United Kingdom Snooker Championships - the alternative commentry - Rape Board

pantyhosethief · 12-13-2009, 09:36 AM

Well, I watched the snooker yesterday on the telly. And as usual, I found a girl in the audience to obsess about. The chance of an upskirt must be a million to one, but you can always hope.

Anyway, I woke up this morning and this just sprang into my head.

Names have been slightly changed to protect the innocent.

Hopefully some people on this board watch the snooker and know wtf I'm going on about

----------

If you don't know, by the way, snooker is like pool. But better.

pantyhosethief · 12-13-2009, 09:37 AM

Well, here again. Semi-final at the United Kingdom Snooker Championships. I love snooker. That's why I always try and get a job at the contest venues. Nothing fancy, bouncer, usher, whatever. Just a chance to meet the players, feel the atmosphere, be part of it. This year I'm arena security. I sit on one of the little chairs under the commentary box in case some nutjob from the audience decides to swing the frame in his hero's favour.

The world's number 1 seed versus the world champion. What a joy to watch. Ironically, from my seat I have a rubbish view of the table, but it's all there on the big TVs around the little arena to help the audience anyway. Best of both worlds.

Oh, that's a bad miss.

Yes, I love snooker. I also love girls.

Hang on, that could be misinterpreted. Don't want you to think I'm all soppy. Let's say ... I enjoy girls.

At the moment I'm enjoying the bad Miss sitting two rows behind the world number 1's seat. I can't actually see her from my chair, but there she is on the screen, everytime the camera shows the yellow corner of the table. usually out of focus since they are trying to show the players, worse luck. Brown tights on crossed legs, that what grabs my attention. Over the next 8 frames, I build up a picture from glimpses on the screen... hair pulled back... amused eyes... wide mouth, and rounded cheeks... pert. Not too attractive actually. But she does it for me.

I get up at the interval and try and see her in person. There she goes, up the aisle. Lovely bottom.

She's there again for the second session. What a session it it. Look's like Jon has won hands down, then Ron comes all the way back... frame after frame he gets... I forget about Miss Legs for a bit. Almost. Jon clinches it in the final frame. What a match. We've had it all today.

The two champions are shaking hands... people clap, cheer... most are already thinking about tomorrow's final as they get up to leave.

Actually, I haven't had it all today. Yet. I want more.

I get up, down the corridor, up the stairs, into the lobby. Excuse me miss, aren't you Miss Snellington from The Sun? Going to get an interview?

"Eh? No, you must have me confused with someone else."

Oh. Really? I was told to find Miss Snellington, bring her to Ron. .... hey, do you want to meet him?

"Ron! Oh yes!"

Me to. Tell you what, we'll pretend there's been some misunderstanding... we'll both get to meet him, and maybe we can hang around him for a while. What do you think?

"*giggle* OK"

Head out of the lobby, into a side corridor. Head into a broom cupboard. Head into a sack (her, not me.)

.
.
.

(later)

OK, let's get the girl... on the baize!

pantyhosethief · 12-13-2009, 09:38 AM

She's waking. Bright light, hanging over her. Hard surface, lying down. Wrists and ankles bound. There's something in her mouth.

Have you ever tried to put a full size competition size snooker ball into someone's mouth? Even when they're unconscious? Bloody hard, let me tell you. Even when they have a wide mouth like she does. I had to dislocate her jaw in the end. Then pop it back afterwards. She won't be spitting that out in a hurry.

The shiny red surface glistens between her teeth. I've got her tied at the baulk end, wrists to the baulk end pockets, ankles to the tight middles.

pantyhosethief · 12-13-2009, 09:38 AM

I get on the table and peek up her skirt. Lovely rich brown tights. Looks like white knickers beneath, so sensible. I tear open the crotch of her hose. Damn, won't be able to wear them later... they'll still do as a trophy though. Warm white cotton beneath. Easily cut. She's shaved, beneath.

Hussy. Sitting in the second row at an important professional snooker match... everyone in the room serious, intent, concentrating on the art on the table... and she's secretly shaved. Sexual. I bet she was thinking about sex when that pivotal pink ball was missed. When that bizarre incident with the foul ball occurred. It's sacrilegious really.

I go down to the top of the table, get the long rest and long cue. Tip like a fruit pastille, they alway say on the telly. I line up, take a few shots. In and out of her hole, brushing her each time. Oh dear, mis-cue. Got her urethra. She flinched quite badly. Who knew someone could make such a noise with a snooker ball in their mouth?

