Poer Night: All In

Game Night

"Are you sure about this?" I asked Phil, not looking away from my reflection in the mirror.

"Of course, love," he answered, stepping up behind me and staring over my shoulder to meet my eyes through my reflection. "You look great."

"Not that," I said, running my hands down the red dress that he'd helped me pick out. He was right that I looked great - the dress was tight where it needed to be to show off my curves without being too constrictive, sleeveless and thin-strapped to show off my arms and neck, and just short enough to draw attention to my legs without showing too much.

"Of course, Jess. Whatever happens, happens." He pressed a kiss into the top of my head. "Besides, it can't be any crazier than that New Year's Eve we spent in New York."

Images and sensory memory flicked through my head. There had been wine and dancing, low light and celebration. We'd met up with another couple spending the weekend in the Big Apple, had gone back to their hotel room, and...

"I remember," I whispered, my voice going low and sultry. "We went to their hotel and danced. We switched partners, me with him and you with her. And then all together, after that."

That had been a magical night. I swear the four of us must have gone through a whole box of condoms. Our rumination was cut off by the sound of the doorbell downstairs. That was just as well, since I could see a flush already creeping up my cheeks and my nipples peaking against my dress - it wasn't the kind that you would wear a bra under.

"I'll go down and get the door," Phil said, taking a half step back. "Do you need to finish up your makeup?"

I nodded in answer, and then gasped indignantly as his hand slapped down on my ass. "See you soon, Jess. Don't keep us waiting too long."

I watched him through the mirror as he left the room, and listened to him pound down the stairs. He was excited, that much was obvious, and I was too.

I sat down in front of the vanity, popping open my makeup cases with quick efficiency. I didn't need too much tonight. I was just starting on the foundation when I heard Phil open the door and greet his friend, and was flicking my eyelashes out with a mascara wand when I heard the two guys laughing in their loud, deep voices. I was dabbing on some subtle eyeshadow when the doorbell sounded again, and John invited a second friend inside.

By the time I got to the lipstick, the three men had already left the main floor, to start setting up the game downstairs.

I gave myself a last look over, and a nod of approval. Light concealer, subtle eyeshadow, long dark lashes, a deep red on my lips. I looked nice, without looking like I was trying too hard. This was a poker game after all, not a gala.

I grabbed a bottle of red and a glass on my way downstairs, and stopped short at the basement. The three guys were around the table, starting to count out coins and bills, and replacing spent beer bottles with fresh ones from the mini fridge. Michael was in the middle of telling a boisterous story, which I caught the tail end of: "So I told her, I says, 'Look, I don't wanna wear the damn condom, and you don't want me to wear it either. So stop pretending, and climb on up.'"

"And she did?" The other guy. Brandon, asked.

"Sure as I sit here today," Michael answered. "She rode me, bareback and all, and loved every second of it. Blew my load in her, maybe even knocked her up. I don't know or even care. All I know is no guy wants to wear a condom if he can get away with it, and most girls don't even want it anyway. I swear, half of them have a fetish for taking that bareback risk. Hey, Phil, your wife isn't still making you wrap it every night, is she?"

"No James tonight?" I asked before my husband had to answer the uncomfortable question, and the three of them looked up.

"His wife's sick," Brandon told me with a shrug, "so he's staying home with her. Three's enough for a game anyhow."

"But there's room for a fourth?"

"You wanna play, Jessica?" Brandon asked, looking surprised. "Usually on game nights you just stop downstairs long enough to freshen a couple drinks and watch a few rounds."

"Tonight you'll just have to freshen your own damn drinks," I said, and the three guys burst out laughing.

"Shit, Jess," Mike said with a guffaw. "You haven't played a hand with us in years, but there's always room for you. Even if you run out of chairs here, you can always sit on Philly's lap."

Phillip snorted and rolled his eyes, which was answer enough. I poured a glass of wine for myself before sitting down, and found that Phil had already split a bill into coins and put them in front of me. I did a quick count of the pile before looking up. "A hundred bucks? I remember when you boys used to play for dimes."

"Well, I'm regional coordinator at work now," Brandon said with a little smirk, "and Phil's been raking in the contracts, and Mike is Mike. We've got enough to wager, so we've been upping the ante a bit every now and then. Is it too rich for your blood?"

