'Ahh, come on -- it was just fooling around.' Actually, it was a mock striptease -- on the dining room table, everyone sitting around clapping and jeering. When he simply stared at me however, one eyebrow arched, I added: 'Okay-okay, but I stopped at my bra and panties.' He sniffed. 'Everyone else seemed to enjoy it,' I mumbled. Alright, so I may have got a little carried away, plucking at the elastic on my panties and rolling my eyes while the other two men present clapped rhythmically and whistled. But it was all in fun. Honest. Although I must confess it got me, well, horny...hornier.

'Well, it's nothing I haven't seen before, is it?' He made a slow circular movement with one upturned finger.

'C'mon -- it was a bet. Just between friends, over a few drinks. No harm...'

'That's it with you, isn't it?' he interrupted sharply. 'Someone puts money on the table and...' he broke off, clearly very angry.

So I tried humour. Again. Fishing the four folded twenties, one from each member of the other two couples, out of my bra and winking. 'You know me. I didn't get the nickname...'

'So if he'd specified nude, you'd have done it. Jesus.'

At last, the nub of the problem. Had it been anyone but the hunky Larry, with his dark flashing eyes...Larry with the perpetual bulge... Larry, who according to Monica, was hung like an elephant...Christ, but I could've used a little of that trunk! 'Well, he didn't, so it's purely academic...'

'What if I did?' He turned sideways slightly on his seat, to face me. 'What if I bet you wouldn't go starkers from here home? From this driveway to inside the apartment?'

'How much?'

'Ten.'

I couldn't very well refuse, could I? Not under the circumstances. Chuckling, I shrugged off my jacket, started to unbutton my blouse. 'A ten isn't much of an investment, is it?'

'As I said, it's nothing I haven't seen before.' He smiled faintly, emphasizing the second pronoun ever so slightly.

My blouse came off easily enough. Although the chill of the seat against my back was something of a shock. I sat forward sharpish, sucking wind through my teeth as I popped the front-catch on my bra and shrugged it off. Not my strong suit, my tits -- but he seemed to like them, was smiling now, watching them swing loose and sway about. Which got my juices flowing even more freely, so that I struggled to reach my shoes and socks. Until I remembered to undo the seatbelt. After that, everything went smoothly: skirt, panties -- I'd removed my pantyhose during the "strip" on the table. That might've been what triggered him off, actually -- now that I thought about it, when everything sort of twisted and I'd flashed more or less everything I had, if only for a moment.

During which interval we settled the "specifics" of the bet. And I must say he was in a much better humour. 'Haven't left me many loopholes, have you?' I laughed, wriggling about, hoping to warm the seat somewhat while I did up the seatbelt. Carefully. All the hair on my twat was standing up. Nor were they the only erect things in sight by this time. My nipples were like rocks.

'No,' his reply was cheerful, tinged with that amusement characteristic of when he was up to mischief. I should've recognized it, been suspicious of a trap. But I didn't. Wasn't. In fact, he had his key in the ignition, was about to start the car, when he hesitated, seemed to change his mind. Next I knew, he was out of the car, my clothes bundled in his hands. I heard the trunk thump closed. To be honest, I was more concerned with the cool night air flowing over me -- and the fact the dome-light was still on. Slipping back into his seat, he did up his own belt and started the car. We were moving before he said: 'All you have to do to call it off is say Uncle and produce the ten. We agreed, remember?'

'Yeah, yeah,' I smiled, relieved to have the light out and the journey underway, feeling for the cash in my bra. And finding only bare skin. In other words, all my money was in the trunk -- with my clothes. 'Bastard,' I said, albeit playfully. Though I resolved right there not to give him the satisfaction anyway, come what may.

Chuckling himself now, he pulled up at the intersection, made a show of considering. Then turned in the wrong direction. 'I think we'll take the scenic route. Teach you not to insult the person who has the whiphand -- figuratively speaking, of course.'

He would've turned the wrong way in any event, I realized. He was like that. Devious. Meaning I would have to watch my step. Obviously. Chuckling, apologizing profusely, promising undying obedience from that point on -- in short, overdoing it: making him laugh -- I made some discreet adjustments. Ever had your hard hypersensitive nipples sawed at by the strap of a seatbelt? Believe you me, it's enough to make you pull out a little slack and hang on to keep it. And than there's your throbbing hot quim -- quim? twat? cunt? -- what's the difference, I wondered? Regardless, I seemed to have all three, rolled into one, hot and aching and moist...Moist?! Try WET -- with a capitol W!...And that damned little lap-belt across my thighs, just brushing at my fuzz: setting up an almost electrical current, direct voltage to my core.

