Want To Bet Again

"How nude is nude?"

We were running down the motorway, amongst relatively light traffic at the time. She glanced over and watched as I unhitched the seat belt and undid my belt, the little catch and the zip – then hefted my rump to peel the slacks and briefs down around my ankles. "Don't stop now," she said simply, eyes sparkling.

My shoes and socks were already off, tucked up in one corner of the passenger side footwell. Relieved to see she was back to watching the road ahead, and what traffic there was, I began to unbutton my shirt. "No, I mean, you know," with all the buttons undone, I pulled the shirt flaps around behind me on both sides – leaving my cock and balls on full display "is this nude enough?"

She glanced back, eyes twinkling. "I think naked is, you know, naked. As in no clothes."

Fair enough. I guess. What could I say? So I shrugged the shirt off my shoulders and pulled it down behind me. Then, completely nude, I wriggled into a more or less comfortable place and pulled out the seatbelt to click it back into place.

"No clothes," she repeated, chuckling and shaking her head – clearly relishing the situation.

So I undid the seatbelt, again, and bent forward to peel off my jeans and briefs. Before sitting up again to re-settle and fasten the seatbelt.

Eyes still twinkling, she glanced back to the traffic, back to me –specifically to my cock and balls – okay, my erection – then back to the traffic several times. As much to break the growing silence as anything, I said, "And how long do you want me nu..." recognizing she preferred naked, and not wanting to risk putting even a foot wrong so to speak, I broke off mid-word and hastened on quickly to correct myself, "naked. How long do you want me naked?"

You understand...well, of course you do. There was always the prospect of being spotted by others on the road...and now, without the pants and briefs in easy position to pull up, there was an increased threat from even the most minor of accidents – or from police– because the odds of getting some modesty restored in either circumstance was virtually nil.

And she controlled the vehicle, if you take my point?

"Obviously I'm going to have to clarify that little item next time I win a bet," she flicked me a wink. At the same time, reaching over the run her fingertips over the engorged tip of my erection – while hanging back, just out of the mirror, hopefully, of a large SUV in the next lane on my side of the car.

It was her not very subtle way of showing just how much control she now had of the situation, and just which side my bread was buttered on. Swallowing hard, and wishing I had a suitable drink in hand, I said: "Well, I think you should probably have the final say over, you know, everything today – including, you know, how long I stay naked." I hesitated, not quite able to say aloud my next thought: which was WHERE I go naked, so I quickly settled for a not very nonchalant shrug and a quick, "you know, etc."

Nodding, her smile a very clear example of the 'very-wise-decision' sort only females seem able to muster effectively, she released my erection to bring both hands to the wheel. "Can we get past this SUV fast enough, do you think...?"

For those who read Want To Bet? it will be redundant for me to spend too much time on the events leading up to this little drive.

But no doubt some of you haven't read the first account. Besides, she is, well, along the same lines as "naked is, you know, naked – as in no clothes" she is insistent that the "story is, you know, the story—as in the naked truth" so the short version is that my Yahtzee tactics had proven wholly inadequate. In fact, she'd stripped me naked – and had me dance naked for her, for what seemed quite some time...my engorged erection rocking and lolling – and then, having won yet again by a considerable margin, she'd decided she really wanted to know how I looked clean shaven, in the pubic region – and also that it would be great fun to watch me masturbate for her amusement.

But by the time she'd arranged me on the kitchen island – just so...and snapped a couple of 'before pics'... and plucked gently with her fingertips at the soon-to-be removed pubes to arrange them – just so...and spread on some shaving foam – just so...and snapped a couple more pics – and begun to apply the razor while oh so gently manipulating my quivering erection out of the way with her free hand – just so...well, let's just say the sheer gush of spunk shocked even the by then gasping me.

I'm sure it almost caused me to black out.

All of which was going to cost me another shave, 'for the sake of the pics' – her words – to be done at her discretion.

I also still owed her the wank, and this naked ride in the car, and a whole list of other 'forfeits'-stroke-'punishments'- stroke - 'whimsical amusements'...the term varied according to her mood... and did include a few actual strokes of a crop or belt or flogger, she had yet to decide what she most enjoy – all of which were listed on a bulleted IOU, signed by me, and tucked away inside her handbag.

Because as she'd been only too happy to point out to me, eyes twinkling, seemingly every hour on the hour that we'd been together during the week since the Yahtzee game "I think I, you know, own your ass. Your naked ass. As in no clothes...that's better, and oh, my wineglass is empty...have I told you latterly how much I love watching your erection move around so freely...actually of course since I own it it's my erection, technically – and is that precum? Because if it is you might want to be thinking of three or four more things to add to the list if you don't, you know, actually manage again tonight to wank for me..."

I didn't look at the SUV. But when I say crept, as in we crept past it, eventually – believe me it was all happening in slow, slow, slow motion, albeit at close to 100 mph – and it was only when I couldn't quite see the other vehicle out of the corner of my eye that I exhaled.

Chuckling, she said, "I don't think you should block her view or mine."

Her!? So it had been a female in the SUV! And our vehicle was slowing, the SUV returning to the corner of my eye.

She was smiling over at me again, eyes twinkling – and her eyes do twinkle. "Do you? Think you should block our view, I mean?"

Swallowing, I took the hint and pulled both my hands away, tucking them between my lower back and the seat back. Now fully exposed – I could feel the trickle of perspiration starting down my spine, slipping between my wrists and my spine, heading for the crack at the top of naked tush.

"If you so much as wriggle," she teased.

The SUV was still in the corner of my eye. The trickle of sweat was lost in what had become a general lather. I had to consciously stay very still. Rigid. Quivering. All of me now – not just my erection.

"I'm amazed," she said quietly. "Truly." She breathed out, slowly. "I couldn't do what you're doing. It's really impressive."

I glanced over to see her smiling as she slowly increased our speed.

"You're so composed."

I was, in fact, a seething jelly like mess. With a very very hard, pre-cum glistening erection.

"I brought the razor and cream. If we find somewhere discreet to park do you think you could shave yourself this time – you know, without losing control, then masturbate for me."

Exhaling, slowly, now we were clearly moving away from the SUV. "Discreet?"

"Well, discreet-ish," she chuckled. "You have to allow me some amusement. And you did say I should have final say over, well, everything today."

I swallowed, hard, feeling the perspiration start up again – my mind mentally running down the bullets on the list, visualizing my scrawled signature on the bottom. And besides I had to trust, you know, well, her really...to be not too, well, too outrageous. "Okay."

Chuckling, she said, "And of course I'll expect you to get through both the shave and the masturbation this time, to my satisfaction. And in the meantime, you can supply me three or four more ideas to add to the list – just in case..."

&&&

"Will this do?"

It would have to. What choice did I have? "Yes, well..." A movement somewhere to my left, outside in the dimly lit underground carpark, distracted me, "...umh, sure..."

Smiling, she said, "I think that foot would be better on the dash."

So I adjusted, propping my foot closest to the passenger door on the dash – twisting me sideways somewhat, fully facing and fully exposed to her. Then I watched her fish out the shaving cream from her handbag and hold it out for me to take and shake...