I just read ur new story. Not bad, lol. I especially liked the happy ending this time. Btw, my dad says the Raiders are going to win it all this year. Forget the 49ers.
EJ
After she calmed down, she started reading some of my stories and liked them, although it took her awhile to send a response knowing that I knew who she was, from my note, but not having any idea who I was. Isn't it funny we all like to read about sex but no one wants anyone in their real life to know that they do?
There had quickly developed a few standing jokes between us. One was the Bay Area feuds, Raiders-49ers and Giants-A’s. She was a Raiders and A’s fan since her dad was a fan. I had been a 49er fan for years. I also grew up a National League fan so the A's weren’t ever going to be my team. The other standing joke was that too many of my stories, in her words, didn’t have happy endings, as if life always has a happy ending. So there was always something to tease each other about.
That week was the start of the NFL regular season. I knew the 49ers were going to suck. They just had way too many young guys. No way was I going to lose money betting on the 49ers. But it was equally obvious the Raiders stank. Al Davis was clearly senile and had run that franchise into the ground with his out of date ideas. Al still thought that the 1980s offense would work against the Cover Two defense which had been developed exactly to stop the deep passing game. But change? Not Al. Ask a die hard Raider Nation fan and they were going to the Super Bowl. Rot. The girl needed a lesson.
Darrius Heyward-Bey with the seventh pick of the draft? The kid couldn't catch passes against ACC corners. How the hell was he going to get open against NFL corners? Speed. Yeah, right. Hell, in mini camp he couldn't catch a ball. JaMarcus was going to spend a lot of time on his back waiting for him to get open. Senile and out of touch with reality, that's Al. I read a little comment by a former Raider front office type, you notice it's always the 'former' Raiders who tell the truth about Al, he said he talked with Al Davis and Al kept saying "Remember when..." Everything was "Remember when." Al is twenty, no make that thirty years out of date in the NFL, Remember when.
I heard Tom Cable on the local sports radio talking about how the Raiders were going to run run run until the defense came up then throw over the top. The problem is defenses don't do that anymore. They stay in a Cover Two and deny the long gain. They see the statistical analysis about how hard it is in the NFL to go the entire length of the field at 4 yards a play. Sooner or later, a lineman goes off side and bang, they have to punt. It's just Al being thirty years out of date, like Kenny Stabler was still running the offense. All the better for me.
Really? How about a bet on the first game? I’ll take the Chiefs and you can have the Raiders. 5 bucks?
Rod
Dad said the Chiefs have no chance. You’re on!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!Emily
Final score, Chiefs 35, Raiders 3. I gave her the ‘opportunity’ to get her money back but the Raiders lost Game 2 and 3 and 4 and… By the end of the season, and several double or nothings on the advice of her dad, which she had lost every one; Emily owed me more than she could pay. The Raiders were a miserable 1 and 14 with only one game left. I knew she was starting college and was saving like crazy for that and so she had no way to pay me what she owed.
The problem for Emily was that she had been raised right and knew that welshing on a bet put you in the bottom rung of Hell along with tort lawyers and used car salesmen. Imagine an eternity listening to used car salesmen… She was pretty panicked by the end of the season and promising never to ever bet again and to never believe her dad when it came to football.
In pity, and because there was a reason I never did argue about the pervert part, I offered her a way out. One final bet on the last game of the season, Broncos and the Raiders at Mile High or Coors Field or whatever the hell they called it. The Broncos needed the game to get into the playoffs. The Raiders had quit on their coach weeks earlier. This was a no-brainer but she didn’t know it. The Raiders had to win sooner or later, right? Right? Well, no.
Emily,I’ll give you one last chance. Here’s the bet. If the Raiders win you owe me nothing. The entire balance is cancelled. But, if the Broncos win, I will forgive the dollar amount but you have to agree to be my slave for four hours. You come out ahead either way.
Rod
Okay. But they better win. Go Silver and Black! Please, please, please.
Emily
I was sitting at my computer as the final seconds clicked off with the gloating e-mail already composed. But something held me back. Hard to believe but it might have been some glimmer of gentlemanly behavior. I decided to wait and see if she would respond. If she didn’t, I wouldn’t either. It had been enough fun giving her hell as the season progressed, watching the panic build. If she couldn’t or didn’t want to follow through, I decided to let it slide. I guess I could never force a woman no matter what.
