Strip Poer

I hurried home from the pool to get ready for the party, since I'd been totally overdoing my training lately and was anxious to take a break. Took a shower with decent soap, so much nicer than at the pool, shaving my legs and underarms. Trimmed my pussy carefully, since you never know when you meet someone at a party and ....

Having just met the hosts for the first time, I doubted that I would know anybody there, which was sort of the charm of the whole thing. So I dressed for a good first impression with the kind of totally cool people I was hoping to meet. Picked a skirt which was tight enough to show off my muscular little ass and super short to show off my long legs -- around 9 inches from the waist to the hem. Flat shoes so as not to exaggerate my height. Tight blouse with an appropriate décolleté. Hot to trot.

Keeping ready for a possible after-party rendezvous I put on some of the hot-but-not-too-daring underwear that a previous boyfriend had gotten for me. Just this side of Victoria's Secret. With that skirt everyone sees my panties.

There must have been 20 people at the party, and as expected I knew no one. Still, I was totally well received. The guys liked me, of course, but the ladies also seemed friendly. You can usually assume that there will be a lot of couples at parties, but here it was loose enough that you couldn't really tell who was with whom. That seems more friendly, but can be totally dangerous if you get close to the wrong guy. I also figured that they all knew who was with someone and who wasn't -- except me, the newbie.

Somehow a poker game started up --not that I was part of the planning or anything -- and I was invited to join, maybe/probably because they knew I was unconnected here. Four guys (3 hunks and one that really didn't turn me on) plus us 2 girls. We sit down, and I find out that it's strip poker. Oops! I don't play well, and I realize I'm in danger, but I've got this thing about being tough, probably my most dangerous character flaw. Never back down -- like all of life were a swimming meet or triathlon. I'm totally going to risk it and face the consequences, and anyway so what? How bad can it be? Worst case I flash my stuff, get dressed again and move on. Best case I get to see one of these guys in the buff, and three of the four are definitely worth seeing. The fourth seems nice enough but just lacks something.

I do OK at first, but then I start losing and am quickly down to bra and panties. Thank God I'd worn nice ones, even if strip poker hadn't been the reason. A guy -- the least attractive one unfortunately -- is in the same situation. Otherwise no one has lost serious clothes, just shoes and socks. I braced myself to show off my tits and began playing as well as I could. A guy lost his shirt and bared a totally beautiful chest. Concentrate on the cards, Chalice! A lady lost her skirt, keeping her blouse since she wasn't wearing a bra. (Thank God I had!) We had a referee putting the lost clothing in plastic bags to be collected later.

Then my bra was lost -- the first really serious show of skin so far in the game, bringing in everyone to watch. I have totally presentable boobs -- nothing to be ashamed of - so I kept a good attitude about it. Took the bra off ceremoniously and pushed my tits up with my hands, then shook them a bit, showing them I was proud of my body. Kept up a smile -- the way you do when you lose a race.

I was determined to defend my panties and strip a guy, hopefully the super-chest, but even the toad would have been OK. But, it just wasn't to be.

I lost the very next hand -- badly - and knew that I had to strip naked. Concentrating on the smile and the attitude, I stood up on the table and took my time lowering my panties. The guy in his underwear is saying, "She really is a natural blond." Totally lame. Sure it was totally embarrassing, but the other comments and cheers were positive.

I did a few turns and strutted around a bit, then asked the referee to give me back my clothes. No way! It had been agreed that when the game ended with the first person naked everyone would stay as they were for the rest of the evening, including the naked loser. Guess I'd missed that one, but I didn't complain. I'm tough -- I can do anything -- water off a duck's back. No way I was going to whine or leave early.

I walked naked past all of the other guests to get to the bar and pour myself a stiff one. Picked up some munchies and decided to mingle. OMG! Absolutely, totally so embarrassing, but I managed to maintain a grip. And I sure was getting some attention.

