Wanna Bet? 2: Higher Stakes - Sex Stories

Wanna Bet? 2: Higher Stakes

... Agreed?” She nodded, and I extended a hand. She took it limply, and we shook on it. My very first submission bet. As it turned out, I won. But I proposed the bet again, and this time the coin cooperated and came up tails. It was a relief, that option now being off the table. If I broke that bet, Faith would have every right to break the terms of her own. “We still need to decide what to do,” Faith prompted. “I told you what I wanted,” I said. “So I guess you’re the one with a decision to make.” “I can’t have a baby,” she insisted. “I’m too young.” “I think your body disagrees,” I said. “It knows it’s ready. You know the saying, old enough to bleed, old enough to breed…” “Yeah, but I’m not ready to take care of a k**…” “I’m sure Mom and Dad would help,” I said. “And I’ll always be here. Besides, if you don’t want to be a mother, there’s always adoption. I think you’d make a great mother, though.” “Mom and Dad would hate me.” “No they wouldn’t. They might be a little disappointed, for a while. To them you’re still little miss perfect. But they’ll get over it.” “People would find out about us.” I squinted. “Only if you told them, and why would you do that? If you said it was me I could go to jail. You can just tell everyone it was some guy at school but you don’t want to say who.” “I’d miss so much school.” I’d done the math. “By the time school ends for summer, you’ll only be six months pregnant. You could probably hide it up until then. Lots of girls do. And you’ll be giving ...

... birth just around the start of the school year, the time that’s all recap anyway. You’re smart, it wouldn’t be that hard to catch up. You might not even miss any time at all.” “But everyone there would know. They’d think I’m a slut.” “So what? That was a risk when you were a sex slave last summer. It could have gotten out. And you’ve just been pretending all this time. You and I both know, you ARE a slut,” I said. I thought I was at a delicate point, and I wasn’t sure if an insult like that would be push her the wrong way, so I decided to combine it with praise. “But you’re my slut, and I love you for it. What everyone else thinks doesn’t matter. You’re strong. You’d have to be to be willing to surrender so much control to someone else. And a girl who doesn’t date or accept come-ons from guys, they’ll probably just think you made a mistake, gave yourself to the wrong guy. Even if they do think you’re a bit of a slut, they’ll never suspect anywhere close to the truth of just how much.” She pressed her lips together in frustration and looked around nervously. “I’d have to quit dance class.” It was at this point I realized what was going on. She wasn’t trying to talk me out of wanting her pregnant… because she didn’t have to. She could have just said ‘No.’ The complaints she was giving were becoming more and more frivolous. Dance class? What next, that she’d have to buy a new wardrobe? To me there was only one explanation… she was letting me talk her into it. Maybe I’d misread ...