Owen Issues a Challenge

It's Tuesday and I have invited you over for dinner.

There are many reasons why, and I don't know that I could pick just one, outside of your challenge to me.

Very well then, it's because you fascinate me; you're charming, witty, intelligent, well-read and yes, I also find you quite attractive.

The challenge you issued earlier is just another feature in the back-and-forth communication we share. Your questions provoke me into actual analysis of my behavior, and further, a sharing of my thoughts. I've never met anyone who has successfully achieved this with me; you are thus a novelty. And gorgeous, did I mention that?

Usually, an equivocation or a direct change of subject will divert any questioner away from my lack of answers. For some reason, this doesn't seem to work with you. You reword your questions for me in search of an answer.

Your challenge is a difficult one for me; I am to allow YOU to decide how and when I cum during our evening. Because I cum easily; a thought, a touch, a kiss and I'm stretching, my body reacting with a charge that races through my veins and straight to my cunt. Thighs clamping. Wet. Aching.

Now that I've accepted your challenge, here we are, dinner at my home. Initially I thought that having you here, in my space, in my control, would be best. I'm rethinking that now as you step into my entryway, a bottle of wine in one hand and a bag in the other.

"What do you have there?" I ask suspiciously, pointing to the bag. The wine is for you, I rarely drink and if I did, I would choose to abstain tonight.

"Games for later." You smile, broadly. Confidently. Certain that you will win our little bet.

"Ah, that can go in the bedroom then." I point to a door off the hallway and turn to go back to the kitchen.

"Are you sure you don't want to see what I have in here, for you? For later, when I make you cum for me?" You ask, voice low and taunting. An attempt to arouse me, knowing it will make me more susceptible to the cum that lingers at the edge of my thoughts right now.

"Nope, I need to stir something in the kitchen." I answer blithely, hips swinging as I walk away from you. You're watching me, I can feel the burn of your eyes on my skin even after I pass through the doorway into the kitchen.

I don't think you realize that in challenging me, you activated the 'win or die trying' part of my personality. Highly competitive since childhood, where my father would pit his three children against each other in a constant battle, no matter the circumstances. And as the oldest, I was expected to win.

Did I?

Every...... single....... time.

When you saunter into the kitchen, grin still plastered across your face, eyes alight with the desire to win, to make me surrender, I'm pulling steaks from the broiler and point to the broccoli on the counter with my elbow.

"Will you carry that to the table please?"

"Sure. Anything else I can help you with?" The double entendre is not lost on me, and I turn to roll my eyes at you. I have the feeling I will be doing this often tonight.

"I'm good for now, thanks." I slide the steaks onto a plate and add, "But I'll certainly let you know if I need anything else from you."

"Just asking." You put your hands up and step back from me, the grin on your face wide and white. "I'm curious about how you think you're going to avoid cumming between now and let's say, 11 tonight?"

"Eleven?" I scoff, "why don't we just make it midnight? Are you afraid I won't be able to resist you for one more hour?" My eyes bright with the challenge of my own.

"Not at all." You state, pulling out my chair at the table, waiting for me to sit down. "I was trying to be chivalrous, to let you have one less hour of fear."

I avoid your play by sitting in a different chair, thwarting your attempt to touch me, to play with my long blonde hair, to stroke my neck; anything you think will drive me to arousal.

"Fear?" I ask you, eyebrows raised, as I unwrap my baked potato. "Not afraid at all darling Owen. You will go down in a burst of flames when the clock strikes midnight."

"Then it will be so." You incline your head. "Four hours for me to change your mind."

I slice my perfectly done steak into pieces on my plate and ponder a benign subject. "How was teaching those lovely children today? Did you discuss adverbs, adjectives, that sort of thing with them?"

A laugh echoes from your diaphragm as you answer me. "No, that's more like a 3rd grade subject matter. We talked about my favorite subject, playwriting. To read a written play, is to love a written play. I want to start them early on the path to a future love of the greats."

You couldn't have picked a better subject to dampen any flame of desire I might have felt, sitting across the table from you.

