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Fair is Fair

by | erotica | 0 comments

“It’s not fair,” Audrey muttered as she unbuttoned her blouse.

I tried not to laugh as I continued moving things around my bedroom to give myself the most access. I stripped the pillows off the bed and moved a chair and a folding table next to it. I put a tray with cold glasses of water and snacks on the table. The whole thing was going to take a glorious while.

“It is exactly fair. We made a bet, you lost that bet. I even gave you an out, but you said you don’t break your word. Are you backing out?”

“God, Tom, I’m not backing out!” she said, thoroughly offended.

“I said I would do it, and I will. But two hours seems excessive!” she said, taking off her blouse and standing up to unzip the side of her skirt.

The skirt slipped off, and she stood in front of me in bra and panties. She stopped talking, and her eyes dodged mine.

She wasn’t a particularly fancy dresser, but she always looked quite put together. There was also a way she had of dressing to hide her curves. She had big tits and a round ass and deliciously thick thighs, not to mention a wonderfully soft belly. In a matching light purple bra and panty set, there were no sweaters or scarves to hide all of that smooth and pretty skin.

She was already blushing, which was making me hard.

“Well, we will have to see. It may not take two hours, but that was the wager, and so if I want to take the full time, I will,” I said as I paced in front of her slowly.

“Anyhow, you know me, I love to do things in excess,” I added.

She reached behind her back and unlatched her bra. I waited with a smile. I was going to see Audrey’s breasts, finally.

She was tall. Maybe an inch or two taller than me, which at that moment turned me on a lot. I like the idea of being in command of someone slightly bigger than me. She turned her face down and then looked up at me through her thick lashes. It reminded me of exactly how my crush started.

My relationship with Audrey had a strange arc. When I first met her, I was immediately physically attracted to her. After only a brief conversation, I found out her personality was just as much my type. She was brainy, buxom, and well-read. Plus, she had this thing, where her bottom lip was slightly fatter than her top, which gave her a slight pout all the time. It drove me crazy.

There was also a pride in her. A particular posture. Though she could be shy and introverted, she never cowered. She was confident in her intelligence, though she was well aware of her social awkwardness.

Sadly, my initial lust had to be put aside as it seemed she wasn’t interested. I was a bit too much of a playboy, perhaps. I had a reputation among our group. And so we became friends. Friends who flirted.

And that seemed to be that. We always gravitated to each other whenever we were in the same room. She was a bit of a homebody, so I usually only saw her at people’s birthdays or holiday parties, though I was always thinking up excuses to run into her.

It went on that like for a year or more. Always flirting, always teetering on something more. Thus, I was surprised when she asked me to get some coffee with her after a housewarming a mutual friend threw.

We sat, and we laughed, and we drank lattes. The silences between jokes were tenser than usual. The double entendres a bit more pointed. That’s when the bet came.

It was a stupid random fact. We were talking about all the pigeons in the courtyard of her building, and she shrugged and said, “Well, it is the state bird.”

She seemed so sure, though I knew she was wrong.

“The pigeon is not the state bird of New York,” I laughed.

She narrowed her eyes.

“They are! I remember reading it somewhere. They are officially called Rock Doves, and they are the official birds of New York State.”

I shook my head.

“I know they’re called Rock Doves, but I’m pretty sure the state bird is the bluebird, but since you are emphatic, how about a bet?” I said, finishing my coffee.

She raised her eyebrows confidently.

“Maybe. I mean, sure. I’ll bet you because I know I’m right,” she said chipperly.

“And the stakes?” I asked, feeling some little wall between us toppling.

She smiled at me and thought about it.

“Well, if I win,” she started, “you make me one of those big meals you keep talking about. Something delicious and hearty that I can eat all week. Something French.”

“Ah,” I considered, “and I would come over to your place and cook it?”

She sipped her drink and nodded.

“Hm, that’s involved—lots of ingredients, time, and work. I’ll have to think of something interesting for my end of the wager,” I said, eyeing her.

She looked down at her half-empty cup and then back up at me with a somewhat hungry expression.

“Well, from what I’ve gathered, you have a pretty vivid imagination,” she said, seeming to blush a bit.

