Ami scowled across the poker table, her iron determination written clearly on her face. She'd stripped herself naked, sucked off a man she loathed, and been eaten out by her best friend, but this time, this hand, she would finally get her hands on the legendary beast Jenny had told her was within Kurt's pants. Jenny had folded, and Ami had a Jack-high straight flush. There was almost no beating that, so she'd raised mercilessly, all the way to "Fucking". After a brief discussion it was decided that, if more than two people remained at call, the winner would have their pick, and the loser of a bet of "fucking" would have to be on top, doing all the work.
She shot a venomous glare over her cards at Hipster Douche, glanced at Kurt, then tapped the table. Kurt followed in kind, then Hipster Douche. Kurt placed his cards down first, revealing a pair of twos; he'd been bluffing, in hopes of exactly the outcome Ami had been hoping for. She triumphantly laid down her cards and stared right at Kurt, licking her lips. Before she could get too involved in her performance, however, Hipster Douche cleared his throat and laid down another straight flush, but King-high.
Ami just stared at the cards in disbelief, her mind grappling with what she'd done, what was to come. She'd already lost to this pretentious asshat once, and had to kneel before him, licking his cock while Kurt and Jenny watched. She could still smell the faint musk of his cum on her skin from his 'grand finale', painting her face with his seed as if to sign his victory. And now, thanks to another desperate attempt to get at the luscious cock her friend had boasted hid within Kurt's boxers, she would have to fuck him.
Resentment burned in her as she sighed, stood up, and bent over the table, waiting for him to enter her. She glanced over at Kurt and Jenny, who seemed more confused than aroused, only to see Hipster Douche hoist himself up onto the table and lay down on his back, his cock pointing straight up like a flagpole.
"Forget the rules?" Hipster Douche asked teasingly, and Ami pushed back the table and scowled. As she crawled up onto the table, he crossed his arms behind his head and looked at her smugly, his casual gesture confirming that, per their agreement, she would have to do all the work. She straddled him and sighed in resentment, glaring at him for a moment before beginning.
Ami pushed her hips back, doing her best to repress a shudder as she felt the hot, firm head of his cock press against the folds of her pussy before slipping backwards away from her hole. She re-positioned and tried again, only for his cock to slip forwards, grazing against her clit and prompting an involuntary gasp from Ami. Hipster Douche smiled up at the evidence of her pleasure, her scowl interrupted by another gasp from another failed insertion. She felt betrayed by her own body, feeling jolts of pleasure even as she tried to merely begin her loathesome task, but she refused to reach between them and use her hands; she could not bear to let her friends see her deliberately guide this jerkass's cock into herself, and so, paradoxically, she continued her attempts to get him into her without her hands, moving more forcefully each time, each miss prompting a gasp or moan.
