The Tip Game


Tristan tugs at my shirt and I feel it pull against my back, pressing against the stitches.
“Take it off,” Tristan orders and I oblige with his help. My shoulder aches where the stitches are. I was hoping if we did anything, he’d let me keep his t-shirt on.
He looks me over slowly, lingering on my breasts despite Leo’s bite marks all over my chest. If what he says is true about him finding Leo with me at the abandoned factory, ******* me with me being essentially dead to the world and blood everywhere, I just have trouble believing Tristan would really want me after seeing all that.
“Why would you even want to…?” I start to turn away and he takes my wrist and pulls my hand to his heart.
“Feel this,” he says, pushing my hand to his chest with both of his over top of it. He closes his eyes, “Right now I’m thinking about work.” The strong steady beat under my hand is a comfort. Tristan breathes in deeply and his heart speeds up considerably, “I’m thinking of you and me getting naked, ******* all night.”
“Oh, yeah?” I say, still skeptical. He takes my hand and pushes it lower, down across his stomach until my hand is directly over the thick bulge in his jeans.
“Yeah,” Tristan pulls me to him, his fingers work at the string tie on the sweats. “The marks on the outside don’t matter to me. I want to put my mark on you, deep inside where no one will ever know but the two of us.”
“Sweet line, I think I’ll pretend to fall for it and save us both some time,” I stick my tongue out at him, he’s being so cheesy. I’m not falling for any of his malarkey.
Should I tell him I like sex, pure and simple and I don’t expect anything else?
I let him push the sweats off of me then watch him take his clothes off slowly like he’s doing a striptease for me. His chest is amazing, totally drool worthy. The lion tattoo on his arm catches my eye again, as he pulls the jersey over his head. The white lion’s eyes are as blue as his own, almost spooky when you compare them. He unzips his jeans and shucks them off, there’s a tribal lion tattoo on his right hip, a black swirl of ink that implies lion rather than being extremely obvious.
“That’s really gorgeous,” I say as I caress the black ink.
“Glad you like it,” Tristan preens jokingly as admire it, turning slightly so my hand slips from the tattoo to his ****. “You’re not sleepy anymore?”
“No, but still hungry.” Tristan picks up his phone and scrolls down through his contacts. He orders a couple of sandwiches from an all night diner around the corner, “Please don’t forget the fries!”
“I got ‘em. No worries,” he says, “but you have to tip the delivery guy. This one’s straight and last time I tried to tip him, he about had a coronary.”
“What?” The last time I tipped it was cash and sexual orientation had nothing to do with tipping. “Oh, no way. I’m not blowing the delivery guy!”
“Yes, you are, or I’m eating all the fries,” Tristan threatens.
“We’ll see.” I’m actually a bit titillated by the idea of polishing the knob of someone I don’t know from Adam. I get that this is some kind of a game for Tristan. “Are you going to watch me do it?”
“Umm, well of course. That’s the point. It’s the only way I’m likely to see what this one’s packing.”
“This would be easier if I wasn’t sober,” I complain. No drinking with a concussion, at least not until I’m feeling more normal. Ha, normal. That’ll be a while.
“I’ll drink another one for you and we’ll just say you’re drunk by association,” Tristan groans as I take him in my mouth and swirl my tongue around the head. “Going for a little pre-game practice I see, nice technique.” I slap him.
“Shut up *******, or I’m going home and you won’t have anyone to tip the guy.”
“And miss out on the fries?” Tristan teases, “I can’t see that happening.”
One thing giving oral does for me is make me incredibly ready to ****. After a few minutes of having a real close look at that beautiful ****, I hold out my hand, “Condom?”
“Already?” he sighs, “I thought you were going to finish me this way first, it’s a nice way to warm up.”
“Damn, you’re a lazy ***,” I complain. Tristan pulls a ***** of condoms out of his bedside stand and tears one off, tossing it to me. “How long has it been?”
“Since I’ve had sex or been with a woman?” Tristan watches me tear open the foil wrapper, I gesture at him to come forth with an answer. “Twelve hours since I’ve had sex, seven years since I’ve been with a woman. There, you happy now?”
“Almost,” I say as I roll the condom onto him. Without making a production of it, I climb into his lap and mount him. Tristan makes a sound deep in his throat that sounds like I’m killing him. “Ooo…I never get tired of this position.”
