You do

You’re completely focused on the ball as it sails up over the net, managing to wade and cut through the water quickly enough that you can jump up as it comes plummeting down towards you fast. Apparently, you’re pretty focused on winning too, because you manage to execute the jump almost perfectly, rising up out of the water to your thighs and striking the ball with your right hand at the exact right moment, sending it shooting back over the net at a very steep angle. Samantha’s **** to throw herself towards the net, her outstretched hands barely out of the water as she gets them underneath the ball, then she scurries to somehow manage to send the ball flying upwards with a weak backhand. The ball’s practically rolling over the net to your side, and you race forwards to slam the ball down onto Sam’s side again, making sure to send it flying down behind her. Samantha can only turn round and look at the ball bouncing and skipping across the water a few times before settling down to bob around gingerly.

“Looks like it’s my serve,” you say, as Samantha wades up to the ball and tosses it over on your side.

“Yeah,” she gives you a curt nod and prepares herself to meet your serve. Both of you are pretty tense at this point, Samantha’s earlier cockiness having faded away and you no longer allowing the thought of her distract as you send the ball flying over the net. Samantha manages to smack it back towards you, but you hit it again, sending it off to her left and only just managing not to repeat sending it out of play. Samantha somehow manages to reach it – possibly she held back just a teeny bit due to thinking it was heading out of bounds, and blindly sends it flying at you. Again though, you execute a pretty much flawless jump and smack the ball hard, managing not to touch the net as you come down again and almost lose your footing. However, while you wobble unsteadily on your feet, Samantha has just managed to get back on hers, and you both watch the ball slam down into the water once again. The game is over, and you won.

Backing away from the net, you wait for a few seconds for Samantha’s response as she stands just on the other side of the net with her back to you. She’s already come across as fiercely competitive, and you’re now worried that she’ll prove to be a horrendously sore loser.
Thankfully, she soon shakes her head and lets out a brief chuckle before turning around to face you, a sheepish little smile on her lips that makes her look even more beautiful.

“Good game, John,” she compliments you, using your Christian name instead of her nickname for you. If she’s pissed about losing, she’s hiding it extremely well.

“Likewise, Samantha,” you make sure to give her a friendly smile, but don’t know what else to do at the moment. You’ve won, which is nice, but you don’t want to be too pushy about claiming your prize.

“And just for the record,” Instead of bringing up the upcoming one-woman wet t-shirt competition, you decide to make an important clarification, “I wasn’t trying to be condescending earlier. About dinner, I mean.”

“I know,” Samantha replies, and gives you one of those indecipherable smiles that women seem to be so good at, “Wish I could say the same thing about my last couple of boyfriends…”

Taking a deep breath, you resist the temptation to make some sort of quip about them no doubt being Republicans and instead try your damndest to come up with anything else to say.

“I am, however,” Grinning as you find something, you pause for just a brief moment and make sure to offer Samantha a great big smile, “going to really enjoy having my car cleaned.”

“I bet you will!” Samantha replies, shaking her head vigorously enough at your comment that your eyes are drawn to the sight of her large, firm tits bouncing around enticingly inside her bikini top.

“And you really shouldn’t have made that remark about toothbrushes,” you tease her a little more.

“I guess you won’t let me escape my fate, huh?” Sam comments, and again her smile takes a turn for the mysterious, though she seems almost excited in the way that she sucks her bottom lip in between her teeth for just a second or two.

“No chance,” You reply, and Sam’s smile widens to show off two rows of pearly, unblemished teeth, leaving you satisfied that your playful banter is going to continue.

“So, Hometown, I guess it’s time to leave the pool…” Without waiting for you to respond, Samantha dives down and swims underneath the net to end up next to you.

“Yeah, I suppose so…” your reply comes as Sam’s standing just about a foot away from you, her ample chest rising and sinking ever so discreetly thanks to her breathing.

“Funny, actually,” You say as the two of you wade over to the ladder, “I was pretty much trying to get you to back down with the part about the t-shirt...”

