Paul stepped back, admiring his handiwork as Laura pressed up against him from behind, her hands rubbing over his body.
"All set?" She asked. He smiled as he let her touch him.
"Yes, ready." he replied.
Her hands reached lower, feeling his hardness even against the crotch of his jeans. "May I have the first turn?" said Laura, her voice sultry and deep, with just a hint of pleading.
Paul turned to face her, and their eyes met even as her body pressed against his. He knew this game, and she was good at it.
"Why should you have the first turn? I've done all the set-up."
"Ah, but if it weren't for me to begin with..."
"TouchΓ©'. So how do we resolve this?"
"You aren't giving in?" Her eyes fluttered slightly as she ever-so-slightly pressed her body harder against his crotch, eliciting the desired intake of breath.
"No." he replied, quickly re-establishing his composure.
"Well then," she said, pulling away from him. "It seems we are at an impasse. I propose a challenge to address the issue."
"Oh?" Paul said, his tone neutral.
"Oh, indeed. My proposition is as follows: First one to make the other cum wins, and gets the first turn." Paul looked at her then, trying to sense if she was joking. Her tone was serious, and she looked him right in the eye.
He walked up to her, and she didn't backpedal. Once more they were body to body, eye to eye, each stealing a secret glance to the corner of the room every now and then.
"Vegas wouldn't like my odds," he said finally. "What's the spread?"
"No spread," she replied immediately. "But," she paused for effect, "I suppose I see your point, some ground rules are in order to make things 'fair'. First, we must stay in a position where we can pleasure one another. No moving so you can touch me and I can't touch you."
"Fine," he said, "fair enough. But I want a five minute warm-up first. No touching my cock, and I can't touch your pussy. Everything else is game though."
"Warm up?" she cried, her hand rubbing his crotch through his jeans. "I don't think you need a warm up, baby..."
"I mean to warm you up. It's only fair, given that men excite more quickly than women."
"Oh, you think I'm not warmed up?" she purred. "Have a feel." With that she pulled up her skirt, and led his hand underneath, pushing aside her panties.
"Well then," he said, licking his fingers slowly, savoring the taste. "It seems you don't need a warm-up. Even so, it would be to my advantage, so I demand it. Five minutes."
She sighed. "Fine. Any other demands?"
"I don't suppose it would be too much to ask for the use of a vib-"
"No way," she whispered, stretching out the words. "You have to earn this. Besides, look at what is at stake."
He nodded solemnly, glancing across the room once again. His arms wrapped around her. Their lips met. The warm-up had begun.
Their bodies pressed together tightly, though they tried (hopelessly) to avoid the rule of no genital contact. Paul blatantly disregarded it when he spun her around, pressing her up against the wall from behind, rubbing himself against her ass. Though, he reflected later, he was hurting himself most in the position, and she didn't complain.