. The taller of the girls was called Stephanie, and she was twenty-four years old. Her little sister, in both age and height, was called Samantha. She was twenty-two years old.

 

Surprisingly, Samantha, the younger of the two, was the most confident of the pair and came across as a sociable, bold, even cheeky girl. She did most of the talking. Stephanie, on the other hand, appeared to be reserved; indeed, she gave the impression of being something of an introvert, a bit like me. If Stephanie wanted to say anything, she often whispered to her sister, who then said it on her behalf. It transpired that the girls were originally from Manchester but now lived in Cumbria. Neither of the girls had a particularly northern accent. Stephanie explained that it was drummed out of them at school. Stephanie was an avid Manchester United fan, whereas Samantha tagged along to look after her older sister. I learned that Stephanie worked in admin, enjoyed walking, and was something of a TV drama buff. Samantha was a keen amateur photographer and loved nature and wildlife.

 

The girls talked passionately about the Lake District and admonished me when I admitted I had never visited. They encouraged me to take a break in the area to see what delights it had to offer.

Chatting to the girls came easy, even for me as a reserved Southerner. Given the external beauty of the girls, it would be natural to think that they would be arrogant, conceited, or ‘up-themselves’ in the modern parlance, but that couldn’t be further from the truth. I found both girls to be humble, charming, intelligent, self-deprecating, and fun. I also found them to be extremely sexy!

 

As we ate and chatted, the restaurant got busier. I noticed that many of the patrons – particularly the men – were glancing in our direction. Not at me, I should add, but at the gorgeous girls with whom I was sharing a table. It made me feel like the cat that had got the cream to be seen with such alluring girls. I was relishing the girls’ convivial company.

 

We finished our main course and decided to have pudding as well. I bought another drink for all of us. As we stuck into our desserts, the girls revealed that they weren’t going to the match. They’d come to Manchester to soak up the atmosphere. They intended to watch the game on a big screen at one of the popular, nearby sports bars.

 

Stephanie whispered to her sister, and both girls looked at me uncertainly. Samantha spoke.

 

“Given that you’ve got two spare tickets, my sister wants to know if you would consider taking us to the match?”

 

Now I must admit that as soon as I’d found out that the girls hadn’t got tickets, I was considering offering them my spare ones. The difficulty I perceived is that the seats had been allocated in Lily and Katie’s names and were strictly non-transferable. What if the girls were found to have someone else’s tickets? It would be extremely embarrassing for the girls and for me if they were refused entry. I may end up missing the match. Also, Lily and I could both face serious consequences for breaking the ticketing rules. I would hate for Lily to be punished for something she wasn’t even aware of. What if they suspended or cancelled our membership? Lily would never forgive me. I was hesitant. The girls whispered to each other; Samantha used her hand to hide what she was saying. Whatever Samantha had suggested caused Stephanie to initially look vexed, even shocked, but she appeared to soften and eventually agree with Samantha’s proposal. Samantha spoke to me again.

 

“If you can get us into the match, we’ll take our tops off,” she offered with a cheeky grin.

 

“S-sorry?” I questioned, not believing what I’d heard.

 

“If you let us use your spare tickets to get into the stadium, we’ll both remove our football tops,” Samantha repeated; from the earnest look on her face, I think she meant it. “We haven’t got tee-shirts on underneath, only our bras,” she added with a chuckle.

 

Stephanie blushed. Even without Samantha’s unbelievable offer, I was desperately trying to think of a way to get the girls into the game. The thought of watching the match in the company of two stunning girls was compelling. But it was fraught with risk. I knew that we normally had to present our membership card, which had a photo ID on it, along with our ticket. I had brought Lily’s card with me in case I needed it to get a refund. Neither of the girls looked remotely like Lily. An observant steward would suss them out straight away. I dithered, fervently trying to think of a way to make it happen. Stephanie leaned in close to Samantha and whispered something to her. This time, it was Samantha who looked taken by surprise. I saw her mouth back ‘Are you sure?’. Stephanie nodded, a glint in her gorgeous eyes, her lips formed into a wry smile. Sam addressed me again

 

“So, here’s the deal. If you get us into the match, we’ll take our tops and our jeans off. And, as a bonus, if United win, we’ll take our bras off as well.” Samantha proposed magnanimously.

 

“So, if United win, you’ll see us in just our panties. And I know for a fact that mine don’t hide a lot!” Stephanie added, with a teasing grin.

 

How could I refuse an offer like that?!

 

“Okay. We’ll try.” I said.

 

“Cool!” Stephanie beamed.

 

Soon after we’d struck our extraordinary deal, we finished our meals, paid, and left the restaurant.

 

When the girls had initially stood up, I got to appreciate the full extent of their awesome beauty. Stephanie, at about five-foot-ten, was taller than me. Her tight blue jeans emphasised her long, shapely legs that seemed to go on forever, her strong thighs, and her gorgeously peachy bottom. Samantha was a similar height to me, that is, about five-foot-seven. Her legs were well-turned, and she too had a cute bum. Both girls had what I would consider perfect, natural hourglass figures, with broadish shoulders, narrow waists, wide hips, and toned stomachs. Their breasts were well-proportioned; not overly big but certainly not small.

