Date: Sat, 7 Jul 2012 15:06:56 -0400
From: Somewhat Perverse <somewhat.perverse@gmail.com>
Subject: Side Bets: Chapter 6

Side Bets: Chapter Six

ma, ds, bd, hm

Sunday: The Final Round: "Math vs. Psychology," or "The Sexual Application
of Sun Tzu"

	It took me a while but I eventually worked myself loose. My biggest
problem was my ridiculously hard dick. My hands were tied behind my
back. All I really had to do was slip them over my feet and then up to my
mouth where I could work the knot open with my teeth. But my cock was so
hard, I couldn't bend properly for a long time.

	Eventually, I forced the bond up to my teeth. Then, with my hands
freed, I slipped the already loose blindfold off my head. I saw that my
hand bonds had been my two socks tied together in a knot. By the time I had
gathered up my things and found my watch, I was already late for the next
round. I shoved my Crusaders roughly into the case, and rushed back to the
game area. Once again, I'd missed lunch. Unless you counted two loads of
cum, partly spread over my face.

	Bryce looked at me disapprovingly as I entered, hauling my
stuff. "You're late," he said. "Tim Bolt on table 12."

	I hurried over to where Tim waited. He was small, dark and
intense. Tim was one of the smartest, best Praetorian players. I knew I'd
have to beat him, though, if I wanted to avoid the after party. My scores
were still pretty good. If I could knock down a player like Tim, I could
hold onto or seize a top-ten spot, depending on my standing. If I couldn't,
then, well, I might still escape out if a bunch of good people tied or got
low wins. But odds were, I'd end up with my ass in the air and my mouth
full of whoever wanted it.

	Tim tapped his watch. "You're late."

	"I was a bit tied up," I said. "Sorry.

	We laid out our armies for deployment. Some of my beloved models
were broken from rough handling. Whatever. I could fix them later.

	"Good luck," I told Tim. It was less sincere than, say, "I hope you
die."

	Tim said, "There isn't any such thing as luck. It's like Sun Tzu
said, `Claim victory in your mind, and the world will follow.'"

	"That wasn't Sun Tzu. That was the Vorlons from Babylon Five. And
anyway, it's still crap. This is a dice game. You can roll shitty and
lose. The best you can do is know the odds and play to them."

	"Crap," said Tim. "You can always psyche your opponent into making
a mistake, whatever the odds."

	I took a swig of my Pepsi. It tasted weird with the taste of Matt
and Don still in my mouth.

	"Look," I said. "My heavy blotters are going to shoot at your
Knights Valiant. They hit on a 3+, with 24 shots, so that's 16 hits. They
wound on a 4+; that's 8 wounds. And you save on a 3+, so that's 2 wounds
and change."

	"2.66. On average," said Tim.

	He moved some more figures. "Do you like math? How about this math?
There will be, what, 20 men at the after-party? Maybe 25. Assume that for
each orgasm, they produce two tablespoons of semen. Twenty-five times two,
that's fifty tablespoons. There are 2 tablespoons in an ounce. Your Pepsi
bottle there holds 24 ounces. Imagine that whole bottle, full of cum, all
for you. All body temperature. All sticky. All yours."

	My hand gripping the Pepsi bottle started trembling. I'd been
working on it for three hours, and it was barely half empty.

	Tim went on, relentlessly. "Now consider. Not every man will cum
just once. Some will want your mouth. Some will want your ass. Some will
want both. Or one of them twice. Or three times. Just depends on what they
like. If more than half of them want to do that, that would be enough cum
for most of a second bottle. And how much sucking and fucking would you
need to do to get it all out? How much of it could you taste before coming
yourself?"

	"Enough!" I said. I rolled my Punishers out from cover and
machine-gunned his advancing knights. The dice fell.

	Not very many Knights died.

	"Now that one, you should have done the math for. It's only 16
shots, 12 hits, 6 wounds and 2 kills. Not nearly enough. Since my Knights
on the return will kill approximately 4 tanks in a turn of combat when the
charge."

	More dice fell, and I pulled up all my Punishers and with them any
chance of winning. Tim had goaded me into a stupid move.

	"See," he said. "It's psychology. Follow me; I'll show you some
more."

	Defeated, I let him lead me, not into the conference rooms but
under the stairs. Not many people had any reason to pass by, but it is was
still pretty exposed.

	"You want me to blow you here?" I asked, looking around. "Do you
want to be arrested?"

	Tim laughed. "We won't be arrested. Or at least I won't be. And no,
I don't want you to blow me. I want you to prove me a point about
psychology?"

	"What?" I asked.

	He said, "You're not going to make the top ten now. I'll get to
fuck your mouth anyway. Maybe your ass too. I'm looking forward to it. I
bet I can fill your hypothetical Pepsi bottle by more than four teaspoons
too. I've been waiting all weekend. He rubbed himself though his black
jeans. No, I want to fuck with your head, now that I have you all to
myself."

	I stared at him.

	He said, "I think you fear exposure. I like that. I like your
fear. So here's what I want you to do. You're going to jack off. Right
here. And you're going to keep on jacking no matter who shows up."

	I heard the voices of men and women on the stairs, just overhead,
on their way to the dealer rooms in the basement. "You're crazy," I
said. "The bet was ass and mouth."

	Tim smirked. "Ok, if you'd rather, you can blow me right here.
\Before I fuck your ass. I warn you though, I'm a screamer. We'll have a
crowd."

	"Screw you, Tim," I said. I unzipped and pulled out my cock. I
began to stroke. Every time someone passed overhead, I paused.

	"Don't stop," said Tim.

	I couldn't help it.

	"Don't stop jerking your cock," he said. Louder. A lot louder. I
heard the steps on the stairs stop.

	Desperately I kept whacking.

	I heard voices behind me. "Is he doing what I think he's doing?"
someone asked.

	"Don't turn around, "said Tim. "Just keep going."

	"No," said another man. "Let's go already."

	I heard more feet, whether arriving or leaving, I couldn't tell.

	I felt myself getting really hard. My face turned red. I sped my
fingers up and down my cock. I had used it so much this weekend, it felt
sore and strained. And very excited. I heard small noises. I was pretty
sure people were watching the show.

	My cock swelled, and I groaned as my cum arced out and landed in
splatters on the linoleum.

	I turned around. There was no one.

	Tim grinned, "I told you we were out of sight. But you won't be for
the party. Maybe I'll go find more people to invite. There are 33 ounces in
a liter. So a two liter would require, oh, around 50 guys. We could manage
that if we formed a line into the hall. See you at the awards show." He
waved.