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Three of hearts, nine of spades, five of diamonds, seven of clubs and two of
spades. Another rotten hand. The cards were not coming my way. I had only
won one small pot. Stan was not doing much better. He had not won any-
thing, but he had only lost once. I had lost four times already. With the
next loss, somebody would claim my blouse. I was by far the biggest loser.
I had a choice, put in the chips and stay, probably lose the money, but
maybe keep my blouse, or fold and probably lose my blouse. I put in two
white chips.

This was an interesting trip, and a very different poker game.

I came home to San Diego from a business trip to Idaho. I had been stuck
there three months, and had to go back to Post Falls in a couple of weeks.

Stan picked me up at the airport, and I spent the night at his place. The
next day, on a whim, we went to Yuma to see the Padres in spring training.
En route, we decided to skip Yuma, and kept driving. We spent the night in
Phoenix, the next night in El Paso. All we had were the clothes on our
backs and our Visa cards. It looked like we might be gone for a while, so
we went shopping in El Paso. We each bought a couple of casual outfits,
clean underwear, some toiletries and a suitcase to share. Day three ended
in White City, New Mexico. We spent day four in Carlsbad Caverns. Today
was Saturday, day seven, our second day in Dallas. We were staying with
Gary and Laurie, friends from college, who had taken us to this party.

There were five couples present. All of us in our mid to late twenties. It
was a casual gathering. We barbecued steaks at about four o'clock, then sat
and talked until about six. The topic got around to poker.

As I sat there bare-footed, looking at probably the worst hand ever dealt, I
concluded the poker game was the main item on the agenda for the evening.
Stan and I are both good poker players. We enjoy the game, and end up win-
ners more often than not. It required no convincing to get us to agree to a
"friendly little Texas poker game."

We adjourned to a big game room, with lots of couches and pillows and a big,
low, round glass table that was not even knee high. It cost a minimum of
$100.00 each to buy in to this friendly little game.

I only had $80.00 on me, but Stan had $155.00. He loaned me $35.00, put
$5.00 away in case we needed gas to get to the ATM machine, and we each
bought $115.00 of $0.50, $2.50 and $5.00 chips. We sat boy, girl, boy,
girl, directly across from our spouse/date/SO. Most people bought a little
more than $100.00 of chips, one couple bought $150.00 each. We were talking
about a pot of nearly $1,200.00. As I was soon to learn, that was not all
we were talking about.

Fred, the host, was seated to my right. "Roxi and Stan," he said, "we play
our poker a little bit differently here. Of course, we are playing for
cash, but to make it more interesting we play strip poker at the same time.
If a woman has the best hand, she gets a piece of clothing from the man with
the worst hand, and also from any other man who can't beat the worst woman's
hand. If a man has the best hand, it's the woman with the worst hand who
gives up clothing, maybe more than one woman, any other that can't beat the
worst man's hand. With ten people, we use two fifty-three card decks,
joker's wild, dealer's choice, and other cards wild if the dealer wants them
wild. At the end of the evening, you've got to negotiate with whoever has
your clothing to get it back."

Strip poker is an interesting game, and one that Stan and I had played be-
fore. We had played it with Gary and Laurie when we were neighbors at the
university. It is really a chance game, not a skill game; at least every
time I had ever played it before. As I grew up, the concept of strip poker
had grown boring. It was more or less a game of hurry up and strip so we
can fuck. If that was the group's ultimate goal for the evening, there were
faster ways to get naked. Tonight's game intrigued me however, with the
cash on the table and the strangers sitting around it. "I won my ex-husband
in a strip poker game, the terms are okay with me, but I'm probably not
going to be exchanging any body fluids with folks I don't know all that
well."

One of the women, Melissa I think, said, "That is all right. Sometimes we
do, sometimes we don't. Nobody gets forced."

I looked at Stan. I raised my eyebrows. He knew I was looking for his
agreement that there would be no body fluids exchanged with strangers. He
nodded yes. "Deal the cards," I said.