 

They both appeared fit, healthy, feminine, and athletic. Although neither had professed to be sporty or active, they obviously kept themselves in good shape. I deduced they both could naturally maintain a shapely figure, without much effort or exercise. Their skin had a youthful glow, and their blonde hair positively gleamed even in the fading light of a Manchester evening. I liked the fact that neither of them appeared to have resorted to artificial means to ‘enhance’ their looks. They hadn’t even gone overboard with makeup – they didn’t need to; they were both naturally beautiful. To my mind, they outshone even Sydney Sweeney in their well-fitting jeans.

 

Did I have a favourite? I suppose Samantha should have been, because we were the same height, and there is something slightly off about a tall girl with a shorter guy. Samantha also had the cheekiest personality, flirtier and daring. But there was a certain je ne sais quois about Stephanie’s alluring smile. Her eyes had a longingness about them like an adorable puppy. I also found her shyness rather endearing. I struggled to split them: they were both ten-out-of-ten, with Stephanie perhaps being a ten plus! The thought that I could potentially be seeing them both virtually naked was beyond my wildest dreams. I just prayed that I could get them into the match. And that United won!

What were the chances of United winning and the girls having to remove their bras? Tonight's opposition was doing well in their own domestic league, whereas United were struggling. The bookies, who usually know about such things, were predicting a close game, with a draw the most likely result. Despite having home advantage, United were outsiders for the win. The girls must have seen the odds before making their risky offer.

 

We headed across the Quays in the direction of Old Trafford. It was much busier now. Most of the crowd was heading in the same direction as us. We were attracting a lot of attention, or rather, the girls were. I noticed heads turning to stare, and I sensed that people were talking about us. The girls walked arm-in-arm close beside me so that there could be no doubt that they were with me. I was peacock-proud to be seen in their company.

 

As we got closer to the stadium, I started to get jittery. I could feel my stomach muscles tightening and my heart beating faster. In my mind, I ran through all the potential scenarios of what could happen at the turnstiles. If I carried on like this I’d be a nervous wreck when I presented the tickets. The stewards were bound to pick up on my fretting. The girls didn’t seem fazed at all; in fact, they seemed positively buzzing; oh, the innocence of youth. I tried desperately to channel their positive vibes to overcome my nerves. I thought about what they’d promised to do if we were successful in getting in. That certainly seemed to help.

 

We arrived at the security checks on the outer perimeter of the complex. I wasn’t carrying a bag, so I was waved straight through. The girls only had small shoulder bags, which were given a cursory search by a female security guard. We moved on to the queue for the gate appropriate for our seats. There were only a dozen or so people in front of us; bizarrely, I wished there were more so that it would delay the inevitable. We were soon at the front of the queue. With trembling hands, I handed the tickets to the gate steward.

 

“Two Members and one guest,,” I said in as confident a voice as I could muster.

 

“Can I see your membership card please?” the steward asked.

 

“Oh, sorry. Of course.” I said apologetically.

 

I fumbled in my wallet and produced my membership card. I left Lily’s in there in the hope he wouldn’t request it. The girls smiled congenially at the steward.

 

“Lily and Katie,” he smiled, “Two attractive names for two attractive girls.”

 

“Aren’t they just?” I replied, “Do you need to see Lily’s membership card?” I continued, fumbling in my wallet again, hoping to call the steward’s bluff.

 

“No. You’re fine, mate. Enjoy the game,” he said dismissively.

 

And with that, we were in!

 

We made our way to our seats, which were behind the goal, about halfway up the stands. Our three adjacent seats included an aisle seat. I took the inner seat, Stephanie sat next to me, and Samantha took the aisle seat. The stadium was about half-full already and looked magnificent. The ground staff were making final preparations, and the sprinklers were spraying water onto the grass, which looked in great condition. The floodlights shone brightly, creating a magical atmosphere against the pitch-black night sky.

 

None of us had spoken to any great extent since we had passed through the turnstiles. I think we were just relieved that we’d got in without any bother. It wasn’t until I’d settled into my seat that I slowly realised what this meant. Not only was I going to watch my favourite team in the company of two of the most attractive girls I’d ever met, but they’d agreed to take their tops and jeans off to get them in. And, if United won, they’d be committed to taking their bras off as well. I’d never wanted United to win as much as I did tonight! I was stiff at just the thought. Stephanie placed her hand on my leg near the top of my thigh, really close to my erection. She squeezed my leg. She leaned in close, but the noise in the stadium was such that she still had to virtually shout to be heard above the crowd.

 

“Thank you for getting us in,” she said, “I’m really looking forward to the game.”

 

“I’m glad you’re here.” I replied, leaning in close so that I could be heard above the din, “I’m looking forward to it too. We’ve got a great view.”

 

“We have. And we’ll make sure you get a great view later. Especially if we win,” she smiled, squeezing my leg a bit harder, “We promise.”

 

“I do hope we win,” I replied.

 

“So do I!” Stephanie grinned, "Really, I do!"

 

At that point, the players came out for their warm-up. Stephanie spent some time pointing out to her sister who each of the players was. The stadium was virtually full now. Those people who had been getting a last bite to eat made their way to their seats. The atmosphere was building. The away team had brought a contingent of about two thousand fans with them, who were seated in the far corner away to our right. They were already quite raucous, but their noise was soon drowned out when the home fans started singing and chanting. Stephanie joined in vociferously – gone was the shy girl from the restaurant. The players left the pitch having completed their warm-up.