Today is our first time meeting; all our previous contact has been via email and a few phone calls up until now. I study you unobtrusively as I eat.

Dark hair still damp from the shower you took before you arrived. A dark grey button down shirt hugging your broad chest with a neatly pressed pair of blue jeans on your long legs. Looking at you across the table for this length of time is enough to make me wet.

Quickly averting my eyes, a move not lost on you, as you are well aware that I have been studying you for the last few minutes, my usual chatter stifled, I reach across the table to your wine glass.

"Is this good?" I ask, taking a sip.

"It's very smooth, not unlike me." You take the glass back from me and swallow. I watch your throat muscles move the fluid from your mouth and I think about your tongue. A tongue capable of creating magical thoughts in my brain, I can only imagine what you could do to my mouth, my body.

"Are you planning to have them write a play then, during your class?" I stuff a bite of steak in my mouth, eyes on the remaining broccoli on my plate, trying to decide if I wanted to eat more. Nerves have made me uneasy and the food on the table is no longer appetizing.

"Yes. They're an advanced group, I'm sure they are more than capable." You spear a piece of broccoli with your fork, and I watch you move the fork to your mouth, well aware that mine is open, exhaling as you close your lips around the floret, and chew slowly.

Deciding against additional broccoli, I eat more of my potato and poke at the remaining steak.

"Not hungry anymore?" Taunting again. I've noticed how your voice lowers when you are aroused. Deeper, more erotic. Suggestive.

"Mmmm." I hum, noncommittally. "Hungry for food, not much else."

"I shall have to double my efforts then." You reach across the table and clasp my hand in yours. Bring it to your mouth and lick my index finger with that talented tongue. Draw it into your mouth where you suck it gently.

Feeling as though I am having an out of body experience, I watch you intently, ignoring the fire that starts in my lower half.

"Three and a half hours left." I wrench my hand from you and gather my plate along with the silverware.

"Shall we go play chess?" I offer, "Once the dishes are done."

"I haven't played chess in years. There are much better games for adults to play." You stand up and take your plate to the counter. "In fact, I can think of a few right now."

"I'm sure you can." Bumping you away from the sink with my hip, I run water into the sink. "Do you mind clearing the table for me?"

"Why aren't you using the dishwasher? Isn't it faster?" You tease me, setting your plate down along with several other dishes.

"I prefer to wash them myself." I counter. "Faster isn't always better."

Biting my tongue instantly, knowing you'll take what I said and run with it.

"I wholeheartedly agree, faster is never better. Slow and pleasurable is more my style." Enhancing the effect of the words by running your finger down my spine to the small of my back.

I shudder, the fire burning hotter. Too hot for my comfort and I turn the stream of water to cold, holding my wrists directly beneath.

"Am I turning you on Beth?" Mouth close to my left ear, I can feel your warm breath against the skin.

"No!" My answer is forceful, directed more at my own body's betrayal than your seduction efforts. "Why don't you go poke around the cabinet in the living room, I've card games galore in there. Or we can discuss Plato, I'm sure your knowledge of Greek Philosophy is unending."

"Not my bailiwick." Stepping back, giving me breathing room, you collect the rest of the dishes from the table. "I'll go look at your cards, do you play Uno? I personally play a mean game of Uno."

"Or we could play Strip Poker Uno." Directed at my back as you come alongside me again. "You have what, a t-shirt, bra, jeans, panties on? Or are you commando today?"

"No, I'm not." I respond primly, lips tight together, knees weak at the thought of stripping in front of you. "Besides, I'll whip your butt at cards."

"I don't think so. How about a bet? Whoever wins Uno hands gets to choose what clothes the other takes off?" You propose slyly, wiggling your eyebrows at me suggestively.

Irritated with your maneuvering, I clang a plate into another while putting in the drainer. The sound makes us both jump and I realize your nerves are as on fire as mine.

"Another bet?" I half-snarl. "You're on. I'll be in the living room in two minutes."

"I'll be waiting." Humor is back in your voice; once again, sure that you will win. "You could always change into something more comfortable too. A nice see-through nightie might distract my card playing ability."