This hand was deuces wild. Most hands were deuces wild except when Stan or
I dealt. I hate ALL wild cards. That is not real poker. I kept the deuce,
and drew four cards; seven, five, king, five. Three fives! Not a good hand
with all those wild cards and two decks, but probably good enough to keep my
blouse. When the bet came around to me, I folded. I had never played with
two decks before. It was a different game with strange strategy, and bluf-
fing was harder because everybody had to show their hand to determine who
won and who lost. Once so far, the woman who won the pot bluffed the man
with the best hand. She got the pot, but he got my left sock and Melissa's
shoe. Melissa had the worst hand that time, but I could not beat Bob's
worst male hand.

My wild card aided three fives did save my blouse, as Stan lost his other
shoe, and so did another guy who could not beat three fours, the worst wo-
man's hand. Geez, I had come very close to losing again. I knew I would be
uncomfortable showing skin to this group, at least early in the game, and I
was determined to postpone it as long as possible.

My dilemma was that to win the pot, you had to take intelligent chances. To
not lose clothing, you merely had to play it safe. I liked to take chances
and win cash. It would have been fairly easy to keep most of my clothes and
lose all of my money.

With the small pot I had won earlier, I still had a little over $100.00.
Looking around the table, that seemed about average, except for Tom, to my
left. He was the big winner so far, and since he had started with about
$150.00, he had nearly twice the chips I had, but I was the only one to have
lost half their clothing. Tom had several pieces he had won, including a
shoe and sock of mine. He was really the only person there I did not like.
He was loud and obnoxious, and reminded me of my ex-husband, both physically
and verbally. I did not want to have to "negotiate" with him to get back
anything important.

Eight or nine hands went by fairly quickly. I did not lose anything, except
chips, and the state of undress approached my own. Then I won a nice pot,
with a full house, queens and tens. I got Stan's final sock and Tom's first
sock. Pretty soon we would have to get down to garments. We were rapidly
running out of shoes and socks.

Pretty soon was right. Two hands later, the group showed some skin. My
skin. I broke one of the cardinal rules of poker, never draw to an inside
straight, but I figured with all the wild cards this hand, not only the two
jokers, but eight deuces and four one-eyed jacks, I should have known bet-
ter. I did know better. Worst of all, Tom, acting more and more like a
clone of my ex-husband every minute was the winner. I sighed, and started
to unbutton my blouse.

"No, no, no! The important stuff isn't surrendered, it is claimed," Tom
said.

I gritted my teeth, as he stood and walked behind me. He put his hands on
my shoulders, and brought them gently down my sides to my breasts. I willed
myself not to respond, and thankfully, there were no involuntary reactions.
Quickly, he unbuttoned my blouse, took it off, folded it and put it under
his chair with a growing collection of female apparel. My bra was not real-
ly see-through material, but it was skimpy and thin, and clearly showed my
prominent nipples in bold relief. It was obvious the bra was not required
for support.

The next eight or nine hands were not good to me. I did not lose any cloth-
ing, but I lost lots of money. Three times I had the best woman's hand, and
each time I bet quite heavily, only to lose the pot to a man with better
cards. I had less than $40.00, definitely the least amount at the table.
Stan won the biggest pot. I had four kings and an ace. Stan had three aces
and a joker. Damn, I hate playing poker with wild cards. Stan claimed the
second blouse, from Kathy, only to be the first man to lose his shirt to
Kathy on the very next hand. As he claimed her blouse, Stan slipped his
hands inside her bra, and gave her nipples a brief massage. When she took
his shirt, she ran her fingernails over Stan's nipples, through his under-
shirt. He reacted as he always does to that stimuli, with an erection that
threatened to split his trousers. As his erection grew, I felt myself re-
sponding too. My nipples were getting hard and I could feel a slight damp-
ness beginning between my legs.

