And They're Off! (A strip game between friends)

This is a mildly erotic story about two friends that gamble on the horses with their clothes -a strip game between friends . There is a saying in sport and gambling that says: "It matters more when there's money on it." In this instance, it matters even more when your clothes are on it!

Mildly Erotic

Elise and I had been good mates for years. In all that time our friendship had been purely platonic, despite my feelings towards her. For most of the time I had known her, Elise had been in a relationship with other men. During our friendship, I’d probably got to know about six or seven different boyfriends of hers: some I got on with, some I didn’t. Some got on with me, some didn’t. Elise’s relationships lasted from a few weeks to several years. If all this makes her sound like a bit of a ‘slapper’ – this couldn’t be further from the truth.

Elise thrived on relationships. As soon as one finished, for whatever reason, it was not long before she was in another. As Elise was extremely attractive, there was always someone new keen to take her on. Elise liked tall, good-looking, rugged men. That’s why I was never considered boyfriend material – I was none of these things.

As for me, I was hardly ever in a relationship. I was held back by two things: firstly, my tendency to go for girls that were unattainable, and secondly, my forlorn hope that one day Elise would see me as more than just a friend. Of course, I fancied Elise; no, I’d go further than that, I adored her. But unfortunately, I knew we would (probably) never be anything more than friends. I just wasn’t her type, I knew that. So I kept my feelings towards Elise suppressed. There was never any real physical contact in our relationship. If I put a hand on her shoulder to comfort her, she’d shimmy away. And if I went in for a hug or a kiss, she’d cleverly dodge my advances.

That said, our friendship had outlasted all her relationships so far. I accepted that I would have to love her from a distance, and keep my feelings for her hidden from whatever partner she was with at the time. Whether she knew my feelings for her, I’ll never really know; she certainly didn’t seem to. They say that unrequited love is painful, and I can certainly vouch for that.

Most of her boyfriends tolerated me; I’m sure some found me an annoyance, and some were downright nasty towards me. Elise used to take my side when this happened, and her relationship with anyone that had that attitude towards me soon came to an end. Was I jealous of her boyfriends? Of course! Especially the new ones, knowing they’d got further in a matter of days than I’d managed in several years!

Some of my friends told me that Elise was just using me. If that was the case – and it could well have been – then I was enjoying being used. I must admit that Elise was well-practised at getting what she wanted. She was quite high maintenance, which probably contributed to why she had so many relationships.

I guess I should describe Elise’s looks. She’s about five foot six tall; has a shapely body, with well-formed breasts; a nice, rounded bottom, and pleasing legs. Of course, all this is mere speculation and imagination, as I’d never seen her without clothes on! She normally wore jeans and a tight-fitting top. Of the bits I had seen, she has shoulder length, blond hair – usually worn in a ponytail - a roundish face usually with a pleasant smile, and kind, blue eyes with crow’s-feet, not caused by age, but by being outside most of the time. Over-all you’d say she was a very attractive girl. At the time of this tale she was about 30 years old, although she could pass for being younger.

My friendship with Elise was based on our mutual love of horses and horse racing. She had horses of her own which I used to help her look after. Unless her current boyfriend was horsey too – which was rare - the time we spent with the horses was generally confined to just the two of us, which was how I liked it. And, of course, she looked great in long-leather boots and jodhpurs!

Most weekends would find me at Elise’s helping around the yard; grooming, mucking-out, cleaning tack, that sort of thing. On a Saturday, after we’d finished our tasks, we’d often watch the racing on the television; that is, if the current boyfriend at the time didn’t mind. We sometimes went to watch live racing, and on these occasions it was almost like being on a date, assuming it was just the two of us, and she didn’t have a boyfriend in tow.

The racing festivals – Cheltenham, Aintree, Royal Ascot, Goodwood, Epsom – were usually good fun. I’d take time off work and go to Elise’s. We’d get her horses and the yard done as quickly as possible so that we could focus on the racing in the afternoon on the TV. We’d have the occasional bet, but we could just as easily watch and enjoy the racing without any financial investment. We’d join in the fun of the occasion by having the odd drink, usually themed to the meeting: Guinness for Cheltenham; Pimm’s for Ascot; Prosecco for Goodwood. Of course, there was nearly always three of us: Elise, her current boyfriend, and me. This put a bit of a downer on it from my perspective.

However, the day in question was a rare treat for me. It was at a time when Elise was between boyfriends. It was just me and her. It also happened to be the Saturday of the Grand National at Aintree, one of Elise’s favourite race meetings. I got to her place particularly early that morning, and we set about completing the tasks around the yard as quickly as possible, so that we could get indoors to watch all of the build-up to what promised to be an exciting day’s racing, culminating in the National itself – ‘The World’s Greatest Steeplechase’.

