Martys Game Of Strip Poker

Marty has just put the meatloaf in the oven along with two potatoes wrapped in aluminum foil. She opens a can of peas and sets them over a low flame and covers the pot.

"Jim's on his way home and I got time for a shower", she thinks.

She goes in the bathroom, adjusts the shower water to a nice warm temperature, then slips out of her tank-top, running shorts and panties. She hasn't bothered with a bra this day.

Marty is a petite 5' 2", with hair down to her butt—dishwater blonde that changes with the seasons and how much sun she gets, which is usually quite a bit. Weather permitting she likes to be outside. No kids yet, so her b-cup sized breasts still hold their teenage perkiness. She washes and conditions her hair then wraps the conditioner laden hair into a bun and soaps up the rest of her body. After rinsing out the conditioner, she wrings it out again and steps out of the shower.

"Rats!" she mumbles to herself, "Forgot a towel."

Leaving the clothes piled on the floor, she slips into the flip-flops and runs dripping down the hall, grabbing a towel as she passes the closet. She dries off in the bedroom and blowdries her hair. The warm air feels good on her damp skin. She takes a pair of baggy sweatpants from the dresser drawer and debates in her mind if she wants go to commando. She decides not and picks a red lacy thong to wear underneath. She forgoes the discomfort of a bra, however, and pulls a loose-fitting sweatshirt over her nude torso.

Her cell-phone rings. Jim is calling to let her know he's bringing a friend for dinner.

"Shit!" she thinks. "Why does he always do that—and always at the last minute. I wish he'd let me know before I make dinner."

Marty slips on her flip-flops and returns to the kitchen, where she washes off another potato, pokes it a few times with a fork, and puts it in the microwave. When it's done, she finds a hot-mitt to take it out, and she wraps it in foil and puts it next to the other two in the oven.

Jim arrives home with his friend, Ben, a heavyset bearded man in a flannel shirt. The the three of them sit down for dinner. Jim and Ben have a beer with their meal; Marty has a Pepsi. The men each have another beer while Marty cleans up. Ben invites Marty to join them, but Marty declines explaining that she has to work tomorrow, and she goes to bed.

As Jim and Ben get more buzzed, the conversation turns to the $19,000 Jim owes Ben.

Marty overhears Jims voice, "I'll get it for you, dude. You know I'm good for it. I just don't have it right now. But I got this deal gonna happen. It's gonna be good. As soon as it happens for me, I'll have your money."

"Bro, you been saying that forever! Fuckin-A, I need the fucking money now! I told you that. I got expenses you know. That's why you brought me here, you said."

"I know, but gimme a chance. You know I'm good for it."

They drink their beers in silence.

Next Ben says, "Tell you what. You got a deck of cards?"

"Yeah, somewhere around here. Why?"

"Go get it."

Jim rummages through a drawer and sets a beat up deck of cards on the table.

"They all there?" Ben asks.

"Yeah, they're all there," Jim answers indignantly.

Ben picks up the deck and says, "Tell you what. I'll play you for it."

"Play for what?" Jim asks.

"The money you owe me."

"How'm I gonna do that? If you know I don't have any cash?"

"Ever play strip poker?"

"No. Why? Are you fucking gay?"

"No, dumbshit," Ben says. "ButI got a proposition for you. Strip poker, me and your wife. The clothes she's wearing against your debt."

"She's not gonna do it," Jim protests.

Ben shrugs, "Have it your way. Then I want my money."

"Fuck," Jim says. He runs his fingers through his hair. "Fuck," he repeats.

"Whatya got to lose?" Ben says. "It's just clothes."

"It's my wife, asshole."

"Careful how you put that, dude. But ... if you're feeling lucky, you could be out of debt today, then I just go home."

Jim stays quiet contemplating Ben's proposition then says. "Okay. I'll ask her, but she ain't gonna do it."

"Can't hurt to ask."

"Wanna bet?"

"Yeah, but not on that," Ben says.

Jim goes in the bedroom and finds Marty lying on top of the covers still clothed.

