We like to make side bets. "Snide bets" we call them. There's no money involved. Our favorite form of payoff involves sex—usually oral—delivered by the loser to the grinning winner.
Snide bets.
This one involved Game One of the 2015 World Series. Don't ask how I got the tickets. That's a story in itself. And you might not believe me anyway. She certainly didn't. A die-hard New Yorker, she almost gave me a blowjob just for the chance to see the Mets beat the Royals. Me, being a Jayhawker, I was decked out in Royal blue and ready to watch my Flyover State Fielders kick some East Coast Ass.
So we made a Snide Bet.
If the Mets won, I had to forego driving home after the game and check us into an expensive downtown hotel and lick her until she was too sore to cum anymore.
If the Royals won, she had to take off her Mets jersey—in the parking lot before getting into the car—and put on my Royals shirt. Then she was to give me a sensual mouth hug as I drove us down I-70.
(Actually, the agreement was win-win, but I had to play my role.)
Well if you follow sports, you know who won. And she has never welched on a bet.
She didn't even try to cover up when she took off her jersey. "Why?" she said. "I don't know anybody here." Her bra was delicate and lacy and I made her take it off too. She thought a little bit about that one, but she complied, one arm demurely trying to cover her nipples.
(Yes, I have video. No, you can't see it.)
Standing topless in the parking lot, she reached for my Royals shirt and pulled it over her head to the cheers of those who were lucky enough to be close. It fit her like a short dress. Shrugging, she reached under the bottom of the shirt, unzipped her jeans and slid them down her hips. She got into the car naked but for a t-shirt and panties. I got into the car with a raging hard-on.
As we sat in traffic exiting the lot, she began rubbing my cock through my jeans. At one point, she sat up and lifted her hips to slip the panties off. She hung them on the rearview mirror and laughed. Then as I tried to concentrate on the traffic, she sat back and opened her legs, playing with her glistening clit. She pulled and twisted her nipples through the fabric of my t-shirt. In the dancing glow of a dozen headlights, she looked sexier than I'd ever seen her.
True to the bet, though, she wouldn't do anything to me until I got out on the highway. In the audio, you can hear her starting as I accelerated down the access ramp. She had me out and did very little hand play before running the flat of her tongue over my swollen head.
The audio tells the story from there. You can hear that she starts out playful, almost mocking, like she doing a satire of a porn video blowjob. She was loud, suckling, gagging, over-enthusiastic. It was like she was either self-conscious or just joking around.
Later on, she got into it. She said it was because I was so turned on that it made her crazy. She said she wanted to make me cum harder than I ever had. Though she usually lets my cum run out of her mouth, or aims me onto her breasts to explode, the tight confines of the car and the fact that my pants were open but not completely off required her to swallow everything. And she did.
Just for the record, I told her I didn't feel like driving after cumming so hard. We checked into a hotel overlooking the Country Club Plaza where I laid her back in my Royals t-shirt and licked her until she was too sore to cum anymore.
Win-win.