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 The Bet

   by Ovid





   Edward and I had known each other since college.  Whenever he had

   occasion to visit our city, as his business often required, we'd meet
for a drink or two,

   bring each other up to date, and have a few laughs.  So it was that we
were sitting

   together in our favorite bar and talking about old times.  We were
recalling various

   embarrassing situations that we had got ourselves into when we were in
college.  I

   was recalling how, as a freshman, I had managed to get drunk and my date
had left

   with a senior.  "I lost her to an older man," was how I described it
laughingly, and

   commented that now that I was an "older man" I didn't have too much luck
in luring

   women away from younger men.



   It was just about then when I noticed a strikingly attractive young
woman,

   perhaps in her twenties, come in with a man who was easily old enough to
be her

   father.  I pointed her out to Edward, commenting that were she not with
her father I

   would offer to buy her a drink.  As we watched, the couple sat down in a
booth and

   started behaving in a decidedly un-father-daughter fashion.



   "Either he's immensely rich or that's some really sicko incest going on
there."



   "I wouldn't be so sure," Edward replied.  "Some older men have a certain

   something that causes younger women to ignore their age.  I've got some
first hand

   experience there."



   "Oh?  What happened?"



   Edward looked at me for a minute, as if he was making up his mind, and
then

   finally said, "Look, I'll tell you, but you've got to promise not to let
Carol know that I

   told you." Carol was his wife, who I liked very much but rarely saw
because she

   usually didn't often come to the city with him.  I vigorously swore that
I would never

   tell her.



   We had, of course, often talked of our sexual exploits in college, but
once he

   met Carol Edward had become quite the gentleman and had never told me
anything

   about their private lives.  What he then told me was therefore all the
more surprising

   and, indeed, sufficiently shocking to me that his story burned itself
into my memory.

   I've tried to write it here pretty much as he told it to me.





   EDWARD'S STORY



   The first time I met Sy he was stark naked.  Considering that he was
almost

   70, he was in remarkable shape.  He was thin, with long, firm muscles on
his arms

   and legs like steel cables.  When he flexed them, his tendons were like
rope.  His

   penis and testicles hung loosely between his legs, swaying freely as he
moved.  Only

   the looseness of his skin, suggesting he had once been heavier,
indicated his age.  He

   had just finished his workout and shower.  As our lockers were adjacent
to each

   other, we would frequently see each other after that, and over the next
weeks we

   gradually became quite friendly.



   Eventually, Sy invited me and Carol over for dinner.  Because
Marguerite, his

   wife, had been confined to a wheel chair since an accident several years
prior, Sy did

   all the cooking and was, he said with characteristic candor, "a great
cook." And,

   indeed, when we took him up on his invitation, the food was excellent.
It had been a

   very pleasant meal, with lots of wine, and both Sy and Marguerite were
articulate and

   interesting conversationalists.  Marguerite was as vivacious as she
could be in a

   wheel chair.  Her face, while showing the wrinkles of her age, still
maintained a

   youthful sexiness and was surrounded by silver hair with flecks of gold
that cascaded

   over her shoulders.  Her upper body was in great shape, with a healthy
bosom, but it

   was apparent that under her slacks her legs had become withered.  As we
were sitting

   around the table after desert, Marguerite got me involved in a detailed
discussion of

   her hobby of book preservation and restoration.  Sy offered to take
Carol on a tour of

   the house and the two of them left the room.



   Marguerite finished a fairly erudite description of a restoration
project she

   was working on, then stopped and looked at the door Carol and Sy had
left by, and

   said, "You know, he's going to fuck her now."



   "What?!?" It was such a sudden change of pace that I couldn't believe I
had

   heard her right.  I stared at her as she calmly repeated her sentence.



   "I'll bet you $10 that he fucks her this evening," she added.



   "That's ridiculous.  Among other things, he's almost twice her age."



   "Well, I haven't been able to satisfy Sy sexually since my accident, but
he still

   has strong urges, he still wakes up every morning with a raging hard-on.
So he

   invites couples over and fucks the wives.  I get my excitement by
betting.  So how

   about it, $10?  Or is that too much to gamble on your wife?



