Two Time Twyla

"I bet you can't do it."

"I am sure of it," Twyla said. Her hazel eyes shone.

I shook my head.

"You doubt me, Rob? My abilities?" She questioned me, her long, caramel-colored hair moving as she arched her eyebrows.

"No. Not you. Me." I waved a hand.

"My confidence is rarely misplaced," she said.

I knew there was no point in disputing with her when she was determined, when she had a letch to do something, especially sexual, but I also knew long odds when I saw them.

Twyla and I had been an item for a year and a half, in that delicious stage of a relationship when all was still new, everything exciting, and we actually had time to devote to each other. We'd rented a sunny two-room flat together, not far from the University of Michigan which had done both of us well for career preparation, now in our rear-view mirror by only a few months.

Twyla worked in a downtown finance office, assistant to the office manager, and was paid well enough. I loved watching her go off in the morning in her "business casual" professional garb, usually a mid-length dark-fabric skirt along with one of those long-sleeved, white, button-down Oxford shirts that made me want to rip it open, unclip her bra, and fondle her chest.

Armed with my engineering degree, I left home every day half an hour after her, and did welding inspections for Sorensky Contractors.

Over morning coffee that July Saturday, she sat across from me in her tan, warm-weather top, braless the way I adored her in her non-work moments, the eastern sun coming through the windows of our apartment. That defiant, pointed chin, those piercing eyes. I knew she wasn't going to give up.

"You know me well enough, Twyla." In fact this one was of the few sore spots in our relationship. She would have preferred a little more stamina on my part.

"I am mostly a one-and-done guy, just how I am put together."

"But I aim to disprove that. And you have come twice in a row before."

"Right, and how many times has that happened?" I held up four fingers. "And how long ago since the last one?"

Her defiant eyes were, of course, beautiful. Her smile was confident, issuing her challenge.

"So what are we wagering?" There was no point in my backing down on what was becoming the inevitable. "You fancy a good meal at Rothchild's?" This was our favorite, but expensive and thus rare, dinner destination.

She shook her head.

"No, a weekend."

I groaned. I had been on the losing end of one of these before. I was dying to win one myself, but had lost the only one of these high-stakes wagers we had made. Basically you were at the beck and call of the winner for an entire weekend.

To be honest, it not only hadn't been that onerous, but entirely enjoyable. Twyla had gone easy on me and the most difficult part had been making her climax on demand. Four times (more if you count multiple ones, which I am not) between Friday night and Sunday night. My prick was exhausted for a few days afterward, but it hadn't even done the lion's share of the work, which had been performed by my fingers, lips, and tongue.

Both of us are competitive types, with one important difference. I can handle losing. Twyla hates it. It makes some card and board games a bit dicey for us at times, but has certainly added interesting dimensions to various arguments or discussions we have had.

So losing this way wouldn't necessarily be frightful, and Twyla would be tickled unless she failed. But she wouldn't let that happen. Nothing wrong with keeping your partner happy.

"So when are we going to do this little adventure?" I asked.

She looked at me evenly. "Let's do today. After lunch."

I know the surprise on my face showed.

"We have no plans that cannot be put off. And while we have our morning chores to finish, it will give us something to think about, yes?"

She was right about that.

As we cleaned up breakfast and attended to our usual Saturday routines, I thought furiously about how she was going to pull it off. The first suck-off would not be a problem, even after our indulgences last night.

She had fellated me lots of different ways in the last year and a half. On my back, on my side in bed, even standing outdoors in a couple daring, semi-public arenas or on hikes. But she was planning to have me continuously in her mouth for two times? There weren't that many possibilities, and I figured I'd have her hovering over me while she worked, right next to me in bed, my eyes treated to the sight of her dangling breasts, her energetic lips.

I was wrong.

Later, after we'd cleared our lunch plates, not talking much but mostly just looking at each other the whole time, aroused mind-gears clicking away for each of us, she gave me a clear-eyed stare. I shivered at the energy she exuded.

