Strip Poker

Okay this is an older post that I wanted to revisit, because it’s one of my favorite stories ever.

I arrived home just before midnight, early by my standards, far too early. I only managed buzz, but my ride wanted to leave. She was sick, and since she’s my best friend I didn’t want to be a bitch.

So here I was, home at midnight. Cigar smoke hit me in the front entrance, which meant my step-dad, Dwight, held his poker night. Mom didn’t mind the poker, but the cigars pissed her off.

I heard voices from the back room. They were still playing. I held onto the wall down the hallway. I leaned against the doorway. My step-dad and three of his friends were at the table. One of his friends was Mr. Brad Nash, who was the hottest man I had ever laid eyes on. When we were teens, my girlfriends and I would giggle over him. And we were jealous of Jody Flynn who saw him in his underwear once when she was baby-sitting. I was certain she lied about seeing anything.

John Flynn stood. “Thanks for the game, gentlemen.”

“I best get home.” Earl Peters tossed his cards on the table.

“Kylie, we’re a few players short. You want in?” Dwight asked. Yeah, my mom married a man named Dwight. He came around early enough to have been here forever, but not early enough for me to consider him ‘dad’, plus my bio dad was around.

“I don’t have a buy in.” They were “serious” players.

“We’ll spot you,” Mr. Nash said.

They tossed me some chips. I took a seat while Dwight dealt the cards.

“What will you do about mom and the cigar smoke?”

“Take her out to breakfast.” Dwight grinned behind a cloud of smoke.

“The nagging is one thing I don’t miss about having a wife,” Mr. Nash said.

That made the tingling between my thighs even worse. He was single, I was single. If I was five years younger, I would have considered it fate and spent the game daydreaming about him kissing me.

I looked at my hand and raised the bid.

An hour later, Dwight was out of money, and he said he was going to bed.

My buzz had worn off, but I wasn’t tired. “Couple more hands?” I asked Mr. Nash.

“Just lock up,” Dwight said.

After Dwight left, I opened his alcohol cupboard and poured myself some of Dwight’s finest whiskey. The booze wasn’t great, but the drinks were free. “Want a glass?”

“Sure.”

When I slid it in front of him, his eyes widened. “No mix?”

“Straight whiskey in a dirty cup. Can you handle it?”

“I’m surprised you can,” Mr. Nash drawled.

“That’s Dwight’s influence.” He raised the bid. “So… how are your kids?”  That was a safe topic.

“Growing up. Teenagers. My wife, ex-wife, is getting married.”

“What about you? No second Mrs. Nash.”

“I haven’t even dated anyone. It seems everything has changed and I’m not sure how to find someone to date.”

I took one card and raised his bet.  He matched and took two. I spent all my money on the final bet, certain he was bluffing. He wasn’t.

We sipped our whiskey in quiet. “I guess it’s game over,” he said.

“Oh, I’m sure I can think of something to bet.” I unbuttoned a couple buttons on my shirt.

His eyes widened and he finished his whisky. “I-I-I. Not. Good idea,” he stammered, trying to look and not look at my cleavage simultaneously.

I smirked. “Deal the cards, Mr. Nash. We'll see who loses their shirt.”

Me, I lost my shirt. Though it was deliberate. My hand sucked, but I didn’t retreat.

I slid my chair closer to his. I took off my shirt and tossed it in his lap. After a pause, he picked it up and pressed it to his nose.

He pushed back from the table.

“One minute touching for every dollar you bid.” I took a large swallow of my whiskey to give me the courage for more boldness. I cupped my breasts and pushed them together.

He pushed his chair back in. “I’m old enough—” He stared in his empty glass.

He was old enough to fuck me marvelously. Reaching across the table, I put my hand on his. “I’m old enough, Mr. Nash. I’ll graduate university in a few months.” He didn't seem swayed. I took his hand and placed it on my breast.

“Brad,” he said in a strangled voice.