 

The TV cameras that had been focused on the players doing their stretches and exercises switched to showing the crowd. The pictures were displayed on big screens at either end of the stadium, and in millions of homes all around the world, including, I imagine, into Lily and Katie’s home. Was it bad that I hadn’t really thought of them since I’d met my new companions? It wasn’t long before one of the camera operators picked out Stephanie and Samantha in the crowd and zoomed in on them, beaming their stunning, smiling faces onto the screens. This caused a huge cheer from all the fans and a lot of wolf-whistles. As it turned out, this was going to be a regular occurrence throughout the night. In fact, I think the girls had more screen time than some of the players!

 

There was a slight lull in the noise levels as expectations rose in anticipation of the players emerging from the tunnel that led from the dressing rooms. As soon as they appeared, the crowd roared. The pre-match preliminaries were carried out against the background of deafening chanting. For the first half, United were defending the goal directly in front of us. Our keeper waved to acknowledge the supporters behind the goal as he took up position.

 

Kick off!

 

The opponents kicked off and were soon on the attack. Within two minutes, they had their first shot on target, our keeper having to make a sharp save to his left. We cheered with relief. For the next ten minutes or so, most of the action took place directly in front of us; United were struggling to get out of their own half. Our keeper was called into action several times. Each time we cheered. The pressure was relentless. Their players seemed half a yard quicker than ours on every part of the pitch. Eventually, the inevitable happened: from a well-worked corner, the ball was struck sweetly into the back of the net, our keeper having no chance of saving it. We had to admit it was a deserved goal. Twenty minutes gone, and we were a goal down. Not the start we had hoped for.

 

After the restart, United managed to put a couple of attacking moves together. It was a relief for us to see the action at the other end of the pitch for a change. Neither attack came to anything. Soon, the action returned to our end of the pitch, and once again our keeper was called on to make several saves. The pressure continued to build, with the opponents playing neat, fluent football. Our keeper made another couple of fine saves, and they hit the woodwork with a shot from the edge of the box. United defended desperately, all the action right in front of us. The pressure finally tolled. After a goalmouth scramble, the ball came out to one of the opponent’s midfielders, who hit a shot hard and low through a mass of bodies. The unsighted keeper stood no chance as it hit the back of the net. We were two–nil down with ten minutes to go to half-time. We were being out-classed and out-played.

 

We were still reeling from that strike when the opposition had the ball in the back of the net again. This could turn into a rout if we weren’t careful. Fortunately, the third goal was disallowed because of a close offside during the buildup. A lucky break. We survived till half-time without any further scares, although we were on the back foot most of the time. When the ref blew for the end of the first half, we all breathed a sigh of relief. The crowd was subdued apart from the away fans in their corner of the stadium, who, not surprisingly, were singing enthusiastically. Stephanie turned to me; she looked dazed.

 

“Were we bad or were they just good?” she asked, shell-shocked.

 

“A bit of both, I think.” I replied, equally stunned, “We are lucky to be only two goals down. It could easily have been four or five. And I don’t think we had a shot on target.”

 

“We didn’t.” Stephanie confirmed, downcast, “We barely got in their half of the pitch.”

 

“We’ve got to play better in the second half or they’ll thrash us,” I said despondently.

 

“I don’t think you’ll be seeing us topless.” Stephanie said, sounding genuinely upset rather than relieved, “Sorry about that.”

 

The realisation of that added to my dejection.

 

During the interval, the TV cameras scanned the crowd, picking out gloomy, crestfallen faces of United fans. The girls were featured again, and this time they even included me sitting next to them. I wondered if Lily and Katie had seen me.

 

It wasn’t long before the players were out on the pitch again to start the second half. We did our best to encourage them by cheering loudly as they emerged from the tunnel. United would be attacking the goal directly in front of us this half. We jeered the opposition goalkeeper as he took his place. He turned and waved to us, a big grin on his face. It was the most he’d had to do all match so far.

 

The second half kicked off and continued in much the same vein as the first. All the action in the first ten minutes took place in the United half of the pitch, at the opposite end of the stadium to us. There is an adage in football that at two-nil, the next goal is crucial. If a team goes three goals ahead, they rarely lose, but if they’re pegged back to two–one, then anything can happen. United survived the initial onslaught and started to compete. With twenty minutes of the second half gone, it remained at two–nil and United were spending more time in the opponent’s half of the pitch. They even managed to have a couple of shots on target that tested the keeper. We tried to put him off, but he remained resolute. It was noticeable that most of the action was now directly in front of us, as it had been for the vast majority of the first half. Encouraging signs.

 

With ten minutes to go, United were pushing hard. The opposition was sitting deeper and deeper, defending determinedly; their keeper making a couple of ‘Worldie’ saves to prevent United scoring, and our players hitting the woodwork twice. It looked as if the football gods were smiling on them – and the stripping gods weren’t smiling on me!

 

Then one of our midfielders had a speculative shot from the edge of the penalty area. It took a wicked deflection off one of the opponent’s defenders and trickled into the back of the net, leaving their keeper stranded. At least we thought it went in! The crowd – including us – jumped to our feet in expectation, and we couldn’t actually see if the ball had gone in or not. It wasn’t until the ref blew his whistle to indicate a goal that we knew for sure. We all cheered. Stephanie and Samantha hugged in celebration, then Stephanie hugged and kissed me. That kiss made it the ‘goal of the season’ as far as I was concerned, even though it had been a lucky one (goal that is, not kiss!). Two–one down with ten minutes to play. There was hope.

