Game, Set and Match
written by:
Naughty Miranda

I was drunk, but I could still feel the blush flood my cheeks. "You really mean to ay you've never done it?" Lisa's voice rose an octave and cracked with laughter. "Never?"

"Never. I mean, I've thought about doing it, but...."

"Believe me, you give a guy a good blow job, without him having to ask you first, and you can make him do anything. Take him to the very edge, jerk him off on your tits at the end, and he's yours to command for the rest of the day."

From the other side of the table, Brenda hooted. "I am not listening to another word of this conversation. Lisa Hartley, you are nothing but a slut."

"This from the girl who‘s slept with half the chess team!" teased Lisa. "And brought a whole new meaning to the word ‘checkmate."

"I slept with one of them," Brenda shot back. "And before you ask, I've not done that either."

"You didn't put his sexy little pawn in your mouth?" Feeling slightly relieved, I watched as Lisa set her sights on a different target, knowing that Brenda could give as good as she got. Best friends since elementary school, they'd spent 15 years sparring with another on every subject from Ronald Reagan to Ronald MacDonald, and sex... Lisa's sole reason for living, Brenda's equivalent of the cross one has to bear... was a topic they never tired of. But, even as I relaxed back into my chair and looked around the fast-filling club, I sensed the two friends reach a mutual pause in their squabble, and turn their attention back to me.

"So, if you've not done it," Lisa said to Brenda, "and she's not done it..." she jabbed her thumb towards me, "then why don't we make things a little more interesting, and offer a prize to the first one that does?"

"Okay, but it'll have to be a good prize," laughed Brenda. "We all know that Chrissie has more money than anyone, so it'll have to be something that she really wants."

I opened my mouth to protest. Ever since my gran died, and left me some money in a trust account... which I couldn't touch till I got married, by the way... the girls had been treating me like I was a Rockefeller or something. "Well, all she really wants is a husband," answered Lisa; "and if she gives good enough head, she'll get one."

Game, set and match to Lisa, and that was one thing I loved about hanging with these two; the fact that the most protracted disagreement would come to a mutually agreed close, the moment one or other of us delivered a good enough punchline. And the circular logic with which Lisa had just entwined us won hands down. I caught the barman's eye and signaled for three more Rolling Rocks. The first band would be off stage soon, and the rush for fresh drinks would start straight away.

The thing was, no matter how outrageous Lisa thought she was being, there was always a droplet of truth at the back of her words and, back in my dorm room later that night, reading a book while my room-mate, Thelma, cleaned her teeth, I got to thinking about what Lisa had said. No, not the business about making a guy do anything you wanted (although that wasn't a bad reason for anything, I smiled), but the actual... "wow, I am a prude!" I thought to myself. "I can't even bring myself to say it"... cock. Sucking. Cock-sucking. What exactly did it involve. How would it taste... what would it feel like. Was my mouth even big enough?

I feigned a yawn, stretched my mouth as wide as I could, and tried to imagine - who? I wasn't dating anyone at the moment, and really couldn't bring myself to get that excited about any of the boys I'd been with in the past. Okay, it doesn't have to be anyone you've slept with... no, but then, how will I know how big their dick is, to work out whether....

"Penny for your thoughts?" Thelma had walked back in and was looking at me with a curious frown. "You've been sitting there with your mouth wide open for... oooh, hours now," she exaggerated. "Either there's a train coming, or I need to call 911."

"Sorry, just thinking," I said, and she laughed. "Apparently so. Anything you want to share? A new kind of flytrap, maybe? Or maybe you're modeling a blowjob machine."

"Not you as well..." I spoke before I'd even thought about what I was saying, and Thelma was instantly intrigued. "Boyfriend problems? I didn't think you were seeing anyone."

"I'm not. But I was out with the Terrible Twins this evening, and that was all Lisa could talk about."

Thelma sniffed. "That doesn't surprise me. But I wouldn't pay her any attention. You know as well as I do, she'd talk about fucking the Pope if she thought it'd get a reaction out of somebody. "

"Well, it probably would," I chuckled. "Maybe I should mention it to her tomorrow."