"I don't own anything like that. I sleep in a t-shirt." My voice is also back under control, softer.

"Only a t-shirt?"

I smile to hear the tone of interest in response. "Yes, only a t-shirt. I can wear just that out in the living room if you'd like."

"Yes please!" Eagerness makes your voice rise, and I grin over my shoulder to you.

"Just kidding."

Bemused, you stare at me, your own grin fading. "I'll go find the cards." You mutter as you stalk out of the room.

An hour and a half later, it's eleven pm and you are wearing only your boxers and I have on a bra and boy shorts. The hands have been long, each of us coming close, shouting "Uno" time and time again and having to draw twenty cards the next turn. Back and forth, emotions up and down -- victory is within reach and then snatched from both of us.

I see you glance at the clock and the resolve harden your eyes. With only an hour left to win your bet, you've not even managed to arouse me, much less make me cum for you.

The desire that lights your eyes burns across the table to me. Putting your cards down, you stare at me for a moment and reach across the table to grasp my wrist, turning my fingers so the cards drop to the table.

"I think we've played this game long enough." You stand up, pulling me up with you, the table between us.

"I have an hour yet Owen." A flush starts on my chest and climbs to suffuse my face. The fire has ignited once again.

"I don't."

My eyes drop to your boxers, and I can see your erect cock straining against the cotton fabric. Twisting my wrist from your hand, I step back, a pathetic attempt to gain some space between us.

"I want you to cum for me Beth. Right now. You've told me you can cum on demand, so I'm demanding." As you speak, you walk around the table to me and none-to-gently push me back onto the couch.

Balance lost, I fall back and land awkwardly, arms splayed, legs akimbo. Picking up my feet, I use them to scramble backwards, even as you lean over me, arms trapping me, knees between my legs.

Lowering your mouth to mine, you kiss me, a hard, punishing kiss. Capturing both of my wrists in your right hand, you lift my arms over my head and bury your mouth in my cleavage.

The internal fire is raging at this point.

"Roll on your side, I want you to unhook your bra for me." Releasing my hands, then sitting back up on your knees. Eyes burning through me.

"Unhook your bra Beth. Now." Emphasis on the last word. Waiting for me to react. "I want to see you."

Lifting myself upon my arms, I reach behind me to unhook the bra.

"I didn't think you'd give in so easily." Taunting me again, arms crossed, a pleased smile on your lips. "And here we are; you are most obedient tonight."

Startled, I shake my head to clear the fog of arousal from my brain. Give in? What were you talking about? Obedient, me?

THE CHALLENGE! Neon lights erupt in my brain and in desperation I reach up to grasp your cock. If I can distract YOU from ME, I can make it through the next 50? Minutes without cumming.

Stroking you through the soft fabric, I watch your eyes soften, body relax and start to enjoy my efforts. Using both hands, I side the shorts from your hips, freeing your cock.

"Mmmmmmmmmmm." I grip you with my right hand and lower my mouth to the tip. Licking, wetting you with my tongue. Lips around the head, mouth and tongue making my way down, allowing you into my throat. Then back up and down, stroking you with my hand, sucking on you with my warm mouth.

"You're doing a fine job of distracting me." You moan the words, enjoying my mouth on your cock.

Not willing to risk you changing your focus back to me, I continue. Cupping your butt with my hands, I pull you towards me, letting you fuck my throat. Cock deeper with every thrust. Your hands tangled in my hair, gripping and tugging on the length as you hold my head in the right place. Soft lips as you thrust, teeth raking you as you pull back, alternating, stimulating. Making you cum.

"Fuck Beth, I'm cumming." You sound amazed, as all men do, when they near release. Is it that surprising? That stunning? It must be.

I move back, letting your cock slide from my mouth, continuing to stroke you as spurt jets of creamy cum on my neck and chest. One hand on the back of the couch, the other on my left shoulder, head down, shuddering, gasping as you catch your breath.

I've successfully delayed your assault on me for....I glance at the clock on the wall.....15 minutes. It's now 11:30 p.m.

Thirty minutes to distract you and I've run out of options.