"It hardly seems fair," Mike grunted. "If the two of them each put in a hundred, that means I'm gonna be taking two hundred from their household when I walk out tonight."

"No need to get cocky," Brandon shot back. "After all these years, I've finally got your tell pinned down."

"You forget that I've seen you boys play a lot over the years," I countered. "I've got you all figured out. Deal us in, Mike."

He did, his grin turning into a stony neutrality as he started sliding cards across the table.

Second Glass

We were nine or ten rounds in, and I was two glasses of wine in, and things weren't looking great for me so far. My pile of coins and bills were under half, and both Brandon and Mike were looking pleased as peaches.

My mind wasn't fully on the game, though. When I had gotten up twice, first to use the washroom then to refill my glass, I had brushed against Mike a little too closely for him to mistake it for coincidence. He was watching me uncertainly now, like he was trying to figure out what kind of game I was running. Brandon's eyes were mostly on my cleavage, which he had gotten a good eyeful of once when I bent right over the table to collect my winnings from a round, and once when I leaned past him to grab the empty bottles from the table.

They were distracted, and I figured I had them beat. "I raise," I told them, sliding another bill forward before staring at each of the boys in turn.

"Fold," Michael declared, laying his hand down in front of him. Brandon and Phillip just nodded at me and slid a matching bill forward.

Then Phil flipped the next card from the deck face-up, the turn. "Fourth street's looking my way, boys," I told the two remaining players with a grin. I slid another bill forward, and the other two did the same.

Then Mike flipped the last card, the river, upright onto the table. Phil's lip twitched for a second, and I knew he was in trouble. Brandon looked uncertain for a moment, but with him that could mean anything. But my hand was good, and I liked my odds. "I'm going to up the ante a little tonight, see if anyone is feeling ballsy."

Brandon quirked an eyebrow at me. "I've got enough to risk it, even if you pushed it all in."

"It's go big or go home," I told him, then ripped a strip of paper off of the notepad at the table, and scribbled on it. A moment later, I slid the square of paper into the middle of the table, and all three of them leaned forward to read it.

"Blowjob?" Mike asked, incredulous.

"Blowjob," I confirmed. "You win that and you can cash it in right away, or later on."

Brandon and Mike stared at me for a moment, looking confused and intrigued, glanced at each other, then stared at Phil. Phillip, my dear husband of six years, just shrugged. "She can bet whatever she wants. James bet a watch last year, and we all thought that was fair."

"But that's..." Brandon mumbled, looking down at the piece of paper, then back up at me. "Okay, fair enough."

The two remaining players slid their bills forward in stoic silence, which was punctuated by Mike's cough. "Lay 'em out."

I laid my hand down, a smirk on my face. Phillip did the same next to me with a groan. I smirked up at Brandon, ready to take in a pile of coins and bills big enough to put me back in the running. His lip twitched up slightly on the right side, and my smile froze on my face. He laid his cards down face up, and Phil groaned again. Mike just whistled.

"I believe the pot is mine," Brandon said, and had the decency not to gloat as he did. He pulled the crumpled bills towards himself, and fished my little note off of the pile. "You said I can redeem this..."

"Whenever you want," I finished for him, the smile back on my face. "Good hand."

He looked over at Phil again, as if asking for permission. I didn't blame him, some people were weird about extramarital stuff. Phil shrugged again, looking none too concerned. We'd discussed this possibility beforehand, and I honestly think my Phil was even more excited about the idea of me blowing one of his friends than I was.

"I think I'll take it now," Brandon decided. "You boys wanna give us a bit of space?"

Mike guffawed loudly, declaring he needed to hit the head anyhow. Phil got up from the table and wandered over to the minifridge to get another beer for himself, then settled against it to watch us.

Brandon was still at the table across from me, watching me intently with his eyebrow raised as if to ask 'Well?'

I got up slowly and stepped around the table, putting as much sashay and strut into the walk as I could. Brandon turned slightly in his chair to face me as I came around the table, grinning but also looking nervous, like he thought I might back out.

"I never welch on a deal," I told him as I got closer. I dropped to one knee in front of him, swept a pistachio shell aside and brought my other knee down so I was kneeling between his legs.

