“Oh, fuck!” The way I licked my lips told her I wanted this as much as she did. I shuffled forward, trying to work out the best angle of approach. Now that she’d revealed herself, she topped the slow teasing movement, yanking the skirt from just above her mound up to her waist in a single jerk. I already knew she was naked, and she’d shown me that earlier, but somehow, it was more intimate, taking me back to that first time. That had been in this room, too, not very far from where she now stood.

  As she stood there, the challenge in her eyes intensified, and I slid forward off the couch, dropping to my knees as my hands went around her back, finding her ass cheeks and pulling her onto my open mouth.

  She moaned as my lips made contact with her outer lips, her entire body trembling at the contact. I didn’t need to feel how wet she was to know she’d been thinking of this moment, possibly all afternoon, certainly since leaving class. I lapped at the nectar coating her outer lips and then pressed my tongue at the apex of her slit, feeling for and finding her clit. Above my head, she moaned but made no other sound or movement. This was all on me, her pleasure was mine to dispense.

  My hands left her butt, after all, she could have used those for support, and I wasn’t going to stand for that. We might have made it a bit of a contest, but it was down to me to make sure it was a fair one. My fingertips smoothed around from her ass onto her hips and then dived toward the junction of her legs and my face. Once there, I pressed my thumbs on either side of her pussy. Peeling her open like this elicited a whimper from her, followed by an even earthier moan. My girlfriend liked this, and from the way the trembling in her legs increased, she liked it a lot.

  Pressing harder, I peeled her wide open and then pushed my tongue into the exposed opening. I had to bend deeper to manage it, and she obliged me by spreading her legs wider to give me the room I needed to plunder her. If anyone had looked through the window at that moment, they’d have seen a highly charged erotic sight.

  Chloe started to whimper and moan on an almost continuous basis. I could hear her breathing was a lot harsher. She was ready for this, more than ready unless I missed my guess. The wetness of her impending climax coated my mouth, my chin, my cheeks, and even my nose. The aroma of her arousal was a sweet, cloying smell that grabbed hold of me and pulled me in. I sucked hard on her captured labia and then pushed my tongue inside, alternating my moves in the hope that the unpredictability would heighten her climax when it came. I might be trying to make sure the playing field was fair, but only for me. The bigger the climax, the greater the immediate payoff, and the less likelihood that she’d be able to remain standing.

  “Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” She was starting to chant now, a sure sign she was getting close. Each word was punctuated by a moan, a whimper, or a little gasp. She wouldn’t take long, not at this rate. I moved one of my hands, twisting it so my index finger could take over, holding her open, allowing me to rub my thumb over her clit while my tongue delved inside.

  “Oh fuck!” She snarled out the word one more time and then squealed as the orgasm hit. I’d been right, it was a big one, built on and layered by her own licentious thoughts all afternoon, followed by the desire to win an almost bet about the choice of wearing or not wearing her underwear.

  I pulled back, letting go of her, a morbid interest in finding out if she could cum like that, standing up and still remain on her feet. My hands were ready, ready to swoop in and catch her if she started to topple. She swayed rather alarmingly, but somehow, her iron will, her desire to win, pulled her through the weakness. She remained standing, although I suspected it had been quite a close-run thing.

  As her body calmed down and her breathing slowed, she looked down at my drowned face. “Bastard.”

  “What? You did it.”

  She panted for air for a few seconds before replying. “No more like that, though.” After a couple of seconds, she started to giggle, the giggle quickly becoming a full-throated laugh.

  “What’s so funny.”

  “I’ve heard the expression knee trembler. I don’t think that’s what they mean, but, my god, that was a knee trembler if ever there was one.”

  I joined in her laughter as she slowly straightened up and, almost as an afterthought, pushed her skirt down so it covered her mound. She didn’t bother pushing it down onto her thighs, that would be a waste of time, and she knew it. Besides, from the glint in her eye, I was pretty sure she had plans, big plans for the rest of the afternoon and evening, let alone the night.

