Roberta & Patrick's Next Bet Ch. 02B-1

When he was finally in me as far as he could go I felt a wave of heat pass over me. I had never felt this before but recognized it as a combination of relief that the stretching was done, security in Patrick's gentleness and consideration, and sexual desire.

My clit stood out hard and long seeking out some sort of stimulation. Then it felt...something. A fold in the pillow case under my hips was all I could imaging. The contact was light and tantalizing and I realized that if I tried for too much that fold of fabric would simply find somewhere else to be.

Patrick begin to move in and out of me, just a little at first but over the space of a few minutes his cock was coming back to where just his head was in me before firmly thrusting back in. And that faint teasing at my clit continued, a wave of pleasure sweeping through me with each contact.

It was frustratingly tenuous, but I could see my friend off in the distance, still a bit uncertain if she was going to come see me.

Then Patrick came up a little higher, his hands on my hips and pulling them up off the pillow. I gave a cry of dismay as my slight contact with the fabric was lost, and my friend dissolved into the mist, gone for now.

Patrick was now close to his climax, and as much as I desired the pleasure of orgasm too I could not begrudge him: he, after all, had won tonight's bet; the victory, the evening, and the pleasure were his to own. Then I felt warmth in me, and I knew from that and his moans of pleasure that he was spilling his cum into me.

After he withdrew he left the room, wandering naked to the bathroom: the back door could be a little messy. My hips were back on the surface of the pillow and I began to move them as much as I could trying with increasing desperation to find that fold, or another, looking off into the distance for a hint of my friend. But she was nowhere to be seen, and I relaxed my body, unsatisfied.

When Patrick reentered the room I could not contain myself, and I was surprised at the nature and urgency of the words that spilled from me.

"Patrick," I said, my voice a little tenuous, "please, please, Honey, if you want me again go ahead. You won and my ass is yours to use. But if you are done then please, please get my hands untied. Please."

I was afraid Patrick might use the opportunity to gloat and tease, but I wasn't surprised that he didn't. There was an urgency in my voice he couldn't miss, and he responded to it with kindness. He leaned over me, brought his mouth to my ear.

"You don't need your hands," he whispered.

He got up from the bed and was back seconds later. I felt one of my dildos begin to enter my vagina. Then it was deep in me, my hips moving back to get as much of it in me as I could. Patrick's two fingers were on my clit again. They pressed and released, pressed and released, and I humped myself back against them. Moments later I started to cry. Not really. I wasn't really crying. But that's what I sound like when I have the sort of orgasm that takes away all conscious thought. One of those orgasms ripped through me now. When it finally subsided and I could think clearly again I found that I was loose of my bonds.

Ten minutes later, after a quick clean up, Patrick and I were snuggling nude together under the covers. Sleep took us both quickly, but my last thought before slumber was that my last task to pay off my bet would come tomorrow morning.