Crazy Contest
Sometimes things turn out differently than you imagine. Even a seemingly innocent invitation for a drink can lead to unexpected fun. And that’s exactly the kind of situation I found myself in when I accepted an invitation from an acquaintance who just wanted to sit down and chat. I assumed that, as in other cases, he’d want things to go a little further, so I dressed accordingly. The catch was that I had no idea until the very last moment which bar we’d go to or where we’d be heading, so I couldn’t dress too outrageously, as if he’d picked me up on the side of the road. The only thing I knew was that he had trouble with his legs, so I wore sheer stockings and open-toed pumps so he could enjoy the view. At the agreed-upon time, I was ready and waiting for him to pick me up. I thought we’d go to some place downtown, but he headed in the completely opposite direction and pulled over outside town at a plain old pub. “Do you mind if we go here?” he asked me, and I could tell he was a little nervous about my answer. “No, not at all. Quite the opposite. I don’t like those modern, sterile places full of snobs,” I replied enthusiastically and got out of the car.
When we walked in, I was struck by the relaxed atmosphere. There weren’t many regulars there, so we were able to pick a cozy spot and settle in. I sat across from him so we could talk. “You look absolutely stunning,” he remarked as I settled in and crossed my legs, “especially those pumps. I couldn’t help but notice them even in the car,” he continued to shower me with compliments. “What can I get you?” he asked. “I’ll leave it up to you,” I replied, “but no wine, please.” When the bartender brought us some snacks, I asked my friend if there was anything he needed to talk about. He replied that there wasn’t; he just wanted to sit and take his mind off things. That pleased me greatly, and I turned sideways toward the table to give him a better view. We chatted and sipped our drinks, and suddenly it occurred to me: how would I get home if my friend was drinking too? I asked him cautiously, and he told me we’d take a taxi and that he’d come pick up his car tomorrow morning. And when I wanted to leave, I should just let him know. Once all my worries had been put to rest and the conversation returned to everyday topics, I couldn’t help but notice his eyes constantly drifting down to my legs, so I slipped my high-heeled shoe off my heel and let it dangle freely from my toe. You could tell he was enjoying it, but at the same time, this view was inadvertently on display for the neighboring tables as well. “That’s so nice. You really know how to spice up my evening,” he said out of the blue, “I can’t take my eyes off you.” Flattered by his words, I slid back closer to the table, let my shoe slip to the floor, and gently rested my foot against his crotch. As if he’d been expecting it, he began stroking and caressing me between his fingers without hesitation. I really enjoyed it, but I was forced to interrupt this pleasure and step away.
As I was finishing up and fixing my makeup in front of the mirror, I overheard an unbelievable conversation between two voices coming from the men’s restroom, which was connected to ours by the ceiling. They were taunting each other about who could pee into the urinal from which tile. “What a blast,” I thought to myself, and went back into the bar. I sat down just as I had before leaving and continued teasing my friend from under the table—he was really enjoying these little games. He was playing with my pussy, running his hand down my calves, and occasionally thrusting against his cock, which was straining against his pants. To spice things up a bit, I slid my hand under the table and stroked my pussy through my panties. “I won’t be able to hold out much longer, darling,” he muttered through clenched teeth, watching the steady movements of my hand—which clearly revealed my activity under the table—and he picked up the pace. It was satisfying for me, too, and the rapidly expanding wet spot on my satin panties was proof of that.
