View Full Version : The Lunch Bet-

07-06-2007, 06:42 AM
I entered this little tale in the food contest on the other site, thought others might enjoy it
* * *

Do not even recall how it came about, but eating lunch in the office with my receptionist and secretary the subject of how hard it was to find a lunch place everyone could agree on was brought up. I shrugged, and offer, “Hard to go wrong with a burger joint.”

“Hm-mpf,” Ginny, my forty-year old secretary snorted, “typical man answer.”

“Yeah,” Tara, my twenty-year old receptionist made a sour face, “I like salads, and most of their salads are dreadful.”

“Mexican food,” I suggested, “they always have plenty of greens for the ladies, and plenty of meat for men, plus as a bonus, decent margaritas, usually.”

“No, Marty,” Ginny shook her head, “you’re wrong, not everyone likes Mexican food. There’s only one lunch that’ll make everyone happy.”

“Soup and salad bar,” Tara waggled her hand, “they have some meat.”

“Nope,” Ginny just kept shaking her head, “not even close.”

When she didn’t continue I tapped the table. “What, is it a big secret?”

“Not really,” Ginny dabbed at her mouth, “but has to be experienced.”

“Oh, so you’re saying if the three of us showed up we’d love this lunch better than either of our favorites?” She raised an eyebrow, and I wagged a finger. “No way, you’re not going to beat my lunch, it’s perfect, for me at least.”

“Really? And what if I say neither of you have a clue to what you truly like?” Ginny gave me a half smirk. “Fifty dollars says you’re wrong. I bet my lunch will be hands down better than both of yours combined.”

“I’m in.” I held up both hands. “Who goes first?”

“You sound pretty confident,” Ginny smiled, “so you first, Marty, then Tara.” Ten years older than me, she had a great body, big boobs, firm, or at least well supported. “Only one rule, you have to do everything the host or hostess says.”

“Try everything?” Tara gulped, she was a little cutie, very shy, except when behind her desk. She was quite articulate, very sure of herself during work hours, but after work she was the exact opposite, and she wouldn’t even meet your eyes while in conversation.

“Just a little, dear,” Ginny patted Tara’s hand, “or we won’t get an accurate assessment. It’ll be fun, honey, guaranteed.”

“Okay,” Tara took a deep breath, “I’m in.”

* * *

For my lunch it was the top-rated Mexican restaurant in town, even sat at the bar where they made fresh fajitas. Margaritas were made with aged tequila, sea salt on the rim, and garden fresh greens. Ladies agreed it was a very fine meal.

As we guessed Tara chose a Soup and Salad café just down the street from my ********* office. Fresh baked bread and meaty soup I didn’t dislike the place, and we agreed it was a fine meal.

We get back to the office, and I tell Ginny, “You didn’t convince me soup and salad was better than my meal, and you’re not going to, ever.”

She smiled. “And I don’t have too.”

Rest of the day Tara and I are guessing at where Ginny’s taking us, but she’s not giving us a clue. Next morning she’s still secretive, and didn’t even call for a reservation. Eleven-thirty comes, and I point at the clock. “Shouldn’t we try to beat the lunch rush?”

“No need.”

She’s not going to give us a hint, and Tara asks, “Are we walking?”

“No need.”

Ten minutes later Ginny leaves, then comes back with a large picnic basket, and I chuckle. “A picnic? Ginny, you’ve got to be joking, no way is a picnic going to beat either of our lunches?”

“Really? You want to put another fifty on it?”

“Hell, I’ll put a hundred more on it.”

“Ah, Marty,” Tara’s eyes grow big, “I can’t afford the fifty.”

“Not to worry, I’ve got you covered, Tara.” I wiggle my finger at Ginny. “And for you, I’ll put up the three hundred against your fifty, no way are–”

“Fine,” Ginny cut me off, locking the door, “lets go, lunchroom.” She waved us away, as she closed the drapes.

Tara and I were seated at the table when Ginny brought in the basket. “Oh no, up, up, both of you.” She made a hand motion. “And lets get your clothes off.”

“What?” I yelped, as Tara gasped.

“I’m the hostess, remember,” Ginny said real slow, “you both are to do what the host or hostess tells you, we all agreed. Now, get out of your clothes.” She smacked the table with a riding crop. “I said, strip, now!”

One glimpse at the look in her eye, and both of us were peeling off our clothes. We got down to our underwear, and both of us stalled. Whack! “Strip, last time I say it.”

That crop sounded nasty, and my boxers were soon on the pile of my clothes. Took Tara a bit longer, but she was also stripped nude. “Well, well,” Ginny ran the crop up Tara’s side, “should’ve figured a cutie like you was a natural blonde.” She tapped the table. “You’re first sweetie, lay down and show off your little muff, and those divine baby boobies.”