We got the chores done in record time, and were indoors well before the first race. I wasn’t sure quite what the appropriate drink was for Liverpool, so I’d hedged my bets and brought lager and a bottle of gin – one of Elise’s favourite tipples. Elise popped a couple of pizzas in the oven to heat up, and I poured us each a lager. Whilst we waited for the food to cook, we discussed the forthcoming racing and which horses we fancied in each race. It wasn’t long before the pizzas were done; Elise sliced them up into segments, and I tipped some crisps into a bowl. I’d also bought a large tub of wrapped chocolates. We knew how to live! I poured us both another lager and we adjourned into the living room just as the racing coverage started on the TV. Elise sat down on the sofa, and I sat in a chair, knowing that I wasn’t expected to sit next to her. We put all the food on a coffee table between us. The theme music for the racing came to an end, and the lead presenter did a great job building up the atmosphere for the afternoon.

“Beer, pizza, chocolate and racing.” Elise said, “What’s not to love!” she continued.

“And good company.” I said, raising my glass.

“Good company.” she echoed, and we clinked our glasses together.

“I’m really looking forward to this.” Elise said, taking a sip of lager and helping herself to a slice of pizza.

“Me too.” I said, “I wonder how our selections will do?” I added.

“I’m feeling confident with mine.” she said, positively.

“The winners will take some finding today.” I said, adding, “There’s a lot of runners.”

“I’m feeling lucky.” Elise said, taking another swig of her drink.

“If you’re feeling lucky, and as there’s only the two of us here today, do you fancy a little side wager?” I said, more in hope than anticipation.

"

"What do you mean?” she asked, indifferently, and taking another slice of pizza.

I took a large swig of my lager to give me some courage, and then took a deep breath.

“I'll bet my clothes against yours?” I said, a little too hurriedly.

“How do you mean?” she said, obviously baffled.

I was relieved that she hadn’t slapped me in the face and kicked me out, but I was also concerned that she hadn’t grasped at all what I meant.

“We back our selection in each race, but instead of using money to gamble with, we bet with our clothes.” I said, by way of explanation.

I sat back and waited for Elise’s inevitable refusal and perhaps worse.

“How do you mean?” she repeated, “Explain how it would work. Am I being thick?” she continued, engrossed in the TV, and not really paying that much attention to what I was saying.

At least she hadn’t given me the flat rejection I was expecting, but I knew that setting out in detail what I meant would make it obvious what I was thinking. Still, I’d been brave enough to come this far, I may as well continue.

“We both pick a horse in each race. If your horse wins, I’ll take off two items of clothing; if your horse places, I’ll take off one item of clothing.” I said, and paused.

Elise looked at me suspiciously. “And if your horse wins or places?” she asked, at last getting the drift of what I was suggesting.

“Exactly the same: if my horse wins, you take off two items of clothing; if my horse places, you take off one item of clothing.” I said.

“What if we both pick the same horse?” Elise asked, looking for a flaw in my plan.

I took this as a positive sign; she’d not rejected the idea out-of-hand.

“We’ll take turns with our selections. You can pick first in the first race; I’ll pick first in the second race, and so on through the card. Once a horse has been picked, the other person can’t pick it.” I said, hoping the level of detail wouldn’t baffle her.

“That makes sense.” she said, in a very non-committal tone.

“And so we don’t both just pick the favourite every time, we’ll double the odds if our selection is ten-to-one or over.” I said, trying to introduce greater jeopardy into the game without over complicating matters.

“How do you mean?” Elise said, once again sounding perplexed, and concentrating more on which slice of pizza to have next, rather than what I was saying.

“If your selection is ten-to-one or more and wins, I’ll take off four items of clothing instead of two; if it places, I’ll take off two items of clothing instead of one.”

“And the same for me?” Elise asked, at last seeming to grasp what I was suggesting.

“Exactly.” I said, “Well, are you up for it?" I asked, hoping I didn’t sound too desperate.

Elise took another swig of her lager.

“Okay. Let’s try it for a couple of races.” she said, “But I won’t go too far.” she added, not clarifying just how far ‘too far’ was.

“Great!” I said, then tempering my obvious enthusiasm, “Given your confidence in your picks, I’m sure you’ll beat me anyway.”

“Of course I will.” she smiled, “I wouldn’t have agreed otherwise.”