She led me into the bedroom, removed my clothing. I did hers as well, part of our standard foreplay. Twyla is just shorter than me, with smooth shoulders, hair down to her nipples, a chest not so large that she couldn't go braless outside of work, and that lovely triangle of groin hair, darker than that of her head, that always made me salivate.

My penis, well aware of what was in store, got half-erect in the process of pulling her shorts and panties off, and as she leaned into me for a kiss, she fondled it into a more insistent state.

"Wait a minute," I said. "That's not fair. You're trying to get a head start, the harder my penis is before it's in your mouth, the shorter the whole business is going to be. I need to be soft before we start." I knew I sounded like a rules nit-picker.

Her eyes shot me a questioning look, maybe with a hint of petulance, but she understood my point well enough.

"Okay, fair enough. Why don't you go pee? That usually works. And after you're done, give your crotch a good wipe with a wet towel. If my face is going to buried in there for awhile, I'd like everything fresh."

But after my return from the bathroom, I was in for another surprise. Quite deliberately she positioned me on the bed, making me comfortable, head on a pillow but a couple feet away from the headboard, which seemed odd until she started to lower herself down on me, in a sixty-nine position.

Now personally, I like this particular arrangement, it had been a sweet, thoroughly entertaining variation for each of us, and I never minded having my nose submerged in her cunt and her mouth on my cock, whichever one of us was on top, but this wasn't what I had expected.

"Wait a minute," I protested. "This isn't quite fair, Twyla. You're saying your mouth will never leave my cock? But I'm not going to be in a position to see whether you leave off or not. My vision is only going to be your cunt, nothing else. Which I don't mind," I added, "but I won't be able see my own penis."

"You think I'm aiming to cheat? Sneak a mouth-break between sessions, while you're not looking? Is that it?"

"No, I trust your word, but still don't think it's quite right. But this is a wager, after all, and verification shouldn't be something we should need to haggle over." I had figured, at least, that I would be witness to the challenge, and now that didn't seem to be the case. I realized I had been looking forward to the visuals, among all the rest.

Again we stared at each other, not sure who was going to blink first.

"I'm doing it this way since I'm going to have your prick in my mouth for awhile. I want the angle to be right, so it's easy to breathe, at least. This way your curve just fits my mouth and throat better." She acted like the whole thing was entirely self-explanatory.

We were at a stalemate.

She broke into a smile. "Okay, no worries. Certainly a solvable problem." She clearly wasn't giving up on her sixty-nine plan.

She left the room, while I lay there on the bed, not sure what was up.

She came back. With my Nikon! And its tripod. Jesus.

We had once before tried to film some lovemaking, using the camera's movie function, but the process had both interfered with our thrashings, each of us conscious of being 'performers' and also worrying about the equipment, lighting, focus and angles. It had been a distraction all by itself.

She carefully arranged everything by the foot of the bed, had me spread my legs while she zoomed in on my crotch.

"Your best side," she teased.

"Thanks a lot."

"We'll get it recorded, you can have all the proof you want that your penis never left my loving lips." She was far too pleased with herself.

The Nikon was a high-end affair, a college graduation gift from my parents, and I had gotten most of my movie use out of it at the local racetrack, filming the Saturday afternoon quarter-mile drag races.

"It's only good for half-an-hour of recording," I pointed out, "that's all the storage it's got."

"I know," her smile was smug. "It's not going to take any longer than that."

I protested, but she said that if she didn't get me off twice in half an hour, she'd consider me the winner anyway, and that I had no right to object.

I watched her move around naked while fussing with the camera, as her crotch triangle, dark and furry, soon enough would be in my face. She fished in one of her bureau drawers and retrieved a hair-thingey to make a ponytail. I watched while she elevated both hands to secure her hair, raising and spreading her breasts as she did so, which moved enchantingly. "This is so you can't complain that my hair hid some devious mouth-removal deception on my part."

She paused and looked at me.

"Another thing. You can't go and deliberately pull out and be the winner that way. If it's my break that's one thing, but you can't be the cause." I hadn't even considered this angle. What if she sneezed or something while my penis was down her throat? It all felt too complicated.