“****, I forgot about doing it like this,” Tristan looks up at me. I take his hands and put them on my hips.
“Push down. Hard.” I demand. His hands are hot on my skin. I rock my hips forward, driving him further inside of me.
The doorbell rings, the food’s here. Damn.
“I was just warming up,” I complain. Tristan pushes me off of him playfully and grabs his wallet off the dresser. He gives me his flannel shirt and stops me as I reach for the sweats.
“No, answer the door in this, invite him in,” Tristan suggests.
“Seriously?” Oh, ****, if I do this, I’m definitely a **** puppy.
“Yeah, show him your right *** since the left has a big ol’ bite mark on it,” Tristan smiles, “lick your lips and tell him you have a tip for him on the counter.”
“Anything else?” I ask. Tristan hands me a condom.
“If he follows you into the kitchen, bend over and show him your ****. Ask him if he wants to **** or have you suck him.”
“Really? You want me to do this?” I’m actually kind of excited.
“Absolutely.” Tristan pushes me, “hurry before he thinks we’re not home and leaves with our food.”
I open the door and a tall lanky guy with longish auburn hair wearing a leather jacket, jeans and a white apron with food smeared on it freezes like a deer in the headlights as he takes in my state of near undress.
I flash him, smothering a giggle with my hand as I watch his eyes get really wide. I pause for a moment, biting my lip in frustration.
I’ve forgotten my first line.
He’s holding a white plastic bag. The most amazing smell comes out of it. I want my fries! Suddenly, I remember what I’m supposed to say.
“Please come in, I have a tip on the counter for you.” His name badge says Ryan. He hesitates for a just a moment on the threshold then steps inside, shutting the door behind him.
I see Tristan leaning against the wall in the hallway opposite. As I enter the kitchen, I think this next line is going to be harder to deliver. The tiles are cold against my bare feet. Ryan stops and scans the counter top for the promised tip. I bend over and touch my toes, I can almost feel his eyes hot against my exposed sex.
I hear the air rush out of Ryan’s lungs.
“You want to ****?” I pause then wiggle my *** hoping it looks enticing enough for him as I think he’s kind of cute. I’m really needing a pounding now, “or I’ll suck you?”
I turn to face him and watch as he tears off his apron, throwing it across the counter then he unzips and drops his pants.
I see why Tristan was gunning for this one. He’s young, hard almost instantly. Hung like a horse.
I was wet before. I’m tingling with anticipation now. All that for me?
“Where?” Ryan asks as he looks around the kitchen. The stainless steel appliances look as cold and forbidding as the gray tile under my feet.
Tristan and I didn’t talk about where or how, but he wanted to watch this guy **** or get sucked. He wanted a show, so he gets one. I’ll improvise. I take Ryan’s hand in mine. His other hand holds his pants up as we walk into the living room. He can’t be more than twenty-two. He turns and looks back at the kitchen, as if he hears something. The light hits his face.
His eyes are the same blue as Tristan’s.
I bend over the arm of Tristan’s couch, exposing myself to Ryan. I expect him to be hurried and **** me like a dog. I’m completely taken off guard when he buries his face in my *****, licking and sucking, ambitiously inserting fingers inside of me.
“Ooo…that feels so good,” I tell him. It does, he’s got a lovely agile tongue.
I hear change jingle in his pockets when he drops his pants. I turn and get a face full of his enormous ****. I take the head in my mouth and try my best to go down on him, but it’s a losing battle. He buries his hands in my hair, rocking his hips against my lips, incrementally getting further into my throat with each push.
“That’s real nice, but I want to **** you,” Ryan says as he pulls out of my mouth. I finally catch a breath as he strokes himself, waiting for my answer.
I rip open the condom wrapper with my teeth as Ryan watches. It takes a minute to roll it on him, it’s snug. I stop frequently, licking, wetting him with my saliva and trying to help push the latex on with my lips. Out of the corner of my eye, I catch a glimpse of Tristan standing in the kitchen watching us, his blonde head haloed by the lights, his jeans unzipped, **** in hand. He stares right at me as he strokes.