"Hey Hon'," Jim whispers. "Thanks for supper."

"Fuck off," Marty tells him.

"You heard?"

"Yeah, I heard. Tell the creep to go get fucked."

"It's not that easy, Babe," Jim says, and he puts a hand on her, but she pushes it away. "Listen, Jim continues. You could help me out. You're a good poker player, and he's drunk. You'll win. C'mon Honey, help me out."

Marty rolls over to face Jim

"If I do this for you, you're really gonna fucking owe me. I hope you know that."

She follows Jim back out to the living room where Ben is seated on the sofa with the stack of cards on the coffee table in front of him.

"She'll do it," Jim says.

Ben stands and brings a kitchen chair for Marty and sets it across the coffee directly in front of where he's sitting.

"Cut for the deal," Ben says.

Marty cuts an ace.

"Guess it's you," Ben says and hands her the other half of the deck. "You understand the deal, right?"

"Yeah," Marty says.

"This is your husband's $19,000 debt against the clothes you have on. Your deal."

Marty deals five cards each. Ben lays his hand over his cards where they lay face down.

"Sight unseen. A thousand against that pretty top you're wearing."

Marty looks at her hand.

"No deal," she says, "Two grand against my flip-flops."

Ben looks at Jim, who is standing beside Marty, "She's rough." Then to Marty he says, "Okay. That's a bet."

Ben draws two, Marty draws four. She wins with three fives against Ben's two-pair of queens and sixes.

"Write it down," Marty says.

Jim brings a paper and pen to keep score, and Ben writes minus $2000.

This time Ben shuffles, and Marty cuts. Ben deals two more hands. Marty's got two jacks with ace kicker.

"Same bet?" she asks.

"Yup," Ben agrees.

They draw two cards each.

Ben says, "I'll raise you. Two more—total four thousand—for your flip-flops and your top."

Marty agrees, and Ben lays down three fours and stands up with his hands out to help Marty out of her tank top. But Marty lays down her three jacks, and Ben has to scratch off another $4,000.

Marty deals three eights to herself, and two queens to Ben.

"Same bet?" Ben asks.

Marty debates in her mind and decides in a game with no wild cards that three eights are pretty strong. Ben draws three; Marty draws two. They lay their cards down, and Ben has three queens. He stands up and reaches across the coffee table to remove Marty's sweatshirt.

"I can do it," Marty snarls.

She kicks off her sandals and pulls the sweatshirt over her head.

"Hand it here," Ben says.

Marty throws it on the sofa next to Ben, and Ben reaches across the coffee table to cop a feel on Marty's bare boobies. She slaps him away and jumps out of her chair.

"That's not the deal!" she says, looking at Jim for back up.

Jim shrugs, "She's right."

"Alright. You want it that way," Ben says. "How 'bout this? I cut a card, you cut a card. High card wins. Five hundred against a feel on your hard little titties."

"That wasn't the deal!" Marty protests.

"Okay, a thousand," Ben offers.

"Do it," Jim orders. Marty doesn't like the pushy tone in Jim's voice and throws him a mean look.

"Okay then. $1000," she says.

"You got it," Ben says, and he cuts the deck to a seven.

Marty cuts and turns over a four.

Ben grins.

"Stand up," he orders, but Marty refuses.

"Stand up!" Ben insists.

Marty glances at Jim who says, "Well, you did lose."

Marty casts another even dirtier look at Jim and stays seated, so Ben steps over the coffee table and sits on it in. He takes a bare breast in each hand. Then he reaches around her and pulls her in to a tight hug massaging her breasts and pinching the nipples.

"Okay, that's enough," Jim says.

"Who says it is," Ben retorts, and he leans down and sucks on her breasts, first the areolas, then sucks each entire breast into his mouth. Marty winces. Finally, Ben lets go and announces, "Now. That's enough."

Ben returns to his spot on the sofa and picks up the cards.

"How about another thousand against the sweatpants, sweetie? And we'll learn what you got on under them."

"Two thousand then," Marty says.