Fine. You win. When do you want me to pay off? I HATE THE RAIDERS AND I HOPE THEY NEVER WIN ANOTHER GAME... EVER!
I thought that last part was a little harsh but understandable given how much they had cost her. We arranged for her to come over Saturday afternoon. To tell the truth, up till that point, I really didn’t believe it would happen. I mean, I’ve read similar stories on the Internet and like all guys have had all of those fantasies, that cute girl being our slave for a day. But things like that just don’t happen in real life. Do they?
I was still in a state of suspended disbelief. I kept imagining that she wouldn’t really show up and I’d sit there all Saturday watching college football and jerking off that night. Or if she did show up, she’d back out of really doing anything. I mean, she’d say she was my slave but would stop short of anything really risqué.
But what if she was really going to pay off the bet? I would have to be ready in that case. I mean, she’d have to know what a woman being a slave meant, at least to a guy. My imagination ran wild with the possibilities.
I was schizo, one half arguing there was no chance and the other half fantasizing my wildest dreams.
To say the next few days went by slowly would be a classic understatement. To say I was a mess by Saturday would only be a mild understatement.
To the great surprise of the logical half of my mind, she drove down Saturday and I met her at the door of my place. She was as pretty as I had imagined. She hardly looked 18. In fact she could have passed for 15 because she was so petite. She was wearing nice jeans and a casual top along with sandals. I hugged her as she came in. She hesitated at first, but returned the hug with a smile.
“Hi,” I said.
“Hi,” she said quietly. “You don’t look anything like I expected.”
“Is that good or bad?” I asked, concerned she was going to run screaming from my place. I sat on the couch in my front room. She was standing, obviously uncomfortable.
“No, you’re okay looking. Just older than I expected. Is your name really Mike?” she asked.
I nodded. “I used it when I wrote my first story and I’ve never been creative enough to come up with a better name.”
She was still standing in the center of the room fidgeting. “Do you want to back out?” I asked deliberately phrasing it that way.
Her eyes flashed. “I’m no welsher.”
I smiled. “Okay, slave.” Her eyes flashed again. I continued, “I bought an outfit for you to wear. It’s in the front bedroom, right through there,” I said pointing to a door. I’d find out quickly whether or not she was actually going to go through with the bet.
She hesitated before taking a deep breath then turned and went through the door.
After she had agreed, I went down to the shops on Columbus. I found a place that specialized in dress up costumes and accessories and these weren’t for Halloween. It is Babylon by the Bay for a reason. I was looking for a French Maid outfit and found the perfect one. The shop also had spike heels. I bought the outfit and the heels. They were laid out on the bed.
A few seconds later Emily stuck her head into the room. “You gotta be kidding?”
I smiled, “Don’t you think it’s perfect, slave? The bet was you were going to be my slave for four hours. And that is a perfect little slave outfit. You going to welsh on a bet?”
Her mouth hung open but not a sound emerged. I could see her trying to formulate something but nothing came. “Oh,” was all she could muster. She went back into the bedroom.
I heard a shrill, “Oh God,” a minute later. A few minutes more passed and I heard the clicking of the spike heels as Emily appeared. The outfit was perfect. The skirt was a flouncy poofy thing that barely covered her if she didn’t move. The front was cut between her breasts almost to the navel and barely covered her tits. There was a garter belt with black fishnet stockings and black gloves to her elbows. The piece de resistance was the spike heels which thrust her hips forward as she tottered over them. I mean it was almost surreal. I didn’t know whether to laugh at how outrageous it was or drag her into the bedroom because of how sexy it was.
She was blushing as I stared at her. She finally tottered into the room. She stopped in front of the couch, blushing. “Well?”
“Well, Master,” I said stressing the second word.
“Well, Master?” she asked, the word dripping with sarcasm.
“Oh, Emily, there’s something on the carpet. Could you turn around, bend over, and pick it up, please,” I said.
I could tell she didn’t understand what the heck this was all about. She turned and started to squat.
“I said bend over.”
She looked over her shoulder and realized what this was all about. She turned a beautiful shade of rose as she bent from the waist. The poofy skirt lifted straight up in back displaying her beautiful little ass to me, along with her pussy peeking out between her legs. “Lovely,” I said.
She straightened up, her face red; I’m sure from bending over.
“Oh, maid, I would like it if you cleaned up the bedroom,” I said.
