Poker Night: This is a story of one woman's fantasy ( every man's fantasy ) and the steps she takes to fulfill it during her boyfriend's poker night.

Poker Night by Lucinda Baker eorbylucinda@aol.com

My boyfriend, Jake, a self-proclaimed card shark, hosts a weekly poker game attended by five of his closest buddies. They rarely quit before bar closing time, no newcomers are allowed and, because of their strict No Female policy, I'm usually confined to the bedroom of the apartment we share with only the TV, or whatever else is handy, to entertain myself with. Of course, prior to confinement, it's my job to ensure that there's an ample supply of beer in the fridge as well as enough pretzels to last well into the wee hours. Their raucous laughter and booming belches often drown out whatever program I'm watching so, more often than not, I content myself with watching one or two of Jake's porn flicks with the volume turned down since, after all, dialogue isn't really necessary in conveying the action in those types of films.

Raw, sizzling, sweat inducing sex, on screen or off, is a particular favorite of both Jake's and mine and…the more bodies involved the better. In fact, we're known for our shamelessly zealous participation in all sorts of group 'activities' and often share our bed with a variety of lovers. Jake encourages and often indulges my penchant for both men and women and fantasy fulfillment and role-play are but two of the ways we keep the other happily satisfied. And so it was, with that thought in mind, that I came up with a delightfully devilish plan to change the dynamics of poker night.

I had been watching some serious smut, toys strewn about the bed, when one scene in particular caught my eye and started the wheels of my imagination to turning. A woman lay, naked except for a blindfold, atop a slim, stone table ringed by six of the most gorgeously hung men I'd ever seen. Around them, large, leafy trees shielded their nasty ritual from unwanted spectators and must have given them a sense of security for it didn't take them long to begin the festivities. Each man was stroking his cock with one hand and touching the woman with the other, caressing her face, her breasts, her belly. Soon she began to squirm atop the stone slab, spreading her legs pleadingly and searching blindly for what she couldn't see but knew was there. The two men on either side of her head touched their wands to her lips and watched as she licked first one and then the other. Two others, still stroking their enormous members, bent to suckle at her breasts, tugging and nipping at the nipples until they stood firm and proudly erect as any penis I've ever seen. The hunks at her feet jockeyed for position, one burying his face between her splayed thighs while the other fingered her swollen clit. Sucking, licking, biting and stroking, the seven remained that way for a time, until the woman finally exploded over the face buried between her legs causing each man to vie for a position over her, pumping themselves with a fevered frenzy until each one erupted, expelling their creamy loads onto the woman who lathered herself as if bathing in their seed.

Phew! By the end of that scene I was soaked, with sweat and my own sticky release and, exhausted, I fell immediately to sleep to dream of my own version of Bathing Beauty And Her Stroking Studs.

The following week, plan firmly fixed in my mind, I stocked the refrigerator with beer and filled the pretzel bowls to overflowing before slipping into the bedroom where I began preparations for that evening's coming attraction. On the bed, I laid out a recently purchased, daringly decadent bustier with matching garter belt, stockings and crotch-less panties. Four inch spiked, ankle strap heels rested at the foot of the bed, patiently waiting to be slipped on and my favorite vibrator, twelve inches of bright pink, rotating latex stood proudly at attention on the dresser next to the new batteries I'd purchased just for that occasion. A smile played at my lips as I hurried out of my clothes and into the adjoining bathroom where I poured a steaming and scented bath that left my skin tingling and flushed when I stepped from it almost an hour later.

By then, it was clear the poker game was in full swing. Laughter, probably the result of some corny joke Henry, Jake's college roommate, had told, added to the infectious energy I felt, even through the closed bedroom door and I laughed to myself, hoping the boys could feel that energy around their poker table as well.

Carefully and without haste, I began dressing and smiled at my reflection in the full-length mirror that allowed me to follow the process with a scrutinizing eye as I guided the silky stockings over the creamy, milk white curves of my smoothly shaven legs. Lacing the bustier over my substantial breasts proved a laborious chore and I was breathless with the effort but well pleased with the result as the bouncy orbs spilled over the top of the tightly laced garment, which nipped in at the waist and fanned over the gentle swell of my belly. Sheer panties, in the same shade of royal blue as the other finery, was next and I almost wished that they weren't crotch-less for I longed to caress the barely veiled treasure they contained through the satiny material. A thin, lace edged garter belt snapped neatly onto the stockings and fit nicely above the flare of my hips, giving the outfit just the right amount of seductive trimming. And finally, the shoes, a last minute indulgence, tied the entire ensemble together and added height to my diminutive five foot two inch frame.