I readjusted my dress slightly to be comfier, and to make sure my cleavage was very well framed with my nipples almost visible above the fabric. "Shit," he whispered to himself as I settled my hands on his knees.

I slowly slid my palms up the fabric of his trousers, up his thighs, towards where they met. He was already getting hard, the bulge forming in the middle. I passed a palm over it, and felt his cock twitch slightly against my hand. My fingers continued their quest upwards, sliding his zipper down in a deft motion.

I looked up and met his eyes as I reached through the zipper, and through the flap on his underwear. I held his gaze as I guided his erection out of his pants, so that it stood up proudly through the gap I'd made. His pubes and balls were still tucked away, but I had what I needed.

I wrapped my hand around his shaft and slowly dragged it up and then down, feeling his smooth hardness. This was only the second penis I'd held in the last decade that wasn't Phillip's. And I was only eighteen when I met Phillip, so I didn't have many others to compare either of them to. But Brandon's cock was hard, and I guessed about average in length.

I finally dropped my eyes from Brandon's intense gaze, and looked at his pretty cock. "So excited," I cooed at him. "Have you been hoping for this for a while?"

He said nothing, but he didn't need to. The truth was that I knew Brandon was into me, and had been for years. I hadn't ever encouraged him but... I certainly never bothered discouraging his interest either.

I gave it another stroke, then leaned forward until my mouth was against it. I kissed the tip of the shaft, and smiled as he gasped. I placed another little kiss just on the underside of the head, then another against his shaft. I kissed the bottom of it, or as close as I could get, and enjoyed the smell of his maleness. I stuck my tongue out and ran it along the underside of his full length until I was back at the head, then completed the motion by sliding my lips over the tip.

He breathed in sharply as I slid the tip of his cock into my mouth, and I smiled all the more.

I looked up from his erection and met his eyes. They were full of lust, desperation, pleading. I held his gaze as I slid my mouth down his shaft. He groaned again, but managed not to close his eyes as I took about half of his length into my mouth.

I kept my eyes on his as I bobbed my head a few times on the top half of his cock, then looked down so I could focus on my work. I relaxed the muscles at the back of my throat and let gravity carry my face down. His cock slid deeper, deeper, deeper into my mouth, and into my throat. I eased myself forward until my nose was pressed against the rough fabric of his denim, and he was all the way into my throat.

"Holy fuck," I heard someone say. Michael. "Wow, you weren't kidding, Philly. She really does love cock." I didn't really like being talked about like I wasn't there, but I wasn't exactly in a position to argue.

I lifted my head back up until the tip of this cock was against my tongue, and took another deep breath. I wrapped my right hand around the base of Brandon's erection, slowly stroking the meat as I sucked on the tip of him.

"Fuck, Jess," he groaned plaintively. "It's been a while for me and I'm not... I'm not gonna..."

Humming a little bit to myself, I set about finishing my husband's friend. I squeezed tighter with my hand, making small jerking motions, and leaned down until his cock was back into my throat. I bobbed my head, letting my muscles massage his cock, and he groaned.

"Jess, I'm... Fuck," he grunted, and I felt his whole cock flex as he thrusted his hips up towards me, I kept my hand on his cock to keep him from gagging me, and sucked harder as I moved my head up and down on his slick shaft.

His cock flexed in my hand again, and started pulsing rhythmically as he groaned again. I slid him all the way into my throat and kept stroking the base of his shaft. His cock twitched again, again, and I felt slick heat pump directly into my throat. I couldn't taste the cum because it was so far down my throat, but I still moaned in appreciation at how erotic this all was. I felt wetness building in me as I deepthroated Brandon in front of my husband, and swallowed his cum.

The twitching stopped, and I slid my head back until just the tip of him was in my mouth again. I sucked at it as I moved my lips, and felt a glob of his salty cum roll onto my tongue. He grunted and twitched as I sucked the liquids off of his cock.

Then I was done. I moved my head back until his cock flopped out of my mouth, and I looked up at Brandon with a big smile on my face. "That was hot," I told him as I slowly got to my feet.

"Yeah, you're telling me."

I picked a napkin up off of the table and dabbed at the sides of my lips, ever the proper lady. "I think I need another glass of wine."

Last Hand

Another hour had gone by, and the game wasn't going my way.