When I pull the tip back, she starts pissing. Must have weakened some sphincter, or maybe it's just fear. Urine all over table. Oh dear, that's not going to do the cloth any good at all.

pantyhosethief · 12-13-2009, 09:39 AM

I want to talk to her about that. I mean, I want her to talk with me. To apologise. Damn. Got to get that ball out again. Oh well, I know the drill by now. Grip.. (squirm...) twist... (SQUIRM!!!!)... pop, pop... jaw dislocated again. Fish the ball out. Pop, pop... that's a nasty noise, isn't it? Her jaw is back in place though. I wonder how many times you can dislocate someone's jaw bone before it's unfixable.

I wonder who'll win tomorrow's final. Jon would normally beat Din, but he's had a hard match today.

Ah, she's finally come round.

"Pleesh... le m go... pleessh".

You've probably ruined the table you know. It's going to be all sticky for tomorrow's final. How's that going to look, Jon puts on a bit of check side, key shot of the 16th frame, oh dear, the table was all wet with your piss and he's gone in off?

She turns her head to one side and vomits. Copiously. Jesus. Into the bottom left pocket, into the crack beneath the cushion. The nap is going to be ruined.

pantyhosethief · 12-13-2009, 09:40 AM

I don't know about you, but a puking girl really does it for me. I'll worry about the cloth and the apology later. For now I'm too busy untying her legs, and re-tying them to the corner pockets with her ankles. Push her skirt up.

What a position. Hmmm... got a choice... the easy pink or the tricky brown.

I nominate brown.

They've been saying all week how tight the pockets are. But I stretch both cushions open, and down I go. I think this is going to be a long, high scoring break.
.
.
.
White in the pocket. Damn, that'll get called foul. Still, after I took the brown I got red. (Trickling out around my "cue" as she mewls.)

pantyhosethief · 12-13-2009, 09:41 AM

I tear open her blouse. A thin snick, her bra is open. I spend some time chalking her tips. The friction seems to arouse her, at least, she makes quite a lot of noise. Does that count?

pantyhosethief · 12-13-2009, 09:41 AM

Time to take the pink. I just need a slight angle... there I go. I'm cueing well today. Just look at my action, my head barely moving as I punch through the object. Superb concentration.

Ow, got a kick. Good job her ankle is well bound, still, knee to the face isn't very good.

I'm on for a maximum break here... the crowd holds its breath... I can feel her cervix now... oh YES.

The screams and roars of appreciation ring out round the arena.

pantyhosethief · 12-13-2009, 09:42 AM

It took me two hours to clean the table. I'm careful; I don't want anything to spoil the final.

Looking forward to the final, my dear? So am I. I think I'll be watching it from home though, might be unwise to still be in the arena.

I switch off the arena lights. She's in for a long night. And a long morning.

And, as it turns out, a long afternoon session. It doesn't help that they have to find a new set of snooker balls before they start. And in the evening session, who'd have guessed, it goes to the final frame. And she gets to see all the action. At least, all the footwork. It's only when the gallant loser shakes hands in defeat, waves to the crowd, and bends down to get his cue extension from the floor that she's finally noticed, strapped beneath the table.

Still, at least the mystery of where the missing balls went is solved.

Skirt-fun · 12-30-2009, 08:51 AM

Excellent. It really pisses me off to be honest that people like yourself put so much effort into stories like this and only a handful of people, in some cases nobody has has the courtesy of leaving feedback, even a quick nice one or even some constructive feedback. Right im off my soap box. I like your idea anyway, being a fellow brit maybe i appreciate it more!

12-13-2009, 09:36 AM	#1
pantyhosethief Senior Member Join Date: Nov 2009 Location: London Posts: 160 Reputation: 2493	United Kingdom Snooker Championships - the alternative commentry Well, I watched the snooker yesterday on the telly. And as usual, I found a girl in the audience to obsess about. The chance of an upskirt must be a million to one, but you can always hope. Anyway, I woke up this morning and this just sprang into my head. Names have been slightly changed to protect the innocent. Hopefully some people on this board watch the snooker and know wtf I'm going on about ---------- If you don't know, by the way, snooker is like pool. But better. __________________ De gustibus non est disputandum. There's no accounting for taste. Last edited by pantyhosethief; 12-13-2009 at 09:44 AM.