I lean over the arm of the couch, Ryan positions himself behind me. When he enters slowly, sinking into me inch by inch I’m biting my hand to keep from howling out loud as he seats himself as deep as he can inside of me. I rock my *** backwards, ramming him in further. It feels so good when he bumps against my cervix. I can’t stop myself from making a keening noise of pleasure as he starts to move faster, going deeper.
He pounds me hard for a good five minutes, then slows, catching his breath, his skin dewy with sweat. He leans all the way forward and grabs my breasts with both hands, twisting my nipples to hard pebbled peaks. When he puts his hands on my shoulders for leverage I scream and come, partially from the shock of the pain from his hands on my stitches but also from the way he moves his hips, grinding his girth into me hits just the right way. I feel myself flush as I come.
“Another position?” Ryan suggests and I almost swoon with relief, one ****** and I’m usually just warming up. I always want more. I’m pretty pleased this isn’t over yet.
“Sit on the couch and I’ll get in your lap?” All that deliciousness inside of me at that angle is sure to be fun.
Ryan reclines into the cushions and holds his arms open for me. When I climb into his lap and settle on top of him, he grins at me.
“Mmm…nice, best tip I’ve had all night. Take this off?” he asks as he tugs on the corner of Tristan’s flannel I have draped around me.
“Okay, but lemme tell you something first,” I warn, “I like it rough and um…well, I’ve got some marks on me.”
I take off the shirt and he whistles. “**** me. That’s some wicked animalistic ****!” He cups his hands under both of my ****, testing the weight of them against his palms. “You weren’t kidding when you said rough.”
“Uh-huh,” I hum in the back of my throat as he traces the teeth marks around my left nipple with his finger then takes the nipple into his mouth and bites down hard. I squeal and grab onto his shoulders. “Oh, ****, yes!”
I take his hands and put them on my hips. I swivel and grind down on him, lean back a little with my breasts in his face and ride him. He pumps into me from below and I bounce on him, forcing him against my g-spot with every stroke. Ryan bites the shoulder that doesn’t have stitches and I pant, “oh yeah,” over and over in his ear.
I’m a little shocked when he pulls me close and kisses me. I taste myself on his lips, he groans as I bite his lower lip and move against him, my breasts pressed to his chest. I dig my nails into him and he groans, tilting his head back, exposing his throat.
Open invitation for mayhem. Oh, yum.
I can’t help myself, I bite him on his jaw and neck and he raps his arms around me, urging me to bite him harder. He groans as I latch on, he pumps into me a little more frantically, his hips straining and I think he’s about to come, but no. He stops and looks up at me. “Can we take this to the floor?”
I figure any minute Tristan is going to get tired of watching us and step in. When I climb off of Ryan, I see him leaning back on the fridge, eating my fries.
************. He better leave me some fries or I’m kicking his ***. I came back from the dead tonight. I freaking deserve those fries.
I get down on the floor and Ryan joins me, he strips off his shirt and is completely naked now. He’s got several tattoos. I silently admire one of a red fox with long black boots and gorgeous bushy tail rapped around his biceps. I lie down on my back and he covers me, still hard and encased in latex. Once he’s inside me I wrap my legs around him and squeeze. I start moving my hips underneath him, swiveling and grinding, forcing him against my g-spot, over and over.
“Thanks for the amazing service,” I giggle, “prompt delivery...and…oh, ****, yeah, right there,” I grind against him from the bottom. He let’s me drive for a few minutes.
“Oh damn, that’s so good,” he says. I push myself onto him, as he’s ramming into me. “That’s going to make me come,” Ryan groans as he pins me down, forcing me to quit moving my hips while he finds a rhythm all his own.
There’s a faint buzzing sound coming from Ryan’s pants lying across the floor.
His mobile. There’s a beep signaling a message has been left for him.
“Someone’s missing you back at the diner,” I point out, a little breathless. Ryan runs his hand through his hair, not looking worried at all.
“Yeah, the dishes are probably stacking up,” his grin is a little lopsided, endearing. “You think I give a rat’s *** about that when I’m in balls deep here with you?”
He lifts one of my legs over his shoulder for a different angle, then both legs. The cuts that needed stitches on my shoulder ache a little with the pressure but it’s a very small inconvenience. I’m so ready, it won’t take anything to get me there.