She tottered off on those impossible heels to the bedroom. I followed her in. Actually, the room was quite clean as I had prepared hoping she would show up. Emily looked at me wondering what I wanted her to do. I motioned her to do something. She straightened up a couple magazines.
“What about under the chair?” I said.
She blushed understanding exactly what I wanted. She tottered over and bent at the waist. This time I had followed her and as she bent exposing herself again, I rubbed my hand over her ass. She jumped, falling off those heels, having to grab the chair. “Sorry,” I said. She gave me a look before bending again. This time she didn’t jump as I stroked her cute globes.
She stood and went to the bed, bending again at the waist. This time my hand found its way between her legs sliding over her pussy. I felt her muscles clench as my hand slid over her pussy but relax as I teased her outer lips. I played for a bit then pulled away.
Emily gave me a funny look when she stood back up. I nodded towards the other chair and she dutifully went over, bending again. My hand slid down to her pussy, this time the fingers sliding into her. She was wet. I teased her button massaging it between her labia, feeling it grow as she became hotter and wetter.
Now she bent over at the dresser. She was juiced up and my finger slid into her as I teased her. She moaned at the penetration and her hips pushed back against my hand.
My cock was now as hard as it could be. When she stood up this time, I told her, “Take off my shirt.”
She licked her lips as she hesitated. It was the Rubicon and I think she knew there would be no turning back after this. Up till this point it had been a game she could back out of at any point. Once she took off my clothes, she knew there wouldn't be any more game, it would be real. She came over and started unbuttoning my shirt. It wasn’t easy with those silk gloves, but she got it off.
“Kneel, slave,” I commanded her. A brief hesitation then she knelt. “The pants.”
She unzipped and unbuttoned my Dockers then pulled them down. My cock popped free pointing right at her face. She stared at it for a moment, then finished taking off my pants and briefs. I kicked off my sandals.
She was kneeling in front of me, her face scant inches from my pulsing red cock head. She looked up. I looked down but didn’t say anything. If she really wanted to back out now, I would give her the chance by not saying out loud the command we both knew was there.
Her hand came up and I felt the black silk trace over my cock. God, but that was exquisite. Her hand slowly and softly stroked my cock, the sibilance of silk in the air. My eyes closed as I concentrated on the feeling. Then I felt something even better. Hot, wet lips closed over the head of my cock. I strangled back a cry of pleasure as she sucked at the head of my cock.
I could feel the silk getting wet and her glove spread it over my cock. I imagined it was her wetness and that drove me crazy to do what I really wanted. With effort, I pulled back from the pleasure and told her, “Slave, bend over the bed.”
Emily looked surprised but stopped. I had to help her straighten up on those heels. She turned and bent over the bed, her white ass displayed to me. She looked good enough to eat and I knelt behind her. I could smell aroused woman, the great aphrodisiac. My tongue lanced into her lapping from bottom to top, digging into her, teasing and pleasuring her.
She was moaning now as I sucked and lapped at her clitoris. She was also quite wet. Little Emily was enjoying this and I was glad. Maybe this was one of her fantasies as well. I hoped so. I sucked her clitoris in and teased it with my tongue while running a finger deep into her and massaging her G spot. Her hips were bouncing now as she tried to push back against me and get maximum pleasure.
I stood behind her. She was so petite that I wouldn’t normally be able to do this but on those heels, she and I were perfectly aligned. I rubbed my cock up and down, teasing her and wetting it. It found her entrance and slowly I pushed forward. She opened to welcome me into her. Is there any better feeling than sinking into the molten wetness of an aroused woman? I don’t know of any.
Rocking slowly, I began fucking her. My cock ran along her clitoris on every stroke. I lifted when I was bottomed out, running the tip of my cock into her G spot. She moaned when I did. Her face turned to the side, mouth open, fingers clawing at the duvet, Emily moaned her pleasure. I was plowing into her, faster and harder as she approached her climax.
“Oh, yes, Oh yes, ohyes, ohyes,” she began chanting faster and faster until a great sob burst from her. I could feel her spasm around my cock and I buried it deeply in her, grinding against her pussy. “Yesssssssssssss,” she screamed, shuddering and twitching before she collapsed onto the bed, breathing hard.