“Okay. You can choose first. What’s your selection for the first race?” I asked, keen to get her involved before she had too long to think about it.

“I’ll choose the favourite.” she said, “Number Sixteen.”

“I thought you might.” I laughed.

“That’s the advantage of going first.” she said, confidently.

“We’ll see.” I replied. “And anyway, I go first next time.” I added.

Elise was wearing slippers, socks, faded-blue jeans and a white, chunky-knit sweater. I guessed she’d have a tee-shirt under her jumper. So, with her undies, I reckoned she’d probably got at least nine items on. If I was going to make any inroads into her clothing, I was going to need a lot of luck, and some long-priced horses to win or be placed.

I’d already got my strategy planned. When it was my time to choose first, I’d usually pick the favourite, unless there was something else I particularly fancied. When it was Elise’s turn to pick first – assuming she’d pick the favourite - I’d chose a horse at ten-to-one or more, and then at least if the favourite won and my selection placed, we’d both have to take two items off. And, of course, in the unlikely event that my outsider should win, Elise would have to take four items off – now that would be a result!

The great thing about the National meeting is that there are usually plenty of runners, and therefore some long-priced horses on offer. This first race, a handicap hurdle, had twenty-one runners, seventeen of which were ten-to-one or more, so it was likely that an outsider would place. It was just a matter of picking the right one!

“I pick Number Nine.” I said, selecting this simply because that was my lucky number. “First four places as there’s twenty-one runners?” I asked.

“I guess so.” Elise replied, taking a keen interest as the horses headed to the start. “You better get me another drink.” she continued, handing me her empty glass.

By the time I’d returned from the kitchen with our glasses topped up, the race had already started. The horse I’d picked was right at the back; the favourite was in mid-division. Elise took great delight in showing me where my horse was.

“Thanks.” she said, taking her drink from me, “That’s yours in last place.” she mocked.

“There’s a long way to go.” I said, less than hopefully.

As they got to the halfway point, my selection had progressed and was running alongside the favourite in the middle of all the runners.

“I’m not so far behind now.” I said, and was actually quite pleased with how well my selection was going.

Elise remained silent. I think she could tell that the favourite wasn’t running as well as it should have been at this point. As they turned for home, my pick moved into second and the two at the front pulled clear of all the rest, including the disappointing favourite. As they jumped the last hurdle my selection took the lead. I couldn’t believe it! I screamed at the television, urging the horse all the way up the run in. As they approached the winning line, the horse that was in second edged in front and beat mine home by half a length.

“Yes!” Elise shouted, as if she’d won.

“That was close.” I said, downhearted.

The favourite finished a below-par sixth. It was ironic that Elise had lost but was elated by the result. Whereas, I had finished second but somehow felt deflated. After my initial disappointment, I cheered up a tad when I realised that at least Elise would have to take something off.

“What price was your horse?” Elise asked, although I think she already knew.

“Sixteen-to-one.” I confirmed, “That’s two items to come off.” I added.

“At least it wasn’t four!” Elise said, “I thought it was going to be.” she continued, sounding relieved.

“So did I.” I said, “Although I will settle for two.”

“You’ll have to. There you go.” she said, kicking off her slippers. "Don’t get too excited!”

Despite what Elise said, it was rather thrilling. We had only had one race and already she’d lost two items. There were still another six races to go. I couldn’t help but get excited. In a way I was pleased it was only two items and not four. If she lost too much too soon I was frightened she’d be scared off. I had to ensure she carried on as long as possible.

“My turn to choose first.” I said.

In the previous race, three out of the four placed horses were long prices. This was another handicap hurdle, but with only twelve runners. Did I follow my strategy and pick the favourite, or take a chance and pick another outsider? I decided to take a chance.

“I’ll go for Number Six.” I said.

“That’s not the favourite.” Elise said.

“I know.” I said, “I’ve left that for you. Aren’t I generous?” I continued.

“Only because you’re trying to get me to take more clothes off.” she said, reading me like a book.

“As if!” I laughed.

“I’ll have the favourite then.” she said, “Number 10.”

It wasn’t long before the race was underway. Both our selections were held up towards the rear.

“This doesn’t look good.” Elise said, “For either of us.” she added.

“I think they’ve gone too fast in front.” I observed.

Sure enough, those that had been towards the front started to tire. Our selections were running side-by-side and moving through the field. As they approached the last hurdle it looked like we were going to finish first and second, but in which order? We were both yelling at the television, trying to spur our horses on. At the last hurdle my pick made an error, handing the race to the favourite. My horse was gathered up and finished a respectable four lengths second.