“Oh, have you heard stories?” I laughed.

She looked up at me, biting her bottom lip.

“I have, as a matter of fact. I’ve heard some pretty lurid things. So let’s hear it then. What type of kinky wager will that dirty mind think up? It can be sexual, within reason. I mean, I’m not going to fuck you on a dare,” she said with a laugh.

“On a dare,” rang in my head.

I thought about it. That night at the cafe, she had on a tight sweater. Her lips were a very kissable red.

“Okay. No sex. That would be too easy anyhow. If I win, you come over to my apartment, strip naked, and I get to examine you however I want.”

“Examine me?” She said, wrinkling her eyebrows.

“Yes, examine. Thoroughly. Sex is often fleeting or in the dark, or full of inhibitions. There never seems to be time to just look at someone’s body. To really explore it. I want that. I want to see every bit of you and touch every bit of you,” I explained.

She contemplated that. I could see her trying to be brave and confident, but also blushing and full of worry.

“But no sex?” she asked.

I shifted.

“If that’s how you would prefer it, I’ll keep my clothes on,” I said.

She considered.

“Yes. I like that. You’ll keep your clothes on. And how long will this examination go on for?”

I dragged my fingers through my hair and did a calculation in my head.

“Well, you wanted a big dinner and lunches for a week. So I’m going to need at least two hours.”

“Two hours! That seems excessive,” she said with a furrowed brow.

“I mean, am I providing all of the ingredients for this epic meal I am making you? I can only imagine it will take around two hours to cook. Plus, you will be enjoying it for a whole week.

She only thought about it for a minute before nodding.

“Fine. Two hours. I mean, I’m going to win anyway,” she said, holding out her hand.

I shook her hand and wondered about her smile. Then I took out my phone, went to Wikipedia, and won the bet.

“The Eastern Bluebird. Look at that,” she said with a slight frown.

She didn’t look particularly disappointed.

Back at my house, as she let her bra fall away and I saw her big wonderful breasts in all their glory, I felt some confidence in the fact that she wanted to play this game just as much as I did.

“Let’s go over the rules again,” I said seriously.

She crossed an arm over her breasts protectively.

“The bet was, if you won, I would get totally naked in your room for two hours, and you could touch me and ‘examine’ me however you wanted, but you had to keep your clothes on,” she said succinctly.

“And?” I prodded.

“And what?”

“And I won.”

She rolled her eyes.

“Yes, you won.”

“So move your arms.”

She looked up at me with somewhat pleading eyes. Then she lowered her arms.

“And now take off your panties,” I added with a smile.

She narrowed her eyes at me. Her arms were awkwardly at her sides, and she seemed like she was actively trying not to cover herself.

She slipped her thumbs into the waistband of her panties and tugged, pulling them down her thick thighs until they got to her knees. Then she did a little shimmy, and they fell down her legs.

She bent and stepped out of the purple silk and put them with the rest of her clothes on my desk.

I set the little alarm on my phone. Two hours. She watched me do it. I set the phone on the nightstand where she could see it.

I stepped towards her, and she stood back in place and stiffened.

Her pussy was completely shaved or waxed, which she had mentioned was her preference at one point a while back. It was most certainly my preference.

“Cold?” I asked as I circled her.

She shook her head, no.


She shrugged. “Maybe a little.”

“Good nervous or bad nervous?”

She smiled.

“Good, I think.”

I stopped in front of her and put my hand on her hip. Our first real physical contact. Her skin was warm and softer than I expected. She had a bit of lotion on, which I could feel silky on my fingers. It smelled slightly of lavender.

I moved my hand up her side, enjoying the first feel of her, and then cupped her breast. I felt like I wasn’t pacing myself the way I wanted to, but I had coveted her tits for so long I couldn’t help it.

I put my hands on each of her breasts and squeezed lightly. I felt their weight, their softness, their shape. They were delicious. I groaned at their perfection and saw her eyes had closed, and she was biting her fat bottom lip.

I was consciously avoiding her nipples, which were large, with very round areolas that were only a slightly darker shade of skin, a coral to the pale tan. Her nipples hardened as my fingers circled them but didn’t touch.

