Wanna Bet? 2: Higher Stakes - Sex Stories

Wanna Bet? 2: Higher Stakes

... cool worked against my better angels. Or maybe fate really wanted me to have a slave for Christmas. When Christmas Holidays begin is variable, in terms of dates, but, like many schools, schools in our area let k**s off from the weekend before Christmas to the weekend after New Years. Two weeks. However, recognizing that nobody really wants to pay attention on the last day, it’s a half-day schedule and much of that is devoted to non-denominational holiday concerts. Lots of people in the high school skip the day entirely, which is what I did. Faith came home about one in the afternoon and, instead of going to her room or looking for something to snack on, she came to sit beside me on the couch. I could tell something was on her mind, but I didn’t want to ask her what, since it could be good, or it could be bad. Either way, I was likely to find out eventually, but if it was bad there was always a sliver of hope in not starting the conversation. We sat quietly, watching TV together, but she was fidgety. She kept shifting around on the couch and when one of her legs was crossed over the other, it would bob around rhythmically, full of nervous energy. A commercial came on for some kind of snack food, based around the premise that it was revealed there was only one left, so the two k**s raced to get it before the other one could. The younger b*****r got there first. “That’s so unrealistic,” I joked. “The older k** has to be way faster. If it were you and me, I’d kick your ass.” I ...

... guess I broke my resolve there, since I had to know that I was goading her, but it just slipped out. “If we were racing for food, you probably would,” she said, a little snottily. It was sort of a long-standing f****y joke. I’m not fat, owing to my high metabolism, but I can eat a lot. I sometimes have the nickname of ‘Bottomless Pit’. She was quiet for a few seconds, and I thought my attempt to provoke something has failed, but then she blurted out, “If it was anything else, I bet I could beat you.” I looked at her, having a sense of what was coming and regretting my comment that prompted it, but not being entirely sure about that regret. I couldn’t stop myself now, though. “No way,” I said. “I bet you can’t.” “Please. If nothing else, that stupid beard’s got to add to your drag.” I stroked my chin automatically. Over the last week, I hadn’t been shaving. It was a bet with my friend Fred, over who could grow the manliest beard in the last week before holidays. The bet was over, ended the day before. Fred won, but it was only $20, so I didn’t really care. In that time, Faith had been mocking my facial hair a little… saying it made me look like a hobo was one of the more popular themes her jokes rested on. The comment about wind resistance was comparatively original. I didn’t really care, though, it was a little uneven and made me look scruffy, but it didn’t look bad, and I don’t think even Faith thought that it did. It was our way, whenever we weren’t involved in sex games we’d ...