These delightful antics were interrupted by two “contestants” returning from the restroom, who were still bickering. You could tell they’d had enough and needed someone to settle the dispute. Whether I wanted to or not, I overheard one of them yelling at the other: “Wait, as soon as I have two beers, I’m going to give it to you!” I smiled to myself and turned my attention back to my friend, who had meanwhile taken off my high heel and was rubbing himself against my thigh. I watched him get into it, and if the table next to us hadn’t been within sight, I probably would have gotten down on all fours and given him a blowjob. I wondered if I should move over next to him and at least do it with my hand—which wouldn’t be visible thanks to the draped tablecloth—but I decided against it so as not to cause an awkward scene. My friend wasn’t saying a word anymore; he just took an occasional sip and focused entirely on his under-the-table antics. Suddenly, I realized that I was no longer just feeling his bulging pants and playful fingers, but also something round, hot, and throbbing. I looked at him in surprise and smiled, even though he wasn’t paying any attention to me at all. His frivolous behavior turned me on so much that I let my fingers slip through the side of my panties into my wet little hole and moaned softly with excitement. Apparently, that was the final trigger for him, because he gripped me tightly, and even through my sheer pantyhose, I felt the familiar warmth spreading across my crotch. Looking guilty, he waited for my reaction, and after a moment he said, “Sorry, but it just came over me unexpectedly!” “That’s totally fine,” I replied, playing with his exposed cock under the table. “I really liked it. I’m turned on, too,” I added, pulling my wet finger out of my pussy and letting him lick it as proof. “You smell wonderful,” he declared, eagerly licking my love juices off my finger, “and that’s exactly what turned me on—imagining you playing with it too!” he added, letting out a sigh of relief.
As he was tucking it back into his pants, my wet stockings started to feel cold, which made me feel the urge to take a piss. I asked him to put my pump back on, casually smoothed out my clothes, and headed to the bathroom. I made my way past the table where the two “contestants” were sitting and boldly tossed out as I walked by, “Wouldn’t you guys like to have some fun with me?” It wasn’t until I was in the bathroom that I realized it sounded ambiguous and that on my way back I’d have to clarify what I meant. But it was already too late, because one of them was already waiting for me outside the door, waiting for me to come out of the bathroom. “Hey. What did you mean by that?” he blurted out as soon as I opened the door. “Well, I overheard you guys competing to see who could pee the farthest,” I replied, “so I was wondering if you’d like to go head-to-head,” explaining the poorly chosen, double-entendre word. “Oh, I see—and that’s with a woman, right? Well, I’d like to see that,” he replied in surprise. He was about to add something else, but then he tapped his forehead, turned around, and, shaking his head in disbelief, staggered back into the bar. I followed him right away, straight to my table, where the drink I’d ordered was already waiting for me. “Everything okay?” my friend asked as I sat down. “Absolutely,” I replied, watching out of the corner of my eye as the two “contestants” were having a great time at my expense. “You really never get bored with you, and I’m so glad you accepted my invitation,” my companion continued, when he was interrupted by the arrival of one of the “contestants.” He leaned both hands on the table and said briskly, “Well, we’ll take that challenge, young lady. In half an hour in the bathroom! We’ll work out the rules when we get there.” After he left, I quickly had to come up with some kind of explanation. “It’s fine. You don’t have to explain anything to me—I get it,” my friend said, beating me to it with a mischievous look. “Thanks,” I replied, and I was glad—at least I didn’t have to make anything up, even though he surely thought I’d arranged a deal. “Can I have a beer, please? I need a good drink,” I asked, and we continued our conversation.
