The Bet - Redux

[chanaud]

Closed for a certain Wolverine!

This is great. It’ll be the perfect Christmas present. And boy will he ever be surprised. After a few longs months of silence - mostly due to work - I want to prove to that I’m still thinking about him.

I miss writing with him. I miss his sense of humor and our many discussions of sports, books, writing, and everything we’re passionate about. And most of all, I miss him.

The gift was easily obtainable only because I’m a long standing season ticket holder. Or what we call a rabid fan. Of the University of Florida Gators, that is.

Being a Michigan fan, Miltone is a Big Ten guy. When our teams played at the Outback Bowl last year, our collegiate rivalry teasing was carried a little too far. We wagered a bet on our teams. The loser had to model the winning team’s colors – live in person!

Fortunately for me (and Miltone, too!), I lost. He flew down and met me at my favorite pub and things got out of control from there. We ended up sated and completely satisfied – Literotica style!

We hadn’t met since. Our busy lives kept us apart. But things are about to change. I just hope he won’t be away for the holidays!

Miltone!

Surpised to see me? I’ve missed you darling. I hope my Christmas to you proves how much I've miss you.

I’ve secured a flight via Delta.com and two tickets on the fifty yard line to the Outback Bowl.

Cum to me, darling....

XXOO
Chanaud

Good god, what have I done now, I thought as soon as I hit the send button. I'm going to get laid, dammit. Miltone style! Already my body was stirring. Heat rose over my breasts to my face. I imagined the way he kissed me... the way he held me tightly... the way he stripped away my clothes... the way he tasted...

Stop it! I had to yell at myself.

There really is no time for that now. I’ve a lot to do.

Haircut, manicure, favorite bottles of wine… make that a case!

 

[Miltone]

“Cum to me, darling … ”

And Merry Christmas to you too, Babe! It’s been an okay holiday thus far with family and friends. Well, except for the couple of days recovering from Aunt Magda’s infamous sweet potato casserole—or was it Uncle Ted’s evil Christmas concoction that had me on all fours calling up dinosaurs? No matter, all that was fortunately behind me (literally, in more ways than one) and the memories of sweet sexy Chanaud came flooding back to my mind …

It had all begun on a bet, a dare, one that I don’t think either of us had fully anticipated carrying to fruition. A tempting match up, her Florida Gators versus my Michigan Wolverines. A simple wager between friends. As luck and the strength of Big Ten football would have it, I won, she lost. Maybe she didn’t really expect that I would fly down to carry through. But a bet is a bet and there was a debt to be paid …

A smile creased my face when recalling the sight of her scampering through her favorite sports bar in her hometown, wearing just a camisole and tap pants—cut from blue satin with maize trim, of course! Her pert breasts, nipples erect, jiggling beneath that block M were exquisite! Her equally pert buns wiggling delightfully were sheer heaven! Her almond eyes sparkling, her smile, gracious in defeat … visions only bested by the glimpse of her later, reclining on the couch, her long legs spread, her sweet little sex covered with a skimpy maize and blue thong. Revenge was sweet! But not as sweet as her wetness … Mmm-mmm!

But that is the memory. The chill wind howling outside my Midwest home and the snowfall threatened for later this evening reminded me that this was a different year. Urban Meyer had the Gators revived while Lloyd Carr’s squad stumbled late and fell out of the running for a New Year’s Bowl game. So it came to the Iowa Hawkeyes to carry the banner for the Big Ten, the famous Conference That Cannot Count. And someone has to balance the giddy cheering of our favorite sexy Gator Girl.

My Dear Sweet Chanaud,

You’ve missed me? Not as much as I have you, my dear. Thank you so much for the invite! Can’t wait to cum see you again!

Kisses,
Miltone

Tickets on the fifty-yard line, she said. No mention of a wager. She didn’t have to. There would be one. There would have to be, wouldn’t there? Now where can I find something special for her in black and gold, just in case? My body tingled at the thought!

 

[chanaud]

Everything seems to be in place. The bottles are chilled to perfection, house is clean and spotless, fresh cut wildflowers are displayed as the centerpiece and fresh cut jasmine from my garden are strategically placed in various rooms, including the nightstand next to my queen size sleigh bed.

Even Mother Nature had set the mood. It was a warm, balmy tropical day. It was in the low 80s with warm breezes blowing at around 10 knots. The sun was shining bright. Perfect for the top down.

A quick glance at the rolling marquee showed that his flight was on time and was due to land in a few minutes. Butterflies were fluttering in my stomach and a nervous glow was warming my face as I waited in anticipation. I wish security wasn’t so tight here. It would have been nice to meet him at the gate. But every since 9/11, guests weren’t allowed near the terminals. They had to wait in the main lobby. So I did what I normally do when I’m nervous. I paced. Paced through the bookstore, the bar, the gift shop, the lotto vestibule until I thought it would be time.