“What?”

“Brad. If we are going to have sex, you must call me by my first name.”

“Brad.  All the girls giggled over you when were kids. We all wished you were our stepdad. We all hoped you’d call us to baby-sit.”

“Oh?” He wheezed, shocked by my bluntness.

“Sorry, I’ll do my best not to scare you again.”

“Thank you.”

He dealt the cards, so I assumed he agreed to my deal. I had good cards, no bluffing this time, so I won.  He took his money back in the second. And in the third, he won three minutes.

“Bra on or off?” I asked.

“Ladies choice,” he said.

My fingers wound behind my back, but nerves gripped me as I fumbled for the clasp. Brad reached behind me and flicked the clasp open. He brushed the straps off my arm, exposing me.

I set the timer on my phone and set it on the table. He looked into my eyes as he brushed my shoulders, calluses on his hands rasped over my collar bone. His warm hands caressed the soft flesh, his thumbs teasing the hard nipples. My phone beeped when the minutes were up and our eyes met, freezing us for a heartbeat. His hands moved down my belly but dropped away and I sighed. He gave me a half-smile before pushing my bra across the table.

“I think you won it,” I said, my voice low with desire.

“What’s your next wager?”

I emptied my glass of whiskey. I leaned over and whispered into his ear, “Winner take all. Oral, long as it takes.”

“Long as it takes?”

“For the winner to orgasm.”

He panicked, his eyes darting all over the room. His shoulders lifted, his eyebrows knitted together. He was intrigued and shocked.

I shuffled the cards and dealt. “Mr. Nash?”

He picked up his cards. “I should grab you by the hair and push you down on the table, five spankings for every time you refuse to call me Brad.”

“I don’t think that’s an effective way to get me to call you by your first name, Mr. Nash.”

He smirked at me. It didn’t matter who won or lost, I intended to fuck Brad Nash. Right here.

“How old are you, Kylie?”

“Twenty-two, Mr. Nash.”

He held up two fingers. Twice I called him Mr. Nash since his threat.

I smiled. He raised an eyebrow.

“It’s your turn.” He took two cards. I took one. We did three rounds, he called. I tossed my hand on the table. Two pair, queens and fives. Not bad, not great.

He laid his down: a pair of aces. I grinned. He sat back in his chair with wide eyes. I grabbed our glasses and refilled them with whiskey. My heels clicked on the floor as I circled him. Reaching around, I put the glasses on the table. I pressed my chest into his back and let my hands roam his body: Back, shoulder, chest. Then, with my heart beating double time, I ran it over his crotch. His cock strained against the fly of his jeans. He grunted as I rubbed my palm over his erection.

“We can stop if you want.” I knew he didn’t want to, but if his conscience bothered him, I wanted to give him an out.

“Do you want to?” He leaned back and met my eyes. His blue eyes took a grey tone from the smoke rising between us.

“I have never wanted anything more, Mr. Nash.” I held his gaze steady, heat flaring between us.

In a flash, he was up from his seat and behind me. He grabbed me by the hair and pulled me tight against him. “Sometime you will pay for that, missy.”

“Sometime? Not now?”

“I want you to scream without worry of interruptions.”

That sounded promising. “What now, then?”

“I have a debt to pay.” He looked around the room, but it was still empty, so he lifted my skirt and pulled my panties down. He would discover how aroused I was, embarrassingly excited.

His fingers bunched my skirt, pulling it around my waist, and his voice was soft when he issued the command to “Sit on the table.” My bare ass plopped on the table and he replaced the skirt against my thighs. My heart thumped and I grabbed the glass beside me and gulped, letting it burn all the way down my throat. I held it out to him. “Drink?”

Brad took it and emptied it with a wink. He slid into the chair and positioned himself between my legs with my feet on the arms of his chair. As if he had all the time in the world, he rubbed the hem of my skirt between his thumb and forefinger. At this rate, I’d get a postmortem orgasm. How best to interest him?