  “So, have you made a decision?”

  “About?”

  “Whether to wear underwear to class tomorrow and the next day. You’ve won the right.”

  “I might have, but your rider on that is a hell of a kicker.”

  “Why? You just did that not much more than a half an hour ago.”

  “And it took me most of the afternoon to pluck up the nerve to do it once, let alone several times.”

  She smiled down at me and motioned for me to climb back onto the couch. “It’s your turn buster.” She looked down at the front of my pants, where my cock was straining at my fly. “That looks quite painful, and I can’t have my boyfriend develop a case of the blue balls, can I?”

  “You do know the blue balls thing is a myth invented by some long-departed jock as a way to get his girl to suck him, right?”

  “I don’t care if it’s a myth or if it’s real. I don’t intend to find out. Now, I suggest you stop talking yourself out of your second favorite activity.”

  “Second favorite?”

  “Being blown. I’ll let you guess what’s your favorite, by the way, it’s my favorite, too.”

  That forty-eight hours was pretty memorable, even by our standards. By the way, she chose in the end to go commando to class rather than risk being seen stripping on my doorstep again. Once, in her book, was enough.

  * * * *

  A couple of weeks earlier, I’d made an off-the-cuff comment about the possibility of punishing the naughty girl who stripped on my doorstep. Somehow, that whole topic of punishment and spanking seemed to hang over our heads. I’d been playing, joking with her, but I guess Chloe took it rather more seriously. I didn’t actually want to, nor intend to spank her, but she was determined to engineer a bet that would result in one or the other of us getting spanked. Consequently, we didn’t bet on anything for two whole weeks, and our sex life became far less adventurous and far less fulfilling.

  After another week, I persuaded Chloe to join me for lunch at the food court at one of the downtown malls. It was a couple of miles from campus so the chance of seeing or being heard by someone we knew was quite remote. I even sprung for the Uber fare for the two of us, which caused her to raise an eyebrow. We either walked or caught a bus, we didn’t treat ourselves to Ubers, ever.

  I could sense Chloe was bursting with curiosity, but I wouldn’t be led until after we’d both ordered our food. At different stands, she tended to like Thai, while for lunch, I wanted either a burger or a jacket.

  As we sat down, she glared at me. I’d managed to grab a corner table quite a way away from other diners.

  “Right, spill.”

  “Spill what?”

  “Whatever is eating at you so that we had to come all the way out here. What’s up?”

  I watched as a shadow seemed to pass over her face. Obviously, she’d just thought of something, and whatever her idea had been, she didn’t like it one little bit.

  “Is this why we’re here?”

  “What?” I frowned at her, not understanding the jump her brain had just made, whatever the connection had been, I hadn’t followed it.

  “You wanted to break it to me gently.”

  “Break what?”

  “That you… that you’re breaking up with me.” Her voice had gone quiet, not exactly a whisper, more a little girl lost voice that I’d never heard before.

  I stared at her open-mouthed. “What? No! Whatever did you get that idea from?” I looked around the food court, making sure I hadn’t attracted anyone’s attention with my loud outburst. If anyone had looked over, they weren’t looking now.

  I took a deep breath and grabbed her hand. I’d never seen that look on her face before. Either she wanted to cry because she thought I was dumping her or cry with relief that I wasn’t.

  “Don’t be stupid. I would rather cut off my right leg than dump you. You complete me.” I took a deep breath. “I might not say it, but I know it deep down. I’m in love with you, you… goose.”

  She took a deep breath, her bottom lip trembling, her shoulders sagging with relief, then she frowned.

  “What, what did you say?”

  “I called you a goose.”

  “No, just before that.”

  I thought back, realizing I’d said something I hadn’t meant to. Then, it was simply a question of checking with myself if I’d meant it. I had. That process didn’t take long. “I love you.”