“Yes!” Elise shouted as the favourite crossed the line first. “I've got a winner! Time for you to strip. Two items please.” she said, gleefully.

“There you go.” I said, taking my slippers off, “Now it’s your turn.” I reminded her.

“How come?” she questioned.

“My horse finished second at sixteen-to-one. That’s two items please.” I said, equally cheerfully.

“Damn!” she exclaimed, “I’d forgotten that!”

She went to take her stripey socks off but, because they were knee high and her jeans were really tight, she was struggling.

“If I’d known we were going to play this, I would’ve put ankle socks on.” she muttered.

“It would be easier if you took your jeans off first.” I said, rather helpfully I thought.

“In your dreams!” she said, still struggling with her socks. "I'll get there eventually." she added.

“I was only trying to be helpful.” I said.

“If you want to be helpful you can get me another drink.” she said.

“What would you like?” I asked.

“Can I have a gin this time?” she asked, “Better make it a large one!” she continued.

I left her to her struggles and went out to the kitchen. I poured gin into two glasses, a treble for Elise and a single for me. I topped them both up with tonic and added ice. When I returned to the living room with the drinks, Elise had got her socks off and put them with her slippers.

“Sorry, no lemon.” I said, as I handed her the gin. “I see you managed to remove your socks without having to take your jeans off then?” I commented.

“Just about.” she replied.

“That’s a shame.” I said, “I bet you look sexy in just your long socks.”

I was shocked at my own temerity at saying such a thing. I’d never said anything so forward to Elise in all the years I’d known her. She just huffed, and had a swig of her gin and tonic.

“Wow! That’s strong!” she said, sucking her cheeks in.

“You did ask for a large one.” I said, “I can put some more tonic in it if you want?” I continued.

“No. It’ll be fine. I need some Dutch Courage the way things are going” she said, and continued, “My turn to pick first I believe?”

“It is. There’s just six runners in the next, so only the first two count.” I said.

“Okay, I’ll have the favourite again – Number Two.” Elise said, positively.

“I thought you would!” I said.

The next race was a steeplechase where all the horses carried the same weight, so, in theory, the highest rated horse should win. Out of the six runners, one horse stood out, and this had been made odds-on favourite. No wonder Elise had chosen it; I would have done too. Of the remaining five, two were fairly well supported, and three were rank outsiders. I stuck to my strategy and picked one of the longer price runners, just hoping it may finish second.

“I’ll have Number Six.” I said, sounding defeated already.

The race was soon underway and my selection, along with one of the shorter price horses, set off in front. The favourite tracked them in third. As they turned for home my pick was still in second and I was beginning to think I might get a place. Elise looked glum. As they approached the second to last fence my horse weakened, and the favourite cruised past it. Elise suddenly became more animated. I knew I was beaten, so the best I could hope for was for the favourite to get beaten too. As they ran towards the finishing line the favourite never quite made up the ground on the leader, and finished a close second. My outsider finished last.

“I thought I was going to win that.” Elise said, sounding despondent. “Still, I got second. And better still – you were last.” she said, a little too cockily for my liking.

“Thanks for noticing.” I said, wryly.

“Take something off then.” she instructed.

I removed one of my socks, upset that Elise had got away without removing anything this time, and determined to make amends in the next race.

The next race was another hurdle race, but under the same conditions as the previous race, that is, all the horses carried the same weight. In theory, this meant the best horse should win, but as we’d seen in the last race, this wasn’t always guaranteed.

“My turn to pick first this time. And there’s eight runners so we’re back up to three places.” I said, “I think I’ll do your trick and pick the favourite, Number Two.” I confirmed.

“I was going to pick that one.” Elise said, disappointed. “I’ll have Number Three instead.”

I looked it up and saw that Number Three was quite well fancied too; there would be no double penalty on this race for either of us. The race was soon under way and the favourite that I’d selected took a commanding lead. The horse that Elise had picked was tailed off in last place.

“Well, you’ve won this.” Elise said, despairingly. “I may as well strip off now.” she continued.

The mere thought of Elise 'stripping off' gave me an ache in the groin, and I could feel my member swelling up. As the horses turned for home, the favourite’s lead was being reduced.

“He’s not won this yet.” I said.

Elise started cheering for the horse in second, and sure enough it passed the favourite right on the line.

“Phew! That was close!” Elise gasped.

“I thought I’d won that!” I said, downcast. To make matters worse, Elise’s selection had finished third, all-be-it a long way behind.

“Second and Third, that’s one item each.” I said, “Better than nothing I suppose.” I said, slightly more upbeat.

