Honouring the Wager

"You lost the bet. Time to pay up."

I bite my lip in frustration. You're right. I lost. It grieves me to have to admit that I made an error in judgment when I challenged you to that trivia board game last night. I was so sure I had it in the bag. But you pulled it out with the last answer and won the final pie piece with one stupid answer: "The Caspian Sea". Bastard.

We've been walking for awhile and have reached a small clearing in the woods. The tall poplar trees rise up at all sides, above and around us. The wind is rustling the leaves; the only other sound is the drone of the June bugs. On a lazy, hot summer afternoon like this, all the smart people are inside in air conditioning. They're certainly not out tramping through the woods.

We stop walking and I look around us. The spot you've chosen is very isolated. No doubt about it. We are very much alone.

You look at me. Your eyes are sparkling but otherwise your face is expressionless.

"Sit there." You motion to the picnic table. "No, not on the bench. On the table part."

I obey. I have no choice. I did lose the bet, after all.

I sit on the edge of the table, facing out. You walk slowly up to stand close to me. I can't read your expression.

One kiss, suddenly, on my mouth, warm, inviting. Another on my neck. It catches me by surprise and you draw back to look at me.

"You okay?" you ask. I give you a half-smile in assent.

Your fingers are at the top button of my dress. "I trust you did what I instructed." I nod, saying nothing. "No bra?" I shake my head. "No panties? No? Good girl."

You undo the next button, then the next. I'm wearing a long dress that has buttons all the way down the front. This might take awhile.

And you certainly are taking your time. Your slow pace is infuriating. After each button that comes undone your eyes glance up to mine, watching, observing. I keep my face expressionless and stare straight ahead. I'll be damned if I give you any sign of encouragement. The whole trivia game betting thing was a stupid idea anyway. Well, maybe not that stupid. But it would have been a less stupid idea if I had won.

You've made your way through five buttons. My dress is hanging open slightly. You stop undoing the buttons and put your head to one side, watching my face as your fingers start stroking the hollow between my breasts. I'm determined to give you no sign, no feedback and manage to keep my face expressionless.

Another couple of buttons are undone and you slide the loosened dress down over my naked shoulders so that I'm completely exposed from the waist up. The summer breeze blows over me. Even though it's warm, I shiver.

"Your nipples are kind of hard."

"It's the breeze," I lie.

"Oh," you say. "I see."

Without another word your hands are on my breasts, playing with just the very tips of my nipples, your fingers gently squeezing, caressing, tickling. Your hands are very warm and very soft and they're both working far too efficiently. It takes every bit of willpower I have not to move; you know that my nipples are very sensitive and you can always tell when I'm aroused because I tend to squirm around. Today, though, I'm determined to resist you. Only problem is, it's killing me.

You smile at my discomfort. "I know what you're thinking," you say casually, your hands now moving to that horribly vulnerable area on the side of my breast. No, please don't do that, I think to myself.

"Oh, yeah?" I ask, hoping my voice sounds detached and cool.

"Yup. You're mad that I won the bet and that you lost the bet. So now you're determined not to give in, because that will just show that you acknowledge me to be the winner."

"You cheated."

"No, I didn't. Lie down."

You gently push me back so that I'm laying face-up on the picnic table. It feels warm on my skin.

"Yes, you did so cheat."

"No, I didn't." You start to pull my arms up over my head. Instinctively I pull against your grip, but you firmly pull my arms back again and hold them immobile. Your mouth is twitching in a smile. "Ah, ah, now. Remember. Remember the terms of our bet."

I say nothing but my mind is whirling. Yes, damn it, I remember. And at this particular moment I sincerely regret ever agreeing to it.

"The winner can do whatever he or she pleases to the loser," you continue. "Whatever. With no arguments or resistance." You are undoing more buttons on my dress as you speak. "Remember? If the loser resists in any way, the winner gets another 20 minutes of doing whatever. And since I'm the winner –"you grin at my glare - "I can do whatever I please to you. This is your first and only warning. Now stay still."