 

After the restart, United continued to press, but time was running out. Then we won a free kick about thirty yards out from the goal. Our normally dependable captain stepped forward and carefully placed the ball, taking responsibility for the kick. Their keeper positioned six players in the wall. From our position behind the goal, we had a great view. I thought I could see a flaw in his plan. I leaned into Stephanie and whispered.

 

“If he hits it into the top right-hand corner, I don’t think the keeper will get across in time.”

 

We waited with bated breath. The crowd fell silent in nervous anticipation, like a tightly wound spring, ready to snap. Our captain stepped forward and struck the ball sweetly, exactly where I’d said. The keeper scrambled across but failed to reach it. The ball hit the back of the net venomously. We all rose to our feet as one, cheering hysterically. Stephanie and I hugged and kissed heartily. She broke off from kissing me.

 

“He put it exactly where you said!” she exclaimed, smiling broadly.

 

“He must have heard me.” I grinned.

 

“That’s two–two! I’ll settle for that!” Stephanie declared.

 

“I’d rather we went on to win,” I stated.

 

“I bet you do!” Stephanie laughed, “And we know why, don’t we?” She winked and dug me playfully in the ribs.

 

The game restarted with only a couple of minutes of normal time remaining. The fourth official indicated that there would be four additional minutes. We were entering what is known a ‘Fergie Time’. United regained possession of the ball and pressed forward. Virtually all the United players were in and around the opponent’s box directly in front of us. The ball was bouncing around like a pinball, but none of the United players could get a clear shot on target. The opposition defenders were throwing themselves at everything like whirling dervishes doing a Sema dance. They, like Stephanie, would be happy with a draw now. It was desperate stuff.

 

Stephanie had her hand on my upper leg near my groin, gripping my thigh vice-like with nervous tension. I was partially erect; I had been since I’d first spotted the girls in the restaurant. I could feel Stephanie’s fingers against my erection. I wondered if she could feel it through my jeans. I hoped she could.

 

With just two minutes left, the ball went out for a United corner. Our captain strode across to take it. An eerie hush descended over the crowd; you could’ve heard a pin drop. Our captain raised his right arm then sent the ball high and firmly into the six-yard box. Our tall central defender rose higher than anyone else and headed the ball ferociously back towards the goal. Their keeper watched helplessly as the ball sped by him; he had no chance of stopping it. We’d scored!

 

As one the ecstatic crowd leapt up and shouted ‘YES!’. Stephanie turned to me, her beautiful face beaming. We wrapped our arms around each other, hugged and kissed full on the lips. After our passionate embrace, she turned and clasped her sister. During our wild celebrations, we forgot that the match wasn’t yet finished. We needn’t have worried - as soon as it restarted, the ref blew his whistle to end the game. Unbelievably, we’d won!

 

The players were euphoric; some looked to be in tears. They ran up to the end of the pitch where we were seated, and waved and cheered us. The TV camera crew zoomed in on my two smiling companions again, but they were too busy applauding the players to notice. Some of the players took off their match shirts and gave them to emotional young supporters at the front of the stands. Unsurprisingly, the kids looked delighted, as if all their Christmases had come at once. Stephanie leaned in close to me.

 ,

“We’ll be doing that for you soon.” she giggled, nodding in the direction of the players with their shirts removed, “You will be seeing us topless after all.”

 

“I can’t wait!” I beamed, “I’ll look even more pleased than those kids!”

 

We soaked up the unbelievable atmosphere for about thirty minutes until the crowd reluctantly started to disperse. Leaving the stadium, we walked arm in arm, with the girls on either side of me. I got jealous glances from loads of lads; I felt as pleased as Punch. On the way back to the hotel, we called in at an off-licence and I bought two bottles of Champagne so that we could continue our celebrations.

 

As we approached the hotel where I was staying, I started to get nervous. What if the receptionist became suspicious about me returning with two gorgeous girls? When I’d initially checked in, I’d been on my own. I needn’t have worried. The room had initially been booked for three people: two females and one male, so that’s what the receptionist was expecting. When the receptionist handed me my room key and wished me a ‘good night’, I got the feeling she looked at me knowingly.

 

Once we got up to my room, the girls made themselves comfortable, kicking off their shoes. There were no chairs, so they had to sit on one of the beds. I poured out three glasses of the bubbly. I proposed a toast to United, and we raised our glasses. Although we all knew what we were there for, there was an awkward tension hanging in the air like a clock ticking too loudly in an otherwise silent room. The suspense was palpable. We distracted ourselves by talking about the match until we finished our drinks. I poured us another one, emptying the bottle in the process. I started to fidget restlessly; I was beginning to think that the girls had only been joking with their offer. The conversation moved on from the match to the hotel room.

 

“There’s not much space in here, is there?” Samantha stated, looking around, “Barely room to swing a cat.”

 

“It is a bit cramped.” Stephanie agreed.

 

“Where would you like us to stand when we do it?” Samantha asked, directing her question to me.

 

“Do it?” I questioned, not grasping what she meant.

 

“You know, strip off,” she said candidly, “I take it you still want us to?”

 

“Yes, please!” I said eagerly.

 

“Cool!” Samantha said, “I suggest that you sit on the bed, while Stephanie and I stand at the end to take our clobber off to give you a shufty. You okay with that, Sis?”