The first guy I talked to was the one in his underwear and once I gave it an effort he wasn't so bad. He had on these boxer shorts with a loose slit in front, and you could kind of see his package, which was totally growing as we talked. The guy was totally aware of this, but didn't try to hide it, which you could see as creepy, but I kind of thought it was neat. He was totally looking me over, so I did the same. Told him he had a nice bulge. He turned his back on the others towards a corner no one else could see and pulled his package completely out of his boxers. Totally perverted for sure, but who am I to say. I mean, shit, I'm completely naked. Anyway I thought it was a cute thing to do, and this was the best part of his body -- big balls, long dick almost completely erect. My heart skipped a beat. Had we been alone, there'd be a good chance that dick would be in my mouth by now. Decided he was a possibility, even if far-fetched for a lonely night and gave him my e-mail address (which he repeated back to me and promised to remember).

Moving on I talked to a couple of ladies to make some small talk and hear them talk about my so-called bravery. Reading between the lines, they were sort of fascinated with my upbeat attitude, very glad not to be in my position, and concerned about the amount of male attention I might get. I'm like: Hey give me a break. I didn't really volunteer for the role of Naked Lady. But I was nice and kept up that loser's smile.

Then I encountered The Chest who was sort of waiting for these ladies to move on. Wished I could compare his stuff to Mr. Boxer Shorts (I found out later on it was much smaller, but you can't have everything in one guy). The conversation was sort of lagging since his chest seemed to be bigger than his brain. But then he surprised me by suggesting we dance, and for sure, I hadn't noticed that some couples were dancing, which would be the obvious spot for the Naked Lady. So we danced at sort of a distance -- it wasn't exactly waltz music anyway. After a while I put both of my palms on his chest -- just couldn't resist it. That encouraged him to put a hand -- and then two on my ass, and like a fool I let it happen. He sort of pulled me in closer, not slowly or suavely enough for my taste, but again I went along and soon we were rubbing up against each other. And I was rubbing my tits up against his chest. Totally loved it.

As nice as it was, or would have been in private, I knew this had to stop soon, so I was sort of relieved when the lady in the blouse and undies broke in.

I mingled some more, still trying to keep my embarrassment down, finding alcohol very useful, too useful. After the encounters with the Mr. Boxer Short's beautiful package and Mr. Chest's pecs, sexual arousal was also getting to be a factor. The way all the guys were looking at me was totally beyond anything I'd experienced before, even if the ladies were a bit more ambiguous in their attitudes.

I was at the bar getting a drink of water when He walked in -- Paul, a guy I've known and flirted with for years. My dream guy! Somehow whenever we encounter each other some relationship is in the way -- usually his. And OMG I'm totally happy to see him arriving, especially alone, but beyond embarrassed for him to find me in this situation. Before noticing me he walked through a couple of rooms and of course noticed the barefoot guys and the guy and the gal in their undies (Mr. Boxer was down to just those boxer shorts by now.) and someone had given him an explanation. He finally encountered me, giving me a little hug, so that I had a chance to push my naked body up against him a bit. "It looks like you were the loser, Chalice. You look terrific." That he understood the situation did a lot to relieve my embarrassment, and I totally loved the way he was looking at me. Total turn-on. We talked for a while, standing close. Damn he smelled good.

I needed to pee really bad, but didn't want to interrupt the conversation, so I just told him where I was going and took his hand, figuring we could talk while I waited for the loo, but he knew the house and took me to one in the back where there was no one waiting. To my surprise he walked right in with me and locked the door behind him. He'd totally misinterpreted, but I didn't feel like explaining. I'd never peed in front of a guy before -- not even lovers -- and it seemed kind of gross. But he didn't seem to think so, coming along so matter-of-factly. I was pretty well stuck, giving it a try. God!

Of course, I had to get down and spread my legs out, plus I have the habit of opening my lips further with my fingers, so I don't get my pubic hair wet, all of which he watched, but in such an understated way, not staring or ogling. He's just like, "nice." It did take a few seconds to get a stream going, being like a watched pot, and it was totally embarrassing, sitting there on the toilet with my inner pussy all opened up for him, waiting to pee.

But I had to go urgently, and I let out a huge stream, feeling totally unattractive, until he said just the right thing. "You really do have a pretty pussy, Chalice, very sexy." OK, I still knew that sitting there, gushing out urine, was unattractive, but he knew how to make it better. Actually it was a pretty awesome experience, as crazy as that might sound.