“Just so you know, Hometown, that’s never going to work on me,” Stopping just as she reaches the ladder, Samantha turns to look at you while telling you this, sporting a daring expression on her face as if to convey that she really wouldn’t have backed down, no matter what you had suggested.
Pondering the implications of Sam’s words, you let her climb out first and do your best not to ogle her barely clad and very shapely posterior, which is both quite hard to do when it’s inches from your face and wiggling quite a bit as she climbs the ladder, and rather silly of you, seeing what she will be doing in just a short while.

“Never?” You ask as you climb out of the pool to join Samantha’s up on the deck, and she’s shaking her head in response while handing you your towel.

“Thanks,” Accepting the towel, you rub yourself down, starting with your hair and face and thus temporarily blinding yourself. As the towel descends, you catch Samantha standing by the table where you had lunch, her own towel pressed against her curvy body while she’s observing you. Seeing that you’ve caught her, she meets your gaze for a moment and then flashes you a thin little smile before resuming drying herself off.
It seems, although you haven’t discussed it yet, as if Samantha’s intending to honour her part of the wager straight away, an impression that’s reinforced when she finds her sandals and slips them on, which involves leaning forwards and stooping very low while facing away from you so that you’re once again having to struggle not to ogle how her bikini bottoms clings to her mound and how they come rising up between the pair of firm asscheeks that make up her tight, luscious bubble butt. Okay, so you do ogle her a little, but endeavour to at least not be a creep about it and avert your gaze after a couple of highly enjoyable seconds.

“Enjoying the view, Hometown?” You don’t know if Samantha caught you looking or is just teasing you anyway, but it’s with a mischievous smile on her lips that she addresses you once she’s turned around. For added effect, she places her right hand on her hip and thrusts it forwards about an inch or so.

“Of course, Red,” You reply, smiling again as you formulate your response, “you’ve got a lovely backyard.”

“Jesus,” Samantha first groans, then chuckles at your joke, “As if losing the wager wasn’t bad enough…”

“What?” While snatching up your shirt, you pretend to have no idea what Sam’s talking about.

“Come on, let’s get this over with before I have to listen to anymore of your jokes,” Samantha smiles at you before leading the way towards the gate in the fence through which you entered earlier, with you following after her and again having to work hard to remain a gentleman and not be drawn in by the sway of Sam’s hips to glance downwards as she saunters forwards a few paces in front of you. Apparently, she sees no point in donning her halter top and beach skirt again, and have left them behind.

“Of course, Republicans know comedy,” You can’t help but reply, “It’s why your brightest young comedic star is still Bob Hope.”

“Hey!” Right at the gate, Samantha spins around to face you again, and you get another good look at her big tits swaying as you manage to stop in your tracks just before you’d bump into her, “We’ve got Kelsey Grammer too.”

“Alright, so you have one comedian supporter whose age isn’t counted in triple digits yet, I’ll give you that one, Red,” your confession and wilfully exaggerated grimace of annoyance nets you a wide, satisfied grin from Samantha before she pulls the gate open and the two of set off on the short walk over to your house.

“My car’s in the garage. You want to clean it there?” You soon ask Samantha as you move past the point where you first met.

“You usually clean a car in the driveway, so no,” Sam replies, having no qualms about shooting down your offer of some mercy, though she does stop to look around to see that there’s no one else within view.

“But then you won the wager, so I guess it’s up to you,” Samantha soon adds though, and again she’s got that look about her that you can’t quite figure out.

“You’ll do it in the driveway,” You decide, with a quickness and an authority that catches you off-guard. As for Sam, her mysterious smile intensifies.

“Come on, the keys’ inside,” you lead Samantha past your front door and into your hallway. Once you’ve retrieved your car keys, you turn round and note that Sam has apparently slipped away during the brief moment that you had her back to you. You see movement through the nearest doorway though, and head that way, finding Samantha standing in your living room, in front of the bookcase that you got there.