You release my hands and take a step back, standing beside the picnic bench looking down at me as I lie there powerless, my hands over my head, stretched out for you to see. I close my eyes as I feel your hands on my breasts again. God, it feels so too good. You know everything that I like, and you're doing it very well. I just wish you wouldn't do that thing you do to my nipples. It's unbearable.

"Keep your eyes closed."

Suddenly, your fingers are replaced by your mouth, hot and wet. Your tongue is flicking against my nipples, coaxing them to respond. They grow harder and are starting to ache. There's another ache, too, between my legs. I remind myself of my vow to resist you but I'm painfully aware that I'm not doing very well so far.

Your mouth is lazily traveling from one breast to the other and back again, teasing and tormenting my nipples until, despite my best intentions, I begin to squirm. I can't help it. Your mouth is just too damned talented and you know way too much about me. While the licking torture continues you renew your task of stroking under my arms. It's too much.

"Oh, shit," I whisper.

More licking, more teasing, until a groan escapes my lips. That seems to satisfy you. The torment stops.

"You can put your arms back by your sides now."

I feel you undoing the rest of the buttons on my dress. It falls away from me and I'm lying on the table in the sunshine, naked and totally exposed. The breeze blowing over my heated body only serves to arouse me further. I figure I might be in trouble.

"No need to open your eyes. I'm just walking around to the bottom of the table. Now. Move yourself down a bit. Towards me. That's it."

You help me shift down until my hips are at the edge of the picnic table, so that I'm lying with my legs dangling over the side. I feel your hands on my thighs, moving them apart.

"You have no idea how much I'm enjoying this," you say. "It's very gratifying to see you so helpless. Don't go away. And keep your eyes closed."

I hear you opening the folding chair that you brought with you. You put it on the ground and position it so that you are sitting between my legs, eye-level.

"I'm back."

"What are you doing?" My voice sounds ridiculously far away.

"Well, since I won the bet, and since I can do anything I want to you, I thought I'd like to sit here for a bit while I do a comparison of methods."

"Methods?"

"Of arousing you. I want to find out which is the most effective."

"Oh. I see."

"First, though, we need to check our progress." My head is spinning. Check our progress? What does he mean?

Then in a flash I understand as slowly, gently, you part my lower lips and slide one finger inside me, twisting it back and forth, withdrawing it then reinserting. Over and over again, sliding it in and out, in and out. I feel myself grow weak with desire.

"Hmm. Not sure if you're quite primed," you observe.

"Primed?"

"You know. Stimulated. Excited. Wet."

"Oh. You don't need to do that...."

"Quiet, now. I'll be the judge of that." You repeat the examination procedure, this time with two fingers. It does little to decrease the ache that rapidly growing inside me.

"That's a little better. Let's see what we can do to get you even more primed." Now your fingers have withdrawn from inside me and are slowly, maddeningly stroking my slit, teasing and caressing from top to bottom, over and over again, all the while carefully avoiding my clit. I'm growing wetter and begin to writhe under your touch.

"Stop it," I whisper.

"No. Hey, wait a minute. You said 'stop it". That's resisting, is it not?"

"No. No....."

"Yes, it is. You were warned. Another 20 minutes for me."

"You're making me crazy."

"I know. Okay. I think you're ready now. Keep your eyes closed."

Through the sound of the blood pounding in my head I hear some clicking noises.

"What's that sound?"

"Just opening the picnic basket that I brought."

"You're having lunch?"

"You might say that."

I hear you rummaging around. You seem to be taking a very long time. "What are you doing?"

"I brought a few aids along to help me with my research. There we are."

You put one hand on my hips, steadying me. "This is phase one of my comparison," you explain. "Hold still." I feel you slide something slowly inside me. It's warm and smooth and feels very, very good.

"Oh my," I breathe. "What's that?"

"A new sex toy that I picked up at the store this morning. Does it feel nice?"

"Mmm, hmmm," is all I can manage to reply.