I took off my other sock and wondered what Elise was going to take off next. She pulled her white jumper up over her head, and for a moment I thought she didn’t have a tee shirt on underneath as I got sight of her bare stomach, and a glimpse of pink bra. Once she’d removed her jumper, she realised that the tee she was wearing had ridden up.

“Oops!” she said, and pulled it back down. “You didn’t see too much did you?” she asked, sounding embarrassed, and seeking reassurance.

“Not enough.” I quipped.

Her white tee was tight and made of thin cotton so that the colour and outline of her pink bra beneath was discernible. The tee was also a bit small, and as it stretched out over her ample breasts, it fitted her more like a crop top, leaving a band of her bare midriff exposed. The other thing that was noticeable, that I hadn’t taken account of, was that Elise was wearing a brown leather belt with her jeans. Something extra that I had to get off.

Elise took another sip of her gin; she’d already drank over half of it during the excitement of the last race.

“Whose turn is it to go first this time?” she asked, “I’ve lost track.”

“It’s your turn again.” I confirmed, delighted that she was carrying on, “There’s fourteen runners, so you need to finish in the first three this time to get me to take something off.”

“Oh, I will.” she said, sounding a bit too eager but also slightly slurred. “I’ll have the favourite again, that’s Number Two.” she continued.

“Now there’s a surprise!” I said, “There’s a pattern forming here.” I added.

The next race was another handicap, this time over fences rather than hurdles. The favourite had been well-backed, so there were plenty of long priced horses to pick from. I decided to stick with my strategy and picked an outsider.

“I’ll have Number Sixteen.” I said.

“You’ve got no chance!” Elise exclaimed.

The race was soon underway, and it looked as if Elise would be proved correct. By halfway my selection was struggling, and soon after that it was pulled up.

“I’ll not be taking anything off this time.” Elise said, “But it looks like you will be.” she continued excitedly.

As they turned in towards the finish, Elise’s selection, the favourite, looked all-over the winner.

“In fact, it looks like you’re going to be taking two items off.” she said enthusiastically.

Fortunately at the last fence, the favourite was joined by one of the other outsiders, who out jumped it and went on to win easily. The favourite came in a distant second.

Elise sighed, “At least you get to take one item off. And more importantly, I don’t get to remove anything.” she said. “What’s it going to be?” she asked.

“My hoodie.” I replied.

As I said it I lifted it over my head to reveal a red tee shirt underneath.

“I thought I was going to see you bare-chested.” Elise remarked, sounding disappointed.

I was surprised by her comment; she’d never shown any interest in my body before.

“You didn’t show me yours.” I laughed.

“I nearly did!” she giggled.

“That’s true.” I agreed. “We’ve got a bit of a wait now because it’s the National next. Fancy a top up?” I said.

“You trying to get me tipsy?” she giggled.

“Would I?” I laughed.

She handed me her glass, and I went out to the kitchen to do the refills. As before, I poured Elise a generous measure, but this time I did the same for myself. I thought I’d be needing some Dutch Courage too. I went back into the lounge to find Elise studying the form. I handed her drink over, which she supped with no comment on its strength this time.

“As it’s the National, and there are forty runners, I think we ought to have two choices each, and for the first six to count.” I suggested, hoping that Elise didn’t realise that a long-priced winner and place would amount to six items of clothing in total.

“Okay.” Elise said unperturbed, not looking up from the paper she was studying the form from.

The National is considered to be a bit of a lottery when it comes to betting. The large number of runners, the extreme distance, and the unusual fences, all contribute to making it an open race. In the past ten years only one favourite has prevailed, and most of the winners have been longer prices than our ten-to-one. Based on this, I decided to pick two outsiders.

“Ready to choose?” I said, “I think it’s my turn to go first. I’ll pick one, then you can pick one. Then I’ll pick my second choice, and you can pick yours.”

“Sugar!” Elise exclaimed, “You better not pick the ones I want.”

“I’ll try not to.” I said, “Right, I’ll pick Number Four first.” I added.

“That’s thirty-three-to-one.” Elise said, looking up the runners in the paper,“Okay. I’ll have Number Two.” she added.

“That’s the favourite.” I said, “Now there’s a surprise!” I was hoping for the poor record of favourites in the race continued.

“My second choice is Number Six.” I said.

Again, Elise looked it up.

“That’s fifty-to-one.” she said, “I guess I better pick an outsider as well. I’ll have Number Sixteen.”

I looked that one up.

“That’s twelve-to-one. Hardly an outsider.” I said.