“Spying on me, Red?” You ask, albeit with a smile.

“I’m just confused, Hometown,” Samantha replies, returning your smile, “I’ve looked, but I can’t find Das Kapital anywhere…”

“It’s under my pillow, Red,” you reply, “You know, where you keep all your guns?”

“Nice!” Samantha grins at you, “Almost as nice as you having On the Origin of Species placed right next to the Bible.”

“And Essays and Reviews placed next to them,” your comment is met with an inquisitive look from Samantha.

“It’s a collection of essays written by Anglican churchmen published in 1860,” you explain, “In which Baden Powell, not the scout leader, argues that Darwin’s theory of evolution actually greatens our understanding of God.”

“Remind me to ask you more about that later,” Samantha smiles at you, “Right now I have to make a mental note that it’s no use trying to accuse you of being anti-religion or a secret atheist.”

“Your best bet is probably to claim I’m an agent of that shadowy cabal in Rome.”

“Ah, a good Catholic boy,” Sam’s smile lingers on.

“Not that good, I’m afraid,” It’s with a wicked grin that you hold up your car keys and dangle them at Sam. You’re not quite sure what reaction you were expecting from her, but the one you get is her smile remaining firmly in place while her whole body seems to perk up.

“Car’s in the garage, I’ll just head upstairs to find the t-shirt and a dry pair of shorts,” you say, but then stop and take a sharp intake of air when Sam steps closer to you take the keys out of your hand. For a brief moment, the two of you are standing almost close enough that your chests are brushing against each other, with neither one of you saying anything.

“Okay, I’ll be outside,” Samantha finally takes the keys and gives her head a little shake before heading back out into the hallway.

“Yeah,” you mutter while you look after her, only slipping back out your dazed state when you hear your front door closing.

Heading upstairs, you first switch out of your trunks and into a comfortable pair of cargo shorts before going looking for the t-shirt in that bottom drawer where you keep all your old clothes that you’re too nostalgic to throw away, while outside you can hear Sam driving your car out of your garage.

“Heh, she didn’t take her chance to flee,” you joke to yourself when the sound of the engine stops just as you find the t-shirt. However, your smile turns into a frown when you look it over.

“Samantha,” When you step out of your front door, t-shirt in hand, you find that the lovely and scantily clad redhead has parked your blue Ford Fiesta about halfway down your driveway and is now leaning casually against the hood.

“I must say I’m a little embarrassed, Hometown,” Samantha interrupts you and flashes you a smile while crossing her arms underneath her chest, “I was expecting some kind of hybrid.”

“Samantha,” Though you smile at her teasing, you still hold up the t-shirt, “If you want, I can let you wear something else.”

The t-shirt is even more worn than you remembered, including a rip placed very strategically high up on the left-side front that would make it very inconvenient for a woman as voluptuous as Sam to wear it. Considering how worn the fabric is, it’s also a good bet that the rip would grow bigger fast if put under pressure from the inside.

“No,” Sam declares, quite firmly and with little hesitation, “the wager was that I’ll wear this.”

“Are you sure?” Sam nods her head in response to your question, again being very firm in refusing your offer of clemency.

“Alright, the front door’s open if you want to…” You start out while handing Sam the t-shirt, only to stop abruptly when she places it on the hood of your car and reaches in behind her back to untie her bikini top, looking around once more to make sure that there’s just the two of you around.
While your cock suddenly hardens in response to what Sam’s doing, you nevertheless turn round to face your house.

“Wow, Hometown, you really are a gentleman!” Sam exclaims, the playful tone of her beautiful voice causing your dick to swell further.

“Wager was I’d see you in a wet t-shirt,” you reply, a little tersely, although you do manage to pull off shrugging your shoulders, your response making Samantha giggle.

“Okay, John,” Samantha begins a short while later, and you can feel something wet be draped over your shoulder in a quick, fluid motion. Looking down, you see it’s her bikini top.

“You can turn round now, and tell me how I look,” Samantha continues, still with the same playful tone.