  Chloe almost tore the table from its supports as she lunged across the table at me. As she showered me with tiny kisses, I could hear her mumbling. “I love you, I love you too.” It was just one of those unmissable moments. Somehow, I managed to steer her back down so she was sitting again.

  “Eat your food before it gets cold.” I tried to be matter-of-fact about it, but the whole incident had shaken me up.

  She just glared at me. “You… you goose.”

  We ate in silence for a couple of minutes, but throughout that time, neither of us took our eyes off the other’s face. That confession of love had been cathartic for both of us and clearly, we both needed time to process it.

  It was Chloe who broke the silence. “Did you really mean it?” Her voice was soft and low, very much a slightly more adult version of the little girl lost voice.

  I took a deep breath. “Yes, I meant it.”

  Her smile was radiant, almost as if I’d got the old Chloe back, not that she’d gone far. “But did you mean love or lust?”

  I could see where she was coming from. Ever since that fifth date, we’d spent most of our time getting into each other’s pants or trying to.

  “No, love. For sure.”

  “How do you know?”

  I rolled my eyes. “I guess, when you know, you know. Put in the simplest form, I’ve never felt like this before, and when we’re apart, I’m pining for the time we’ll be back together.”

  She smiled. “That could still be lust.”

  “But it’s a lot more than that. Trust me, I know. What about you?”

  “I guess I was falling for you from about the third date onwards.”

  “That soon?”

  She giggled, confirming her mood had definitely bounced. “Sure. You were the first boyfriend who hadn’t assumed that if not on the first date, by the third, he was on a sure thing. Getting into my pants was a given, not just expected, a given.”

  She took a deep breath.

  “Look, you need to understand something about my history.”

  “I don’t need to know about your history unless you want to tell me.”

  “Let me tell you, for the moment, stop being mister nice.”

  I shrugged and sat back, then sat forward again to continue to chow down.

  “I’m not conceited, but I knew I was prettier than most girls from a pretty young age. When every senior in the school wanted to date me, it made me happy. My mother sat me down and explained something, not the facts of life, but more the fact that these guys wanted and expected one thing. To get into my pants. Did I want to get a reputation as the school bike? I guess that sobered me, and I turned down the dates from the guys who were so much older than me. I started hearing terms like frigid and princess being thrown around in the most derogatory terms possible. My last year at school was hell. I didn’t put out simply because I didn’t date. Me, the prettiest girl in school, didn’t get to go to the prom because none of them asked me.”

  “College was similar. For the first semester, I smiled and chatted with the guys but turned down dates. Then a real cutie asked me out, and I said yes, then spent half the evening fighting him off as he tried to grope me. I didn’t date him again. The next guy I dated was more respectful on the first date, but on the second date, the same thing. Since it was a second date, I let him get his hands where he wanted them, and that’s when I found out I liked to be touched. It didn’t go further, and since I hadn’t put out, he didn’t ask again.”

  She took a deep breath, her food forgotten.

  “After that, I began to see a pattern, and I guess I began to live up to my looks. Or should that be down, not up? Anyway, the next guy who asked me out won the jackpot. He got more than just into my pants. We went out for about two months, and once he’d unlocked the door, I was pretty insatiable. I guess it wore him out because he dumped me right before mid-terms. After that, I got asked out a lot, and if I wasn’t studying, I said yes. When I dated, they either tried it on there and then on the first date or waited until the third. Sometimes they got lucky, sometimes they didn’t. I found out quickly that I could winnow the men from the boys with a simple blow job.”

  She blushed as she said that. “Far too many guys were happy to get that, and they shut up shop for the evening. They didn’t get another date. The ones who kept after me were more like keepers, but after being cheated on a couple of times, I started being more selective.”

  “By the time this year rolled around, I’d stopped being so easy on first or third dates, but you were still the only boyfriend who hadn’t tried it on in four dates. I was wondering why when you asked me around for the afternoon because your housemates were out. That gave me the chance to engineer a test. See if letting you wait had been worth it or not.”

  “Hence the bet.”