Dressed, I then concentrated my attention on the unruly mass of dusky brown curls that frame my pixie face and fall wildly around my shoulders. Once, when I was twelve or thirteen, I spent countless hours trying to straighten those curls only to end up frustrated and in tears and dreading the inevitable teasing my classmates would so mercilessly dole out at the sight of the frizzy, frayed mess I'd made of that mop. For a brief moment I debated whether or not to pin it up in an artful bun but decided against it when I remembered Jake's appreciation for the way it bounces and bobs whenever I go down on him. Lush and dark eyelashes frame my ordinary brown eyes and need no emphasis from cosmetics so I finished with a clear lip gloss that gave an added sheen to my naturally berry red lips and a light dusting of powdered rouge over the half moon of the aureola peeping over the top of the bustier.

Chairs scraped against the tiled floor of our dining area, signaling a break in the game, and I knew that the boys would be gathering in the kitchen for more beer and snacks so I gave myself one last appraising glance in the mirror before scooping up my prized vibrator to quickly install its batteries. Opening the bedroom door a crack, I peeked out to find the living/dining area empty and, as I stole down the short hallway, more laughter floated from the kitchen and I vaguely wondered what joke Henry had come up with this time.

Our dining area is small and the large, round table with its six comfortably padded chairs takes up much of the space but I was confident we'd have all the room we needed. Gingerly, I stepped onto one of the chairs and, deftly avoiding the neat piles of poker chips stacked before each chair, I sat atop the green table clothed surface, scooching my butt until I was smack dab in the middle of the table where I reclined, seductively I hoped, to await the boy's return.

"I'll tell you what, man, the Steelers are gonna…"

Mike, or Hulk as his friends call him, stopped dead in his tracks just inside the dining area's doorway, letting his words trail into nothingness. Behind him, someone yelped as they ran into his stock-still, burly frame and I immediately recognized the voice of Jake's cousin, Samson who adamantly refused to answer to the shortened version of Sam.

"What the hell, Hulk. You 'bout broke my nose, man."

Samson, a wiry bundle of muscle and energy, stepped around Mike rubbing the bridge of his hawk like nose and giving Mike a sideways, dagger-emitting look of annoyance before stepping through the dining area's arched doorway where he too came to a skidding stop when he spied me lounging on the tabletop.

"Sweet Mother." He breathed.

One by one the others pushed around Mike's immobile, hulking frame and entered the dining area where they too, one by one, screeched to a halt upon seeing me splayed out like some decadent centerpiece amid the stacked plastic chips, empty beer cans and pretzel dust.

"Hi boys," I grinned, making eye contact with each one in turn. "I thought you might be hungry for something other than pretzels."

Pressing palms to my knees, I spread my legs invitingly and ran my tongue across my lip-glossed lips. No one moved. Undeterred, I trailed a lazy hand down one silky thigh while surveying my audience, whom, I saw with immense satisfaction, were already displaying significant bulges of encouragement for my continued performance. Encouraged, I let my fingers play at the opening of the crotch-less panties before entering the playground where they began to gently pry open the velvety folds that cloaked the most succulent of delicacies. Still no one moved or uttered even the slightest sound but I continued, undaunted, bringing my hand to my mouth where I moistened two fingers before returning them to the playground where they slid easily inside me. The satiny walls of my cunt tightened around them and I relished the feeling, letting my head fall back and my eyes close as soft sighs of pleasure escaped to fill the silence.

Once again, chairs scraped against the tiled dining room floor, momentarily breaking my concentration and I opened my eyes to find that the boys had each reclaimed a spot at the table where they stood, rubbing their bulging crotches, all eyes focused on me. The lust-filled desire I saw shining there was exhilarating and a rush of power packed excitement raced through me as I reached out to unzip the fly of Jake's karate instructor, Jude, who was already loosening the top snap of the faded blue jeans he wore. I let my hand drop without touching the deliciously long pecker that poked through the front of Jude's boxer shorts to retrieve the vibrator I'd laid, and nearly forgotten about, next to a tumbler sized stack of poker chips. A fluttering of heat began to build and I made no pretense of wanting to prolong it as I plunged the vibrator between my legs and into my moist hole.

"Turn it on," Pleadingly, I indicated the controls that dangled from a chord attached to my plaything and waited impatiently for someone to comply. I didn't have to wait long.

Rodney, a longtime friend of Jake's and sometime bedmate of mine, came to my rescue, bringing the vibrator to life with a mere flick of his thumb then watched with fascinated awe as I began a wriggling, twisting hip dance that matched that of my buzzing toy. Continuing to manipulate the speed and movements of the vibe, he hastily loosened the drawstring of his drab gray sweatpants, pushing them down far enough to free his willy before clamping down on it with a grip I feared would break it in half. There was a loud rustling then, like dry fall leaves being blown by an angry wind, as the remaining guys hastened to follow suit, unzipping, unbuttoning or unsnapping whatever was restricting their now expanding cocks. I laughed out loud to see them frantically tugging at their dicks through the hole in the underwear they didn't take the time to remove and was delighted to discover that each was as individual as the man who held it.

Just looking at them caused me to come, a warm gush of liquid sex, and I lifted the still undulating vibrator to my mouth where I sucked my sweet juices from its colorful shaft. There was a collective moan around the table as hands were goaded into action and each man began pulling along the length of his shaft as I returned the cleanly licked toy to my slippery slit where I let it continue its dance against my billowing clit. Rodney alternately revved then slowed the vibe's motor and I was practically bouncing off the table when, suddenly, I had the sensation of falling, slowly. It took a moment to realize I was being pulled backward to lean against a well-muscled chest, which I gratefully relaxed into, letting strong, calloused hands snake over my heaving bosom to tug at the strings of the bustier in an attempt to free its prisoners. Eagerly, I reached out to grasp the nearest cock, pulling along its crooked shaft with slow, easy strokes as my breasts broke free of their restraints and were instantly caught up in two very different embraces - one rough and insistent, pinching and tugging at the erect mound while the other was gentle, caressing and passing a light thumb over a nipple just as erect as its twin. Pleasure and pain, a delirious combination, swept though me like red hot flames causing me to add my own sighs of contented bliss to those echoing around me.

Poker chips tumbled and clinked to the floor as legs bumped up against the table and I abandoned the still buzzing vibe to guide Jude's plump dick into my mouth where I sucked it in hungrily, bobbing my head in time with the rhythm of the stroke I was using on the cock I still held in the other hand. My pussy, wide open and throbbing almost painfully, virtually cried out to be filled. Thankfully, relief was virtually instant and I pulled my legs back to allow full access to the tongue that lapped at me. Hands roamed over my body, touching, teasing, tempting and taunting, the most exquisite torture I'd ever experienced, and I stroked and sucked harder on the two cocks in my possession, trying to show my gratitude. The sensations flooding through me and over me brought about shudders of pleasure so intense that I came again, drenching the face burrowing between my legs before it abruptly retreated only to be replaced by another. Instantly, I recognized the delicate, featherlike tongue flicks of my boyfriend, Jake, and I wriggled my butt to let him know that I knew it was him and was pleased that he was there. Then, giving Jude's tasty treat one last lick, I pushed against the chest that still held me in a semi sitting position and hoped my message would be received, which it was and soon capable hands were easing me gently downward so that my head dangled over the table's edge and I was looking up at Henry's thick, meaty stick, which hovered just above my writhing tongue. Hesitantly, almost shyly, he stepped out of his boxer shorts before touching its tip to the tip of my tongue and, eagerly, I mirrored the whisper light tongue strokes Jake was using to enflame the swollen bead of my clit. Heavy balls, their fine, baby soft hairs tickling along the length of my nose, seemed filled to the point of bursting and I moaned against Henry's dangling dick while imagining what it would take to deflate those cream filled balloons.

On either side of me, empty hands pleaded with those who surrounded me to be filled and were soon rewarded with two very distinct prizes. One, a long, pencil thin shaft that vibrated in my left hand like the tines of a tuning fork as it's struck against its chosen instrument and the other, a cock that was shorter, almost stubby, and thick as a fat man's cigar. I relished their differences, not knowing or caring who they belonged to, and caressed them adoringly in celebration of their uniqueness. Henry's telephone pole legs bumped against my forehead as I sucked him in further, breathing in the sharp scent of sex that emanated from him. Jake's tongue pranced between my clit and the dripping hole beneath it and hands, so many hands it seemed, continued to roam the peaks and valleys that were my body. It was, indeed, all that I'd hoped it would be and I silently applauded the woman I'd seen on the video the week before for being the inspiration of my fantasy come to life.

I teetered on the brink where control and oblivion collide, wanting to let go yet needing to hold on, to make it last, when, without warning, Jake lifted his head, leaving an aching void that sent my mind reeling and every nerve ending screaming in unfulfilled agony. Reluctantly I released all three cocks from the loving embrace I had held them in just seconds before and, wrenching free of the hands still roaming my body, I growled like a crazed and wild animal before beginning a rabid buffing of my flushed, bulging and heartlessly abandoned clit. Before me, Jake grinned wickedly and, through the fever that consumed every inch of me, I realized that he knew how close my ultimate surrender was and had moved back for a better view of the imminent fireworks display to come.

With tremendous effort I slowed the pace of my diddling fingers and gazed around at the boys, now ringing the table in a half moon that provided each with a clear view of the near at hand grand finale. Forcing myself to concentrate, I let a free hand glide lightly over my breasts which were warm and tinged with pink, a result of the fire raging within me. Steadily and rhythmically, I polished between my legs, increasing the pace, bit by bit, and watching as my audience did the same, each with a technique all their own. I was instantly enthralled by the magnificent shamelessness of it all.

Samson and Rodney, devoid of their underpants as well now, used both hands to full advantage, cupping, kneading and fondling their balls with a well-practiced care. But, while Rodney employed short, almost jerky pulls to his rock hard rod, Samson held the head of his in the soft folds of flesh between thumb and index finger, his remaining fingers waving as if giving the 'okay' sign. Jude smoothed his hand over the entire shaft as if stroking a favorite pet, first the top, covering the head with his palm before completing the journey by running his hand along the underside while Mike, his massive pole held in a tight grip at the base, ran one finger over and around the head in a calculated pattern I was sure he'd used many times before. Henry alternately pumped then pounded his pud against the palm of an open hand and Jake, my lovely, understanding, open to anything, Jake, stood prominently to the forefront, dispatching the familiar swift rubdown that I often thought caused his cock to shudder and quake like a volatile geyser only seconds from eruption.

My God, they were an awesome sight! Pre come, precious as water from a long sought after oasis, dripped from each hand-pampered prick and, oh how I longed to take each one inside me, to milk them all until I was filled to overflowing with their creamy deposits. Instead, I was forced to content myself with the still squirming vibrator which I retrieved and thrust deep within in me, madly ramming it harder and faster, trying to keep time with the fingers that danced over my clit like a great jazz pianist's fingers over the familiar keys of a much loved piano. Sex and sweat oozed from our pores, the smell an almost visible fog that enveloped us, and pressed, heavy as southern humidity, against our heaving chests. The collective thrusting of hips, so well orchestrated that it seemed rehearsed, mesmerized me and I probed myself deeper and fingered myself faster while imagining each one of those cocks reaching up inside me, their soft velvety tips finally triggering the magic button that would unleash the torrent that was agony to hold back. It was an exquisite torture my mind and body could no longer stand and, when finally release came, in lava hot streams that splattered and sprayed that half circle of stroking studs, I screamed through my deliverance with a high keening wail of surrender that incited a chorus of low timbered moans from the boys who, in turn, showered me with wet and slippery tokens of their appreciation. Then, collapsing onto the table and mimicking the actions of the woman I'd watched on video a week earlier, I slathered myself with come until the heat dissipated and my breathing returned to normal. I lay that way for a few moments more, listening to the sound of snaps being snapped and zippers being zipped and, when I sat up, I found the boys redressed and looking at me with something akin to adoration, though I may be using too strong a word for it. Someone draped a heavy shirt over my shoulders and another held out a hand, which I took. Still another cupped my arm at the elbow as I inched across the table a final time to step onto a chair held in place by someone else. How sweet they all are, I thought, and smiled at each in turn only to have them respond with great bear hugs and quickly placed kisses on the cheek. Rodney, my sometime lover, escorted me back to the bedroom where he gently lay me down on the bed before retreating, closing the door softly behind him. Jake appeared in the opened bathroom doorway, smiled then made his way to the bed where he sat next to me. In his hand he held a hand towel, wet and steaming, which he laid aside before beginning to gently remove my sticky clothing. Then, without a word being spoken between us, he washed me, his eyes never once leaving mine.

Later, as I drifted to sleep wrapped in the warmth of our downy comforter, I smiled to myself as the sound of renewed laughter penetrated the closed bedroom door and, fleetingly, I wondered if Henry had told yet another of his endless supply of jokes.

+++ I recently left a career in banking to embark on a journey to fulfill a lifelong dream of writing. I initially chose erotic fiction because I thought it would be the easiest genre to write. How wrong I was! I've spent the past year writing, researching, rewriting, researching and rewriting some more and have come to the conclusion that erotic fiction writing is a true art form and, in writing it, I have discovered a passion and joy that never existed during my sixteen year stint in the banking industry. Though I have yet to be published and have many things still to learn, I am confident in my writing and rejoice in being afforded the opportunity to live out my dream of writing.

I am the mother of two boys, ages 10 and 15, have been married for 15 years and delight in walking my three dogs, spending my days writing and being home for my kids in the afternoon.