"Yeah, and in the meantime, don't even think about whatever she was saying. A: it's none of her business, and B: you'll do it when you want to.... Assuming you haven't already. And you'll do it because you want to, and not for anyone else."

"Have you done it?" I asked, but Thelma simply laughed. "Sorry, but that's none of your business, either." She climbed into her bed and switched out her light; I lay there for a few moments more, then switched out mine. We slept.

In a perfect world - or, at least, a perfect fantasy - my dreams that night would have been filled with bobbing, suckable penises, and the next day I'd have run into the man of my dreams and blown him for real. Unfortunately, college life in 1985 didn't work like that. I read somewhere that a guy thinks about sex, on average, every four seconds. (Or is it four minutes? Doesn't matter, it's a lot.) Women, on the other hand, never think about it at all, except when it's a genuine possibility, and they're actually in the mood... a feat of such cosmic symmetry that the author said he wondered how the human race has even survived this long.

Don't believe it. Women think about sex just as much as guys; we just don't let it weigh us down so much. So, days passed, then weeks... and maybe even months; it was a long time ago, I never kept a diary and, though I can't say I never thought about boyfriends and ... things... it never haunted me either. So, when I did start dating Marty, and our casual dates began getting more serious, until we were sleeping together most nights of the week, so long as he seemed happy, I was too. And then Lisa called me up one evening, and you can guess what the first thing she asked was.

"So have you, yet?"

"Have I what?"

"The prize is still available."

"The prize?" For a moment, I didn't know what she was on about, but then that night at the club came flooding back. "No I haven't, and to be honest, the question has never arisen."

"Of course it hasn't, No decent guy is going to ask you to do that, not until he knows if you will. You have to take the initiative."

"And if I don't?"

"Then you'll never win the prize. See you at the weekend?"

"See you then." I hung up the phone and walked into the bedroom. Marty would be round in a while, and I wanted to get showered and dressed before he arrived.

It was while I was soaping myself that I noticed... hell, I was wet down there, and it wasn't from the shower. "Damn Lisa," I cursed, but I couldn't help but notice that my heart was beating a little faster than normal, and that warm, wet feeling wasn't going away. Hmm, maybe I wouldn't get dressed after all.

I opened the door with my robe knotted tightly around me, and Marty raised his eyebrows. "Sorry, I'm running a little late," I said. "I won't be a moment."

He closed the door behind him. "Don't hurry on my behalf," he smiled as he drew me close for a kiss; then drew me closer still, as I melted into his arms. "Wow, you smell good," he whispered, and I knew exactly what smell he was talking about. His hand slipped under my robe, and closed over a bare breast, his thumb gently rubbing the nipple. I cloaked a gasp with a light cough.

"Don't you want something to eat?" I asked, feebly pulling away from him. "Nothing more than is front of me now," he replied, and he untied the cord that held my robe together, and lay his hand on my hip. "Where's Thelma this evening?" he asked, as his hand slipped around my thigh. "She's away for the weekend. We've got the place to...." I was going to say "ourselves," but as his finger brushed my soaking pussy, I completely lost the power of speech. "In that case," he said, " we should make the most of it."

He pushed me backwards, till my ass was against the desk, then lifted me slightly so I was perched on the edge, my legs dangling a little off the ground. Then, parting them wide and kneeling between them, his tongue slowly traced the length of my pussy lips, parting them with its very tip, as he worked towards my clitoris. A finger slid inside me and began gently to fuck me.

My eyes closed, I grasped the back of his head, stroking the hair that fell between my fingers, as his mouth and tongue caressed me. "Oh my God, that's incredible!" I gasped, and I felt his motions, both his sliding fingers and his circling tongue, grow faster.

I tried to move my hips to his rhythm, but the desktop, sticky now with my overflowing juices, wouldn't allow me to move. I could feel my toes clenching; I prayed I didn't get a sudden cramp, then prayed to Marty not to stop... never to stop... and, with that, I came with a cry so loud that they must have heard me on the other side of campus.