   "Of course she'll resist him.  I'll bet the $10, but it's utterly
absurd."



   "Good," she said, "let's go watch them.  He's probably giving her a neck
rub

   now.  But be sure to stay in the dark." With that she wheeled her chair
out the french

   doors of the dining room and on to the terrace.  Walking behind her, I
could see that

   we had a good view through another set of french doors into the living
room, and

   probably couldn't be seen as long as we stayed in the shadows.



   Sure enough, Carol was sitting on the couch and Sy was sitting next to
her,

   massaging the back of her neck.  "He's started his
you-look-stiff-let-me-loosen-yourneck routine.  He's got remarkable hands,"
Marguerite commented.  "Next he'll offer

   to do her shoulders." As if reading from the same script, Sy began on my
wife's

   shoulders.  "Why don't you lie down so I can loosen the muscles better,"
Marguerite

   said as if she were speaking Sy's lines in a play, and as she said them,
Carol did

   indeed lie down on the couch.



   "I can do your back better if I can get at the skin," Marguerite
continued, as

   Sy began unbuttoning Carol's blouse.  From the look on Carol's face and
the way her

   body responded as he worked her shoulders and back, it was apparent that
Sy was a

   superb masseur.  "Lets get this out of the way," Marguerite said as Sy
unsnapped

   Carol's bra.  Carol offered no resistance.  She clearly was enjoying the
massage.

   "You want to pay me the $10 now, or wait to see it all?"



   "For crying out loud, it's just a back rub," I said, but I was beginning
to have

   some doubts.  I could see how Carol's body was responding.  He seemed to
be playing

   her like a violin.  He worked her shoulders, massaging them and then the
muscles of

   her arms, all the while pushing her blouse down her arms, until she,
automatically it

   seemed, pulled her arms one by one out of the sleeves of her blouse.



   Marguerite continued to offer Sy's dialogue.  "Let me get your feet,
too," and

   Carol kicked her shoes off.  "I don't want to put a run in your
stockings," was the next

   line.  Carol sat up, holding the loose blouse and bra against her
breasts with one arm

   while she used the other arm to pull her panty hose down from under her
skirt and off.

   Sy started working on her feet and after a few minutes, it didn't
surprise me, began

   working his way up her legs.  If I had any expectation that Carol would
object, it

   disappeared as Sy's hands rubbed and massaged first her calves and then,
pushing her

   skirt up, her thighs.  Carol's spread her legs to give him better access
to her thighs,

   and soon the skirt was bunched up around her hips with the bottom edge
of her pink

   panties showing.



   "We better get this off so it doesn't get all wrinkled." Marguerite
supplied the

   words as Sy first unbuttoned and then removed my wife's skirt, leaving
her lying there

   on her belly with nothing but her panties left on.  "Surely now you
agree you've lost

   your $10."



   I should have stopped it then, should have gone in the living room and

   stopped it, but I stood there frozen.  There was no doubt that I found
it exciting to see

   Sy's agile hands progress over my wife's body as she gradually shed her
clothes.  I

   could feel my erection straining against my pants.  I rationalized that
it wouldn't be a

   fair bet if I interrupted, but that only was an excuse to continue
watching.  I actually

   wanted to see him continue.



   Sy's hands were now kneading Carol's buttocks, his fingers digging into
the

   soft flesh, and her hips were grinding into the couch in rhythm with his
massaging.

   Then he worked his way up her back to her shoulders again.  "Why don't
you turn

   over so I can finish your shoulders?" Marguerite gave sound to the
motion of Sy's

   lips, and Carol turned over, still holding her blouse and bra over her
breasts.  But that

   served as no impediment to Sy.  His hands worked her shoulders and the
muscles in

   her upper arms, up and down, each time pushing her blouse and bra a
little bit further,

   until gradually they slid off her body and onto the floor next to the
couch.



   Carol lay there with her eyes closed, her head lolling from side to
side, her

   breasts now completely bare, and even from where I watched on the
terrace I could

   see that her nipples were erect.  Soon his hands covered those nipples
and gently

   massaged her breasts.  I could tell by her expression that she was in
that other world

   she gets in when her body responds to sexual pleasure and her mind opens
up to let it

   happen.



