continued from part 2
...Knowing he must have come off looking insecure, my husband tried to laugh it off and overcompensated by dealing the cards. "Come on, a few more hands and then I guess we better jet." Jet? Since when did he talk like that? And a few more hands? It only took two hands to get me to orgasm. "Next hand, if I win, I get two of your accounts, my choice."
Jack laughed. "That's some bet, what's the other side?"
"If you win, you get two of mine."
"I'm going to get them anyway, I don't need win them in poker." He looked like he had a sudden inspiration. "How about a blowjob? Relax, I mean from Christey." He winked at me.
Even my husband laughed. "In your wildest dreams."
"She's going to give me one anyway," Jack said, "this way you can pretend she had no choice."
My husband didn't even pause. "Deal."
What?! I started to blurt out a protest, but something told me not to break character, and so my involuntary "no!" turned into an "oh!" I can't imagine how that sounded to the boys. My husband had me set up as some kind of party chick who was down for anything, and so far I had what he wanted, and more. A sexy lap dance, second base, ok-- and never mind I would never do it, but he wasn't actually risking me blowing his rival, was he?
"I know Christey is down for it," Jack said smiling at me, "but how do I know you won't turn into a homicidal maniac?"
My husband spread out his arms. "Come on, I'm a man, I know the rules: bros before hoes!"
I couldn't help myself-- I laughed out loud. I was no ho, but I was way more of a ho than he was a bro!
"You're on, bro!" said Jack, seeing no protest from me. I twirled my hair and smiled like a dumb blonde, trying to appear relaxed, compliant and willing to play. WTF? A blowjob?
Jack shuffled the deck, but I took it from him. "I'll deal," I said, laughing, "I don't trust either of you two." I wasn't sure why I said that. But what poor old Jack didn't know was that this wasn't my first game of strip poker with horny guys, I had learned a thing or two about trick dealing in college. Sorry, mister, you can have a lap dance, even paw my tits, but I no way am I going to blow you! So with nimble fingers I let Jack come out with three Queens but my husband was about to win with a flush.
Imagine my surprise when instead of the flush he turned over... three Jacks! How had that happened? It was impossible! I know I didn't mess up! Did I mess up?
"On your knees, baby," Jack said laughing, "let's see if practice made perfect!"
I froze, my dumb smile locked on my face. My husband stared blankly at the cards. As if he couldn't believe it either...
"Come on," Jack said. He was milking it, but obviously joking with no intention of collecting. "Let's put my money where your mouth is!"
"Wait a second," my dumbfounded husband said, still looking at the cards. "Hold on. You cheated..."
"How could I cheat, I wasn't even dealing!"
"You must have hidden a card..."
"Where, under my dick?" he said laughing. I had a sudden image of me on my knees finding his heavy slab of cock easily securing a winning hand against his balls. He winked at me, having so much fun torturing my poor husband.
"Wait a second..."
"Come on, dude," Jack said. "You proposed the bet, not me. Didn't hear her complain, either. I won her fair and square. If you want to go back on your debt, well, that's your choice, but you did say you would be a man." He sat there, grinning like a big dicked frat boy. I sat there, smiling like a blonde sorority girl.
What I didn't know then was that my husband had also cheated-- he had 3 Jacks pulled out of the deck already. But it made no sense, he knew I was good at trick dealing. Unless... was he actually afraid I might make Jack win?
"No way, wait," he insisted, maybe a little too aggressively. "She's not going through with it."
"I'm not going to force her," sending me another quick wink, "she isn't going to do anything she doesn't choose to do, right, Christey?" I smiled nonchalantly, terrified-- electrified. "But she seems into it."
On the inside I was a vortex of conflicted feelings, but I was also very self-conscious of how I looked on the outside. How obscenely I was un-dressed. Perched felinely at the edge of the chair, sunglasses turning my apprehension into coy passivity, stomach muscles taut from anxiety resulting in centerfold perfect posture; topless, swollen breasts proudly displayed and on offer. I felt like my entire body looked horny. And-- whether it was the atmosphere, or the alcohol, or the heightened energy of two men fighting over me, instead of getting frightened I was getting really, really turned on. It was insane, but at that moment I wanted them to physically fight over me like gorillas, naked gorillas, the winner tossing me down on the chaise, tearing off my little thong and fucking his prize, either my husband with his jealousy enraged dick or Jack with has arrogantly triumphant cock--- oh God, think about baseball!
But this was no fantasy, it was real, but real like I was watching a movie. To my amazement, my husband stood up and squared off against Jack, who rolled his eyes. "Seriously, you want to fight me?"
It was now evident just how drunk he was and how drunk Jack wasn't. My husband lunged forward, took a swing, stumbled, and grabbed an umbrella pole for balance. Oh my God! The pole fell and struck Jack square in the face, but he didn't even flinch-- he laughed!