"Understood," I said. "But you've got a pretty good idea how sensitive my cock-head is after coming? My pullout might be instinctive, not deliberate."

But how would I have accomplished this anyway? She was going to be on top, pinning me down. I thought of how my penis-head was excruciating to touch after a climax.

"Right. I'll be careful." Her expression was entirely wanton.

"Ready?" Her smile looked like she was trying for the seductress look, but would have been more fitting on some female, comic-book villainess character.

I waved a hand.

"Smile for the camera?" She pressed the record button, and I noted how she wiggled her ass at the camera lens before settling in on top of me. If nothing else, with the delay of the equipment set-up, my penis at this stage had completed its journey to fully limp, so it was soft when she took it into her mouth.

On the other hand, if one has had an erection earlier, which hasn't been finished properly to completion, a penis takes very little attention to regain its insistent vitality.

A minute or two of lip sucklings and tongue work and the beast extended itself, no longer a limp occupant of her mouth, now a lengthening sausage.

She wiggled her cunt down onto my face while she worked, her smell thoroughly exciting. Had this been part of her thinking all along? Total arousal for me while she worked me over?

Well, the first stage did not last long. Her lips moved lovely up and down my penis, she lingered at my cock-head a lot, sucking and tongue-work making it crazy for relief.

I felt her fondle my balls, and she knew quite well when I was close, since she sucked rapidly and hard, and I felt the inevitable spermal pressure build up into crisis mode.

My legs got stiff, I held her tightly to me, humped my prick into her face, my anus contracted, once, twice, five times, and I sent my sperm into her mouth. I will not deny that it was luscious.

She nursed out the last of my sperm, slow careful movements of her mouth on me, and just when things were getting too tender for any attention at all, she stopped all movement, and just let my penis rest in her mouth. Judging by the warmth and wetness, I am quite sure it had not left her lips.

I was spent. My whole body was limp, from toes to the top of my head. I breathed in, and of course her cunt-smell was right in my face.

I lay there for quite some time, not sure how long, since Twyla had also insisted on removing my watch before we even started, so I couldn't even check. "Don't want you paying any attention to the time," she had said.

But while her mouth had been still, her fingers hadn't. They had been gently kneading my balls, fingers running a teasing trail up and down my inner thighs.

What really changed however, was that Twyla started wiggling her cunt down onto my face.

I had to lick.

Had to. Couldn't avoid it.

I am sure she had gotten aroused sucking me. For either of us, anytime we pleasured the other, it always seemed to activate our own desire too.

But it wasn't until I ran my tongue up and down her lips that I realized just how aroused she had gotten. She was slick, wet like she meant business.

My first lick got her own pelvis moving, as she pushed down on me, and I felt her ass cheeks squeeze together.

It occurred to me at this point that maybe if I got her to climax, that might be enough to have her let go of my prick.

In the past, when we did the sixty-nine, she almost always turned her head to the side when she climaxed, breathing hard, with maybe a hand on my balls or prick, but she was then free to take her own pleasure without distraction or any danger of causing any unpleasantness to my own tender, or still hard, organ.

None of this mattered now, however. She pushed her cunt into me with enthusiasm. It was impossible not to respond, for a million reasons. She had just pleasured me, it was only fair to reciprocate. Plus where else was I going to go? What else was I going to do?

And she smelled divine. From my first times with girlfriends, I had always preferred a nice furry crotch on a woman, the hair holding in scent, fluids -- the primeval swamp effect was so intoxicating and different from a male's invasive pole of penetration.

What was I doing philosophizing? There was a cunt crammed into me face, Tywla's cunt, the best cunt in the world, one that deserved attention, pleasure, release.

She ground her hips into me while my tongue slithered its way along, up and into her, along those cuntal lips of hers. How sweet that a woman has two sets of lips, not just one.

All the time, I felt my penis limp but still warm and wet, undoubtedly still in her own mouth. Her mouth had been fairly quiet for some time, but as her own excitement built, she began some some sucklings of her own, a hand fondling my balls.