"This is one of the long, thinner varieties," you explain. "The guy at the store says that women like it because it slides in and out easily. It's smooth, too. I think it's made out of PVC."

"Really?" I'm trying to make the conversation casual, still not certain that I want you to know how much I'm aroused.

"Yeah. So you like that?" You continue with the gentle inserting and reinserting, stopping every once in a while to check how wet I am. "You seem to be enjoying it well enough."

"Well....enough....yes...."

Your research continues. Damn. I wish you weren't quite so methodical. And I'm sure it's no accident that you brush my clit every once in awhile with your free hand; in fact, I realize, with some alarm, that you're deliberately doing it to tease me further and draw out the whole process.

It's certainly working. I'm quickly becoming aroused to a point where I know I will soon lose control. Can't have that....My breathing is shallow and rapid and my legs fall open a little wider. Just as I'm beginning to wonder how much longer I can endure it without giving in, you stop.

"Okay. Good. On to the next one, then. Eyes closed." I hear you rummaging through the picnic basket again. The anticipation is agonizing, but then again, that's exactly what you've planned. My mind is whirling. I find myself wishing desperately that you didn't know exactly how to play me. But unfortunately you do.

I feel something else being inserted into me. It's larger, thicker than the first one. A moan of pleasure escapes my lips as you gently push it deep inside.

"I got this at the toy store, too. It's a little bigger than the other one. How does that feel?" You are sliding the soft rubber dildo in and out of my wetness, very slowly. I moan again.

"Oh," you say. "Sounds like it feels okay. That's good." You start twisting the dildo slightly as you move it in and out. "This is fun." Again, the occasional brush of your fingers on my clit, like you don't know what you're doing. Bastard. Bathed in sweat, I bite my lip to keep back the moan.

You continue as though you haven't noticed a thing. "The guy at the store was very helpful."

"Was....he...?" I whisper hoarsely. I try to ignore the mounting heat and focus on how satisfying it will be to pay you back for all of this.

"Yeah. He thought you'd like this one because it's got some ridges on it, and that they would probably manage to rub you in all the right places. Are they? Do they?"

I can't answer. It's impossible to think, much less speak. You are driving me out of my mind and all I can do is shift my hips and gasp for air. Added to my discomfort is the knowledge that you are watching my reactions carefully and enjoying my distress. Oh my, but you're going to suffer for this.

"The really neat thing about this one is," you continue, "is that it's also got a little vibrating attachment on it."

"A....what?..."

"A vibrator. Apparently if I turn this thing on...." I hear a low buzzing sound, "and place it on your clit at the same time as the dildo part is inside you" you twist the dildo again, to emphasize your point, "it will increase your pleasure. Sounds interesting. Shall we try it?"

"No...."

"Yes, I think we should. Eyes closed."

Before I can even think, I feel the vibrator being placed on my clit. The pleasure is so intense that I immediately begin to groan uncontrollably. Unbelievable, I think wildly, that something could feel this good.

You're making it dance over my most sensitive spots and I'm getting wetter and hotter with each passing second. And I'm discovering, to my great dismay, that there's a rather wicked side to you. You're very carefully moving the vibrator slowly all around its target, then taking it off, then putting it back on again, then off, then on – and taking great delight in my reactions.

Somewhere at the back of my mind I remember that my goal was to resist you. That doesn't seem very realistic now.

"Oh, my god...." I whisper. "Oh, god."

"Nice, is it?"

Nice? How absurdly simple that word is, I think wildly. Try "intolerable".

"Stop it."

"No, I won't. And you just resisted, so it's 20 minutes more for me."

Not more, please, not more...But you continue, placing the vibrator for a few fleeting seconds on my clit, pushing the thick dildo inside me then pulling it almost all the way out, over and over again. I feel the heat building inside me and know that an orgasm is fast approaching.

From the writhing movement of my body you know it too, and to my dismay, you suddenly turn off the vibrator and withdraw the dildo. I'm left gasping, helpless, on the edge. My eyes fly open to meet yours. Mine are pleading but yours are sparkling.