   With one hand still on her breast, Sy worked her lower abdomen with his

   other, pushing her panties down as he did.  It didn't take long before
her pubic hair

   was exposed.  His fingers found the lips of her vulva and began to rub
her clitoris,

   which I knew well by this time would be fully swollen.  Once he had done
this, he

   took his hand off her breast and pulled her panties completely off. 
Then his fingers

   began to disappear between her lips and I could see Carol's pelvis
straining against

   them, trying to capture them.  I knew I wasn't going to interfere.



   As he slid his fingers in and out of my wife's vagina, Sy used his other
hand

   to remove his own clothing.  Soon he was naked and I could see that hard
body that I

   had seen so often in the locker room, except that now there was no
loose, dangling

   penis, but rather a menacing red erection projecting out at an upward
angle from his

   taut body.  His fingers, which now glistened with Carol's juices,
continued to slide in

   and out of her as he positioned himself between her legs.



   This was it.  I was about to watch another penis penetrate Carol's
vagina and I

   found myself unable to move, unable to make any attempt to stop this
outrageous act.

   Instead, I watched with an erotic intensity, excited and wanting only to
see the rest of

   this scene.



   My own erection throbbed in my pants as I watched the head of Sy's penis

   disappear into my wife's welcoming vagina.  He buried it completely and
I watched as

   it appeared again glistening, and then disappeared and reappeared, over
and over.  My

   heart was pounding and my breath was coming in rhythm with his pumping.



   "It's exciting, isn't it?" Marguerite had rolled her wheel chair up
beside me,

   and placed her hand over my erection.  "Do you want me to toss you off?"



   I couldn't take my eyes off Sy's ass rising up and down and my wife
straining

   clutching at him.  My mouth was completely dry.  In a whisper, I barely
choked out

   the word, "Yes."



   Then, as I watched the tremors begin to race through Carol's body,

   Marguerite deftly unzipped my pants and pulled my penis out.  Carol was
convulsing,

   her head whipping from side to side.  Sy's thrusts were becoming harder
and fiercer.

   It only took a few strokes of Marguerite's surprisingly velvet touch for
me to erupt.

   Marguerite was ready with a hankie to capture my semen as I watched Sy's
buttocks

   clench in his final thrust.  Spasms continued to shake Carol as Sy
finally collapsed on

   her breasts.



   Marguerite had me cleaned up and zipped up, the hankie no longer in
sight,

   and she somehow pulled me along side of her wheel chair back into the
dining room.

   "Pay up," was all she said.  Almost in a daze, I handed over the $10. 
She tucked the

   money away and we stayed there frozen until finally the door opened and
Carol

   walked in, her face flushed.



   Sy followed, his usual ebullient self.  "We had quite an exciting tour."



   Neither Carol nor I said anything about the "tour" on our way home, nor
the

   rest of that night, nor the next day.  But the next night, after we had
gotten into bed

   naked next to each other, Carol said, "Edward, I've got to tell you
something.  During

   our tour, Sy seduced me." As if in ignorance, I asked for the details,
and as she told

   them to me, describing what and how she felt, we had some of the wildest
sex we had

   had in months.  Each part of her description caused my blood to pump
faster, the

   adrenalin to rise, and my heart to pound more, as I vividly recalled the
scene.  It must

   have had the same effect on Carol, because she became more and more
abandoned,

   and her descriptions became louder and louder, as we attacked each other
more and

   more passionately.  Over and over again, I kept asking her about each
detail until we

   were both exhausted.



   The next night, I confessed that I had been watching.  "And you made me

   confess to you as if you didn't know!" She then insisted that I describe
in detail what

   I had seen and felt.  So, as I went through all the details again, even
describing the

   feel of Marguerite's hand, we repeated the exuberant sex of the previous
night, my

   description exciting us as much as the touch of our bodies.



   It had cost me $10, but Sy's hands had given us three of the most
exciting

   nights we had ever had, and the promise that our sex could continue even
when we

   grew old.


   THE END