I looked down at my cards again, then back at the table. I had a king and an ace, and no more chips to move. I had at least gotten back the little slip of paper that would have had me blowing someone again if I hadn't recovered it. With a king and a six in the river, all I had was a pair. To my right, Phil looked nervous, and on the other side Brandon was smiling.

Michael looked almost completely neutral as he slid another bill into the pile. "Raise five," he said simply. Phil looked at me again, then put in another bill. The two looked at me, and I looked down to the empty space where my money had been.

"So, you fold?" Brandon asked, and I shook my head.

I sighed and stared at the pile of bills in the middle of the table while everyone stirred and waited to see if I was going to walk. But I wasn't done yet. I picked up my little scrap of paper and scratched out the one word written on there and replaced it with another: "SEX".

As I slid it over to the pot, Brandon's eyes widened and I actually heard Phil gasp quietly.

"I raise," I told them.

We all turned to Phil, and watched him squirm. He glanced over at me, at the slip of paper, at his hand, then back to me. This repeated a few times, and sweat actually beaded on his forehead. "Fuck," he whispered, looking at his hand one last time then back to my cleavage. He laid the cards flat on the table and shook his head.

It was back to Michael, who looked unphased as ever. He considered his cards and the ones on the table, then slid a handful of bills without really looking at them. Phil quickly mimicked him, pushing about half of his own stack. I called there, and flipped the last card into the river: a king.

I looked at my cards again. Now I had three of a kind, with kings to boot. I stifled a smile, looking at a solid hand. But it wasn't my turn to bet. Mike looked straight ahead at the pile, and I knew that if I looked, his eyes would be fixed on my paper. He glanced at his hand, and looked nervous for the first time. Then he stiffened up his face and slid the rest of his stack forward. "All in."

I looked up at Michael, a smile on my face. "I'm already all in."

Brandon chuckled, but Michael didn't. "Not quite," he said with a smirk. "That's not everything you can risk, is it?"

I looked down at the paper, and the three letters stared back at me. How much did he want? I wanted to pretend I didn't know, but I'd been listening to his boasting earlier about how he liked his women. I sighed, then picked up my paper. I added one last thing to it: "NO CONDOM."

I put the slip back on the table and smiled. Phil gasped again, starting to sputter my name. "All in," I told the assembled boys. "Show me what you've got Michael."

He smiled, finally lowering his mask. "Ladies first."

I laid my cards down face up, my final hand being three kings, a two, a six, and a four. "We Three Kings, baby," I taunted.

He nodded slowly, as if considering the situation, then dramatically laid his own hand out. A king and a six. My face dropped as I saw them. "Three kings and two sixes, that's a full house," he said, chuckling. "Good game."

I looked down at my cards, then back to his, then to the pile of money with my little promise, my heart racing all the while. I could distantly hear Phil complaining, trying to weasel his way out of the situation, but it hardly registered. I looked back up at Mike, and found him grinning like the Cheshire cat. "Well, Mike, your place or mine?"

That stopped Phillip dead in his tracks, and the three of us turned to face Michael.

He looked around, as if considering. "Here would probably be just fine."

He stood up, and I did the same. Again, Phil started complaining, but I flapped a hand at him to shut him up. Michael came around the table, and held out his hand for me. I took it, and he led me across the den to the couch.

He stopped me just before it and turned me around to face him. Then his lips were on mine. I responded before I could even think, my arms going around his neck and my tongue meeting his.

He put his hands on the bottom of my dress and pulled it slightly. "This has gotta go," he told me, and I couldn't help but agree. I grabbed the hem and pulled up, removing my clothing in one smooth motion and dropping it to the floor.

Then his lips were on mine again, and his hand found its way onto my breast. I moaned against his mouth as he palmed and gently squeezed my flesh.

I heard someone whisper "Jesus" in the background, but couldn't tell who it was.

I slid my own hand down his shirt, but I didn't care about getting that off. I went straight to the front of his jeans, and rubbed my palm down the bulge there. He chuckled, the sound muffled by my mouth, and I kept rubbing him through his jeans. Then I had both hands at the front of his pants, working at his belt. I slid the leather through and opened it, then the button, then the fly. And then I hesitated, not sure I was ready to pull open the pants of another man I barely knew.