12-13-2009, 09:37 AM	#2
pantyhosethief Senior Member Join Date: Nov 2009 Location: London Posts: 160 Reputation: 2493	Let's get the girl.. on the baize Well, here again. Semi-final at the United Kingdom Snooker Championships. I love snooker. That's why I always try and get a job at the contest venues. Nothing fancy, bouncer, usher, whatever. Just a chance to meet the players, feel the atmosphere, be part of it. This year I'm arena security. I sit on one of the little chairs under the commentary box in case some nutjob from the audience decides to swing the frame in his hero's favour. The world's number 1 seed versus the world champion. What a joy to watch. Ironically, from my seat I have a rubbish view of the table, but it's all there on the big TVs around the little arena to help the audience anyway. Best of both worlds. Oh, that's a bad miss. Yes, I love snooker. I also love girls. Hang on, that could be misinterpreted. Don't want you to think I'm all soppy. Let's say ... I enjoy girls. At the moment I'm enjoying the bad Miss sitting two rows behind the world number 1's seat. I can't actually see her from my chair, but there she is on the screen, everytime the camera shows the yellow corner of the table. usually out of focus since they are trying to show the players, worse luck. Brown tights on crossed legs, that what grabs my attention. Over the next 8 frames, I build up a picture from glimpses on the screen... hair pulled back... amused eyes... wide mouth, and rounded cheeks... pert. Not too attractive actually. But she does it for me. I get up at the interval and try and see her in person. There she goes, up the aisle. Lovely bottom. She's there again for the second session. What a session it it. Look's like Jon has won hands down, then Ron comes all the way back... frame after frame he gets... I forget about Miss Legs for a bit. Almost. Jon clinches it in the final frame. What a match. We've had it all today. The two champions are shaking hands... people clap, cheer... most are already thinking about tomorrow's final as they get up to leave. Actually, I haven't had it all today. Yet. I want more. I get up, down the corridor, up the stairs, into the lobby. Excuse me miss, aren't you Miss Snellington from The Sun? Going to get an interview? "Eh? No, you must have me confused with someone else." Oh. Really? I was told to find Miss Snellington, bring her to Ron. .... hey, do you want to meet him? "Ron! Oh yes!" Me to. Tell you what, we'll pretend there's been some misunderstanding... we'll both get to meet him, and maybe we can hang around him for a while. What do you think? "giggle OK" Head out of the lobby, into a side corridor. Head into a broom cupboard. Head into a sack (her, not me.) . . . (later) OK, let's get the girl... on the baize! __________________ De gustibus non est disputandum. There's no accounting for taste.

12-13-2009, 09:38 AM	#3
pantyhosethief Senior Member Join Date: Nov 2009 Location: London Posts: 160 Reputation: 2493	Red She's waking. Bright light, hanging over her. Hard surface, lying down. Wrists and ankles bound. There's something in her mouth. Have you ever tried to put a full size competition size snooker ball into someone's mouth? Even when they're unconscious? Bloody hard, let me tell you. Even when they have a wide mouth like she does. I had to dislocate her jaw in the end. Then pop it back afterwards. She won't be spitting that out in a hurry. The shiny red surface glistens between her teeth. I've got her tied at the baulk end, wrists to the baulk end pockets, ankles to the tight middles. __________________ De gustibus non est disputandum. There's no accounting for taste.

12-13-2009, 09:38 AM	#4
pantyhosethief Senior Member Join Date: Nov 2009 Location: London Posts: 160 Reputation: 2493	Yellow I get on the table and peek up her skirt. Lovely rich brown tights. Looks like white knickers beneath, so sensible. I tear open the crotch of her hose. Damn, won't be able to wear them later... they'll still do as a trophy though. Warm white cotton beneath. Easily cut. She's shaved, beneath. Hussy. Sitting in the second row at an important professional snooker match... everyone in the room serious, intent, concentrating on the art on the table... and she's secretly shaved. Sexual. I bet she was thinking about sex when that pivotal pink ball was missed. When that bizarre incident with the foul ball occurred. It's sacrilegious really. I go down to the top of the table, get the long rest and long cue. Tip like a fruit pastille, they alway say on the telly. I line up, take a few shots. In and out of her hole, brushing her each time. Oh dear, mis-cue. Got her urethra. She flinched quite badly. Who knew someone could make such a noise with a snooker ball in their mouth? When I pull the tip back, she starts pissing. Must have weakened some sphincter, or maybe it's just fear. Urine all over table. Oh dear, that's not going to do the cloth any good at all. __________________ De gustibus non est disputandum. There's no accounting for taste.