When I reached for the toilet paper he beat me to it and asked, "May I?" OMG -- he was going to touch my pussy, even if toilet paper were involved. He got it wrong at first, so I had to spread a bit more and tell him to go lower. My very alert clit was getting involved in this, and this current went from her through my body, nothing earth shaking but a nice little thrill. He noticed me twitch and asked if he'd hurt me. I just said no that it was nice, as we washed our hands together.

Paul could totally have taken me at this point -- I was so up for it, on the floor, on the cabinet, whatever. But (as I am now learning) Paul takes it slow, even teases.

We went back to watch the dancing, and everyone turned around to see the Naked Lady, reminding me (as though I needed it) that I was naked in front of a whole party. I was sobering up, totally sexually excited, and embarrassed, both for my nudity and for my arousal, which I feared was getting obvious. Plus I was embarrassed and excited that Paul had his hand on my little bare ass.

After dancing a bit we sat on the couch, where Paul maneuvered me onto his lap, just to make sure that everyone would think that he'd just fucked me in the loo, and also to make sure that I got even more worked up. My ass was resting right on the hard bulge in his pants, and I soon realized that since my thighs were on top of his, he was opening my legs by opening his. When I started to get up, he was like, "Let them get a peek at your cute little kitten." So, I let it happen, as he slowly opened me up wide, getting lots of attention. Totally embarrassing and exciting both. God!

But there were other distractions. The lady in the blouse and panties was still dancing with Mr. Chest, but while I was gone she had taken off her blouse, so that the two of them could make sparks with their chests. That blouse had been long enough to pretty much cover her, and now she had only a little thong and looked totally sexy.

(I consider myself hetero, but I do like to look at naked girls, even to the point of keeping some nice photos on my computer. I wouldn't have minded having one of her.)

The guy in the undershirt and underpants who had also lost his top was dancing with two totally dressed ladies who were fooling around with this boxer shorts, which soon gave way releasing his fine package. He was jumping around showing off the goods and bumping it up against the ladies who had stripped him, quickly getting him totally erect.

Just as I was watching him flaunt his huge, beautiful package, Paul ran a finger up my slit. Felt wonderful, but I so didn't need that. I could actually feel more moisture developing down there. After a few seconds he does it again. OMG is he going to make me cum right here in front of everyone. It won't take too much longer.

I look up to see Mr. Chest removing his partner's tiny thong (which had been getting wet). She's totally complicit in this and turns to flaunt her naked, shaved pussy to the rest of us. Holy shit! She's so exposed - one of those girls whose inner lips and clit spill out from her outer lips. You can totally see everything! I have a picture a lot like that on my computer.

Paul's answer is another little pass through my pussy, and he's so good at this, just barely grazing through, registering higher and higher on my personal Richter scale. Either I'm getting out of here or cumming in front of everyone. Not that anyone would have noticed with what Mr. Chest was doing to the new naked lady and the shameless action between those two chicks and Mr. Super Package.

After a few more passes at my poor wet pussy, Paul agreed to leave. I retrieved the plastic bag with my clothes, threw on my skirt and blouse and left with my dream man.

We went to his house where I immediately discarded my clothing again. (I've always been a bit exhibitionistic, and I always like to start off with a new lover by getting naked first and getting some very serious foreplay before taking off his clothes.) I pushed him down on the couch, sat on his lap and told him to restart where he'd left off. And OMG did he totally have this finger-fucking thing down pat. Took his time until I was in the stratosphere having this awesome orgasm, imaging that we were still at the party and everyone was watching. (I've wondered since if I shouldn't have just let that happen.) He actually carried me to the bedroom, just like in some romance novel, where I got treated to a slow, methodical, romantic fuck. Typical Paul!

Postscript: I'm still with Paul, but I did tie up loose ends and fuck both Mr. Chest and Mr. Big Package a few weeks later. Paul knows about this, and OK'd it. Said he wanted me forever (swoon!) and didn't want me fantasizing about what might have been.