 

“He’ll be a bit close, won’t he?” Stephanie sounded concerned.

 

“He’ll certainly get a good gander!” Samantha laughed, “I’m cool with it if you are?”

 

“S’pose so.” Stephanie acceded, “Can I have another drink first, please? I’m gagging! I think it was all that shouting and cheering at the game.”

 

“You sure you don’t want it to give you some Dutch Courage before you strip off, Sis?” Samantha teased her big sister.

 

“I must admit I am a bit nervous. I’ve never done anything like this before.” Stephanie admitted, "Not in front of a stranger."

 

“You’ll be fine.” Samantha encouraged, “I’ll go first, you just follow me.”

 

“If it’s any comfort, I’m nervous too.” I said reassuringly, “You’re the two most beautiful, sexiest girls I’ve ever met. I can’t believe I’m actually in the same room, alone with you, and that you're going to strip for me.”

 

“Oh, that’s sweet.” Samantha acknowledged, “We have just two requirements – no photos and definitely no touching. Okay?”

 

“Fine by me,” I stated, incredulous that they were actually going to do it.

 

“Sorted.” Samantha chuckled.

 

I opened the second bottle of Champers and poured the girls another glass. I noted that my hands were shaking with nervous anticipation. I abstained from having another glass myself: I don’t think I could have held it without spilling it. We swapped places; I sat on the bed, and Samantha and Stephanie stood directly in front of me. Stephanie was right, they were extremely close. I could see beads of sweat forming on Stephanie’s forehead.

 

“Shall I start?” Samantha asked, she sounded keen.

 

“Yes, please!” I replied excitedly.

 

Without any hesitation, Samantha casually lifted her shirt over her head and tossed it onto the bed beside me. She was wearing a pretty white bra that enclosed her full, youthful breasts. Her abs were toned without being ripped. Her skin was smooth and clear. She had a cute little belly button. I was delighted to see that she had no tattoos or piercings.

 

“Well?” she quizzed, “Do you like my bod?”

 

“Stunning.” I replied, eyes agog, “Absolutely stunning!”

 

“Thank you.” Samantha smiled, “Your turn now, Sis.”

 

Stephanie took another swig of her drink. I was so close to her that I could see her fingers were trembling as she gripped the bottom of her shirt and hesitantly started to lift it. She was much more tentative than her sister; this made it extra titillating as inch by inch more of her silky-smooth skin was revealed. That first glimpse of her bra was so exciting; it caused a playful flutter in my chest like being tickled by a feather. Eventually, she completely removed her shirt and tossed it onto the bed with her sister’s. She stood before me wearing a racy red bra. I immediately noticed that the material was slightly sheer. I was so close I could see through it enough to discern her dark areolae and cute little nipples. Like her sister, she had a taut, athletic stomach. Her belly button was enthrallingly elongated top to bottom. Also, like her sister, she had no visible tattoos or piercings. She was ravishing.

 

“Is that okay?” she asked hesitantly.

 

“Gorgeous!” I replied, wide-eyed, “You’re both unbelievable!”

 

“Thank you,” Stephanie said coyly.

“Well done, Sis.” Samantha smiled, “My turn again. Jeans next.”

 

Samantha sat down on the bed next to me and removed her socks, explaining that it wouldn’t be ‘cool’ to take her jeans off and still be wearing socks. Once she was barefoot, she stood up directly in front of me and, without any hesitation, undid the top button of her jeans. She slid her zip fly down and opened up the top of her jeans to reveal a tantalising peek of white panties. She smiled at me playfully as she lowered her jeans and removed them. They joined the other clothes on the bed.

 

I stared at her in wonder as she stood in front of me in just her bra and panties. She had the most awesome body and sensational, shapely legs. Her panties were tiny; no more than a small triangle of pure white covering her most intimate area. From appearances, she looked to be silky-smooth ‘down-there’. I hoped I’d get the opportunity to find out for sure. She saw where I was looking. Without prompting, she smiled beguilingly and turned around. From the back, all that was visible of her panties was a thin white string around her waist and another between the cheeks of her cute bottom. Her virtually bare butt was adorable: round and peachy. Samantha was standing close enough to me that I could touch her butt or even pull her little panties down if I’d been brave enough. I wasn’t. Samantha turned back to face me, a confident look on her face.

 

“Like what you see?” she asked nonchalantly.

 

“I’d say! You’re stunning!” I replied, awe-stricken.

 

“Aw, thank you.” Samantha responded, then said to her sister, “Time to take your jeans off, Sis.”

 

“My jeans?” Stephanie said hesitantly, as if the mere notion of removing her jeans hadn’t occurred to her

 

“Yes, your jeans.” Samantha confirmed, “ You’ve got panties on, haven’t you?”

 

“Of course I’ve got panties on!” Stephanie exclaimed, gobsmacked that her sister could even question such a thing.

 

“Let’s see them then.” Samantha persisted, “They can’t be smaller than mine.”

If they were smaller than Samantha’s, I definitely wanted to see them! I desperately wanted to see them in any case.

 

Stephanie looked more nervous than ever. She was visibly shaking – not just her hands, but her whole body. I found Stephanie’s shyness endearing. Her reticence made me even keener to see more of her. She gripped the button at the top of her jeans and undid it. With trembling fingers, she progressively undid the remainder of the buttons and opened up the top of her jeans to reveal that she was wearing red panties.