I settled back, relaxing, my confidence growing. After all, now that I was onto his game -- well, this was going to fun. And once I got him home...

At which moment, he glanced over, his smiling eyes dipping significantly. 'Sidebet?'

I jerked my hands away abruptly, shrugging. My nipples twitched briefly in protest at being left on their own. My twat positively screamed. 'The belt chafed a little. Just -- you know, a little aid and comfort?'

'Of course. In fact, I was going to bet you couldn't keep that hand there for the duration of the original wager. The one on your pussy.'

Pussy? Of course, how could I have forgotten the age-old standard? I'll stick to twat. Sounds tighter, yet wilder...Less domestic somehow. And domestic was the last thing I was feeling. 'Like this?' I grinned, slipping my fingertips under the lap-belt again, squeezing gently. 'Or this?' I reached farther under, fondling lightly with my fingertips. 'Or this?' I poked up one finger, shivering involuntarily as it penetrated. God, but that was delicious. And he liked it too! I could see the bulge -- his trunk -- as the streetlights strobed through the car.

'Umh?- let's say consistent contact?'

'I'd rather it was you -- but, well,' I shrugged, 'since you're driving. Consistent contact?-in any form?' He nodded. 'How much?'

'No money. But if you lose I get to shave you -- well, down there.'

A shiver ran through me. But not an entirely unpleasant one. Although I don't often do the shaved clit thing. Well, it itches when it grows back in, doesn't it? Yecch. 'And if I win?'

'Then I don't.'

'That doesn't seem...'

We had pulled into a service station. Lit up like a football field it was. I swallowed. 'The question is,' he teased, frowning thoughtfully, 'full or self service? I know I'd normally go for the latter, but it's night and...Oh, and no hands anywhere near those lovely tits of yours. Those you show to all and sundry.'

'You bastard.'

'Full service it is then.' He grinned, lifting his foot from the brake, the other leg easing off the clutch.

'Okay-okay, you've got a bet. And an apology. The full grovel.' My heart was pounding, seemingly in time with my pulsing twat. 'I'll touch myself here,' I flicked him a grin, demonstrating, then raised my other hand in a circular motion, 'but not here.'

Chuckling, he spun the wheel. 'I've got your number. You do know that?'

We slid past the pumps and around behind the adjoining convenience store. Smiling to show I wasn't concerned -- which I wasn't, not overly -- I nodded. After all, he'd been upset by the idea of his best friends catching a glimpse. So he was going to show me off to strangers? Not likely.

'You don't think so?' he glanced at me, eyes twinkling. We were coming out the far side of the service station, moving toward the main road again.

'Of course. You're in charge. It's your whip-hand, so to speak.' Guys?! Really. When I got him home, and finished bonking him silly...Someone groaned. Realizing it was me, I sat up straight -- moved my hand, removed my fingers actually -- and they came out with the soft delightful "plop" -- just letting them brush across my pubes slowly. Couldn't go having a spasm now, could I? That would make him full of himself! Had he noticed?

Pulling up to wait for a break in the traffic, he said: 'Speaking of which. How about a second sidebet?'

'Shoot.' A perfectly acceptable break in the traffic went begging. But I was onto his game -- as I said. Not about to be unnerved.

'If you, umh?-mess my upholstery-I get to whip your tush as well shave your pussy?'

I settled back on the seat once more, forced my hand to remain perfectly still: cupping my twat, warming it. As if it needed warming!? I had a riding crop in the closet, hanging there. From when I was a child and used to ride regularly. God, but I used to love that -- having a great huge powerful animal between my thighs, rubbing against the saddle: back-and-forth, back-and-forth...Give your head a shake, kid. Stick with the plot! We'd had it out once or twice-- the crop, that is -- flicked it at one another. I'd once caught him rather more sharply, leaving a livid red line across his full tight muscular tush for several days. He had a gorgeous tush. Everyone I knew stared at it. For that matter he was hung like a horse as well... Swallowing, hard, I said: 'Or not?-if I don't like? "Mess" the upholstery, that is.'

'Got it in one.'

Well, you could kiss that bet good-bye already. I could feel the dampness down there now, with my fingertips.

He seemed to be looking past me, grinning.