The reception area was empty. The rope was draped across the pathway indicating that the last of guests had passed through. An extreme sense of disappointment flooded through me. Miltone did say that he would be cumming, right? Did I read his reply correctly? I wonder now as I stood staring at the long, empty hall.

“There you are!” A deep, husky voice came from being.

Before I had a chance to respond, I was lifted in the air and spun around. Warm lips greeted me as strong arms enveloped me into a tight embrace.

 

[Miltone]

Scanning the hallway, Chanaud looked so cute, tall, slender and elegant in her casual coastal Florida fashion. She was obviously anticipating my arrival as much as I had been, although she hadn’t seen me sitting off to the side as she paced by nervously. Glancing at her watch she scanned the hallway again. So concerned about my arrival she didn’t see me approach from behind. Her squeal of surprise was sweet but sweeter were her lips.

“So nice to see you, darling,” she said after a kiss that took longer than expected but was thoroughly delicious.

“Terrific to see you too, Babe,” I replied. “Let me look at you.” Her gorgeous rosy tan was fresh and appealing. “You look fantastic. Christmas in the Keys becomes you!”

“Wanna see my tan lines?” she asked flirtatiously.

“Yes, please.”

She laughed and eyed me seductively, the pink of her tongue flirting with the bright whites of her teeth. For one, I couldn’t wait to explore the boundaries of her holiday suntan. But that might have to wait.

“Do you need to pick up your bag?” she asked.

“Not at all,” I replied holding up my carryon. “I travel light.”

Another sexy grin from both of us. A change of clothes for me, something sexy in black and gold that I was planning on seeing on her, a toothbrush and some cologne was about all I needed.

Arm-in-arm we walked out to her car. I escorted her to the driver’s door and as she swung it open I reached over, placed my hand on her cheek, and leaned in for another kiss.

“That’s for the terrific Christmas present,” I said softly.

When she leaned toward me to return the kiss, her hip brushed my belly, bumping against my expectant hard-on. Her sultry Asian eyes sparkled with mischief.

“Errm, I can tell that you brought me exactly what I wanted,” she said. “Kickoff is at eleven so we haven’t much time.”

“I don’t suppose that you would care to place a friendly little wager on the outcome of the game, would you?” I asked once we were underway.

“With the luck that I have making bets with you?” she replied with a question of her own. “I always seem to end up on my knees … or my hands and knees …”

“And you have a problem with that?”

“No, darling. No complaints.”

“Then just a friendly wager.”

“You actually think that Iowa can win?”

“Why not? Florida has a history of stumbling in bowl games.”

“Grrr!” Chanaud growled playfully. “What’s the bet?”

“I dunno,” I said with an uncommitted shrug of my shoulders. “How about our usual: loser does the winner’s bidding.”

“Against the spread?”

“Final score.”

“You realize that the Gators are favored, don’t’ you?”

“Sure, but I like living dangerously. Besides, I have a feeling that doing your bidding could end up being pretty pleasurable for me too.”

Another laugh from Chanaud, broader and deeper and sexier.

“Okay. Deal.”

By the time we arrived at Raymond James Stadium and were settled into our seats, I find myself swimming in a surging sea of the orange and blue, my Drew Tate jersey the only spot of Hawkeye contrast in the surrounding Gator Nation.

There’s nothing like a college football game, the spirit, the atmosphere, the excitement! And it’s so much more fun when your date is just as knowledgeable about the game as you are. Watching Chanaud stand and cheer for her beloved Gators was so appealing. A rare girl this one, I thought. An attractive, sexy girl who likes sports and great sex. How can you go wrong with that? But alas, the game starts poorly for Iowa and gets worse as they fall behind 17 zip in the second quarter. When Iowa gets the ball back close to halftime, I turn to the excited Miss Chanaud.

“I’ll bet Iowa scores on this possession,” I pronounce proudly.

“You’d better hope so,” Chanaud replied obviously confident of victory. “What’s the bet?”

“Hmm, I dunno,” I say, watching as Drew Tate leads the Hawkeyes out to start the series. “Let’s say, I dunno … a blow job at halftime.”

It looked like Chanaud was going to choke on her drink.

“Seriously?”

“Sure.”

“You’re on.”

Iowa scores. I try not to cheer too loudly as the lone applauding fan in our section of the stadium.

“Jesus!” Chanaud hisses when I finally sit back down.

When Chris Leak leads the Gators out on the next possession, Chanaud turns to me, a defiant look in her eyes.

“I’ll bet the Gators score on this possession.”

“What’s the bet?” I ask.

She leaned over and whispered breathily in my ear; my eyes pop open wide.

“Oh, yeah?” I remark. “But you still owe me the blow job, right?”

She nodded impishly.

“You’re on!”

Of course, with my luck Florida scores and suddenly it’s halftime with Florida leading 24-7.

“So? Ready for our halftime payoffs?” I ask.

Chanaud grabs my hand and pulls me toward the ramp. “Let’s go!”