She was lovely, looking so thoroughly fucked, her hair disheveled, mouth open, hands laying on the bed, my hands holding her little ass as I slowly moved back and forth in her. She moaned and I felt her contract around my cock.
She looked back over her shoulder at me, her face suffused with sated lust. What a wonderful look it is on a woman.
“Get up on the bed, Slave,” I said with a smile.
“Oh God. My muscles are all jelly,” she said.
I helped her up onto the bed, where she lay on her back. I leaned over her, kissing her gently. She smiled as I drew back.
I wanted to see her naked. I liked the tease of the maid’s outfit, but there is a reason the most beautiful art ever done is of naked women, excuse me nude. Nude is art, naked is sex. I wanted her naked.
I unstrapped those ridiculous shoes and tossed them aside. I rolled her on her side, she barely helping, and unzipped the dress which had served its purpose. I got one arm out, rolled her back and got the other arm out. I had her sit up which allowed me to pull the dress over her head. I tossed it aside. She had recovered enough that she could help.
Lordy, but she was beautiful with no clothes on. She laid back and I got on the bed between those lovely limbs. My cock quickly found her opening and I slid into her again.
“Hmmm,” she moaned as I filled her. I held her as I began fucking her. She seemed so little, almost fragile compared to me. With her eyes closed, her sweet unspoiled beauty made her seem an untouched young woman. Except that my cock was slowly moving in and out of her clutching pussy, which made the vision of her youth and sweetness all the more erotic.
Her hands rested on my shoulders as we fucked, her eyes looking deeply into mine. This was no little girl. Her eyes smoldered with desire. Her hips rose to meet mine on every thrust. Our eyes locked together, we both rose higher and higher towards completion.
Whether she was Angel or Houri didn’t matter. I felt the energy coming from deep inside. Our coupling became frantic; sweaty body slapped against sweaty body as we sought completion.
Emily’s fingers dug into my shoulders and she shuddered as another climax surged into her. It was all it took for me to hit my peak. My cum blasted into her as our bodies slammed together. Again and again we came together as my cum filled her. The squishing wetness filled her to overflowing. A last trembling gasp and I was spent.
I fell to her side, pulling her with me so that we stayed connected. The tremors in her pussy continued around my cock, slowly dying away.
Her eyes opened, “My God,” she said. I kissed her gently.
We cuddled up, our hands gently touching each other. I smiled and Emily returned the smile. I liked being so close to her, my skin touching hers. “I’m so glad you decided to come.”
“Well, I didn’t have much choice after you beat me all year,” she said.
“You won one week,” I said.
“Yeah, ten whole dollars,” she said.
“You could have backed out. I would have understood. I mean, especially after I proposed the slave bet. Why did you agree?” I asked.
She looked away. “I really wasn’t going to accept the bet. I mean, I guess I knew exactly what it meant. I thought about it a lot. I mean, I had never actually met you, only corresponded. But I guess like I felt like I knew you from your stories. So many of them are romantic and there’s no violence.” She was looking at me earnestly, “Then I read Cousin Kristin. I felt the love and respect for her in the story. And I read about Anne and I knew how you really felt about women, smart women. I guess I wanted to meet you.” She blushed. “As I read your stories I realized you wrote about the passion and pleasure not just the physical, Tab A into Slot B and jiggle, like so many guys do. I just knew that sex with you would be passionate and pleasurable. That’s terrible isn’t it? Meeting a man your first time knowing you are going to…”
“Have sex?”
She blushed a deeper shade of red.
“No, I don’t think so. I think it’s honest when so often we are dishonest about what we really want, playing stupid ‘rules’ games. The rule is you can’t have sex till the third date. That’s just dumb,” I said.
“Thank you,” she said snuggling against my chest. “Since we’re being honest, you were great.”
I laughed, “Thanks. Since we’re being honest you were too, and you are incredibly beautiful and sexy.”
We lay together basking in the afterglow of our first loving. I was sure it wasn’t going to be the last. “So, want to bet on the A’s? They’re playing the Giants the first week of spring training.”
Her head popped up and her eyes flashed. “I am never betting on a stupid sports team the rest of my life.”
“Not even if you get a chance to have me as your slave?” I asked.
It was interest tinged with amusement that flashed across her face now. “Um, that might be interesting. In that case, I’ll take the A’s.”
This is going to be a fun season. If I lose I just hope her fantasy isn't putting me in the French Maid outfit...
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