“But it’s more than ten-to-one.” she said, "So you'll still have to take off double if it wins or places."

“Fair point. Well made” I conceded. It was actually a good ploy: I only wish I'd thought of it.

The excitement built as the horses gathered at the start. In the National, the first circuit is always a bit of a blur as there are so many horses. All you can hope for is that your selection is still involved as they start the second circuit.

“They’re off!” Elise shouted and edged forward excitedly on the sofa.

At the first fence there was quite a melee, and two horses unseated their riders. Fortunately, none of our selections were affected. Indeed, one of mine was in front for most of the first circuit. As they turned to go out for the second circuit, all our horses were still involved, all-be-it they were mid-division. Gradually the field thinned out, although there were still plenty in with chances. Both of Elise’s selections were prominent, as was one of mine. The other one of mine that had been at the front was dropping back quickly, and it was obvious it would take a miracle for it to be placed.

As they turned for home with two fences to jump, the favourite took the lead, going well. One other horse was alongside it, and the two pulled well clear of the rest.

“Yes! The favourite's got this!” Elise screamed, “Come on Number Two!”

“You’ve got first or second, provided it jumps the last” I conceded.

Both horses in front jumped the last fence well, and were neck and neck as they approached the finish. Elise cheered her selection all the way to the line, but it just got pipped at the post in an agonisingly close finish. As for the rest, they were so far behind, it wasn’t possible to tell where they’d finished.

“That was close.” I said, “You were unlucky.”

“Still, I got second.” Elise said, “You’ll have to take something off.”

“You did. Well done.” I said, and I removed my belt.

Then they confirmed the other places. One of my selections was placed fourth.

“I got a fourth at thirty-three-to-one!” I exclaimed, not believing my luck,“That’s two items!”

“Damn!” Elise muttered, and, like I had just done, she undid her belt, slid it from the loops at the top of her jeans and removed it.

“Are your jeans going to fall down?” I asked optimistically.

“I hope not.” Elise laughed.

“Oh, that’s a shame. Still one more item to go.” I said, trying to contain my excitement.

“I thought you’d forgotten.” she sighed, “I can't believe I agreed to this.”

She slowly lifted her white tee shirt up over her head and removed it completely. She sat on the sofa in her lacy pink bra, which was barely containing her ample breasts. It was also slightly sheer and I could discern the dark outline of her areola and nipples. I’d never seen this much of her before; she was as good as I imagined she would be. I never dreamt she’d go this far.

“Satisfied?” she said.

“Wow!” I exclaimed. “They’re great!” I continued, not able to hide my delight.

“Thank you.” Elise said, cupping her breasts in her hands and giving them a wobble. “I’m glad you like them.” she laughed, “I didn’t intend to go this far.” she conceded. "Good job I've had a few drinks."

“I’m glad you did!” I said, still gawping at her. “They’re tremendous!”

We’d never spoken so candidly or intimately before.

“Thank you.” Elise said again, then switched her attention back to the television. “You did say first six places didn’t you?” she asked.

“That’s right.” I said.

A smile spread across her face.

“My other horse finished fifth at twelve-to-one.” she grinned, “You’ve got to take two more items off.” she continued, barely containing her excitement.

I could feel my face flush as I took in what this meant.

“You’re going as red as your tee-shirt.” Elise laughed, “Come on then, strip off.” she persisted.

Resigned, I stood up. The first part was easy; I lifted my tee shirt up over my head and removed it. I knew I wasn’t as muscular as Elise’s regular boyfriends, but I did keep myself fairly trim.

“Not bad. Carry on.” Elise said eagerly, “This is actually quite good fun!” she laughed.

She was obviously enjoying this way too much. As for me, this next bit was going to be much more embarrassing. I moved my hands to the top of my jeans and unbuttoned the fly. I slowly lowered my jeans down over my thighs, knees, and ankles. I stepped out of them completely, and stood facing Elise. I was wearing tight black cotton boxers; made even tighter by the erection they were struggling to contain. Elise had noticed the bulge.

“Is that what I think it is?” she sniggered, indicating with her eyes what she was referring to.

“If you mean, have I got an erection? Then the answer is ‘yes’” I said, mortified. “But it's not surprising really, given how hot you are.”

“Naughty!” Elise smiled, “Although I suppose I should take that as a compliment!” she said.

“I wasn’t expecting either of us to go this far.” I admitted.

“Nor was I.” she said, “How about you get us some more drinks before the last race?” she continued, handing me her empty glass.

“You want to go on?” I asked, surprised.

“Of course.” she said, “There’s one more race, and I want to get your boxers off. Let's see what you're hiding in there.”

