It all seemed simple and straight up. When the question was did I want to make a bet, I said yes, gave them the particulars and said twenty five bucks... I got a laugh on the other end of the line saying the minimum was $100. And so it started. For the first six weeks I placed minimum bets and won almost 75% of the time, an unusually high percentage. Most of the time I would collect my winnings in person at the assigned bar, I just had to feel the dough to know I was winning. I was feeling. As suddenly as the whole experiment had begun, Amy pulled away, moving her hand, and standing up in front of him with a smile. ‘See… not bad, eh?’ came her smiling suggestion. ‘Not bad at all, s*s,’ was all that Matt could find in response, ‘Not bad at all.’ ‘I guess you probably need to go back to your room then, big b*****r?’ ‘Huh?’ ‘Well, you know,’ she glanced down at the more-than-obvious bulge in his shorts, ‘you might need to stick on a Britney DVD,’ she added with a smile. ‘Oh right,’. I found my hand on my member. I looked down, trying to figure out how it had got there. Nobody else could have done it, but I didn’t remember putting my hand on my member. I started to take my hand away, but another part of me argued that, since it felt so good, maybe I should let things be.He took up a regular rhythm. I thought he was getting ready to deliver, and I wanted this to be over. Instead, he kept up the steady rhythm. She spread her legs farther apart. Her hips pressed up with each. Jim’s television sat brooding and silent in the far corner, silently observing her return to her home after so long. Her reflection dimly mirrored her image in the black glass. A still, thin figure, dressed in jeans and a shirt as it surveyed the room. The television was Jim’s, he bought it on a whim, not discussing it with her, just rubbing his hands together like Uriah Heap in anticipation of the delivery truck. Rachel hated it. For one thing, it was way too big for the room and dominated.
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