 

She started to slowly pull her jeans down, but they were really tight; so tight in fact that she was inadvertently pulling her panties down too. I gasped as the top of her slit came into view. Samantha noticed too.

 

“Stop, Sis!” she exclaimed, “Look what you’re doing.”

 

Stephanie looked down to where her sister was indicating and realised what was happening.

 

“Oh my God!” she cried, quickly pulling her panties up, “Did you see it? Did you see my pussy?” she asked me, her face flushed red.

 

“Only a glimpse of the top of it.” I said truthfully, “I wish I’d seen more. It looked delightful.” I continued, also truthfully.

 

Stephanie looked to her sister for reassurance.

 

“Did you see it?” she asked, desperation in her voice.

 

“Like he said, we just saw the top of it. You stopped just in time. We could see that you’re shaved, though,” Samantha confirmed, “You should be safe to lower your jeans again now – carefully.”

 

Stephanie breathed out a sigh of relief. She cautiously started to lower her jeans again, this time making sure her panties stayed in place. Once she’d got her jeans down to her ankles, she stepped out of them and cast them onto the mounting pile of clothes on the bed.

The girls were now standing side-by-side directly in front of me in just their pretty undies, looking drop-dead gorgeous. Like her sister, Stephanie had a breathtaking body. Her legs were longer and, if anything, even more sensational than Samantha’s. Stephanie’s panties matched her bra, which meant they were racy red. I guessed she’d worn them on purpose in honour of The Reds. Like her bra, her panties were also slightly sheer. She was so close that I could discern the outline of her pussy through them. Samantha was right, her sister was shaved ‘down there’. Her pussy appeared small, neat and tight. She saw where I was looking.

 

“They’re see-through, aren’t they?” she asked modestly, dropping her hands down in front of her to cover up.

 

“Only slightly,” I said, reassuringly.

 

“I seem determined to show you my pussy tonight,” she giggled nervously.

 

“I do hope so!” I retorted, “Oh, I do hope so.”

 

“Before you go that far, thanks to United winning, it’s our bras next.” Samantha reminded her, “Shall I go first again?”

 

“Are we really going to show him our .....” Stephanie hesitated before completing the question, then added in a hushed voice, "Our tits?"

 

“It was your idea.” Samantha reminded her, “We did make a deal. We can’t go back on it now.”

 

“I know. Earlier, I desperately wanted to see the game, and it didn’t seem so real when we were sitting in the restaurant.” Stephanie affirmed coyly, “I didn’t expect to actually have to do it. It was just a laugh.”

“I'm afraid you're committed to it now, Sis.” Samantha encouraged, “C'mon, it’s no different than being topless on a beach. We’ve done that plenty of times on our holidays.”

 

“Except this is Manchester, and on a beach I wouldn’t have someone gawping at me so closely.” Stephanie argued, quite reasonably, “I’m sorry I’m so shy,” she added timidly.

 

I must admit she did have a point; even with her bra on, I was getting a good view of what was underneath. I longed to see them topless. Truth be told, I’d never seen anyone like them – they were one-in-a-million, yet there were two of them!

 

“Well, I’m going to do it!” Samantha announced emphatically.

 

Without further ado, Samantha put her hands behind her back, unclasped her white bra, and removed it, tossing it casually onto the bed. I gasped in disbelief at the view. Her breasts were incredible. Although not overly large, they were round, full, symmetrical, and youthfully firm; they were close-set with little separation between them. Her areolae were perfectly round, about the size of a ten pence piece, and gloriously smooth. Her nipples were quite pronounced, suggesting that she was aroused. She wasn’t the only one who was aroused; I had a huge bulge in the front of my trousers that I was desperately trying to keep hidden from the girls. Samantha held her breasts and gave them a little wobble.

 

“Do you like them?” she giggled.

 

“They’re amazing!” I gasped, “Truly wonderful.”

 

“Wait till you see my sister’s. They’re bigger than mine,” she chuckled, “C’mon, Sis, get them out!”

 

I didn’t like to admit that I wasn’t overly enamoured with unduly large breasts, and I thought that Samantha’s were the perfect size and shape. Stephanie gave her sister a reproachful look. Then, realising what was expected of her, she reluctantly took her hands away from where they’d been obscuring my view of her sheer panties, and put them behind her back to undo her racy red bra. I didn’t know where to look; there was so much to take in. She removed her bra very slowly so that her breasts were gradually revealed. When they were fully exposed, she discarded the flimsy garment onto the bed. Stephanie’s breasts didn’t appear to be any larger than her sister’s; indeed, they could have been a matching pair: they were equally round, full, symmetrical, and firm. Her areolae were a similar shade of light brown, smooth, circular, and the same size. Her nipples were erect too, sticking out like dust caps.

 

Both girls were now standing right in front of me in just their tiny panties. They looked incredible, like a pair of Greek goddesses. I was speechless. They were so close that I could easily reach out and touch them, even pulling their little panties down if I so wished. Boy, did I want to! But I recalled what Samantha had said at the start about no touching, and I respected her bidding.

 

Samantha leaned in close to her sister, so close in fact that their boobs touched. She covered her mouth and whispered something in Stephanie’s ear. Whatever she said caused Stephanie to glance at me and chuckle. She nodded to her sister to indicate that whatever she had suggested, she agreed with. Samantha turned to face me.