“I am… embarrassed by how wet I am right now.”

“That so?” He pushed my skirt up, exposing my pussy to the room. To him.

His fingers brushed my thighs where I dripped. He moved around the outline of my cunt, gathering moisture as he moved inward. I leaned back, dropping my knees outward, opening myself more.

“You are wet, missy. Soaked.” His finger circled my clit. “Are you still embarrassed by it?”

“No.” I shook my head so my body moved.

“Stay still, missy.” He kissed my knee.

I giggled. “Yes, Mr. Nash.”

“I am still counting.” His smokey eyes pushed me backward.

“I am counting on it. Are you free tomorrow night?” I put my hands on the edge of the table.

“Yes. You?” He nudged my legs open further, sliding his tongue along the skin of my inner thigh.

“I am.”

“What will you tell your parents?” He raised his brows.

“I’m young, I go out almost every night. Study, party, dates, friends. No one asks.”

His tongue flicked along my slit. “I’m unsure if you are a very bad or very good girl.”

My legs shook. “I’m whatever you say I am.”

He sucked on my clit, then soothed it with his tongue. I grabbed the side of the table and leaned on my elbows.

He pulled away from me and I whimpered. “I’d love to train you to come on command.”

“You can do that?”

“Oh yes, love.” He pressed his mouth against me again, teasing me with slow strokes, then swirling my excitement with quick flicks of his tongue. My moans got louder as I got closer to coming and he hushed me, “You don’t want to get caught.”

I didn’t nor did he. This was too fragile.

“Come for me, Kylie,” he crooned. Then his tongue assaulted my clit with every move he had. That worked wonders, as my body shook from the inside out. Pleasure exploded everywhere. I bit my bottom lip hard enough to draw blood while I kept myself from screaming in release.

I laid on the table. “You can fuck me now.”

“I could, if we had condoms.”

“I don’t here. Upstairs.”

He pulled me onto his lap and kissed me. His mouth was still wet from my pussy, his tongue tangy and behind it all, just a hint of him. The way he moved against me, the taste, the feel, it was like sex in my mouth.

I wanted to peel his pants off and suck him off. He put me on my feet. “I should go before Dwight comes to find why I haven’t left.” He stood and wrapped my shirt around me, fingers deft as they buttoned it.

“Wait, I don’t have your address or a time. What’s your cell number?” I grabbed my phone from the table. We exchanged numbers, then I followed him to the front door. He kissed me again and slipped out. I locked it behind him.

The cool night air slipped under my skirt, caressing me like a lover. Shit, my panties were under the poker table. I kicked off my heels into the closet and ran to retrieve my wayward underwear. In the back room there was no trace of my thong—under the table, on his chair, missing—I gasped until I realized where they were. Fuck, he took them and they were my favorite pair too. Plus,  my thighs were sticky from my winnings. After turning off the light, I climbed the stairs to brush my teeth and wash my face clean.

I was about to pull back the covers when my phone vibrated. Brad! I swiped the phone to see his message, but it was a picture. I tapped my fingers while it downloaded: My panties on a pillow.

“Naughty. I went back, but I couldn’t find them.”

I took off my clothes and slid between the sheets as another picture came through. A dick pic this time. He was hard and I wanted to lick him through the phone.  I replied, “You aren’t supposed to send those unsolicited.”

“Not unsolicited if you asked me for it earlier.”

I laughed as I requested more than pictures of his dick. “I’m going to sleep. Naked.”

“That’s how I was imagining you. I will use your underwear to jerk off, then go to sleep. I’ll text you time and location in the morning. The count is twenty.” His voice was laced with a threat.

Twenty? Twenty spanks I remembered, I said Mr. Nash four times after he insisted on calling him Brad.

“I enjoy calling you Mr Nash. Adds a nice layer of authority.”

“Twenty-five. We’ll disc