A number of pedestrians, teenagers of both genders, were coming along the sidewalk. Directly at us. From my side. He let the car roll forward to block the sidewalk. The teens were close now, one of the girls staring -- wide-eyed. In a second they'd be right on top of us. Of me. Then they'd all notice. If the girl didn't tell her friends even sooner. Just as he started to raise a hand to point out their approach, I spun back to him. 'Okay-okay.'

'Do we need to specify?' he asked, all butter-wouldn't-melt.

'No.' I mopped my forehead with my free hand, not wanting to risk a glance toward the teenagers. 'Any orgasm and you win.'

'Oh no,' he shook his head slowly, grinning. 'Orgasms are a different thing entirely. Mess the upholstery and I crop your lovely butt. Have an orgasm and, umh...let me think about that one. But if you're damp down there, which I suspect you are, knowing you you're looking at six strokes.'

Six? Six?! My butt muscles tautened at the very thought. 'Three.'

'Twelve.'

'You bastard! That's...That's...'

He pointed past me, out the side window. As if I didn't know. The kids were right there, certainly within earshot. "Jesus, she's starkers!"... "Nice tits!"..."Get away," from one of the girls, "she's ancient"... Ancient?! Me?! 26 is not ancient you little bitch!..."Yeah, look -- her tits are starting to sag"...From the other little bitch, of course. Kids today need their butts... Speaking of which..."Look!" An excited male face loomed out of the corner of my eye. "She's doing herself! She is! She's doing herself right here!"... The heat on my cheeks was now roughly equivalent to that of my twat. Turning to my left, I muttered: 'Okay-okay, six.'

'Nope. Ten.'

'Eight.'He opened his mouth to reply, started to form the word "twelve", so I snapped: 'Ten. Yes, ten. Just get me the hell out of here.'... "Oh yuch," one of the girls again, "An old cow like her!-doing herself!"...'P-l-e-a-s-e, I agree. It's ten.'

And my head snapped back, so sudden was our move forward into the flow of traffic. Leaving the screeching kids in our wake. On an impulse, without thinking, I turned and flashed them the finger. He had reached over, was running his fingertips lightly over my thigh. I stared down at his hand, mesmerized. Then realized his was the only hand in view, that I'd used the wrong hand to...Je-sus.

'You're enjoying this, aren't you?' I murmured, scratching at my head ruefully.

'Not as much as I'm going to enjoy myself later on.' His fingers slid over, plucked at my pubes gently -- emphasizing what he'd just said. 'Put your hand back, please,' he said, removing his.

And of course I was also on the hook for 10 strokes of the crop.Shivering, I tucked my hand between my thighs. In the process, gazing down critically at my tits. Which did not sag! Okay, so I had a few more curves, a little more meat on the hips and the tummy was a little fuller than when I was their age... Oh, who was I fooling? I had to surrender -- let him gloat and chortle and...I swallowed on that thought.

But I wouldn't have had time anyway. Because the next shock to my system was almost immediate. When he turned off the street swiftly, tucking into line behind the cars waiting to enter the Drive-Thru. 'I fancy something thick and creamy.' He winked. 'A shake, maybe?'

Staring at his wry grin I saw another car tuck in behind us from the corner of my eye. He was bluffing, had to be. We rolled forward a car-length. Two, maybe three to go -- then we'd trapped between those curbs and unable to pull out even if we wanted to. But a little voice told me to hang tight, to call his bluff.

'Isn't this the place where your favourite redhead toy-boy works? -- the one who always gives you extra sugar for your coffee?--and stares at your tits? He clearly doesn't think of you as "ancient". I wonder if he's working tonight?'

I wriggled in the seat, despite my best efforts to resist. We rolled forward again. I could see the edge of those damned curbs now. And if we did -- if we did go through the line...well, he'd have to see, wouldn't he? He'd lean out of that window, staring straight inside -- straight at my, at my...at me.

A spasm gripped me, clenching my stomach and sending a twitch through my twat. Sheer panic. And I suddenly saw my predicament very clearly, as though I'd stepped outside myself. In a car, stark naked, half-wanking. Not even a full wank, mind. Just sitting there, fondling myself -- trying desperately not to come. Ludicrous. Absolutely ludicrous! I was ludicrous!

And the sensation was exactly that I'd experienced years before. The day I forgot to lock the bedroom door after coming home from the stables and my mother walked in on me...

'Pardon?' he teased, cupping his hand to his ear.

I swallowed, had to. 'Uncle.'