 

“We have a proposition for you,” she stated, matter-of-factly, “If you strip off and show us your pecker, we’ll show you our pussies.” She giggled.

 

“You wouldn’t?” I questioned in disbelief, “Really? You’d do that?”

 

“We will, won’t we, Sis?” Samantha said with a wry smile, she certainly sounded as if she meant it.

 

“We will.” Stephanie agreed, also sounding sincere, “All that we ask is that you show us yours first. Will you do it?”

 

I couldn’t believe it. I was incredulous. I’d do virtually anything to see these two beautiful girls totally naked. Also, it was quite likely that once the three of us were naked, we’d go further – hopefully much further! Who hasn’t had a threesome fantasy?  I must admit I often did, but I’d never had the opportunity to have one before. To think my first experience would be with these two astonishing beauties. It was beyond my wildest dreams. I wondered which one I should have first. I so wanted to please them both. I was so aroused that I knew the first time wouldn’t last long. Perhaps I should have Samantha first so that Stephanie would get the best of me? Hopefully, I'd recover quickly enough so that I could have both of them twice. Maybe the girls already had plans for me? Did the fact that they were sisters make a difference? Surely they wouldn’t pleasure each other, would they? I'd need to satisfy one with my fingers and tongue while pleasing the other with my manhood. What positions should we adopt? Decisions, decisions! I wanted to love the girls to the best of my ability, so that it was as much of an unforgettable experience for them as I knew it would be for me. While all this was buzzing in my mind, I forgot that they were waiting for me to reply.

"Well?" Samantha quizzed, bringing me out of my reverie.

 

“I’ll do it!” I virtually shouted.

 

“Cool!” the girls exclaimed in unison.

 

Sitting on the bed, I removed my socks, remembering what Samantha had said earlier about it not being cool to take your jeans off before your socks. I stood up to change places with the girls. As we swapped positions in the cramped bedroom, Samantha’s bare breasts brushed against me, sending a tingle down my spine like an electric shock.

 

“Whoops! Sorry!” she chuckled.

"No probs. The pleasure was all mine." I responded, wishing that I'd had the foresight to fondle them with my hands.

 

The sisters sat alongside each other on the bed, dressed in just their tiny panties: appropriately, one in red and one white, like United’s home kit. They both looked so adorably sexy, like two beautifully crafted sculptures, alluring and irresistible. Like this, it was easy to compare their breasts: both pairs were evenly matched, like a row of peas in a pod. They were naturally firm yet sumptuous. Even their areolae were the same size and colour, as were their cute little nipples. The girls were both grinning. As I stood in front of them, it struck me how close they were to me. No wonder Stephanie had been hesitant.

“I’m looking forward to this!” Samantha grinned. eagerly

 

“Me too!” Stephanie replied equally excitedly.

I stood in front of them. It struck me how close they were. No wonder Stephanie had been hesitant. Just as the girls had done earlier, I lifted my Man Utd shirt up over my head and removed it. Unlike them, I wasn’t wearing anything underneath.

 

“Not bad!” Samantha chuckled.

“Classy!” Stephanie smiled.

 

“Now your jeans.” Samantha urged, then remembering her manners, added, “Please.”

 

The girls shifted restlessly on the bed as I moved my hands to the top of my jeans. Trying to appear confident, I undid my jeans, pulled them straight down, and stepped out of them. I threw them casually onto the pile of clothes on the bed. Needless to say, I had a raging erection. I was wearing tight black briefs made even tighter by my stiffy.

 

“Wow!” both girls exclaimed in unison, staring at my bulge.

 

“That’s quite a package you’ve got going on there!” Samantha giggled, “C’mon, let’s see what you’ve got. Drop your pants!”

Although the girls were already really close, they leaned further forward so that they were even nearer. So close in fact that I could feel their exhaled breath on my body like a warming breeze. My fingers were trembling as much as Stephanie’s had been earlier as I gripped the top of my briefs and started to lower them. They were soon down to the base of my cock – or ‘pecker’ as the girls had endearingly referred to it. Unlike the girls, I wasn’t closely shaved down there. I noticed them grin at the first sight of my pubic hair. To get my pants lower, I had to pull them out and over my prominent erection. The girls’ grins changed to a broad smile as my erection came into sight. Once my briefs were clear, I let them drop to the floor and stepped out of them. I was standing directly in front of the girls, totally naked, with my erect penis pointing straight at them. There was no point trying to hide it.

 

“Oh my God! That’s naughty!” Stephanie exclaimed, a broad grin on her face, "I wasn’t expecting you to actually do it!”

 

“Classy!” Samantha declared, gazing directly at my exposed manhood, “Turn around, let’s see your butt.”

 

I turned around as Samantha had instructed.

 

“Sorted!” they both said as one, "Nice buns!"

 

I turned back to face them, arms by my side so that my erection was still in full view.

“Is it bad that I really want to hold it?” Samantha sighed, directing her stare at my pecker.

“Samantha!” Stephanie admonished her little sister, “If anyone holds it, it should be me. I’m the eldest,” she reasoned.

 

“It was my idea to get him to show it to us in return for seeing our pussies.” Samantha contended.

 

“That’s true.” Stephanie conceded.

 

“Talking of which.” I interceded, “Isn’t it your turn now?”

Samantha picked up her shoulder bag and started rummaging through it. She produced her phone.