And the beast grew, just as she had known it would, just as she expected.

By the time I brought her off, with a good hip-shaking climax, my tongue up her sloppy channel, my penis had grown insistently stiff.

She lay still for some time, her mouth just holding me. But she began to play with my balls again. Involuntarily I pushed into her, just a little, and that was all the signal she needed.

It appeared to animate her, she began the most lovely lip slidings up and down my shaft, lingering at the head, that ridgeline of rapture, and her mouth produced a divine suction.

In and out, up and down, I felt her work me over. The sensations, while similar to the first time, were materially different. My penis nerves felt muted, nowhere near as anxious for contact or frantic for attention, but happy enough with long, slow, prolonged sucklings.

She pressed a hand into my perineum, cradled my balls, the intensity began to creep up. She was going to succeed, I was sure now.

Lips gripped my penis head, I felt her tongue probing my piss-slit. Fingers squeezing testicles, the pressure building.

I had left off my own mouth from her cunt, looking up at her ass cheeks, immense mountains distorted in the foreground of my vision, the warm feel of her inner thighs alongside my head. She was getting aroused again herself, I could tell by her movements, but I wanted only to concentrate on the signals my own penis was sending off.

Sweet, lovely, the wet pressure of her encircling constriction was enchanting.

I felt the second pressure build up again to dam-busting proportions, my legs again rigid with tension. My anus contracted, I pushed into her mouth. Again I went off, pressing into her while she sucked with focused vigor.

The last dregs of sperm got pulled out of me. Her mouth worked me to the end, until I was still. Everything was limp. My legs, my hands, which had been gripping her hips tightly, had relaxed. My cock shrank, I knew it.

And Twyla released me. I felt my penis slip out of her mouth, the relative coolness of the air noticeable.

At the same time, she wiggled her hips. I was to do her again as well.

This one was shorter and less intense, pretty much normal for her second-times. Her inner thighs acted like a vise on my head with the second climax, I felt both when she squeezed her cunt and contracted her anus.

A series of exhalations, through her open mouth now, and she was done. We lay for a couple minutes, hot and sweaty, my penis grateful for no attention at all now, until she climbed off me and halted the recording. The camera had been still whirring, so I knew it had captured everything.

My groin was sopping wet from her saliva, and, I was to find out, my own sperm. Her own facial lips glistened, and as she leaned over to kiss me, I got the semen breath that signaled success, and which I never minded.

She settled in next to me in bed, and even as sweaty as we were, we pulled the cotton sheet-covers over us and took a nap. I was beat, but she was too. Both of us needed rest. There is no sleep in the world better than after a rousing spend.

Later I couldn't wait to see the recording, just for verification purposes, although I really didn't have any doubt that she had won the wager.

I confess I got hard again watching it all. She did indeed keep my penis engulfed the whole time, her lips never so much as left my cock-head. I had no idea what her breathing would have been like for that half hour.

My first eruption was enchanting to watch, of course, with my prick pushing into her mouth. I had no idea however, what my balls looked like when discharging sperm. But they heaved pretty good, you could see my anus contract with each spurt, and even see my perineum bulge and pulse when the sperm was sent forth. I had to pause and reverse the clip, and we must have viewed that segment three times before moving on.

On the second event, she was 'showgirl' enough to let some semen dribble out of her mouth at the end. Had I discharged that much, or was this just a ploy for the camera? I think the second.

Her eyes stay closed most of the time, which I found interesting, but maybe that was just the best way to concentrate. I did note how hard it was for her to keep her mouth lax when she had her own climax, she was real careful with me, and her breathing had then been complicated, her nostrils flaring while her face contorted with her own pleasure. I have no idea what it must feel like to climax when a prick is halfway down your throat. I just cannot imagine that.

And then the second suckling was long and languid, my pushes into her mouth nowhere near as frantic and powerful as the first time, and of course, I was done.

I did like how my penis finally slopped out of her mouth as she raised up, it looked absolutely exhausted, a wet, lifeless former erection.