Marty stood, and I clung to his neck, still panting exhaustedly. He'd been down on me three or four times before, but he'd never done it like that, never moved so unerringly to just the right spot, and stayed there with such dedication. I wondered, for a moment, if he'd been practicing, then put the thought out of my mind. If anything... anyone... was different this evening, it was me. The times before, I'd never been quite certain what to expect; wasn't really sure if I liked what I was feeling, and certainly never been that excited and wet. But tonight... wow!

I got unsteadily to my feet and began pulling at his belt buckle. He'd already stripped off his shirt by the time I had it unclasped; stooping slightly, he helped me help him out of his jeans, and the bulge in his briefs made a tent of the tight-fitting fabric. I pushed him towards the bed; as he lay back, I leaned forward, and licked one of his nipples. He caught his breath, so I moved to its companion, then began kissing down towards his stomach, slowly at first but faster, greedily, as I caught his scent, hot and musky, drifting up from his loins. It tingled a little in my nostrils, and I felt my pussy flood again; drawing myself into a tight S shape, I settled my shoulder on his stomach, and reached a hand towards his lap.

My finger snagged the waistband of his briefs; as I raised it, I saw his penis stir towards me. I'd never seen it so close before, though we'd made love many times; had never taken the time to appreciate the rough beauty and the rude symmetry of it, the rock hard shaft with the veins that throbbed so gently, the firm purple head, velvety smooth round its mushroom-like dome; the reddish pink crest standing proud above the eye - and the eye itself, already leaking a secret something, clear as water, but thick as oil. I yearned to taste it, just a drop on my tongue, and I struggled for a moment to extract him from his briefs.

"Here, let me," Marty said; he sat up a little, bending his legs as he did so, and his prick flickered close to my face. Involuntarily, I flinched back, but only for a moment. As he lay back again, and his hand stroked down my back, I settled back down onto his stomach. My eyes were fixed on his cock; bigger now than I'd ever believed it could be, and alive with a danger I wasn't sure I could face. What if he came in my mouth... would I be able to take it? Would I choke, would I bite him... would I throw up? I wondered if I'd have any warning beforehand, if he'd say something, or maybe, I'd know from his movements. I eyed the liquid that was still dribbling out; okay, just a little bit... leaned forward and let my tongue dart out to touch him; pulled it back, conscious of the long thin string of viscous liquid that now streaked my mouth to his penis.

I couldn't taste anything, so I leaned forward again and ran my tongue through the thickening pool, my mind so set on the quest-at-hand that, as Marty let out a moan of sheer pleasure, I scarcely even heard him; barely connected it with anything I had done.

The liquid danced lightly on my tongue, a delicate tang that teased, rather than tasted, and I knew I needed more. This time my tongue swirled across the end of his cock, and the eye, across the crest and then down and around, to pick off any drops that might be hiding beneath the thick ridge of the head. My lips brushed his flesh... stop writhing behind me, I'm busy... I closed them over the very tip and sucked slightly, drawing that mystery juice from the depths, then taking him a little bit deeper... just a little bit more... feeling cheated as the full taste of his juices continued to elude me.

My mouth widened, stretching to accommodate the full bulk of his cock head; I felt my teeth scrape against his flesh and hoped that gasp from behind me was not one of pain. Then, just as I was convinced that I could not open my mouth any wider, there was a sudden, magical moment of release and relaxation as the head of his penis slipped full into my mouth, and my lips closed over his steel-stiff shaft. "Gotcha," I thought, and my sucking grew greedier, hungrier.

I felt his hips begin to move rhythmically below me... I felt a moment of panic; oh no, he's trying to fuck my face. Two can play at the game; deliberately timing my movements to oppose his, I started fucking him back, using my mouth as a warm, tight pussy - only it was a pussy whose every movement I could control. Tight, then loose; gentle, then hard. I let my teeth sink into his skin in a brief nip, then pushed my tongue to the same spot as a kind of cushion. Now I could taste him, hot, sweet, salty... but it was different to before, stronger, deeper; I wondered, how many other secret flavors was this man holding back from me?