12-13-2009, 09:39 AM	#5
pantyhosethief Senior Member Join Date: Nov 2009 Location: London Posts: 160 Reputation: 2493	Green I want to talk to her about that. I mean, I want her to talk with me. To apologise. Damn. Got to get that ball out again. Oh well, I know the drill by now. Grip.. (squirm...) twist... (SQUIRM!!!!)... pop, pop... jaw dislocated again. Fish the ball out. Pop, pop... that's a nasty noise, isn't it? Her jaw is back in place though. I wonder how many times you can dislocate someone's jaw bone before it's unfixable. I wonder who'll win tomorrow's final. Jon would normally beat Din, but he's had a hard match today. Ah, she's finally come round. "Pleesh... le m go... pleessh". You've probably ruined the table you know. It's going to be all sticky for tomorrow's final. How's that going to look, Jon puts on a bit of check side, key shot of the 16th frame, oh dear, the table was all wet with your piss and he's gone in off? She turns her head to one side and vomits. Copiously. Jesus. Into the bottom left pocket, into the crack beneath the cushion. The nap is going to be ruined. __________________ De gustibus non est disputandum. There's no accounting for taste.

12-13-2009, 09:40 AM	#6
pantyhosethief Senior Member Join Date: Nov 2009 Location: London Posts: 160 Reputation: 2493	Brown I don't know about you, but a puking girl really does it for me. I'll worry about the cloth and the apology later. For now I'm too busy untying her legs, and re-tying them to the corner pockets with her ankles. Push her skirt up. What a position. Hmmm... got a choice... the easy pink or the tricky brown. I nominate brown. They've been saying all week how tight the pockets are. But I stretch both cushions open, and down I go. I think this is going to be a long, high scoring break. . . . White in the pocket. Damn, that'll get called foul. Still, after I took the brown I got red. (Trickling out around my "cue" as she mewls.) __________________ De gustibus non est disputandum. There's no accounting for taste.

12-13-2009, 09:41 AM	#7
pantyhosethief Senior Member Join Date: Nov 2009 Location: London Posts: 160 Reputation: 2493	Blue I tear open her blouse. A thin snick, her bra is open. I spend some time chalking her tips. The friction seems to arouse her, at least, she makes quite a lot of noise. Does that count? __________________ De gustibus non est disputandum. There's no accounting for taste.

12-13-2009, 09:41 AM	#8
pantyhosethief Senior Member Join Date: Nov 2009 Location: London Posts: 160 Reputation: 2493	Pink Time to take the pink. I just need a slight angle... there I go. I'm cueing well today. Just look at my action, my head barely moving as I punch through the object. Superb concentration. Ow, got a kick. Good job her ankle is well bound, still, knee to the face isn't very good. I'm on for a maximum break here... the crowd holds its breath... I can feel her cervix now... oh YES. The screams and roars of appreciation ring out round the arena. __________________ De gustibus non est disputandum. There's no accounting for taste.

12-13-2009, 09:42 AM	#9
pantyhosethief Senior Member Join Date: Nov 2009 Location: London Posts: 160 Reputation: 2493	Black It took me two hours to clean the table. I'm careful; I don't want anything to spoil the final. Looking forward to the final, my dear? So am I. I think I'll be watching it from home though, might be unwise to still be in the arena. I switch off the arena lights. She's in for a long night. And a long morning. And, as it turns out, a long afternoon session. It doesn't help that they have to find a new set of snooker balls before they start. And in the evening session, who'd have guessed, it goes to the final frame. And she gets to see all the action. At least, all the footwork. It's only when the gallant loser shakes hands in defeat, waves to the crowd, and bends down to get his cue extension from the floor that she's finally noticed, strapped beneath the table. Still, at least the mystery of where the missing balls went is solved. __________________ De gustibus non est disputandum. There's no accounting for taste.

12-30-2009, 08:51 AM	#10
Skirt-fun Member Join Date: Dec 2009 Location: Yorkshire Posts: 67 Reputation: 2897	Excellent. It really pisses me off to be honest that people like yourself put so much effort into stories like this and only a handful of people, in some cases nobody has has the courtesy of leaving feedback, even a quick nice one or even some constructive feedback. Right im off my soap box. I like your idea anyway, being a fellow brit maybe i appreciate it more!