A Stupid Bet

Lena was still lying face down on the narrow lounge chair in the break room, her cheeks pressed against the thin, already slightly damp mattress. Her legs were involuntarily spread slightly, and the two boys’ hands glided slowly, tentatively, greedily over her bare ass. They stroked up the insides of her thighs, brushing against the soft, swollen folds of skin, and Lena felt her labia open further at their touch. A thin, glistening thread of moisture already hung between her fuller, dark-pink lips and dripped quietly onto the fabric beneath. Her clitoris throbbed visibly, thick and protruding, and the heat down there was so intense that she could smell the scent of her own arousal in the stuffy air of the room.

Another impulse suddenly coursed through her. Not just the desire to be touched. But this distinct, almost painful need to feel something salty and bitter on her tongue. Cum. She missed that taste. Ever since the dreams, ever since the “Angel,” and the nights when her body had felt strange hands and cocks without her being able to resist, this craving had taken root. Like an echo that refused to fade away. Damn it. She absolutely had to talk to him again. Whatever he’d done to her body—the hypersensitivity, the fuller lips, the hard nipples, the constant dripping wetness—it went far beyond mere horniness. It was as if someone had turned her shame and her pride upside down and rewired them at the same time.

But first she had to deal with this.

Lena turned her head to the side and looked deliberately, slowly, at the two pairs of boxer shorts. The bulges were impossible to miss. The fabric at the tips was already dark and damp from what was twitching inside. Two hard, impatient cocks pressing against the thin fabric as if they wanted to burst out. And she wanted to suck them. She smiled faintly, a smile that held nothing friendly. It was the smile of a woman who knew exactly how pathetic the two in front of her looked—and who was enjoying it.

“Take them off. I want a picture of your pathetic cocks.” If only Lena had said, “I want to suck your cocks,” then what followed would never have happened.

The guys froze. The blonder one immediately shook his head, his hands jerking away from her ass as if he’d burned himself. “No… I mean… we just wanted to… help you. You were…”

“Take them out,” Lena repeated more calmly, her voice deeper, almost lazy. “Or I’ll walk out naked right now. Barefoot, my tits jiggling, my pussy dripping, and then I’ll announce loud and clear out there that two coworkers harassed me in the break room. That they undressed and groped the injured woman who’d just fallen. Let’s see which one of you still has a job after that.”

Silence. The hands on her ass stopped moving. The darker-skinned one with the pimples turned bright red; his ears glowed. Still, neither of them reached for the waistband of his shorts. They stared at her, uncertain, horny, and at the same time too cowardly to take the next step.

Lena sighed dramatically, a long, mocking exhale, and slowly rolled onto her back. She took her time. She let them watch as her breasts moved, as her hard, dark nipples stood out in the cool air of the room, as her stomach rose and fell. When she was done, her legs were deliberately spread slightly apart. The wet slit was clearly visible—the fuller labia glistened, the clitoris throbbed, thick and red, and a thin trail of moisture ran from her opening down onto the mattress. She spread her knees a little wider, just to heighten the effect.

“Fine. Then I propose a bet.”

Both of them stared at her. The blond guy swallowed audibly. The nerdy guy with the pimples had his mouth slightly open.

Lena deliberately let her gaze linger on the two bulges in her boxer shorts. She took her time. She relished how they swelled even further under her gaze. Deep down, she wanted the taste. She wanted the salty, bitter flavor on her tongue. She wanted to lose. But she’d never tell them that.

“You can finger me. Lick me. Massage my tits as much as you want. Anything. Just no dicks. That’s important. No fucking. No rubbing. Not even a bare dick anywhere near my pussy. I’ve never had a bare dick inside me—and it’s going to stay that way. I’m not the kind of girl who just does that. I can’t handle the pill, and I’m not taking any risks for two guys who can’t even look at me properly without blushing. And my ass is just as off-limits. Nothing’s ever been in there. No finger, nothing. It’s going to stay that way. Got it? Got it?”

(Author’s note: That was a little lie. Just a few days ago, Matthew had been the first bare cock in her unprotected pussy. Lena had repressed that memory, though—or rather, I failed to capitalize on it and write the corresponding humiliating punchline.)

She paused, letting the words sink in. “If you don’t bring me to orgasm in five minutes, then you’ll take all your clothes off. Everything. And as compensation, I get to take a photo of your dicks. After all, you’ve just taken advantage of this poor, wounded woman here. And I want something to laugh about when I go home later.”

