I have no wish to play the game that I’ve written about here, but the idea of making a bet like this – one that ends with someone getting fucked – is a seriously hot one. This isn’t a perfect piece: it’s clumsy and probably not very filthy, but I wanted to push myself and try to capture this idea. Today I’m all about playful challenges, flirty queers, and the idea of a your-arse-literally-on-the-line sex bet.
It starts with a bet, which in turns starts with a flash of possessive jealousy. Not the kind of jealousy that sits cold and heavy in my gut, but a more playful strain that makes me eager to mark you as my own. This is my evening, and I want to be the one fucking with your head – just a little bit, in the way you’ve consented to. I’ve dragged you to my favourite gay bar, smirking at your slight discomfort. You’re a little embarrassed, especially with the butt plug in your ass, and I can’t lure you into the sea of dancing queers. I sway my hips as I make my way to the bar, knowing your eyes will be on me.
Now, though, your attention is elsewhere. I approach you with our drinks in my hands and watch the girl in tight jeans and a crop top laugh and lightly touch your arm before she walks away.
“Having fun?” I ask a little archly, but there is no spite in the question. From your easy grin I know I’ve pitched the words right, and know that you were trying to get your own back a little. A power play in a game – and it is a game – that you foolishly hope you might win. “She was pretty. Not sure you’re her type though.”
You roll your eyes, taking your drink and slipping an arm around my waist. I try not to melt into the casual touch.
“The fact she’s just given me her number suggests she might not be Kinsey six gay,” he tells me. “In fact, I bet there are more people here who’d be into me than you’d think.”
“Cocky,” I say, but I’m smiling as I look up at you. “Would you be willing to stake your ass on that?”
“Clarify, please.” There’s no hiding the enthusiasm with which you look at me: I definitely have your attention with the gauntlet of a challenge.
“Flirt. Use your infamous charm. If I can get more numbers – or kisses or Twitter handles or make outs or reciprocated flirting – than you, I get to fuck that tight little asshole of yours tonight. If you are more successful, I’ll show you exactly how much anal training I’ve been doing this last month.”
“You’re so on, and you’re so going to lose.”
“Like I said, cocky.” I pull away from you, wanting to be the one who walks away so I can feel you watching my ass again. “I think it’s good that you’re already warming up for me, because I’m not going to be gentle when I use you later.”
It feels powerful, to dance and to flirt and know that you’re watching me. It feels freeing to surrender to the energy of the dance floor – to flirt and to tease and let the night take me where it may. The confidence spills out of me and I feel ridiculously sexy, secure in the knowledge that you are sneaking glances at me even as you flirt with another girl. We’re competing, of course, but somehow our sex bet has changed the dynamic between us. We’re showing off, determined to win this twisted game, exactly the kind of thing gets us both off.
I’m not trying to lead on any of the folks I flirt with: I’m upfront about what I’m doing, and wonder if you’re being as frank with the girls who seem to constantly stream to you. I dance with a tall black girl whose braids that spin out when she twirls. I buy the enby in a purple suit a drink, telling them that their freckles look like stars. I convince the bisexual guy who steadies me when I stumble over my own feet (I’m just a little tipsy) that he should go over and hit on you too – after he’s given me his number, of course.
It doesn’t seem to unsettle you as much as I hoped, though. Your mostly-straight self looks the cute guy dead in the eye and responds to his flirtation with a smile. I keep dancing and flirting, accepting a drink from an androgynous red-head who is wearing white Doc Martens that make them possibly the sexiest person in the room, but I’m also looking for people who I think might be into you. Specifically guys who might be into you, because I am not above trying to throw you off your game by reminding you about all the fantasies you’ve had about sucking cock. Shortly after the fifth guy I’ve sent your way, you make your way over to me, wrapping your arms around me from behind.
“Filthy minx,” you growl in my ear. “I’m going to guess you were responsible for the fellow who just asked if I wanted to suck him off in the toilets?”
“It’s a gay bar – you can’t assume you’re just going to get hit on by pretty girls.” I turn in your arms so I can grin up at you. “Besides, who made a filthy mess in his boxers in that cafe two weeks ago while I rubbed his cock and described how the barista would fuck him? Oh yeah, that’d be you.”
I can’t quite place the look on your face – you look a little bit too smug for someone who is going to get his ass fucked by my new sparkly dildo.
“I know we have a sex bet on, but I’m wondering if you would mind changing the terms. See, I think I’ve found someone who’d like to watch you fuck me and then take me himself – while pushing my face into your wet cunt. Want to see me begging for a thick, hard cock in my ass?”
Fuck you, for redefining the rules of the game that I was winning, but for doing it in a way that makes me wet and desperate to embark on the depraved fuck you’ve just described.
“Yes. On one condition: you can’t claim that you won this time.”
The air between us feels electric as we stand in the middle of the club after a few hours of fucking each other by flirting other people. I feel unbeatable right now, with your hands now groping my arse as I push myself into you. You laugh.
“I’m about to get fucked by two incredibly sexy humans who I’m sure are going to play with their prey before they let him come. What part of that sounds like I haven’t won?”
This post has been written for Exhibit A‘s ‘write a story inspired by a word from the Scrabble game I won‘ challenge. The words I chose were ‘flirty’ and ‘queer’ and I hope I have successfully written a story that will turn EA on… because that’s the aim of this kind of writing challenge, isn’t it?
Want to try pegging with your partner? I got my first strap-on from Lovehoney, and right now you can get £5 off when you spend £40 with them– I’d recommend having a look at their beginner’s unisex strap-on harness kit and lots of water-based lube.
Quinn Rhodes (he/him) is a queer, trans, disabled sex writer with vaginismus. He’s a slut and a sex nerd who writes about his adventures in trying to fuck without fucking up. Quinn can usually be found wearing stomp-on-the-patriarchy boots while falling in love every time he fucks.