I withdrew him from my mouth; there was a satisfying "plop" as my lips released him, and another deep groan; then I wrapped my lips again across the head, concentrating all my energies, all my taste buds, on that one sensitive area, sucking, swirling, swamping him in saliva. I breathed warm air on his skin and he twitched; I held him lightly between two fingers, and smeared the end of his cock across my face, enjoying the sensation of such hot moistness as it traced livid, liquid lines across my lips, cheeks and chin.

His moans and gasps were almost non-stop now, an animal backdrop to my own adventuring; I was glad he seemed to be enjoying himself, and I was shocked to realize his fingers were inside me, punching deep inside my own soaked sex, the rhythmic squelching setting up a secondary symphony behind his gasps.

Pausing for a moment, I plunged him back into my mouth, timing my own movements to match his fingers, slowing when he slowed, faster as he quickened the pace. I could feel my cunt pulse around his driving digits, as his cock moved smoothly in and out of my mouth, and I lost myself to the exquisite motion, drinking in his hot, hard flesh and feeling for the first time the hairs on his balls brush the tip of my nose, a dainty tickle that fascinated me. I pushed my chin forward, wondering if I could reach the other hairs above his cock, and a rough scratching sensation informed me that I could. I paused, nestled my nose in the folds of his balls, resting the tip of my chin on his stomach, then I closed my teeth gently round the base of his cock, as though marking out my territory - this is mine!

Marty's fingers were still slamming me; I wondered how many he had inside me now, I felt like I was stretching further than I ever had before, but the slickness of my juices dulled any sensation beyond the most exquisite sense of pressure. I picked up my pace again, sliding up and down that long greasy pole; then, feeling my jaw tire, I slowed and concentrated back at the head, in - out; in - out; in... oh! There was no warning, or if there was, I never heard it; no tell-tale pulsing, or perhaps I never felt it. But there was no mistaking the hot, hot jet that sprayed into my mouth; that shot across my face as I jerked, startled, away; that blasted from the cock I held just inches away from my face.

For a moment I almost let it go; for a second, I felt panic stir in my stomach. But then my mind took over again, calm and analytical, questioning and curious. Gulping down the cum that was already sliding towards the back of my throat, I closed my mouth firmly over his still dribbling cock, and guided more of his flavor onto my tongue, sucking until there was none left to savor, while his hardness slowly ebbed away on my lips.

I kissed his flaccid cock, and extended a gentle tongue to his balls. His hand had fallen away from my cunt now; as I turned, he was lying flat on his back, barely moving, but with a look of absolute paradise spread across his face. I kissed him, but we didn't speak; there was nothing to say that wasn't already there unspoken; and, when we made love later in the evening, it was with that gentle tenderness and passion that can only exist between two lovers who already know each other's secrets.

All of which doubtless leaves just one question in your mind. What was the prize that Lisa kept on talking about?

We were in a downtown bar that weekend, the usual three with our usual drinks, and I decided to broach the subject directly. "Marty stayed over Wednesday night, and I've come to collect my prize."

Lisa and Brenda looked at one another, then both burst out laughing. "You did it?" asked Brenda; I nodded.

"And you took him all the way?" continued Lisa. Again I nodded.

"Then you've already had your prize, Miss Greedy. A beautiful pearl necklace." The pair looked at each other and laughed uproariously. But I just smiled, waited till their mirth had subsided, then leaned conspiratorially close to both of them.

"Actually, girls, I left the pearls for people who need them. I went for the full tray of oysters. Boy, they slip down your throat like a charm." And, as even Lisa stared open-mouthed in surprise, I sat back in my chair, triumphantly. Game, set and match to me.

if I'm not among your favorite authors, I'd love it if I could be! And if I am, then extra kisses (and more?) to you!