(Oh Lena, why are you destroying yourself?)

The blond guy swallowed again. The other one grew bolder. His voice almost cracked as he asked:

“And… what do we get if you do come?”

Lena smiled confidently, almost pityingly. She knew exactly what she was doing. She wanted the taste. She acted as if the blowjob were just a punishment for her, not what she was longing for.

“Then I’ll suck you both off,” she said calmly. “Properly. Deep. Until you cum. And I’ll swallow.”

A noticeable twitch ran through both their bodies. The bulges in their boxers twitched visibly. The bolder one—the blond one—asked immediately, his voice hoarse:

“But how do we know you really came? You could just… pretend.”

The question was stupid. She was going to come anyway—that was the whole point. Maybe they were just afraid of the photo. Her laughter sounded sharper and more mocking than she’d intended.

“I get a little loud sometimes when I have an orgasm. You’ll hear it. And believe me—I don’t come that easily. Especially not from two…” She deliberately let her gaze linger on their pimply faces, their uncertain hands, and their trembling fingers. “…from two virgins like you. You can’t even get a decent sound out of me. Let alone an orgasm.”

She hadn’t considered that one of them was a nerd.

The darker-skinned one with the pimples narrowed his eyes. A small, cold smile flickered across his mouth. “How loud does the sound have to be?”

Lena laughed softly and shrugged. “The louder, the better. But don’t get your hopes up. You won’t even get me to breathe out properly.” The nerd reached into the pocket of his discarded pants anyway and pulled out his cell phone. He tapped it briefly, opened an app, and held the screen up to them. A decibel meter. The needle was already fluctuating around 55 dB as she spoke normally.

“Then let’s do this right,” said the nerd, holding the phone so Lena could see the app. The needle fluctuated around 52 dB as she breathed. “Anything over 65 decibels counts as a decent sound—and you’ll suck us both off. 65 is about as loud as a normal, slightly louder conversation. Nothing more.”

Lena was taken by surprise and laughed. It sounded sharper and more scornful than she’d intended. A real, cheeky laugh that echoed through the small room.

“65? You’ll never make it anyway. Just look at yourselves. Shaky hands, sweaty foreheads, dicks you’re embarrassed by that get wet even before the first fingering. I learned to stay quiet in the dorm. The walls were made of cardboard. I could get fucked for hours without anyone in the next room hearing even a moan. You two pimply-faced kids won’t even get me up to 60.”

The nerd grinned even wider. “And what if it gets louder?”

Lena shrugged, still smug. “Then it’ll just be louder. Doesn’t change a thing. You won’t make it.” But he suggested the following: “Starting at 75, we get to film and take pictures of the blowjob,” the nerd said calmly. “Starting at 80, it’ll be so good that we’ll also get to fuck you for an hour afterward. Starting at 85… we’ll fuck you bareback, cum inside you, and film you while we do it. And at 90…” He paused, turning bright red, but the grin wasn’t just embarrassing anymore. It was hungry. “…it’s your asshole’s turn.”

Lena laughed again. Louder this time. She deliberately let her gaze wander slowly over the two bulges in her boxer shorts. There was no way the two of them would manage that. She’d squeal a little so she could get her blowjob, but under no circumstances would she go higher than 70.

“Deal. Five minutes,” she said, spreading her legs even wider in a show of defiance until the wet, slightly parted slit was pointing directly at them. Her clit throbbed, thick and red in the neon light. A fresh drop of wetness broke free and dripped audibly onto the mattress. “You two pimply-faced kids won’t even be able to give me a decent tickle in five minutes.” Lena smiled confidently. “Go on, then,” she sneered softly. Her voice was soft, but every word was a blow. “Show me what two virgins can do,” she said, starting the timer as he placed the phone with the timer app next to her. “I bet you won’t even make it past 60. And if you do manage it…” She deliberately licked her lower lip. “…then you’ll get my mouth, just as promised.”

She was so sure. Absolutely sure. Five minutes. She’d had sex for hours in the dorm without making a single sound when it really mattered. And these two? Two nervous, pimply eighteen-year-olds with trembling hands. Ridiculous.

“Time’s up,” she said, tilting her head back. Arms at her sides, legs spread, her pussy dripping and ready, mocking and smug.