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.