You're realizing the same as you sit back on the couch, slinging your boxers from your body to the floor.

"Your turn now." Eyes alight again, confidence in victory assured. "Your turn to cum for me Beth. I win."

Shaking my head, I scramble from the couch. Standing, there's nowhere to go. My bedroom is not a haven, you've stashed your toys there. Nowhere else in the apartment is safe.

"Come here." You hold your hand out, sitting on the couch, patting the space next to you with your other hand. "Come sit next to me Beth."

Hearing my name again and again on your lips is disconcerting. It's a familiarity I cannot refute. I move over and sit next to you. Maybe there's something I can do, say, a subject to delay the inevitable.

"You fought the good fight." Placing your hand over mine, linking your fingers with mine.

"Couch or bedroom?" You ask, and I shake my head. Either place, at this point it doesn't matter.

"Bedroom then." Taking the decision from me. "Let's go. I'll show you all the exciting toys I brought with tonight. To use on you." Rising, pulling me up with you, we head in the direction of the bedroom.

"I need the bathroom." I follow you in the room and drop your hand to head into my bathroom.

"Five minutes." You chide me softly. "If you're not out in five minutes, I'll be coming in to get you. You've lost, accept that, Beth. You WILL be cumming for me six minutes from now."

The words follow me into the bathroom, worsening my feeling of defeat. I stare at myself in the mirror, hair a tangled mess, dried come on my chest. I take my bra off and boy shorts, there's no point in leaving them on any longer. I can't delay any more. I've lost. Almost given in, really.

Cleaning myself up a bit and steeling myself to go back out, I hear you call out to me.

"Time's up."

You're on the bed, naked, stretched out sideways on my lime green sheets. Head held up by your left hand, you watch me approach the bed.

"You are so fucking beautiful." Patting the space on the bed next to you. "Join me."

I sink down onto the bed, and crawl slowly over to you. Head down, letting my hair hang over my face, hiding.

"Look at me." Another command, accompanied by your hand attempting to push the hair from my face.

I flip the hair back and sit up to stare into your face. Light green eyes focused on your face, the smile on your lips, the line of your jaw. The first time I've been so close to actually see the flecks of gold in your brown eyes.

Reaching up with your hand, you grip the back of my head and pull me down to you, to your mouth and into a kiss.

I fold myself down next to you, stretched out against your body. Mouths together, tongues teasing each other. Your erection against my thigh.

Almost against my will, I splay my legs, and you take the invitation to move your body over mine, cock hard against my slit. Waiting.

"I'm going to fuck you Beth. I want you to come the very instant my cock slides into you." Voice husky, brown eyes staring intently into mine. "As soon as you feel how hard I am, how I stretch you -- I want to hear you cum. I want to feel it from every pore in your body. Own it."

I nod, giving in. Acquiescing. Your words and the touch of your skin against mine have aroused me, I'm wet. I can already feel the beginning of the tingle, a herald to the cum that will happen as soon as I feel your cock inside of me.

Already arching my hips to meet your cock, I close my eyes, not willing to see the victory in yours, my mouth opening with a groan as you press against my cunt, driving your cock into me and I'm there, instantly.

Legs coming up to hold you in me, back arched off the bed and a guttural moan emanating from my center. Nerves tingling from head to toe. Kaleidoscope colors exploding in my brain. Muscles inside of me clamping onto your cock, squeezing you with the strength of my cum.

Moaning as I let it race through me, nerves alive with my body's electricity. "Fuuuuuuuck Owen." My mouth is dry as I call out your name.

Almost as quickly, it's over. I'm flat down on the bed, eyes open to see the thrill of victory on your face.

Simultaneously, we both look at the clock on the bedside table. Midnight. Straight up.

"Victory is ours." You say to me, mouth against my lips as you thrust slowly into me. "Cum for me again, please?"

I do, over and over again, as we enjoy each other all through the night in our shared victory.

The bag of toys you ask, gentle reader? Owen did open the bag shortly thereafter, showing me the variety of most useful items he'd brought. And the going's on after that, well, that's a story for another day.