"Nope. One thousand," Ben insists. "Unless your honey can get straight with me right now."

"Do it, Baby. For a thousand," Jim insists.

Marty flips Jim off.

Ben pulls a full house, but Marty draws two and gets her fourth jack to win the thousand.

"Write it down," Marty reminds him.

Ben writes off another $1,000 and hands the deck to Marty.

"Again?" he asks.

"Again," Marty agrees, and she deals herself a pile of nothing and gives Ben two aces and nothing to go with. Marty has three hearts, so she draws two cards. Ben draws three and gets a second pair—fours.

"Tell you what," Ben says. "You want me to go two thousand? A thousand for sweats plus another thousand for what you got under it."

"That's all I got on!" Marty says.

"Yep. You in?"

"Yeah, okay," Marty says and lays down her heart flush.

"Shit!" Ben shouts and writes another $2000 off on the score sheet.

Ben deals. Marty is still topless wearing only her red thong and sweatpants.

Ben checks his cards and offers a bet of $1,000 against Marty's sweatpants. He draws three cards, which get him a seven to match the two sevens he has.

Marty draws three to go with her two kings and gets nothing. They lay their cards on the coffee table.

"Now stand up," Ben orders.

"I'll give them to you," Marty insists, and still seated she slides the sweatpants past her but. But when she does, Ben reaches across and grabs them sliding them to her knees. Then he picks up Marty's feet and pulls the pants off her, nearly pulling her off her chair.

"Relax, fucker!" Marty glares, and she straightens back up in her chair.

Now Marty is seated in front of Ben in just a red lacy thong.

"My deal," she asserts and she gathers the cards. "Two thousand against the thong."

"A thousand," Ben counters.

Marty looks at Jim, and Jim nods at Ben

"For real, Jim?!" Marty shouts.

Marty deals two eights and two aces to herself and four spades to Ben. They each draw one card. Marty draws a three, and Ben misses the flush and writes off thousand more dollars.

Ben collects the cards to deal.

"Same thing?" he asks.

"No," Marty insists. "Two thousand for the thong, or I'm fucking outa here.

Ben and Jim exchange a look, then Ben accepts. Ben deals himself three three's and two odd cards. Marty gets two kings with ace kicker. They both draw two. Marty shows her kings, and Ben lays out his three threes

Marty stays seated and starts to slip the thong past her buttocks. When she gets them to her knees, Ben reaches across and grabs them. He pulls the thong and lifts Marty up off of the chair.

"Hey fucker! I'll do it!" she screams at him, and she slides the thong past her ankles and and throws it at Ben.

Ben stands and undoes his belt buckle and drops his pants to his ankles. Then he sits back down, fully exposed.

"Okay. I lost," Marty says, and she stands, with a hand covering her crotch, and starts for the bedroom.

"Whoa!" says Ben, and before she can leave he reaches over and grabs her wrist. "We're not done here! Sit back down while I take a look at this score sheet."

Marty sits naked in front of Ben while he examines the paper. Ben's cock is standing straight out.

"Okay," he tells Jim, "What you got here is a good little poker player. Looks like she's already done you a good favor and whittled me down to only nine thousand dollars. Tell you what, though. I love head. How about you, honey."

"Hey!" Marty protests. "That wasn't the deal. Jim! You said strip poker. That's all!"

"I know," Jim says. "Just wait and listen to the man."

"Jim!" Marty cries.

"Here's what I'm willing to do," Ben continues. "If this pretty little naked lady will just take my hard cock in her mouth for a minute or two, I'll cut the remaining nine grand in half. Deal?"

"NO!" Marty shouts and starts for the bedroom.

But this time it's Jim who steps in front of her and prevents her from leaving.

He hugs her hard and whispers against her cheek, "Do it, honey. We don't have the money to pay him."

Marty struggles, but Jim keeps hold of her. He turns her around to face Ben and holds her by her arms.

"She'll do it," Jim says, and he leads her back in front of the coffee table in front of Ben.

Jim leans into Marty's ear, "Just beat him," he exhorts.