"Please..." I whisper. "Oh please baby...don't stop..."

"Geez," you mutter. "First you want me to stop, then you want me not to. Make up your mind."

"I hate you."

"Yes, I'm aware that you feel that way right now." You carefully lay the dildo back in the basket and sit forward in the chair, your head positioned between my legs. "But I plan to change your mind about that. You do know what's next, don't you?"

"Don't you dare."

"Oh, but I do dare. You lost the bet, remember? Now close your eyes."

Dear God help me, it's your mouth on me now – that warm, soft, infuriating tongue that's licking between my legs, flicking lightly over my swollen slit, tickling my engorged clit until I begin to groan over and over with delirious pleasure. There is nothing in the world more intensely pleasurable than what you're doing to me. The heat, the wetness of your mouth, the maddening movement of your tongue. I'm almost completely out of control and you know it.

"Stop it, stop it...."

But you don't. In fact, you add to my torment by alternating between your mouth and fingers, licking and teasing, gently coaxing me to the edge of orgasm and then bringing me back, only to repeat the process over and again. You know me so well, and you are using every bit of that knowledge to drive me into a wild frenzy. I'm writhing and helpless, moaning, murmuring incoherently. And at that precise moment when I can't take any more, you stop.

"Hmmm. You said 'stop it' lots of times," you muse. "At 20 minutes each, I think I've accumulated at least five extra hours by now. What do you think?"

Your voice is different now, though, without its carefree detachment. It's soft and hoarse. I open my eyes to see you standing between my legs, undoing your pants. Your eyes are dark with desire.

"I want you," I moan. "Baby please, I want you..."

"Yes, I know." Your pants are down now and your cock is standing up straight and hard. You move closer to me and part my legs wide. I arch my back and grip the sides of the picnic bench, struggling to move my hips closer to you. God, I need it so bad.

You're rubbing the head of your cock over me now, dipping it into my wetness and then drawing it up, slowly running circles around my clit, driving us both to the very edge of madness.

"Do you know what I like about you?" you ask. Your voice is a raspy whisper. My eyes meet yours and in that moment I know that you also can't take it any more. How grateful I am for that.

"What?" I whisper. "Tell me." I am feeling unbelievably weak, torn between hot lust and intense love for you. What made me ever think I could resist you? God, you're an infuriating man.

"You're a good loser." With a load groan you grab my hips and finally, blessedly, thrust your cock hard inside me. You let out a loud groan and I scream, completely abandoning myself to the pleasure as you begin to pump into me, slowly at first, then faster and harder.

I'm hot and I'm wet – so, so wet - and nothing else exists for me but the feeling of you stroking and moving deep inside me. I grab your forearms tightly as you continue to thrust in and out. Your cock is harder and hotter than I've ever felt it before. I'm lost.

"Oh, baby, please...." I whisper, my pleas turning to guttural moans as your fingers find my throbbing clit. "Oh, please make me come..." You're stroking me lightly, making little circles over my wetness. It's too much to bear. "You know...what I like...Oh yes...I'm coming now...don't stop."

"Mmm...me too," you moan. "Hang on...."

The explosion of both of our orgasms is blinding, wild, scorching - beyond description. My muscles clamp down on your cock and I feel you burst hot inside me. The sounds of your pleasure only serve to increase mine. Wave after wave rushes over me and I come over and over again, moaning and crying out your name. It seems to go on forever.

My head starts to clear when I feel you gently pull me up close to you. Your arms are around me, enveloping me in your strength and warmth. I lay my head against your chest and it occurs to me that the sound of your heart pounding is strangely comforting and probably the most wonderful thing I've ever heard. You stroke my hair until my breathing starts to return to normal. I lift my face to yours and you kiss my mouth gently.

"I love you," I say.

"I love you too," you answer. "And I've got a great idea."

"What's that?"

"Tomorrow," you whisper in my ear, "we'll play poker."