I looked at her breasts carefully. I really looked at them. Lifting them, squeezing them, even dropping them to watch them bounce. She rolled her eyes and giggled a little at that.

I walked around her and let my fingers slip to her back. I traced little patterns as I watched goosebumps form on her arms. I dragged my nails across her skin and saw light pink lines form.

It all felt even more powerful than I imagined. I let my curiosity blossom and take over. I examined her ears, touching and pinching her earlobes. I let my fingers brush the nape of her neck and heard her breath catch. I swept her hair away and kissed the back of her neck, and was rewarded with moans.

I stood close to her, pressing myself against her back and wrapping my arms around her, taking her breasts in my hands. There was a warmth and a softness to her that was intoxicating. I couldn’t wait to see everything.

I stepped away from her, and she looked back over her shoulder at me. Her hair was in her eyes, and she was pouting.

“On the bed. On your back. Legs spread. Let’s have a proper look at you,” I said.

She looked down.

“I didn’t say I’d do whatever you say,” she mumbled.

The fire started in my belly then. It felt wonderful. It made me strong. I grabbed her by her waist and pushed her onto the bed. She fell, bent over, and I pulled her fully on the bed by her legs. Then I rolled her over and grabbed her by the hair, putting her into the position I wanted.

Now, a few things happen when you pull someone’s hair, even playfully. She can wince and yell, she can fight back, she can cry. Audrey had my favorite reaction. The reaction of someone I want to spend some time with; her eyes rolled back in her head, and she let out a little moan of pleasure.

I laughed and pushed her on her back. I opened her legs and slapped her inner thighs when she tried to close them.

Her face was far more flushed as she looked up at me, as were her neck and chest. Her eyes were narrowed, maybe in anger, but she wasn’t moving though, nor was she closing her legs.

I laid on the bed between her open legs, my face mere inches from her pussy. I traced the red marks my slaps had left on her inner thigh. I looked closely at the pale skin of her thighs. I leaned in a smelled the soapy, lotioned, clean scent of her skin.

The languid pace was glorious. As was the delicious permission. Spreading her out on my bed and enjoying every inch of her smooth, soft skin. The decadence of her warm chubby belly. The glory of her huge breasts and the way they yielded to my hands. How I held them and squeezed them and pressed them together.

I put my hand on her belly and gently squeezed, feeling the luxuriousness of her chubbiness. I pressed my face into her belly, rubbing my cheeks against it, smelling her, and feeling the softness against my lips.

There was no pretense that my worship was for her benefit. I was reveling in her body for my own enjoyment. I was also teasing myself, purposefully not touching her between her legs yet or even really looking closely at the glorious pinkness I had thought about so often.

I moved up, my clothed body against her naked skin. Heat radiated off of her. Her eyes were closed, and she was panting softly, letting out little mews of desire.

I held her, wrapping my arms around her and burying my face between her breasts. My hard cock pressing against the warmth of her pussy, which I could feel even with my jeans and boxers between us.

I squeezed her breasts together, harder this time. I played with them roughly until she winced. That wince made me smile—little victories. I closed my fingers around each of her nipples and watched them harden even more. I licked around each of her areola, and she gasped.

I moved up and kissed her neck, her cheeks, ever closer to her mouth.

When we finally kissed, her legs spread wider. I could feel her wetness even through my clothes. I pressed firmly against her. It was wonderful, torturous, delicious.

As I broke the kiss, I knew I needed more of her. I wanted to taste every bit of her. I needed to. And I could. I could have all of her.

I knelt down and looked at her. She was rose-cheeked, eyes glassy and wide, hungry-mouthed.

Her hairless pussy seemed obscenely naked. I could smell her wetness, some light animal salt in the air.

I sank down between her legs again. My head between her thighs as my hands parted her knees even further.

The lips of her pussy were puffy and thick. Shades of coral pink, then soft bubblegum, then a rare slick light red. I opened her with my fingers, pushing her legs farther apart. Her hands went to her knees, holding her legs open for me. I looked at every bit of her, every fold and secret place.