 

“Just one more thing first," she chuckled, "I must get some pictures. You don’t mind, do you?”

 

“I thought you said no photographs?” I quizzed, disappointed at the further delay. If they were playing football, they’d be booked for time-wasting.

 

“That was of us.” Samantha clarified, “Look at it as a type of protection. If you tell anyone about what you’ve done and seen, or what you are about to see, then we’ll post explicit pictures of you on social media. Fair?”

 

“I promise I won’t tell anyone what we’ve done.” I pledged.

 

“You won’t have a problem with me taking a few pictures, then will you?” Samantha reasoned.

 

“I suppose not.” I conceded, “Do what you have to do.”

 

“Cool!” Samantha smiled.

 

I didn’t want to delay matters any further. I’d picked up on the fact that Samantha had intimated I was about to see even more. I couldn’t wait. She started clicking away with her phone. Every time she took a picture of me, she would show it to her sister, who nodded her appreciation, giggling occasionally. Rather than finding the process embarrassing, I found it arousing. If anything, my erection had gotten bigger and stiffer.

 

Samantha had naturally slipped into her photographer mode and was encouraging me to pose for her. Maybe it was the first time she’d had the opportunity to work with a naked, male muse before. She was making the most of it now; she was positively buzzin’. I attempted to strike a few poses, totally unconcerned that the girls could see everything, and I mean everything! 

 

“I wish I’d got my proper camera with me,” she sighed.

 

“They look good to me, Sis.” Stephanie encouraged, “We can always zoom in if we want to.” She giggled.

 

“I don’t think we need to!” Samantha smiled, then to me she added, “Would it be possible to see the end?”

 

I guessed what she meant. I pulled my foreskin back to expose my purple dome. Samantha seemed delighted.

 

“That’s great!” she enthused, positioning her phone to get a close-up of it, “I’ve never taken a picture of one like that before,” she said excitedly, as if she was photographing a rare or unusual bird.

 

I noticed that Stephanie was taking a particular interest. She was biting her bottom lip, and her face was contorted with pleasure. She had one hand inside her pretty red panties, gently rubbing herself. I watched closely in case she inadvertently pushed her panties down again and gave me another glimpse of her delightfully tight, little slit. But she was being ultra cautious now. I guess I’d just have to wait.

 

“That should do.” Samantha smiled, “I’ve got about a dozen pictures.”

 

Samantha leaned in close to Stephanie, and the girls exchanged whispers, both smiling enigmatically. Samantha handed me her phone.

 

“Here, this one’s for you,” she said, suppressing a giggle.

 

I took the phone and looked at the image. I was baffled.

 

“There must be a mistake?” I said, puzzled, “It’s a picture of cats?”

 

“It is!” Stephanie guffawed, “It’s our pussies! The black one is our youngest, she’s called Tilly, and the ginger one is our eldest, he’s called Willie.”

 

It slowly dawned on me that I’d been duped. For their part, the girls were beside themselves with laughter.

 

“We said we’d show you our pussies, and we have!” Samantha explained unnecessarily, “Promise kept, I’d say!”

“Okay, Sis, we'd better get dressed and make a move.” Stephanie said, “We’ve got a train to catch.”

 

I sat on the bed, thoroughly dejected, and watched as the girls quickly put their clothes back on. Within a couple of minutes, they were completely dressed and standing by the door, ready to leave.

 

Still totally naked, I stood up to say goodbye. Despite the disappointment, my member was still fully erect in expectation. Stephanie hugged me and kissed me on the side of the face. She slid her hands down my back and squeezed my bum cheeks as we embraced.

 

“Thank you for a marvellous night and for taking us to the match,” she purred gratefully, “I’ve had a most wonderful time. We’re both chuffed to bits. Thank you.”

Stephanie backed away, and her sister took her place. She was more brazen. She kissed me full on the lips and discreetly slipped her hand between my legs, giving my member a gentle squeeze. Her hands were soft and delicate as she groped me. She leaned in close and whispered titteringly in my ear:

 

“I got to touch it after all. Don’t tell my sister.”

 

She released her hold on my pecker, moved away slightly, and addressed me more formally.

 

“Thank you for being a great sport,” she smiled, “We really do appreciate what you’ve done for us tonight. And for what you’ve shown us. I do hope you’re not too upset with us? You haven’t got a cob on have you? We never intended you any harm. We’re just a couple of Northern lasses having a laugh.”

 

“I’ve enjoyed myself too,” I responded, pretending not to be too deflated.

"Don't forget, you must come visit The Lakes." Samantha reminded me.

 

I assured them that I would consider it. We then said our ‘goodbyes’ and I was left alone in my room, naked.

 

I sat down on the bed and reflected on what had just happened. Had I been conned? Undoubtedly. Did I feel bad about it? How could I? I was obviously disappointed that we hadn’t gone as far as I had hoped we would. But I had spent the evening with the two most gorgeous girls I’d ever had the pleasure of meeting. What’s more, I’d seen them both virtually naked. And together we’d witnessed United winning a thrilling game of football. Would I do it again? In a heartbeat!

 

I slipped into my pyjamas, switched on the TV and settled back to watch the football highlights on Match of the Day. No sooner had the programme started than the cameraman had zoomed in on my two lovely companions in the crowd. Seeing them on the television made me appreciate how lucky I'd been to know them. I must admit here and now, it's the first time I'd had an erection to Match of the Day!

THE END

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