I can’t believe Tara’s doing it, and Mr. Stiffy is appreciating it, big time. Tara lays down on the table, trying to cover herself up. Ginny ran the crop down Tara’s side. “Hands on the table, legs spread, show off those hard little nipples and pink wetness. I have a wide variety of cuffs and spreaders if need be.”


She hits me on the ass, with that damn crop.

“Yeow!” I rubbed my ass.

“Do I have your attention now, Marty?”

“Yes ma’am.” I’m rubbing my ass, and she gives me a frown, so I try. “Yes, mistress.”

“Better.” Ginny takes off her blouse, and she’s wearing some-latex-expose-half-the titties-thing, black, shiny, and mean-looking. “Well boy, are you a typical man and wish to start with desert?”

“Ah,” I look from her titties to Tara’s pussy, trying to figure out which would be desert, “ah, no, I can go for the full meal.”

“Good.” Ginny starts unpacking the picnic basket. “Boy, on your knees, and get my skirt off.” I do it while she is putting stuff on Tara, getting the young girl moaning.


She smacks me on top of the head. “You can see I’m not wearing panties, don’t you think you should be taking care of me while I’m fixing your lunch? And no hands.”

“Yes mistress.” I try to get my tongue in her pussy, but Ginny sticks her butt out, so all I can lick is her ass. She is wet, getting off on this, and I’m rock hard, way Tara is moaning we’re all three enjoying preparing lunch.

Ginny spreads her legs out, and I take it I’m to work on her pussy, which I do. She is sopping wet, and moaning louder than Tara.


Damn, I don’t know how she got my ass from that angle. “Come on boy, your lunch is ready.”

Tara has apple and orange slices between her toes, cream cheese and caviar on her pussy, pate in her belly button, peanut butter and celery on her titties, and puddles of cocktail sauce with a shrimp floating on each. I start with her toes, sucking up the fruit, licking the juice between her toes, then putting each toe in my mouth swirling my tongue around the digit.

She’s so close by the time I lick up her thighs, Tara goes to grab my head.


“Yeow!” Ginny missed her, and hit me in the head.

“Now pretty, sexy baby,” Ginny cooed, “keep your hands on the table, or your near useless boy is going to stop.” Tara’s hands go back to the table.


I get smacked, again. “Come on boy, eat that tight little pussy.”

Was either getting used to the swats, or she wasn’t hitting me so hard, but I got right to eating her cream cheese, caviar pussy, giving Tara an orgasm before I was through. Started in on the shrimp, and Ginny raised Tara’s knees up off the table, spread her legs, then inserted a sausage in her pussy, getting coos out of the young lady.


“Yeow!” She nails my ass again, and I didn’t do squat.

“Keep your hand off your dick.” Ginny ran that crop down my member, and I wasn’t liking my hard-on being a possible target.

Was just repositioning my dick, not playing with myself, but all I said was, “Yes mistress.”

Ginny starts fucking Tara with the sausage, as I’m finishing off the shrimp and taking care of the peanut butter. She’s panting and bucking into Ginny’s thrusts, as I keep sucking on her titties. Tara is squealing, “Oh, ah, oh, fuck yes, ah-h-h yes-s!”

I receive a tap on the shoulder with the crop, and I back away, but Ginny is still pumping the sausage in Tara. “Well boy, you lose the bet?”

“Hell yeah, hands down.” I licked my lips. “My turn on the table?”

“Ah,” Ginny snickered, “you’re a fucking loser.”


She hit me on the side of the ass. “Park it in that chair, and watch me fuck this little cutie.” Ginny pulled a strap-on harness out of the basket. “And if I catch you playing with your dick you’re going to be in cuffs. Behave, and I might let you get off.”

I sat in the corner chair thinking we were going to need to start taking two-hour lunch breaks.

The End (for now)


07-06-2007, 07:51 AM
You're right...I'm sure it will be enjoyed. Thanks for sharing it :)

07-06-2007, 08:29 AM
lol nice, different, but good

07-06-2007, 03:48 PM
Hell, that's me different, but not so good-
Not my kinda lunch, need to get off- don't need to be first or even second, but it's gotta happen for me

07-06-2007, 03:57 PM
awesome lunch!

07-06-2007, 04:07 PM
I decided at noon yesterday to give it a go (thought it was fitting) and wrote this in a few hours- usually I let a piece sit for a bit then go back over it, this one i just proofed and let it fly- wake up this morning with all kinds of extras running through my head to make it more interseting- I'm sure it'll bug me til I re-write it

07-10-2007, 05:36 PM
suddenly im hungry. Good story wizard, love your work.

07-10-2007, 06:16 PM
That's why breakfast is the most important meal of the day, so you can survive lunch IA
Thank you for the compliments- course if you love my work you might just be as crazy as me, so we really don't know if it's the truth or just the crazy talking, do we? ah,hahaha