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This story was originally written for the 600-word exercise some of the Literotica authors took part in, which led to the Snippettsville Group. I've expanded it and tidied it a little, and changed the names. Enough of you asked me for the background to 'Spoils of Victory' to make me think it was worth offering here as the prologue it is. Further episodes might take a little longer ... Spoils of Victory - Prologue "You seem to be having problems?" There was a faint smile on her face. As I'd just had my face slapped for the third time it didn't take a genius to work that out. I looked at her. Elegant in a black cocktail dress, blonde hair in a neat chignon, she could have been anywhere between thirty and fifty. For some reason I felt the need to tell her the truth. "I've just been bet ten thousand dollars that I can't get one of the women in this room to go to bed with me within an hour. I decided the best way was to ask. Hence the face-slapping." I grinned ruefully. "Maybe I was wrong." "Ask?" she said, curious. "Ask, as in, 'will you go to bed with me?'" "Who is the bet with? Anyone I know?" There was a strange expression on her face. I gestured, unable to stop the flicker of distaste which I knew I showed. "Dan Sheldon." She nodded, looking past me, her face expressionless, to where he sat, pawing tipsily at a couple of girls young enough to be his daughters. Her eyes came back to me. "Do you have a room here?" she said. "Two-eighteen," I replied automatically. "Let's go, then," she said, taking my arm and steering me towards the door. I moved automatically, shocked, feeling as if I'd been kicked in the stomach. In the elevator she was silent, almost solemn, and I studied her covertly, wondering. "There's a snag," I said, my voice hesitant. "Tell me." "I have to have proof." She flashed a glance at me, with a half smile. "I don't think that need be a problem." At room two-eighteen I opened the door and ushered her in. Once inside she began immediately to undress. I watched her, still feeling slightly stunned, as she carefully hung the cocktail dress in the closet. She wore no bra, and removing her skimpy panties took only a moment. Clad only in garter-belt and stockings she turned to me. I stared. Older woman she might be, but there was nothing old about her body. "Undress," she commanded, a half-smile on her face. Mutely, I complied, until I stood naked before her, my prick well on its way to full hardness. A woman wearing only stockings and waiting to have sex with me will have that effect. "How much is there left of your hour?" she said with what I hoped was an approving glance at my prck. "Thirty-five minutes." "No time for fore-play. A pity, but then, I've been getting steadily wetter just thinking about this. Do you have a name?" "Bob. Bob Allison." "Hi, Bob. I'm Eleanor." She grinned suddenly, her face lighting up, and arched her eyebrows. "Fuck me, Bob." I looked at her. Tall, slim waist; full, rounded breasts, puffy areola, erect nipples, a neatly trimmed fluffy blonde triangle at her groin. I grinned back at her. "With great pleasure," I said. She lay back on the bed and spread her legs, a flash of coral in her cleft. I knelt between her thighs, my prick as hard as it has ever been. She grasped me lightly, her fingers cool on my heat, and guided me into her. She was ready, she was wet and I sank straight to my root in her streaming pussy. Her heels came up into the small of my back and urged me into her. "Yes!" she hissed as my balls slapped against her ass, her fingers digging into my shoulders. I began to thrust into her, gentle, steady, not rushing, for I wanted this strange moment to last. Apart from her initial cry our coupling was wordless, torrid, her hands clawing at my back, my prick pistoning audibly in her juices as I thrust steadily into her, maximising my stroke, trying to fill her, then empty her, loving the hot, wet cling of her pussy, her tight pussy, gripping me as I moved, my glans stimulated by her, exciting me, stirring me, until with a wordless cry she climaxed, violently, her belly rippling, her pussy clamping down onto me, triggering my own eruption. For a long moment we lay clasping each other as we fought to get our breath back, until Eleanor stirred. "How long left?" she said softly, and I thought I sensed regret in her tone. "Um, ten minutes." "Is that an instant camera on the dresser? I laughed. "Yes. It was a free gift with some computer equipment I bought. I was trying it out earlier." "Has it film in?" she asked, an enigmatic look on her face. I nodded. "I think there are two shots left." Her half smile broadened to a grin. "Take my photograph, for your proof." "What do I want with ten thousand dollars?" I said lightly. "Your smile is worth more than that." "Take the picture," she commanded. "In fact, take two, one for your proof, one to remember me." "I'll never forget you! Are you sure?" She nodded. She sat on the bed, naked except for her garter belt and stockings, her hands behind her, legs spread, as I took two quick pictures, then dressed as the pictures developed. She took them from me, nodding. "Excellent, no doubt that it's me. Have you a pen?" She scribbled quickly on the photographs, then handed them to me. On one, 'Bob, thank you for a wonderful fuck. Eleanor. XXX. 9:21pm, June 16, 2003'. On the other, a cell-phone number and 'Call me, Bob. I want to do this again - slowly. Love, Eleanor'. "The first one should help, I think," she said, as she wriggled into her dress. "Get dressed and get down there. Time's money!" "Does Dan Sheldon know you?" She smiled, like a shark. "Not nearly as well as he thinks he does, or that he's going to know me. I'm his wife!" I opened my mouth, speechless. She touched my lips, shaking her head. "Don't be sorry," she said fiercely. "I'm not. That's why you have the message on the second picture. I want to see you again, Bob." She gazed at me, solemn. "I want your promise that you won't be gallant, and try to save my reputation. Take the picture to Dan and claim your prize, okay?" I hesitated and she gripped my arm. "Promise!" she demanded. I took a deep breath and nodded. She smiled, kissed me lightly and then she was gone. I looked at the photographs in my hand. One went into my wallet. I looked again at the other, then grinned. What a way to win the bet! Somehow, I didn't think I would be doing any more business with Dan Sheldon. Feedback is welcome. And please vote, too |
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