Two Time Loser

by PleaseCain

Caution: This Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Masturbation, Exhibitionism, .

Desc: Sex Story: He lost a bet and must pay up.

First I heard their giggling out in the hall. They were in fine form all right. Giggling, keys falling, giggling, keys scraping at the lock, keys falling again, more giggling. Goofs, I said aloud, and raised the whiskey glass to my lips. I was trying to act nonchalant, not even looking up from my book when I heard the lock click open beyond my bedroom door, but to tell you the truth, I was feeling pretty nervous as the time drew near. Maybe she wouldn't carry this through, but I swallowed the whiskey down anyway.

Outside my door, the hall light clicked on, followed by the obligatory oohs and ahhs as they stepped into our new apartment. From their cooing and complimenting over the apartment, I tried to discern how many of them there were, but when Kim led them away on their tour, I really had no idea. They passed back by on their way to the living room, and a light tapping came from the door. I hurriedly looked down to my book.

The door opened slowly. "You're not sleeping, are you?" Kim asked quietly. Her tone was gentle, and I thought for a moment I was off the hook.

I finally looked up. "Just studying," and I half-stretched and half-yawned. "How was your evening?" But she ignored my question.

"Good," she breathed to herself with a wicked arch of her eyebrow. "You've got some work to do." She stared, smiling triumphantly. I struggled to maintain eye contact while she pressed me. "Whenever you're ready," she said softly, and began to close the door, "Stud."

Bitch. There was no better than her when it came to rubbing it in. "Fair's fair, and you lost the bet, smart guy" is all she says. I should have known she wouldn't let this thing drop. She was really enjoying this. And the way she talked to me just now, in that breathy, shameful voice, like we were about to do something secret, something sinful and nasty. It was the same tone I heard after we had anal sex the first time, when I awoke with her body languorously curled against mine, and she kept whispering, "Do you know what you did to me last night? Do you know what you did?" Well, she always did say one of her fantasies was to cut a hole in one of the walls and put my dick through it, so that all of her girlfriends could walk right up and use her "Sugar Lamb" whenever they were horny. But I was certain that she was using her erotic tone just to jab the knife deeper, and to make me feel even more awkward. Like I said, no beating her on that stuff.

I quaffed the rest of my drink and sat up on the bed, pulling my hair back from my face. That crazy bitch was really making me do this. She's out there right now, waiting with her friends to skewer me and make me look like a fool in front of everyone. My drink burned in my gut, and I thought, 'All right, she'll have her way. I'll give her exactly what she wants--and more.'

Decided upon a pre-emptive strike, I leapt to my feet at the side of the bed. My head spun when I straightened, however, and I foundered against the wall for my balance. It was the booze. I waited to gather my bearings, undaunted and determined to dive right in while my temper was hot. Before I lost my nerve, that is.

I walked to my dresser, and opened my junk drawer at the bottom. I rummaged about, and pulled out the black mask that I had worn to a party a few weeks earlier. I slipped it on. It covered only around my eyes and my nose--hardly a disguise--but it gave me a shield to operate behind, from which I could be bold. Which gave me another idea. I opened another drawer, and fished out a matching pair of skimpy bikini shorts, one of the many goofy items of underwear that had found its way into my dresser since I'd been living with Kim. We'll see how well she likes them on me now, I chortled to myself as I pulled my jeans off and changed into the briefs. I was now in my makeshift uniform, and I laughed at myself in the mirror and hoped this would steal some of the thunder that I knew they would heap upon me. I quickly stepped into my pants, masked and ready to go, and strode for the door.

I threw the door open and marched directly across the room, through the gaggle of girls, momentarily silent, to the stereo, where I replaced their music with a disco CD. I did not avert my gaze when I traversed the room, but I could see that Kim had brought only three friends, Eileen, Karen and Shawna, and I could feel them gawking at my back as I snapped the player into operation. Eileen was actually my friend, whom I introduced to Kim, and she chirped a tentative hello to me while I stood there, but I did not answer. I was in character. The other two were dingbats, Karen and Shawna, who were party buddies of Kim's, cute but unable to sustain any semblance of conversation. I overheard them giggling with Kim under their breath, and as I whipped around to face them, they struggled to maintain composure as I looked directly in their direction.

Then I closed my eyes, letting myself drift away for a long moment, and then the music blared on. The drumbeat was loud and incessant, and after a few counts, I sprang into action. I leaped into the middle of the room, eyes closed, launching myself into a frenzied twirl and then a shameless dance with the pulsing rhythm. The whooping and cat-calls began immediately, and I wanted to laugh with them, but I struggled to maintain my gameface, even as I brazenly paraded and parodied that art form most ridiculous to my heart, "dirty dancing."

I writhed and thrusted my pelvis, shimmied my shoulders, and felt up every plane and orifice of my body over and over, even running out of ideas and moves as the "Macho Man" extended mix stretched on, and yet my drunken audience tirelessly cried out in their enthusiasm. Now dripping from my brow and nose, I tugged my sweat-stained tee-shirt up to my chest, exposing my tummy before I turned from the ladies, shook my ass and ripped the shirt from my shoulders. With it I wiped my face and torso, then emphatically ground my crouch into it a few times before I tossed the shirt over my back to the hooting women.

I next spun immediately around and, directly eyeing Shawna through my mask, I opened the fly of my jeans, button by button, moving nearer to her with each one. Again, the greatest difficulty I had was keeping a straight face, as she actually drew away to Karen's arms in embarassment-- laughing as she did it--while my own inhibitions were nowhere in sight, whether due to merriment or whiskey, I don't know. My jeans then undone, with each step towards the onlookers I tugged the pants further down my legs, past my knees, at which point I stepped out of them. My guests inched away as I approached, wide-eyed and shrieking in surprise as I sauntered after them in only the skimpy bikinis, loudest of them all being Kim, standing directly behind me.

"Watch out, girls," she warned playfully above the din. "He never knows when to stop."

I shot a glance back at her and hopped on the coffee table. I saw she already had a dollar bill in her hand ready to stuff in my drawers, and as she made her move, I pushed her hand away and ran my finger along the inside of the elastic circling my gyrating hips. The girls, who had plopped back down on the couch in surprise and shock at my leap upon the coffee table, cried in hoarse amazement below me, half teasing me and half daring me. Their eyes darted from my barely hidden private parts to my girlfriend somewhere behind me. When the waistband cleared one and then the other hip, and when I tugged the remainder down, letting them fall to my ankles, they hid their faces in nervous laughter, but continued to peek out from pillows and hands as I reached down for the bikinis and placed them in Kim's hand. You could have driven a truck into her mouth. I couldn't resist the temptation to step "out of character" a bit and rub it in, so I shrugged my shoulders and arched my brows at her. Hey, whatcha gonna do?

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Story tagged with:
Masturbation / Exhibitionism /