The Founding Father

CHANDLER LANGSATALE'S REC ROOM/CIGAR BAR, JUNE, 1979...

"You really wanna do this?" Kat asked with a cocky grin.

"I think it's the only chance I have of ever seeing those Grand Tetons of yours," the Wyoming-born Chandler said desperately with a smile.

She giggled.

"Okay, then, gentlemen," Kat announced, beginning to deal the deck with tremendous zeal. "Get ready to strip..."

The nerve of Chandler Langsatale, thinking he could hang with Katherine Fairfax, three-time Catamount Tournament Champion, in a game of strip poker.

'What a glutton for punishment,' Katherine thought to herself gleefully.

Chandler roped three of his buddies into this, so it was four against one. Any round Katherine didn't win, she'd have to remove an item of clothing.

The odds were stacked against her, right? The only thing stacked was Katherine herself.

Showing an awful amount of cleavage, Kat's tits bounced just a bit as she continued to deal the cards.

Chandler stared, almost feeling himself drooling a bit.

Her sexy bellbottoms clung to her big, round ass every time she got up from her seat to turn up the music.

"'Don't Stop Til' You Get Enough,' I love this song," she celebrated.

They played round after round.

It was four against one.

Katherine cleaned their clocks.

The only item of clothing she lost was a gold-encrusted wristwatch, which she won at the 1975 Boston Bash.

All of the men were completely nude within the hour.

**********

"What should we have them do now?" Katherine asked her heavy-set but sexy, outspoken friend, Brenda, who was stationary in the corner.

Brenda wasn't even participating in the poker playing, but Kat delegated the responsibility - or reward - of choosing the men's punishment to her.

"Um...I think every round you win, Kat, one of the guys - they can take turns or what have you - has to do 10 laps around the basement," Brenda offered.

Kat grimaced, with a look of tremendous satisfaction.

"Sounds good to me," she smiled.

The games were so lopsided, the outcome never in doubt, Kat and Brenda had to come up with more and more stakes for the men to compete against. They had already lost their clothes, so now punishments were enforced.

"Wow, look at it bounce," Kat raved, as Bob Brookings took the required 10 laps around the smoke-filled rec room.

"Nice dick, Bob," Brenda commented openly, getting a laugh from Kat.

"All of you guys have really nice ones," Kat complimented them, although it came off as another twist of the knife, as she gloated over her dominance at the poker table.

The ladies had them do laps, jumping jacks, and dance to disco. Anything that drew more attention - and celebrated - their unabashed, full-frontal nudity.

The big-bosomed Kat and Brenda just took it all in.

"Oh, this is just too much fun," Kat said, leaning back in her chair with a wonderful smile.

Brenda suggested they ALL dance at the same time, maybe even try to swing their peckers in rhythm with each other.

The men obeyed.

"Synchronized schlongs," Kat could barely get out, laughing and carrying on at the display before her.

The men were at her every command.

Several songs played. Kat and Brenda made sure to it they danced, and danced, and danced.

One thing changed, however, throughout the course of their dance number.

"All of them are sprouting really nice hard-ons," Brenda gushed.

"I know, I know," Kat wholeheartedly agreed.

The only place to go from here was obvious. And Kat made a contest of it.

"I want all of you guys to line up, and jerk off for us," she demanded.

The guys, practically hypnotized to the point of dog-like obedience, lined up as they were told to. Giving into such submission had given each of them an unrelenting, euphoric rush.

"Let's see who can shoot the furthest," Brenda suggested.

"You can stare at my tits - whatever inspiration you need," said Kat, who thrust out her big beauties in oh such teasing fashion. They were hidden underneath a designer silver bra and a loose-fitting white blouse, but you could make out their delicious, overly-generous size, and even an outline of her aroused, protruding nipples.

Just like in the poker game itself, the guys didn't last long.

An entire row of spurting tools brought forth a wave of excitement from the two fully-clothed and in-control females.

Cumshot after cumshot drenched the poker table below.

Chandler, who, out of all the men, harbored the greatest appreciation for Katherine Fairfax, was the winner. He was rewarded the privilege of getting down on his hands and knees, and kissing Kat's feet, for a good 20 minutes or so.

He overindulged by practically shoving one of her cute, little feet in his mouth.

"How ya doin' down there, Chand?" Kat asked.

"Arrrgh, arrrrgh, grrrr, argggh," was the sound of Chandler's garbled response.

"He has one of your feet crammed in his mouth!?" Brenda said with utmost delight and surprise.

"Jesus, dude. Foot fetish?" Randy Calloway asked.

"I think I have a Kat fetish," Chandler replied, finally standing upright once again.

Brenda, unbeknownst to the guys, had already hidden the men's clothes, every garment. From Jude's tube socks to Chandler's Special Olympic Coach's jacket to Bob's pinky ring, everything was packed away, ensuring the guys stayed nude for the remainder of the evening.

"Strip Poker Fridays" became a regular occurrence at Chandler's.

Although it was always just the men who were stripping.

Chandler still jerks off feverishly to the time he got Kat down to just her bra and panties. He could make out her big, succulent beauties, held nice and snug in a tight-fitting, baby-blue bra. And down below, Chandler gazed in utmost glee as he could see the outline of what looked to be a Nebraska-sized bush puffing out Kat's trim, maroon panties.

Chandler came to realize, and didn't mind at all, that Kat lost a few rounds that night on purpose, just to further tease Chandler, to let him come that close to a glimpse of the promised land only to have the door slammed in his face.

Such teasing brought forth such fruitful, unrelenting climaxes.

Kat took something away from these poker games, besides more victories.

She realized she had developed a deep, previously-untapped thrill for dominating men. To the point of getting them to strip and obey her every wish.

This thrill, this fetish, would be forever linked to poker for her, which - given poker was her life - ensured it was always front and center.

Years later, in a conversation with her assistant, John Mitchell, Katherine would admit: "John, to me, CFNM is about winning and losing...

"The women are the winners, the men, the losers. Is that horribly wrong?"

She blushed and smiled all at the same time, sort of embarrassed to admit this thought process, but thrilled to say it out loud all the same.

It went back to strip poker. Winning round after round ensured Katherine would get to live out what would later be described as "CFNM fantasies."

"I don't think there's anything wrong with it," John convinced her. "Believe me, I can speak for all of the men who have had the great luck of being around you - losing never felt so good..."

TO BE CONTINUED...