As I walked into the kitchen, I heard Elise say from behind me, “Nice bum.”

I smiled at the thought that she was actually admiring me. Something I never would have believed before. I returned with the drinks; I’d thought ‘What the heck’ and mixed a strong one for both of us. Elise took the drink from me and looked down at my lump.

“Not gone down yet then?” she laughed.

“Not yet.” I said, taking my seat. Changing the subject, I said, “Your turn to pick first; assuming you want to carry on?”

“Of course I want to carry on. My luck is in. And in any case, I’m desperate to see it now!” she smiled, then, not surprisingly added, “I’ll have the favourite, Number Fourteen.”

The final race on the card is traditionally the ‘Bumper’ or National Hunt flat race. Irish trained horses usually do well, but in recent years British horses had come to the fore. There had only been one favourite win in recent years, but they usually placed, which is all Elise needed to get my boxers off and see me naked. Sticking to my strategy, I picked an outsider.

“I’ll have Number Ten.” I said, not that confidently. “There’s eighteen runners so top four places?” I added.

“Suits me. I only need my horse to place to get your boxers off.” Elise said.

Elise edged forward on the sofa as the horses lined up at the start. After what seemed an age, the starter let them go.

“Come on Number Fourteen.” Elise shouted excitedly as the race started.

As is usual with the bumper, the horses set off at a fairly sedate pace. Both our selections were nearer the back than the front. As the pace quickened up, those at the front seemed to be getting away.

“We’ve got no chance.” Elise said resignedly, “Looks like you’ll be keeping your boxers on.”

“There’s still a long way to go.” I said, but also resigned to the fact that Elise wasn’t likely to be taking anything off either.

As they turned for home, both our selections made significant progress.

“They’re running on!” I shouted, as my selection went into fourth, but disappointingly, Elise’s pick moved into second. I thought that at least if Elise was going to see me naked, she was going to have to take something off too.

“Come on!” she screamed.

As the leader crossed the line, the next four horses, including both our selections, finished in a bit of a heap.

Elise was breathless. “Where did your horse finish?” she asked.

I thought mine had finished second or third, but it could quite as easily been fifth.

“I’m not sure.” I said, trying to hide the fact I thought I’d got a place. “Yours?” I asked.

“I’m not sure either.” Elise said, “I think it was fourth. It was four places wasn’t it?” she implored.

"We agreed to four places." I confirmed, thinking that I could just as easily be fourth.

"If I was fourth, your boxers will be coming off!" Elise said excitedly.

The judge had called a photograph finish for the places; we had an agonising wait. At last the result came through: second Number Ten – my selection; third Number Eleven; fourth Number Nineteen and fifth Number Fourteen – Elise’s selection.

“Yes!” I shouted, and punched the air.

“I don’t believe it!” Elise said, virtually dumbstruck. “What does that mean?”

“Mine was second at sixteen-to-one, which means you have to take off two items. And yours was fifth, which means you just missed out on a place.” I said, hardly able to contain my excitement.

“So, you don’t have to take off your boxers?” Elise sounded extremely disappointed.

Elise had been so obsessed with my perilous situation; I don’t think it had sunk in what it meant for her. She didn’t move.

“I'm afraid not." I said, relieved, then added gently, "Well?”

“Well what?” she replied, distractedly.

“My winnings?” I questioned, hesitantly.

I didn't want to sound too pushy. I wasn't convinced she would go any further. Indeed, I was resigned to the fact I’d probably seen as much of her as I was going to. Then, to my astonishment, Elise slowly stood up and turned to face me. I couldn’t believe it, was she really going to do it?

“Oh, Okay. I suppose I should.” she said, resignedly, “What did I say at the start – I won’t go too far! I can’t believe I’m doing this." she continued, and took a deep breath.

Her hands moved to the top of her faded-blue denim jeans. I was so close I could see that her fingers were trembling as she undid the button at the top and slid the zip fly down. As she parted the jeans prior to pulling them down, I got my first view of the pink panties she was wearing underneath. It wasn’t long before they were in full view. Her jeans were now around her ankles, and she stepped out of them. Straight away I noticed that her panties - which were lacy and matched her bra - were slightly sheer. From my vantage point, I could discern the outline of her slit. Elise could see where I was looking.

"You're staring!" she said, then added, “You like my panties?”

“They’re very pretty.” I said, still staring.

“They’re see-through, aren’t they?” Elise asked, sounding concerned.

“Only very slightly.” I admitted, not wishing to overly embarrass her.