“Ah…yeah, that’s it. Just like that,” I say as he manages to put pressure in all the right places, I come, moaning and thrashing under him but he’s still not quite there.
“Oh, ****,” Ryan kisses me lightly on the tip of my nose. His stamina’s finally starting to flag. “I’m so close,” he warns. “Come again, this time with me?” he asks as he bucks his hips against me, pushing further with every thrust in a way that makes me arch into him, letting him get in much deeper.
He makes a hiccoughing sound and shudders, thrusting hard against me. I come with a long wet squirt, trembling a little as he stops moving. I feel thoroughly and deliciously ******. Ryan’s collapsed on top of me, aftershocks tremble through him sporadically.
After two or three minutes, Ryan gets up slowly and slides his pants on. I find Tristan’s flannel and rap it around me as I watch Ryan tug his shirt over his head. He walks to the counter where he’s left his apron and I follow him, feeling loose-legged and light-headed.
“This for your tab?” Ryan asks as he picks up two twenties from the kitchen’s island counter. “Hey, where’s your food, I left it right here?” He looks over at me, “Is there someone else home?”
“That’s for you,” I nod, realizing Tristan must’ve left the cash and took the food while he was watching us. “Yeah, the guy who lives here. He’s around here somewhere.”
“Cool,” Ryan says, “I think I remember him from another delivery, blonde, about yea tall,” he waves his hand at his eye level, “lion tattoo?”
“Uh-huh,” I move around the kitchen until I can see down the hallway. It’s empty. “That’s him.”
“Tell him thanks for the tip, would ya?” Ryan grins as he pulls his apron over his head.
“Sure thing,” I lean against the wall and watch him walk away. When he gets to the door, he pauses and looks back at me. Ryan moves back towards me fast, pushes me against the wall and gives me an exceptionally sensual kiss. He reaches down, slides his fingers inside of me and twists them, for a moment I ride his hand. Unbelievable. I’m still hot for more. Must be a side effect of surviving a dance with death.
“So ******* wet,” he inhales my scent and licks his fingers, “wish I could stay with you cougar lady and play a bit longer, but I have to get back to work.”
Cougar lady? But I’m a horse…oh, yeah right. Now I get it. Duh.
I am easily twenty years older than him.
Tristan appears beside me, his eyes on Ryan, “When’s your shift over?”
Ryan doesn’t blink, doesn’t even act surprised to see Tristan there. “Three a.m.”
“I’m trying to keep her awake all night, doctor’s orders,” Tristan says. “Come back when your shift’s over if you want to and bring a few friends.”


“Bring a few friends!” Roz rants at me, pacing back and forth in my kitchen while her fries and sandwich warm up in the oven. “Bring a few friends! Jeez, must you think I’m a total hobag!”
“Tell me the idea of two or three young studs on you at the same time doesn’t make you soaking wet? If that makes you a hobag, I’m right there with you. Don’t you want to try it at least once in your life?” Tristan pulls down a plate from his cabinet and takes my food out of the oven. “I’d be in heaven, if it were me. Watching the two of you together…way hot, I rubbed one off just fantasizing about putting myself in the mix with you and that fine young ****. Thanks for playing the tip game.”
“Tip game?” Roz asks.
“Yeah, it’s an ongoing thing I have with some of my friends. Whoever’s not paying for the food has to at least try and tip the delivery guy with a bj.”
“Sounds rather skanky,” Roz winks at me, “but fun.”
“Welcome to my world,” I say, trying to keep a straight face.
“What happens if you don’t like the look of him or if it’s a girl?”
“Female delivery staff, very rare, but that’s all part of the game. Getting guys who swear they’re straight to let you blow them, not so rare. If I pay for the food, it gets me off of trying to give the tip. If it’s a girl, depends. If I like the look of her…well, you know none of my friends are interested so I do it…otherwise we give her cash. Usually we’re all pretty drunk by the time the food arrives.”
I slide the plate across the island to Roz. She dips a fry in ketchup and shoves it in her mouth. “God, this is good,” she closes her eyes as she chews, “mmm…worth waiting for. Did you see Ryan’s tattoo?”
“Mmm…yeah, the fox. Interesting. Why haven’t you got a tattoo?”
hairyontheinside hairyontheinside
Nov 30, 2012