This is my first attempt writing from the male perspective so bear with me, I hope you enjoy it.
*
It was Susan Sarandon that started this thing, not that she knows about it, but indirectly it was her.
My wife, Wendy, swore blind it was Geena Davis in the Witches of Eastwick with Cher and Michelle Pfeiffer, and it was Honor Blackman in the Rocky Horror Picture Show, I knew it was Susan Sarandon in both, but she was having none of it.
She poked me in the chest telling me she was right and would prove it, as I don't have a death wish I was being as non-confrontational as I could while maintaining my position that I was right.
"Well, Steve, if you're that confident put your money where your mouth is." It was only because she came up with the challenge that I felt safe betting, I was convinced, no, I knew I was right but the rational part of me whispered in my head.
"Don't make it too big a risk, don't make it too humiliating or expensive, there's always a risk you're wrong or you're right and she gets even more annoyed at her forfeit."
"OK, I'll bet a blowjob." I thought that would be perfect as a solution, it's not like it's something she wouldn't do relatively happily anyway, and I could claim it when we were out walking in the forest near our home or something.
"Oh, and when you're wrong, who are you going to blow?" she still thought she was right.
"OK, make it five minutes of whatever you want from the other person, I warn you now my five minutes will be a blowjob. If you're right you can have whatever you fancy."
She was laughing at me, which was a good sign, even if she lost it wasn't going to be a bad reaction.
"OK, I get five minutes of whatever I want from you, I warn you it may be ironing or filling my car with petrol. Don't get your hopes up."
I agreed. She nodded and kissed me, whispering "OK, let's put this to bed." Then louder "Alexa, who starred in the Rocky Horror Picture Show"
The disembodied voice gave us the news, Tim Curry, Brad Bostwick, Susan Sarandon, Richard O'Brien
"Alexa stop, Alexa who starred in the Witches of Eastwick?"
Again, she doled out the names, Jack Nicholson, Cher, Susan Sarandon, Michelle Pfeiffer
"Alexa stop. OK. You win. Five minutes. Set your watch." She started kneeling, I nearly went with it which might have saved the problems later, but I stopped her.
"No, I get to choose when I get my five minutes, besides we could have another bet and you might win it back. I really liked that film with Melanie Griffiths in it, what was it...Steel Magnolias?"
She laughed again, clearly I wasn't in too much trouble for being right, agreeing that I could claim my five minutes at a time of my choosing, within reason, and she might try and win it back, oh and I hated Steel Magnolias.
So, we started a thing, we'd bet each other five minutes on what we'd seen that actor in before or whether we had a spare packet of tea in the house or... you get the idea, any of the dozen things a day you might discuss with your significant other.
Sometimes we'd win back our time, sometimes we'd call it in. Inevitably it ended up being almost exclusively sexual in repayment when I won, and annoying errands from her, largely because we neither really minded and it was only ever about having a laugh.
Where it went wrong was when we went away for a long weekend with her friend Diane and Diane's husband Grahame. Wendy and Diane went back to school together, which, as Wendy's thirty-one now, three years younger than me, and they first met when they were both eleven must be around twenty years now. They first met each other when Diane turned up in the second term of St Peter's Street County Secondary school in Leatherhead. Diane was the dark-haired troublemaker, Wendy was the blonde-haired innocent led astray, or so Wendy tried to claim. Diane saw it the other way round, needless to say the trouble they got into got more interesting the older they got.
It can't have been too bad because they both passed A levels and got places at the same university, Leeds, on a Design and Textiles course. I heard a few stories from their time there, but it was all a long time before I met Wendy so as far as I was concerned what happened in the past was her business, not mine. I was more interested in our future than her past.
Grahame I knew a bit, from days out as couples, we didn't have a massive amount in common, he worked in management at a quarry not too far off, I was a technical design engineer in a micro-electronics company. He was a football fan, making the pilgrimage to Portsmouth most weeks to watch Pompey get beaten, whereas I was into motorsports, specifically Bike racing, helping my mate Barry out as a mechanic four or five times a season at places like Donnington Park and Thruxton. He had a Yamaha R1 that he raced in an open club series, I'd tweaked the engine mapping for him to boost his power output from 197 Bhp to 235 Bhp, which made a massive difference, it gave him more acceleration, higher top speeds, and better fuel economy so fewer pitstops on endurance races. OK, I'll shut up about bikes now, apart from to say I had a shiny MV Augusta that I took out on sunny days.