“I was worried they might me.” Elise said., "I trust you can't see too much!"

She quickly dropped her hands down in front of her, and positioned them to cover her embarrassment. I stared at her glorious body as she coyly stood facing me in just her underwear. She seemed hesitant; I wasn’t sure if she’d lost track of what she’d taken off, or was too shy to carry on. Who could blame her if she was?

“Don't forget my horse was sixteen-to-one, so you're supposed to be removing two items.” I said, more in hope than in anticipation.

“Really?" she sounded exasperated, "You can't be serious?"

"I was just reminding you in case you’d forgotten." I said.

“Do you really expect me to take my bra off?” she questioned.

“It's either that or your panties?” I responded hopefully.

If, at this stage, Elise had said she wasn’t prepared to go any further, I would have fully accepted it. As she stood in front of me in her pretty pink bra and matching panties, I’d already seen much, much more than I expected to when we started out. It was completely understandable if she wanted to stop now.

"Oh, alright.” she sighed, “Whatever.”

I couldn’t believe it – she was going to do it! My mouth went dry, and it felt as if my heart stopped beating. She ceased covering her panties, and put both her hands behind her back to unfasten her bra. Once it was undone, she slowly let it fall so that her ample breasts were exposed. They were gorgeous. Now, I know I am biased, but to my mind, her breasts were perfect.

“Oh my God!” I exclaimed.

“Happy now?” she said.

She tossed her bra onto the sofa. She was standing in front of me in just her sheer, pink panties, which she wasn’t even bothering to cover up. My heart was now racing. I couldn’t believe Elise was showing me so much. I was rendered virtually speechless. Eventually, I managed to regain some composure.

“Wow!” I gasped, “I really didn’t expect you to do that.”

“I certainly wasn’t intending to go anywhere near this far.” she admitted, “If you’d told me at the start that I could end up topless, I would never have agreed to it.”

“I honestly wasn’t expecting either of us to go this far.” I said, trying to remain composed, “You can’t imagine how long I’ve wanted to see you like this. I continued breathlessly.

“Well, I trust it was worth the wait?” she said.

“More than!” I said, “I always knew you would be stunning, and I was right.”

Elise seemed disarmed by the compliment.

“Thank you.” she said, “I never realised you were that into me.”

“I’ve always fancied you.” I confessed, “But I try to suppress my feelings toward you because I knew you were out of my league.” I conceded.

Elise didn’t deny it or give me any comfort that there was any future in our relationship. Instead, she moved the conversation on.

“I still don’t know how you beat me?” she said, “I was sure I placed in the last race.”

“I thought you had too. It was certainly close.” I admitted, “I honestly thought you’d got me naked!”

“So did I!” she said, despondently, "Would you really have taken off your boxers?" she asked.

"Of course." I confirmed, "I was ready to."

"So, I would have seen your stiffy?" she giggled.

"Yes. You would have seen everything." I confirmed.

“Everything?” Elise laughed, "I would have liked that."

I noticed Elise's nipples were hardening. Was she really getting turned on by our conversation, and by the thought of me naked?

“As it was so close, how about I give you a quick peek?” I said.

“Go on then.” Elise sniggered.

I stood up and faced her. The swelling in my pants was bigger than ever.

“You’ve still got a hard-on then?” she noted, looking at my bulge.

“Not surprising is it really, given what I can see?” I chuckled.

“Let me have a peek then.” Elise persisted.

I slowly pulled my pants down; my erect member poked out of the top and pointed directly at Elise. I watched her face, and saw that she was looking directly at it with a broad smile. Once it was out, I thought ‘What the heck!’ and let my briefs fall to the floor. I stepped out of them and stood in front of her totally naked. My erection was as hard and as big as I'd ever known it. I must admit that even I was surprised by it. I hoped Elise was impressed.

“That’s more than a peek!” she laughed, "I wasn't expecting that!"

“To be fair, I wasn’t expecting to see as much of you.” I admitted, “Your panties are more than slightly see through.”

“I may as well take them off then.” Elise grinned.

"Y-you wouldn't?" I stammered.

"Wouldn't I?" she giggled, "Watch me!"

As she spoke, she moved her hands to the top of her panties and, without hesitation, pulled them down so that everything was fully revealed. I gasped as I took in the splendid view of her most intimate parts. Some girls disappoint when they are naked: Elise certainly didn't.

As we stood facing each other both completely exposed, the presenter on the TV announced, “That concludes our racing coverage from Aintree. I trust you enjoyed the racing, and didn’t lose too much.”

We just looked at each other and laughed.

THE END

© Copyright 2022