For a certain definition of winning.

My friend Kyle, geeky guy for whom I've never had a sliver of attraction fingers me with a skill almost as uncanny as whatever has made me let him and allows us to continue this in public without interruption. Even the campus security guard who came by on patrol did no more than watch for a few moment before continuing on her way. I wanted to call out to her to help me, or arrest me, anything to make this humiliation and frustration stop, but I couldn't do that any more than I could stop myself from letting -- no, helping -- Kyle tease me.

And tease me he does. Fingers rubbing my ever increasing wetness on my lips, inner and outer; those same fingers probing gently inside me, searching for that spot then back out again to lightly stroke my clit, he edges me with a skill that shouldn't be possible for anyone, much less someone as inexperienced as I know him to be. It's like he can read me with the skill of a lover of years instead of the first time we've done more than hug. Every time I get close, gasp and quiver he moves to less sensitive flesh, moving from clit to inner lips, to outer lips, to simply stroking my legs, only to move back up the instant it won't make me cum.

Since the timer didn't even start until I was already on the edge, I think I don't make it two minutes until I'm ready to beg. I look around at the steadily-increasing crowd watching, and embarrassment makes me last another minute, even though that same humiliation makes me even more horny for some reason.

Kyle skillfully backs off to compensate, of course.

Finally I can't take it. Fuck the ten dollars, and fuck the embarrassment. I need to cum.

I say nothing, and Kyle keeps me ever closer to the edge, my slight moments of relative calm decreasing the entire time. I writhe helplessly in place until I find myself saying, "Time's up. I win."

"Kyle finally takes his fingers away, tasting me on them to my further humiliation. Then he says, "You sure did. Here's your ten bucks."

I don't really want to take it seeing as it's all part of the fucked-up situation that took control of me after accepting that sign, but it seems like sticking to the bet, even one that I won, is part of the whole. "God, let's get out of here. I'm hungry, and I want to go hide."