'And the money?'

Closing my eyes, I groaned. 'I don't suppose you'd loan me...'

'You suppose right!' he interrupted, laughing.'Mind you, I'll give you the key and you can fetch it out of the trunk.'

'Please.' A thought occurred. 'What do you want?' I emphasized the you.

'Something thick and creamy. I told you.' He chuckled.

We rolled forward again. The outside curb was right there. But he could still pull out if...Another thought occurred. 'What if I never ever accepted another wager?-no matter what?'

'Then I don't see how we resolve this impasse, do you?'

Bastard. No, my fault. My own doing. Be more precise. 'I surrender.'

'What?'

'Surrender. Unconditionally.' I took my hand from my twat, clasping my sweat-dampened palm along with the other one on the top of my head. For some reason, the idea of total supplication was important. And I couldn't think of a better method to signify this supplication. I wondered what the people in the car behind were thinking...But that was silly!-they couldn't see past the bucket seat...But what if the people in the car in front glanced in the rear-view mirror!???

'Define unconditionally.'

'Unconditionally. Absolute. You can shave my twat, my head -- anywhere you want, whenever you want. You can crop my tush, my, well -- anywhere you want, as often as you want, as hard as you want. You can sell me, lease me, rent me. Anything you want. You say, I do. Or you can do it to me. Or have others do it to me. I cede all jurisdiction over my own body. I'll even put it in writing. Unconditional.'

A long pause ensued. Before he said: 'Now we're getting somewhere,' and eased out the clutch, letting the car roll forward until we were trapped between the curbs. 'But I'd still like something smooth and creamy. Honest.'

Checkmate. Outsmarted. Out-manoeuvred at every turn.

'Give me that orgasm now.'

Heart pounding, and mouth dry, I glanced around. We were only two, no, three cars from the window. And he was there, the teenage redhead. I could see him! In a few moments, he'd be leaning forward, smiling -- only to have his eyes widen in shock. Just as my mother's had, all those years previously. Only my mother had recovered quickly, a faint smile tugging at the corners of her mouth as she folded her arms and leaned casually against the doorframe. 'Well, go on,' she'd said, 'don't let my presence inhibit you.' No doubt she'd thought that terribly modern: terribly good parenting. But try wanking under those conditions. I dare you. Just as I dare you to sit there, smiling, while a teenaged boy passes over your milkshake, makes your change, pretends not to be shocked by your fingers exploring your twat-- probing and coaxing, and yes, savouring -- pretends not to stare in fascination.

And why not? I plunged my hand down, picking up where I'd left off only a few seconds. My twat was still hot, still wet, still swollen. And still just as delicious, just as much in need of...I'd managed to cum in front of my own mother! Why not in front of some spotty...hmmm, god but that was good...teenage boy...Je-sus. Unclicking the seatbelt, I arched up off the seat: two fingers inside my luscious hot twat, my thumb finding, massaging, my clit. Try finding a man who could get that combination right! My other hand was at my tits...which -- did -- not-- sag...at the nipple, the red-hot nipple -- then the other.

My car was rolling forward. I think. Maybe it was me. The convulsions had started, were growing into a wave, washing over me -- bringing my twat into spasms, spasms...Hard, hot all-encompassing continuous earth-shaking juice-gushing scream-wrenching spasms!!!

He was standing over me. All I could see was his ankles and muscular calves. Not counting the feet I'd just finished kissing: doing each toe in turn, then each joint, and finally each instep. The crop descended, set a fire across my upturned buttocks. Not that he'd really hit me that hard. As if he would. Amazing the power of the mind though, don't you think?

'Roll over,' he said, his voice teasing.

So I did. Positioning myself as comfortably as possible, knees cocked and apart, hands clasped behind my head. Exposing my once again twitching twat, twitching and throbbing, and hot and wet, ready, nestled beneath a smooth, recently shaved lower belly. If only he'd deign to...

'The look on that boy's face,' he sipped his drink and shook his head, chuckling. 'We must do that again sometime. And as for tomorrow...'

...I'd explode! Instantly. If only he'd bring that huge thick cock down here and... What was he saying?...In the red-light district?! Sidewalks thronged. Not least with pros... What?!

'...I've already phoned, while you in the bathroom. There's a shop down there that'll rent us one of their peep-show booths. Who knows?-maybe we can work out some reasonable lease arrangement for that body of yours, after all? -turn your little quirk into a paying proposition...'

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