Ben is stroking his erect penis.

Between her clenched teeth Marty hisses, "If you make me do this, I swear I will fucking leave you. I will fuck you up, Jim."

"You got no choice, hon," Jim says. "We got no choice."

Ben deals. Kings and eights to Marty, and two sevens to himself. Marty draws one—an ace. Ben draws three and gets his third seven. They lay their hands on the table and Marty's eyes widen.

Ben grins, "A bet's a bet, honey."

"I'm not your fucking honey," Marty snarls.

When Jim lays Marty face down across the coffee table, her breasts hang over the other side. Her face is inches from Ben's erect cock, and she can smell the combination of body oder and urine on his sweaty crotch. Ben entwines his fingers in her hair and pulls her toward him by her head. Her stomach turns. Her naked skin sticks to the coffee table, and it slides with her. Ben directs Marty's mouth to his penis, but it smashes against her nose and cheek. She can feel his wet precum on her closed eyelid.

Jim urges, "Do it, Marty."

Marty draws a tense breath and opens her mouth to take Ben's cock. It pushes against her throat and gags her.

"Suck it girl!" Ben orders.

As Marty closes her lips around the cock, she feels its base on her tongue. Ben humps her face moving her head up and down in the opposite motion while Jim stands passively at her side.

Despite all of Marty's protestations and threats sworn at Jim, and despite hearing her gag occasionally from Ben's cock pressing the back of her throat, Jim can see her labia engorged and reddening as she fellates his friend, and Jim is getting hard (if he wasn't already from watching his wife strip off her clothing piece by piece in front of him and another man). He can see Marty's juice start to drip down her slit. He reaches down and cups her vulva in his hand and massages her moist labia, sliding his finger up and down between them. She gets more wet and starts sucking in earnest. Marty has both hands on Ben's thighs, and she is pumping him in and out of her mouth as her vagina gushes into Jim's hand. Ben takes the hand away to undo his pants and take out his own hard cock. Then he grabs his wife's ass in both hands, separating her cheeks ever so slightly, and enters her, first with just the head of his cock, then he shoves in the rest.

Marty's deep moan is muffled slightly by Ben's cock in her mouth, and her pussy tightens around Jim. Jim holds still for a bit to feel her contractions. From the angle at which Jim is taking her from behind, the head of his cock lands just inside her vagina and precisely against her G-spot. The in-and-out over her G-spot nearly drives her into convulsion. He fucks her harder and faster, and Marty's in-and-out on Ben's cock syncs with the motion of Jim's pounding her from behind. Suddenly Ben groans and shoots his load straight and fully into Marty's mouth, past her tongue, into her throat. She gags, then swallows, and Ben pumps in more cum. At that exact moment, Jim unloads inside her, and Marty cries out, letting Ben's limp phallus fall out of her mouth. Jim pumps her several more times to empty the rest of his load into her, then he stops and holds still inside her until Marty's orgasmic spasms subside. Marty collapses on the coffee table with her face in Ben's crotch. Again she notices the pungent smell of his body order and urine, now combined with the smell of fresh semen, some of which is dripping down her chin.

Bitterly resenting the coercion and the fact that she had been told she was only going to play strip poker, naked and prostrate on the coffee table with her face in the smelly crotch of a stranger—by her estimate a total asshole, she has also just experienced the most massive and intense orgasm of her life. She's still pissed at Jim, for getting himself mixed up in that shit and the debt, and for what she was called upon—forced—to do to help get him out of it. But she also wonders why in all of the two years she's known him, Jim never gave her as powerful an orgasm as she just experienced.

She stands, pushes her toes into her flip-flops, gathers her clothes from the sofa, and walks naked to the bathroom to take another shower. Afterward, she wraps herself in a towel and goes in the bedroom where she sheds the towel, and climbs naked under the covers.

Marty has barely drifted into the twilight of half-way to sleep when Jim walks in, leans in real close to her head and very quietly says, "Hey Honey. Is it okay if Ben spends the night?"