Oral sex is often an adventure in empathy. You kiss and lick and watch and listen. You try to figure out the exact combination of sensation and tempo and intensity to make someone come. At that moment, with Audrey spread out before me, it was completely different. It was eating pussy for my own selfish pleasure. Just enjoying the taste of it. Just burying my face in it and relishing it. And I did just that.

Time sometimes dilates when I am between someone’s legs. I let myself fall into the primal decadence of it. Tasting her, exploring her, using her. She seemed to enjoy it, though I could tell she was trying to hold back. She was incredibly wet. Soaking my face, and when my fingers slipped into her, I met tightness but a slickness that seemed to pull my fingers in.

Two fingers pushing inside of her, my mouth on her clit, her thick thighs closing slowly, the softness of her skin on my cheeks. It felt good to be enveloped by her in so many ways. Surrounded by her softness. Drunk on her wetness.
When she started to come, it surprised me. It wasn’t my intent, exactly, but as her body tensed and her back arched, I kept my fingers pushing into her at a steady pace, my tongue circling her clit. I kept going until the muscles in my fingers started burning, my tongue ached, but I kept going as her moans got louder, and her breathing got faster, and finally, her body spasmed, and she grabbed my hair and rode my face as she came.

In the aftermath, I found new things to explore. The red blush across her neck and chest. Her stiff nipples. Her pussy, swollen, lips thick, clit more prominent. Her eyes were glazed, and her body was languid.

I pushed and pulled her around the bed, examining more and more, and she lazily let me. Then I put her back on her back and laid on top of her, her legs open, and I kissed her and watched her.

She cycled through the sleepy processing of her orgasm, into mild amusement of my kisses, into more heated returns of my affection. We eventually started making out, like teenagers, all hands and mouths and tongues. Feeling each other up. Smiles and giggles and grinding.

It was at that point, as she closed her legs around me and pushed back against my now completely hard cock, that I realized the pain of my situation.

I had to leave my clothes on. The power and the manipulation and the objectification would all be mine, but the orgasms would all be hers.

She looked up at me and smiled as she pressed her warm breasts and hot cunt against me even harder.

After that, all I could think of was fucking her. When my fingers pushed into her wetness, all I could feel was that it wasn’t my cock.

“So, about our rules. Maybe I could let you off early if you let me, you know, slip out of some of my clothes?”

“Would you like it if I let you?” She said softly, innocently.

“If I just pulled down your pants enough for you to slip your cock out,” she whispered into my ear, massaging my hardness through my pants.

“And you could break the rules for a second? Would you like that? Just push your cock into all this wet tightness for just a second?” She said, kissing my ear.

“Please,” I begged.

She laughed. For the first time, her wickedness was exposed.

“No, no. We had a bet. Fair is fair,” she said with a wide smile, moving away from me.

The sound I made was a wounded animal groan—a whimper of defeat.

She rolled from under me, and I rolled on my back. I hear the little digital beeping of my phone.

“Looks like you’re out of time,” she noted.

She knelt on the bed next to me, her hands trailed down her luxurious belly, and played between her legs as I watched.

It was true. Where had the time gone?

She smiled and let out a little chuckle, then she got off the bed and found her panties. I let myself fall forward onto the mattress as she dressed, and I whined into the sheets.

My desire had soured into painful base physical need that would go unsated.

In a few minutes, she was dressed, and I was able to stand again. She was smirking, but there was a tinge of remorse in her eyes, or at least I hoped there was.

“A kiss goodbye?” I asked.

She shrugged.

I grabbed her and kissed her, and she was closed to it at first, then as my arms wrapped around her, she melted into my embrace. The kiss deepened, and my hands found her hips.

But just as it started, it ended. Perhaps both of us wanted more and wanted to deny the other.

The look of need on her face was golden for me as I’m sure my hard desire pressing against her was her victory.

Then she was gone, and all I had was the scent of sex and perfume on my sheets. Well, that and the dull ache of my cock’s unfulfillment.

I dreamt of our next bet. I dreamt of wiping that smile off her face and working her into a frenzy until she begged for me to fuck her. I dreamt of her curves and her softness and the delicious agony of fair play.

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