Many Hands Of Poker Ch 01

Wife agrees to waitress a poker party, anonymously, and gets felt up. A lot.

Fiction. But seems like it would be fun. Wife plays waitress for a poker party, but no one knows she's the wife of one of the players, and the activities get a little more intimate than she expected.

No adultery, just a lot of manhandling. If you don't like the idea, please go read something else.

*****

A few months ago, my husband Bob asked me if I would be the hostess for a poker party the next weekend. He had been asked to find a hostess/maid/bartender for a poker night with three business clients from a nearby city, just someone to serve the beer and wine, chips and snacks. Sure, I agreed. At least that way we can spend the time together.

The day of the party, he brought home a cocktail waitress outfit for me to wear: a sheer white blouse, short black skirt - I mean really short, only halfway down my thighs, and draped loose so it swings when you walk - thigh-high, light stockings, and bright red, tiny bikini panties. Why the sexy uniform, I asked? Wait a minute, you're not planning any strip tease or orgy or anything. I just won't do it, I won't screw anyone, Bob, clients or no.

He told me not to worry, there would be no real sex. "Of course I don't expect you to screw these guys. Just some playing around, the guys feeling you up a little. You'd like that, wouldn't you? Just be the cocktail waitress, be sexy, swing your hips a lot and let them pat you on the ass, or whatever you want to do," he said. "I'm just supposed to bring a cocktail waitress who might not mind a little good-natured playing around, like being felt up by the boys. They think I'm bringing a sexy, playful cocktail waitress, not a hooker. Sexy, not sluttish. But not my wife, either. They don't have any idea that you're my wife and I'm your husband. They're important clients, and I want them to have a good time. It wouldn't be a lot of fun if they felt inhibited by that." Okay. We both took our sort-of-matching wedding rings off for the night.

Well, I thought that a little fondling is okay, some flirting, some T&A, a little rubbing in the right places, wink, wink, but nothing serious. It's important to him, and besides, I figured that it wouldn't hurt my ego at all if these guys found me desirable. After being married for ten years, the sex is great. We practice it often enough, and Bob is a great lover. But you begin to wonder if other men still find you attractive. So I said, Okay, sounds like fun. What I thought was, actually, it sounds hot.

The game was in Chuck's apartment, one of the other men. The other guys, Al and Dan, were already there, and they all said they liked my uniform. They sat down to play cards, and I start serving drinks and chips. As I left the table, Bob patted me on the rear. That was a little forward, I thought, since he and I aren't supposed to be "together," but he was probably just trying to show that I was playful, as I was supposed to be.

A few minutes later, Bob came into the kitchen when he had folded a hand. He kissed me, not just a peck but a real, passionate kiss. He held me close and his hands wandered over my hips and butt and breasts. Then, over his shoulder, I saw one of the others, Chuck, watching us. Bob didn't notice, and he probably wouldn't have cared anyway. He was just trying to warm me up. He was doing a good job of it, too, so I didn't stop him. He continued to hold me and touch me, and I responded in kind.

From watching us, Chuck apparently got the idea that I was available for that sort of thing. A short time later, I was coming back from the kitchen with drinks in both hands, and Chuck stopped me in the hallway. He stepped right up to me and kissed me, put his hands on my hips and pulled me to him. I resisted a little but not much. Chuck was really cute, like a grown-up version of one of my serious boyfriends in college. And I couldn't really do much with both hands occupied, could I? He kissed me long and hard and kneaded my ass, pulled my hips toward him to press my crotch into his. Then he moved one hand from my waist up to my breast. I gasped. This was the first time in years that any man other than my husband had touched me in an overtly sexual way. But it thrilled me. I liked it and I let him know it. I pressed into him. Then his hand slid down between us, reached down over my belly and cupped my crotch through the skirt. Boy, that felt good. I groaned and pushed my pussy into his hand. Then we broke. I went into the living room to deliver the drinks and he went off to the john.