What I'm getting at was that Grahame was OK, but he drank Lager, I drank Bitter, he liked Heavy Metal, I liked Indie bands, he thought Harley Davidsons were nice, I thought they were agricultural pieces of junk that didn't deserve the name motorbike. He liked all-inclusive holidays in Ibiza or Cancun, and I liked holidays in mainland Europe off the beaten track, but we got on well enough that a long weekend didn't seem too bad an idea, besides which Wendy and Diane were both nice to look at and we were going to Center Parcs. We would be staying in one of the mid-range places with a fire and hydrobath, whatever a hydrobath is. My point being, there were always plenty of things to do at Center Parcs, even if they cost a bit, so we didn't need to entertain each other.
We arrived separately, Wendy and I were there first and got the welcome news that our lodge had suffered a burst water pipe in the kitchen and needed to be redecorated so we were being upgraded to one of the super-duper numero uno lodges with Log Burner, Sauna, Hot tub, and private sun deck.
Feeling quite smug we unloaded the car and while I parked it up Wendy fired up the Sauna, I got back twenty minutes later to find her wrapped only in a towel sitting in the stripped pine glowing pink. I'd taken twenty minutes for a five-minute job because I'd cycled down to the food shop and bought a box of wine and a 12 pack of Timothy Taylor's Landlord Bitter from the chiller section, we already had a case of craft lager sitting in the fridge as a compromise between what Grahame liked and what I liked.
I peeled down to a towel myself, poured a large Pinot Grigio and a pint and joined her in the dry heat. We had a couple of hours to ourselves, Graham finished at 3 on a Friday but Diane worked in a buying office in London for a fashion chain and wouldn't leave until 5, home by 6.30, with us by 8.
We'd agreed to wait until they arrived to eat at the onsite pizzeria. It was just coming up to 6, and neither of us had eaten since lunch so the drinks got us a bit giggly quite quickly.
"Wend, babe. How many five minutes do you owe me?"
She was leaning back against wall with her eyes closed, her towel had slipped down so her lovely 32D boobs were looking me in the eye, and very nice they are too.
"I owe you four sets of five minutes; you owe me three. Oh no, not now, it's too hot sweets."
I grimaced in mock sorrow, "Well, I'd love to help, but you know, rules is rules. Once the five minutes have been called, and there's no danger of being seen, well, that's it. Everyone's committed. It's out of my hands."
I stood up, quickly ran back to the kitchen and refilled her glass, well plastic beaker actually, you try drinking from glass in a Sauna, it gets stupidly hot. We were using Starbucks reusable cups as they were insulated and kept the wine or beer cool without burning your lips.
When I got back she'd moved, her towel was rolled up under her knees and he was tapping her finger on the bench theatrically. "Well come on, you called five minutes, and you've wasted forty-five seconds already. You know, rules is rules, it's out of my hands."
If you look up 'Hoist by his own petard' in the dictionary there's probably a picture of me looking stupid. I put the two drinks down on the floor and jumped up on the bench, opening my towel as I got there. Wendy smiled at me, her shoulder length blonde hair sticking to her face with sweat, took a long drink of her wine and grabbed hold of the base of my cock. She swallowed the wine, licked her lips and opened her mouth wide, holding the tip upright she pushed out her tongue and licked around the rim, then closed her lips and sucked it hard, pulling it into her delicate, warm, wet mouth. In moments I was swollen to my full size, all ten, well six inches of me. I looked down, watching her run up and down the shaft, slowing to hold the head in her full, pink lips, then lashing me with her tongue before ramming it as far into her throat as she could.
She paused for a moment to check her watch, I still had thirty seconds to go. I could feel her working her magic around the ridge inside her mouth, I was swelling more as I got close.
"Wendy, I'm going to cum, are you ready?"
She held me in her mouth and nodded, then looked at her watch.
"Oh, sorry sweets, time's up. You know I'd like nothing more than to finish, but like you said. Rules is rules."
Remember that petard thing? Yeah. That's me again.
We'd set some rules, basically as follows: