Dave handed the deck to Brittany - kind of challenging her to actually follow thru. She confidently dealt and the game began.
It was kind of surreal as the first few hands were dealt and played. On the one hand, nothing "important" was happening: just playing cards and watching "unimportant" items of clothing being discarded: Eric's shirt. Dave's shirt.
But then I realized that there was excitement in the air. Electricity. All of us kind of daring each other to continue. These "unimportant" items still being crucial since they meant that we were "in." That we were actually going to do this. That we were all committing to stripping naked in front of each other - our close friends and our adult children / siblings / spouses - and then to accept "forfeits" which hadn't been given any limits. No limits!
My naughty inner self was buzzing. This was Soooo wrong! So NAUGHTY!
So delicious!!
My panties were wet. Just full-on wet.
And my naughty pussy was purring and silently egging me on: "do it. Do It. DO IT!!"
It took me a couple of hands to realize that my general knowledge of poker wasn't really directly applicable here:
First, at least in these initial hands, I had to adapt my strategy not to win, per se, but, instead, not to LOSE. The only thing that really mattered was "not having the worst hand," so I needed to play to avoid having "nothing" instead of playing to have the best possible hand.
And Second. Well. As the atmosphere buzzed and the game got going, my naughty little pussy buzzed along with it and asked me, "Well? Do you WANT to win the poker hands - or do you want to win THE GAME?"
Oh. Oh, yes. Perhaps I *wanted* to "have to" strip. Piece by piece. Slowly revealing my nakedness to my husband. My best friend. Her husband. Her *son* for ghod's sake. Oh my god... I'm thinking about stripping in front of Butch!! And my *own* son!! How awful! How utterly irresponsible! How deliciously NAUGHTY! It became as if I was outside of myself, watching myself play this game of Chicken - in the form of a game of strip poker. The more perverted I realized it was, the more it turned me on. And the more I looked around the table at peoples' expressions, the more I saw them going through the same emotions: curiosity, embarassment, anticipation, and lust. Lots of lust.
As the dealer's deck passed from player to player, there was a moment before each deal was started. A moment of playing that game of Chicken: who is going to chicken out first? Just how far is this going to go? The mood of our little Hurricane Party had instantly changed. No longer boredom and irritation, but now, as the incessant rain and howling wind continued. As the heat and humidity still enveloped us, our mood had changed to excitement. Electric naughtiness. Anticipation. Daring each other to go on. To continue toward a perverted destination.
Then we arrived at the "moment of truth:" Brittany and Missy had tied for low hand. And since shoes and socks didn't count, any female loss "crossed the line:" something was going to be removed that wasn't supposed to be removed in public. Shirt. Bra. Shorts/skirt. Panties. Those were the only choices.
Our daughters were going to have to take off something "inappropriate" in front of their brothers, fathers, and mothers.
I expected a long decision moment.