Back out at the game a couple hands later, I was standing between Chuck and Al. Chuck reached over and put his hand on my ass while I was standing there, and all the others could see it. I flushed, I was embarrassed, but I didn't slap his hand away and I didn't leave. I liked the feeling and I liked the display. I liked being fondled like that while they all watched. The other guys looked over at Bob to see if he would object, but he just smiled. Then I remembered: they didn't know we're married. They just thought he brought me, and they thought I was a waitress slash sex toy. So Bob wasn't going to stop him, and at that moment I didn't want to, either.

Geez, suddenly Chuck's hand was kneading my ass and even my thighs up under my skirt, and it felt really good. It felt wonderfully sexy to have him gently caressing the tops of my legs. God, it was wicked and incredibly exciting to have the other men watching. They couldn't see exactly where his hand was, but they could imagine from his movements and the skirt's movements and my expression. His hand being out of sight under my clothes felt much more intimate than any touching on top of clothes could be. Eventually he patted me on the ass and asked for a glass of wine, and I left.

For the next few hands, whenever I was at the table, the guys felt me openly, running their hands over my ass, and I eagerly swung my butt back into their hands in response. Then they started to feel my boobs, too. Often the guy on one side had his hand on my bottom and the guy on the other side concentrated on my top, kneading my breasts and teasing the nipples to excite me. It was as if the guys were trying to turn me on, a little at a time, with a feel here and there. It certainly was having that effect on me.

I let them feel my breasts and under my skirt: my thighs, my ass, and even my crotch. When I stood by the table, I always stopped with my feet apart. This kept my legs open just a little, made it possible for a guy to run his fingers from my ass forward to the panties over my sex. When he pressed the panties in, he could separate my lips a little and tickle my clit and my hole. I didn't let any of them get under the panties, though, just outside. Not even Bob. I let them feel all they wanted outside the pants, and I loved it. I really got turned on by all this attention and touching, my panties got increasingly wet and they all noticed that, too.

Eventually, I became more a sex toy than a waitress. Someone proposed, and they all agreed, that I should be the prize for the winner of each hand, while the next hand was being played. Sounded like fun. I'd sit on his lap during the next hand, which usually meant he couldn't concentrate to play the next hand, so the "Poker Prize" (or "Poke-Her Prize" as Chuck suggested), namely me, moved around a lot.

During one of these sessions, when Chuck had won the hand, he wanted me to lap dance for him. Sure, I said. I stood with my legs astride his, moved my hips and shook my boobs in his face. He slid his hand up my leg, all the way up under my skirt, to cup my crotch openly. I closed my eye and swayed to the music. He rubbed my pussy, opened the lips and found my clit through the panties. I was very close to coming, my pussy was dripping. I sat down on his lap and kissed him passionately.

This little performance set the tone for the rest of the night. The sex play got hotter and the poker pots got much bigger since I was added to the pot. The competition was for more than money now. Everyone wanted to play with me, and I was just in a constant haze of sexual excitement and exploration.

Then there came a really big hand. Bob was out of money to make the final call, needed fifty dollars. He offered his fancy watch as security. Chuck said no, not the watch. But, he suggested, they'd accept my panties for it.

I was shocked. Bob looked at me but I was just frozen, couldn't nod or shake my head or even breathe. Bob lowered his eyes and said okay. Very tensely, they turned over cards. Omigod, he lost. Bob lost the hand and I had to give up my underpants in front of all these men.

They all stared at me. As if in a daze, just standing there, I slowly reached up under my skirt to the elastic, pulled down the panties. They all gasped when they saw the tiny, bright red nylon triangle. Wow, they hooted. Bob took them from me and dropped them into the pot on the table. Chuck raked in the money and the panties. No one's eyes had left my face and my body since the cards were turned.

My face flushed as red as the pants. Now I was standing there with all these men and they knew I had no underwear under this short skirt to protect my cunt from them. I could feel the air on my ass, the cool draft coming up the very short skirt to my wet pussy and thighs. Oh, geez, what now? They've been feeling me up all night, even under my skirt, and now there's nothing between their hands and my slick channel. Only Bob has been in there, inside me, for years and years. But what could I do?

My pussy was hot, hot, thinking about this. I could feel it burning and I thought it would drip right down my leg. I'll get everyone a fresh drink, I said, and I turned to go to the kitchen on weak legs.

Since Chuck won the hand, I was his toy during the next one. I stood next to him and he felt up my legs under the skirt to my bare ass, all over it, but he didn't go for the goodies right away.