  She nodded. “Hence the bet. Either I was on a win-win whether I won or lost the bet, or you were going to disappear out of the picture faster than you could shake your tail at it. I knew there was a chance at something deeper, but I couldn’t stand around waiting for you to make a move.”

  I chuckled.

  “What?”

  “I was going to put the moves on you anyway. Your bet simply gave me a pretext.”

  “So why wait until the fifth date?”

  “Because I didn’t want to be labeled as a typical college jock. I wanted more, so I waited, being patient paid dividends in the end.”

  We sat in silence again for a couple of minutes, mainly so Chloe could finish her meal. As she wiped her mouth with her napkin, she smiled.

  “You brought me here to talk about something, and I’m pretty sure a confession of love wasn’t the plan, nor was listening to me droning on about my history.”

  “It wasn’t a drone, and in any case, it made me ashamed to be a man. It must hurt to be as beautiful as you.”

  She preened at the compliment but smiled. “No, tell me the real reason.”

  “The bets.”

  “What about the bets?”

  “I think I’ve accidentally painted us into a corner on them.”

  She frowned at me, and I tried to explain.

  “We haven’t made any bets for nigh on three weeks now.”

  She shrugged.

  “And given we were just talking about sex, I’d have to say things have cooled a little in that area. I want to know if that is because of the bets or because of the silly suggestion I made last time. You won’t bet because you think the forfeit will be a punishment spanking?”

  “I wouldn’t have said cooled…”

  “Okay, less frequent.”

  “More a lack of opportunity.”

  “So you’re not avoiding making a bet with me because I joked about spanking you?”

  She bit her lip and swallowed hard. “I guess, a little.”

  I reached across the table and grabbed her hand. “You do know I wouldn’t actually do it, don’t you?”

  She almost glared at me. “If it was the stake in a bet, and I lost, then yes, you would. I don’t welch on a bet, ever, whatever the bet is.”

  “I can solve that one, I simply won’t let you put your ass up as the stake. A bet is not a bet if it's not accepted.”

  “Look, I’m quite serious about this.”

  “So am I!”

  I frowned at her, this conversation wasn’t going where I thought it would.

  “I thought you didn’t want…”

  “I don’t.”

  “Then why…?”

  “Because, you goose, a bet is a bet. I like to bet, and usually, I enjoy the forfeits. Even if they make me somewhat embarrassed, like stripping topless and baring my ass on your doorstep three weeks ago.”

  “You didn’t have to do that.”

  “Stop. I did it because I wanted to do it. Yes, it was embarrassing, but it was one hell of a fucking rush too.”

  “That’s not the same as a spanking.”

  “But you mentioned it, and without intending to, you mentioned it in the context of a bet. So, it might be stretching it a little, but I’ve always lived by a philosophy. A bet is a bet is a bet. You don’t welch on a bet, ever.”

  “I know.”

  “So, since you put it out there, even if I don’t want it…”

  “And I don’t…”

  “Even so, the next bet we make, that’s the forfeit.”

  I shook my head, not wanting to argue, not after the emotionally charged first half of the conversation, but her convoluted logic was making it very difficult for me not to disagree.

  “Look, you realize you’re taking it to the extreme?”

  “I’m not the extremist. You’re the one who threatened to spank me. That’s extreme.”

  “In fun, not for real, not for keeps.”

  She glared at me. “I said it very simply. A bet is a bet is a bet. So that’s what we’ll be betting for. Period. Take it or leave it.”

  I muttered under my breath, something I instantly regretted when I saw her reaction. That ‘leave it’ would haunt me for three days.

  Her glare was full-on force ten. I opened my mouth to say I didn’t mean it like that, but it was too late. She was already rising to her feet. “I’m going back to college.” She glared down into my shocked face. “On my own.” Without another word, she stalked off, leaving me stunned and totally incapable of working out how to rectify this. I’d just declared my love for her, and she was walking away from me, possibly for good.

 

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