The half-hour flew by faster than I’d have liked, but it was enough time for me to rehydrate. “Could you excuse me for a moment, please?” I asked my friend and headed toward the restrooms. The mix of alcohol made my step a bit unsteady, but I made it there. The “contestants” were already waiting. “So, how are we going to settle this? What should we bet?” they asked. “Simple. Whoever loses pays for a round of drinks for the whole table,” I suggested confidently, even though I knew I didn’t have enough money on me to cover their tab. “Wellllll, okay. That’d work,” one agreed, “hmm. How about we have a little more fun while we’re at it?” the other suggested. “What do you mean?” he asked him. “Well, if we lose, we’ll pay for their drinks, and if we win, this lady here will give us a blowjob. What do you say?” he explained his second proposal. “I’m in, I’m all for it. It depends on you, ma’am,” he turned to me with a sly smile, thinking I’d back out. “Okay, I agree,” I replied, crossing my legs because I really had to pee. We moved over to the urinal, and the guys marked off a spot on the tile from which he’d aim. “Damn, that’s not exactly close,” I thought to myself, hiked up my skirt, and took off my panties. “So who’s going first?” I asked impatiently. Instead of answering, they both stared at my pussy and started pulling their dicks out of their fly. “I don’t care. You can go first,” one of them suggested. So I stood with my legs spread apart on an imaginary line, spread my labia with my fingers, aimed, and pushed hard. At first, a powerful geyser sprayed in all directions, but eventually it found the right direction and, to my surprise, hit the target. “Dude, I’m gonna shit myself,” I heard behind me. After this strenuous effort, I pulled a handkerchief out of my purse and began wiping my piss-soaked stockings, which had taken the brunt of it. “All right, guys, now it’s your turn,” I challenged them, and to encourage them further, I placed a pair of panties on top of the urinal. “And whoever knocks them off gets a bonus,” I added. Both of them stood rooted to the spot, staring at each other with their dicks in their hands. “So what’s the matter? I can’t stay here that long,” I said awkwardly, provocatively adjusting my slipping stockings. After about a minute of silence, one of them spoke up: “Hey, I’ve got a problem. I’ve lost my urge. You go first!” “Okay,” he replied to his friend and stepped up to the line. It was clear he was having a similar problem, and no matter how hard he tried, he wasn’t getting very far. “What’s up, guys? Are you nervous?” I asked with a smirk, since they’d been making fun of me the whole time. “No, no. It’ll be fine. Hang in there,” he grumbled gruffly. Meanwhile, I pulled down my skirt and went to the mirror to fix myself up. “I don’t give a shit anymore! You won!” declared the first one, walking away with a scowl. “Where the hell are you going!” the other one yelled after him. “We’re not giving up that easily,” he added. “So what do you want to do? She outsmarted us. We didn’t really count on that, man. Tuck it back in and come on,” he replied, still standing in the doorway, before disappearing into the bar. “I’ll leave these panties here as a souvenir for you,” I said with a smile and walked away too. I could still hear him yelling at me, “You’re one sly bitch!” And he was right—I really was a sly one by then.
“All taken care of?” my friend asked as I sat down at the table. “Yeah, yeah, all taken care of,” I replied with a smile and happily finished the glass of beer that was waiting for me there. “That’s great. Can I get you anything else?” he asked when he saw how much I’d enjoyed it. “Sure, but right now I’d like something a little stronger,” I clarified. “Well, I don’t know if I can grant that,” he responded to my request and started laughing spontaneously, interpreting my request a little differently. A pleasant hour followed, filled with sensual conversation and flirting, after which we agreed it was time to slowly wrap things up. But the best was yet to come when my friend wanted to pay the bill and I told him to put his wallet away—that we were being treated by those two gentlemen today. He stared at me in bewilderment and… “Don’t ask. It was a bet,” I cut him off before he could demand an explanation. Together, we looked over at the “contestants’” table and thanked them in unison. They smiled ironically and waved their hands. My friend shook his head in disbelief, called us a ride, and after saying goodbye to the staff, we went to wait outside the pub. A gentle breeze was blowing, and as it brushed against my damp stockings, it caused an unpleasant chill. “How long until it gets here?” I asked, looking around for some shelter from the wind. “Well, they said about twenty minutes,” he replied, catching on immediately. “Come on, let’s go sit in the car. He might be late, too,” he suggested, opening the door for me. It wasn’t very warm in there, but it was definitely cozier than standing outside in the wind. I decided to use the remaining time more practically, leaned under the steering wheel, and gave him a blowjob as a thank-you for inviting me for a drink. It worked out to the minute, because the moment I lifted my head, the taxi’s headlights blinded me. We got in and headed home. On the way, I told him about the crazy contest that had earned us free refreshments so he wouldn’t feel bad about it, and we agreed to do it again soon. It was a great evening, and I didn’t come away empty-handed.