The next few hands, they were all a little slow to take advantage of the new freedom under my skirt, like they didn't really want to take unfair advantage of my situation. After one hand the winner found me in the hall near the kitchen. He kissed me up against the wall, felt my boobs. Then he put a hand on my thigh and up under the skirt, up to my mound. He worked his finger between my thighs, pushed on them a little, so I opened my legs for him, and he slid his fingers up and down the slippery lips and then up into the opening. He found the opening and impaled me on his finger, then two fingers. I swooned, pushed my hips down onto his hand. He twisted and pumped his fingers in me, put his thumb on my clit. Another man's fingers going inside me, feeling me, exciting me! I moaned my delight. We were still kissing. He heard me moan into his mouth.

Al came into the hall on his way to the bathroom and saw us. He stood there watching Dan's hand far up under my skirt and my legs wide apart, and he must have known that Dan's fingers were inside me from the way I was moving. This was a new level of sex play for the evening. Soon, I expected, they would all get inside me, they would feel deep inside my hot, wet hole. Strangers in my most private space, where only my husband had been for years. Let him watch. I closed my eyes and relaxed and pumped my pussy on the fingers probing me. After a minute, Dan stopped, pulled his dripping wet fingers out, and licked them off. We kissed one last time and stepped apart.

Back out at the game, Chuck won another hand and wanted another lap dance. He sat in the straight-back chair, took my hand. I danced around his knees, then came toward him to straddle his lap. His legs were together straight out in front of him, mine were outside his so I could sit down on his knees facing him. As before, I swayed my hips and moved my breasts right in front of his face.

He reached to the table beside him and picked up an empty wine bottle, one of those German wines with the long, thin neck. He drained the last few drops from the bottle then put it between his legs, clamped it between his thighs up in his crotch. He held it pointing straight up, where his cock would be if it were out, only longer and harder. He had quite a lump in his crotch, too, I'm sure he was hard as a rock. Probably they all were, I thought.

I looked down at the bottle, puzzled. What is this, I wonder. He says, Go ahead, sit down on my lap, sit on it, do it. I looked down now at it, Omigod it was like a huge cock pointing up between my legs and I was waving my bare pussy right over it.

I looked over at Bob and then at the other guys and then back to Bob. They were all entranced by the idea. They answered my questioning glance with looks of pure lust. They all wanted me to do this. No one made a sound, but they all stared hard at me, barely breathing. Bob especially looked at me with pleading, please, go ahead, don't stop now.

Chuck was still holding my hand, started to pull me toward him and down. I was concentrating now only on the bottle, how that was going to feel inside me. I guess I had already decided to do it, what the hell, I figured, just lower myself a little, carefully positioned, and I can get poked. After all the fondling and teasing, my pussy was crying out to be filled, dying for something hard to slide into it, in and out.

I looked down at the neck of the bottle sticking up, the hem of my skirt swaying over it. I inched forward a little, bent my knees a little. The neck of the bottle disappeared under the hem of the skirt a few inches. All the guys were staring intently at the bottle and the skirt and my thighs inching down toward the thing sticking up.

I moved down a little more, then I had to move forward to position my pussy over the bottle. I couldn't see it anymore, I had to find it by feel. I closed my eyes and concentrated on feeling my way. I eased down a little more and felt the cold neck of the bottle on my thigh to one side, then the neck hit the lips of my pussy, a little forward, up near the clit, so I bounced up and down a little to move over it, to get my body into just the right position.

Then down another inch, yes, then I could feel it, right between the lips, right at the opening. God, there's this hard thing at the entrance to my cunt and I wanted it inside. All I had to do was move down a little to push it in, so I did, slowly, slowly. I pushed down and gasped and exhaled sharply, oh, oh, I closed my eyes tight and felt the cold and hard pushing up into me. I pulled up a little and then down more, breathing harder with each pump, sliding further down onto it, feeling it reach up further into me. I cried out, oh, oh, oh, with each stroke, each extra inch of delicious hardness in me stretching my cunt and pushing up to my womb.

