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The Bet by John Carter


All stories on this web site are purely FICTIONAL. The people depicted within these stories only exist in someone's IMAGINATION. Any resemblence between anyone depicted in these stories and any real person, living or dead, is an incredible COINCIDENCE too bizarre to be believed. If you think that you or someone you know is depicted in one of these stories it's only because you're a twisted perverted little fucker who sees conspiracies and plots where none exist. You probably suspect that your own MOTHER had sex with ALIENS and COWS and stuff. Well, she didn't. It's all in your head. Now take your tranquilizers and RELAX.
The bet : Pt. 5

He left her for a time, basking in the warm feeling that
spread through her body. She became aware of his presence when
something soft touched her stomach. It was neither cold nor
warm but it was very soft and, comforting. He placed it just
above her navel. It seemed larger than a hand and longer than it
was wide.
For a time it just lay there, without any real weight or
pressure. A slight feeling of pressure came first, followed by
movement. He was gently moving it across her stomach in small
circles. With movement came definition. It was furry, like a
small mink towel or a rabbit skin. It was larger than the hand
that moved it and it felt very good whatever it was.
He began by rubbing the area between her navel and rib
cage. One one circle he went from her left side, up her side,
past her breast, just touching the side for a second or so as it
went by, continued up her torso to her neck, and up her left arm.
He stopped at her tied wrist and slowly made the trip back down,
passed across her chest above her breasts and went up her right
arm. He continued back and forth several times, sometimes going
over her neck and the bottom of her face, other times passing
over her breasts, never quite touching the nipples.
Again, it was relaxing and stimulating at the same. As
he continued she realized he was again teasing her, continually
coming close to her nipples, never reaching them. He changed the
pattern without warning and was again going over her stomach,
having gone down her right side. He repeated the old circular
pattern, continuing it for a couple of minutes at least.
She became aware of how difficult it was to keep a time
sense without any reference. How long had she been here? (How
many times had she come?) How late in the evening was it? Was
it even dark yet? How long could she keep the last two numbers
secret?
He broke off the pattern again, and went over the sides
of her breasts. Going between them in a figure eight, then
circling one, then the other and then back to a figure eight, he
began to really get to her. It had gone from being relaxing to
arousing somewhere up on her arms, and now she actively waited
for him to use the fur on her nipples.
He would come up just so high on her breast, always
stopping just short of her nipples. It began with him stopping
inches from them, then an inch from them, then less than an inch.
She tried not to react, not to moan again, not to encourage him,
but it escaped her when he finally ran the fur over each of her
nipples in turn. He may not have noticed it. It was quiet and
he was kissing her as she moaned, his tongue invading her mouth.
After he'd stopped running the fur over over her breasts
and had returned to her stomach, she noticed the lingering taste
of mint and realized he'd brushed his teeth before beginning to
work on her.
He began doing what he'd done to her arms to her legs.
His hand passed down her left leg, going all the way to her foot.
The fur did interesting things to the bottom of her foot. He
travelled back up the inside of her leg, parting from it only
inches from her sex and travelled back down to her right foot.
Then the thought occurred to her, He was going to play the
same game with her down there that he had played with her
breasts. A quick intake of breath followed that thought.
And he did. He played the game of approaching her sex,
coming closer by millimeters at each pass. When he could not
possibly come any closer, and her loins were on fire, he circled
her mound.
She was amazed at how sensitive her stomach had become.
"We both know you're going to come now." she heard him
say. "We both know I don't have to touch you any more than I am
now."
She knew he was right. She had waited for the touch on
her sex, for his finger, or she had hoped, his member sliding up
her incredibly slick opening. She felt herself blush as she
thought that he could easily have been watching every movement of
her sex, literally looking directly inside her as she became more
and more aroused.
The sound of his voice caused it to start. She felt
herself coming. She wanted to curl up, to hide what her sex was
doing from him, but bound as she was, she could hide nothing.
Not knowing where he was, she could not know if he was observing
her face (what she must look like), her body, or directly into
her sex. She imagined him watching her vagina opening and
closing, out of her control. The thought made her orgasm more
intense, and at the same time his voice gave her something
between a command and play by play announcing of her reactions.
She realized that for the moment she was the center of
his universe, all of his attention was focused on her. Just now,
nothing other than her gyrations, her squirmings, her movements
were important to him.
Yes, it was grand!
He kept her either coming or close to it for some
minutes. It was less intense than the last one, but somehow more
delightful. When he allowed her to stop, she breathed a sigh of
relief.
It didn't last. She had barely thirty seconds before he
used his bare hands on her breasts. He knew how aroused she was
and used it, playing her like a violin. He had her coming, even
more powerfully within seconds. After a full minute of orgasm
(He had timed it by the night stand clock) he asked her for the
second number.
She refused.
He forced her to remain either on the brink or in an
orgasm for the next four minutes, then he asked her again. This
time she refused, but was not able to concentrate enough to stick
out her tongue as she had last time.
He asked her a third time as his finger entered her
exceptionally wet and very ready vagina. She was able to hold
off three more minutes (and four orgasms) before telling him the
second number was fourteen.
He continued to make her come for an additional five
minutes telling her that proper young ladies didn't stick out
their tongues at gentlemen.

 
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