I grabbed Chuck's shoulder for balance and I was reminded that this was public. There were four men here watching me fuck myself, fuck myself with this bottle, fuck myself and love it, my wonderful husband and three others all lusting for me, all wanting me to fill my cunt with the long, hard thing, and drip my juice over it, and come on it. I continued harder now, further up and further down, pushing harder down to get as much as possible up inside, to feel the hard glass prick way up inside me, to stretch out the opening of my vagina on the widening neck of the bottle. This way I controlled the pumping and sliding, I took the cock as hard, as fast, and as deep as I wanted it.

I pulled way up and pushed way down, sliding down slowly, savoring how it spread open my insides, then pulling up fast and far till the neck was almost back at the opening, then pushing my hips down again hard and feel it force me open, shove up into my body. Oh, God, it was wonderful.

A finger came down on my clit. Oh, yes, I need that, please stroke it in time with the fucking, yes, yes, another ten-twelve strokes rubbing my clit hard, yes, yes, and I came, ah, ah, ah, ah, I shuddered and my legs were weak, I could barely stand up. I grabbed his shoulders with both hands to keep from falling, I saw stars with my eyes still closed.

His hands at my waist helped lift my hips off the bottle. He sat me down on his knees, and I collapsed against his chest, still breathing hard and not caring where I was.

After a minute or so, I recovered and sat up. I was so embarrassed. I knew where I was: I had just fucked myself and come in front of these strange men. Even though they couldn't see my cunt - still none of them had seen my pussy at all - they could just tell from the way I moved and gasped and lusted and shoved my hips that I was being fucked, that I was fucking myself, that I was taking that long hard shape into my cunt and pumping it and loving it.

I looked around at the others, their eyes were filled with the most incredible combination of lust and admiration and desire and tenderness. They were delighted that I had enjoyed myself and come, they all wanted me to be happy and satisfied. I looked back at them with thanks. What a wonderful experience! I was glad I hadn't missed it, glad I hadn't been prudish about it.

I got up and went to the john, I played with my pussy some more while I was sitting there. Oh, what a wonderful, warm feeling.

On the way back Bob met me in the hall and kissed me, told me that I was wonderful and he loved me, I thanked him for the chance, told him I loved him and I loved doing this and why didn't we do this some more! He patted me on the mound and kissed me tenderly.

The game continued after that, and I continued as hostess. I was free for all to feel, of course, and so they did. My breasts and ass and vagina were there for all and I loved it. But somehow my demeanor sent the message that there would be no gang bang tonight. They grabbed me a lot, but I didn't grab their cocks, and that was that. Clear message: me toy, but no fuckee.

Typically, when I was standing between two guys delivering drinks, they would both feel me, usually one on the top and one on the bottom. One time, both went under my skirt and started feeling up and down my wet crack, I leaned over onto the table spread my feet apart to make room for their hands. Their fingers opened my inner lips at the opening, one finger went up inside, then was joined by another, then a third, and a fourth. Omigosh, two guys both had two fingers in me and were twiddling them around, oh. I pumped down and up and around to feel all those little tentacles tickling inside and stretching outside.

Then two of the fingers left my cunt and played up and down the crack of my ass. I wiggled my ass and hips, showing that I was pleased with the sensation. The other fingers played around my anus. Oh gosh, I thought, he's going to go in my back end, too, and he pushed on it and I pushed back, and his finger went in, an inch, then two, then twisted and turned. Their fingers in my cunt and my ass could feel each other through the thin wall of flesh, and I cried and wailed and pumped on those fingers penetrating me. I was so turned on and so wet the juices were dripping from my crotch down my legs. I didn't come again that time, but the next time with the other two men, Chuck went in me and Bob played with my clit until I did come again. Two men fingering me and two more wanting to. I melted.

The rest of the night was pretty tame by comparison. I just sat in their laps and they felt my boobs or up under my skirt lightly, tickling my thighs and my bush, pushing inside my pussy, searching for my G spot. Their hands must have been so sticky with cunt juice that they probably had to throw the decks of cards away.

When the game broke up around one, we drove home, Bob with his hand in my crotch and my hand on his cock all the way home. When we got home, we screwed like teenagers. We didn't get to sleep until dawn. We were wrecked the next day, but it was certainly worth it.