My next two hands were pure garbage. I had to stay in until the draw, hop-
ing to get something, at least a wild card aided pair. Both draws were use-
less. I folded. I had the worst woman's hand both times. Luckily for my
modesty, Melissa and Laurie were the winners, and two more men lost their
shirts. I had a little better hand the next deal, but again I folded after
the draw. Tom won this hand, he was definitely the biggest winner and the
smallest loser. He claimed Julie's blouse. Her bra was virtually transpar-
ent, and Tom paid a lot of attention to the breasts he had exposed.

We took a bathroom break at that point. Refreshments were brought out, and
drinks were freshened. Everyone was barefoot except Tom, who had one sock
on. He also had at least three times the chips of anyone else. Three of
the men has lost their shirts, and three of the women had lost their blous-
es. I was definitely the biggest monetary loser. I had less than $20.00
left.

I asked Julie what would happen if I ran out of chips.

"That leaves you with three choices. You can strip down and watch the rest
of the evening, or you can auction off something you have won if anybody
wants it, or you can auction off your own goods or services."

"My own goods or services?"

"Yes, somebody will bid on your bra or your panties, or on a tongue job or a
hand job and such."

"If I get lucky, can I trade for or buy my own clothes?"

"Yes, but you can't put them back on."

"Can I keep playing if I'm naked?"

"Oh yes, as long as you have chips."

The next hand was a disaster. I only lost six bucks. Stan won. Melissa
lost her blouse, but I did not beat the lowest man's hand, so after Stan
claimed Melissa's blouse. he came for my pants.

"Stand up Roxi. Let us get a good look at this," said Tom.

Reluctantly I stood up, and Stan pulled me back a few paces from the table,
so everybody could get a good view. He knelt in front of me, and slowly
unbuttoned and unzipped my pants. As they fell to my knees, my panties came
part of the way down too. I tried to pull them up, but not before Stan got
a hand inside one leg, and massaged my curls. He removed his hand, and I
adjusted my panties for what little cover I could get from them. They were
transparent, except for a little yellow patch front and center. The yellow
patch allowed one to clearly tell that this woman's pubic hair was exactly
the same color brown as the hair on her head.

When the game resumed, it was obvious why we were playing poker at a low
glass table. Nothing was going to be hidden.

I tossed in my ante. Decision time was rapidly approaching. If I did not
get really lucky quick, I was going to have to strip down and quit, or auc-
tion something off. I wondered about the possibility of...

"You in?"

"Oh!" I had been daydreaming. Five cards were face down in front of me.
"Is anything wild?"

"Wake up. You're about to lose all your clothes and all your money, and
you're not even here," said Kathy. "Deuces are wild, and you need to put in
three white chips."

I picked up my cards and fanned them slightly. "I'll see your three and
raise you four more." This hand was to be Roxanne's last stand. By the
time the bet got back to me, nobody had folded, and I needed four bucks to
stay in. I put my cards face down on the table, and stood up. "Okay, guys,
take a good look." I made four ninety degree turns, so everybody could see
both profiles, and the crack in my butt, through the transparent backside of
my panties. "This embarrasses me before so many of you I don't know, but
I'm out of cash. I'm a good poker player with a run of bad luck. Does any-
body want to buy a bra?"

I do not know if Stan was shocked or not. That was pretty brazen of me
around strangers. I'm not as wild in real life as I talk now. Not like I
used to be. He raised his eyebrows. I knew his unspoken question, "Do you
really have that good a hand?" He knew by my smile and raised eyebrows that
the answer was yes.

"Okay, I'll play along," Stan said. "I'll give you twenty bucks for the
bra, but you are going to have to earn it back later."

"I'll give you $25.00."

"$30.00."

"$35.00."

The bidding intensified. "I'll go $40.00."

Tom got up and walked around me, sort of checking out the merchandise. He
put his hand on the yellow panel on the front of my panties and felt the
hair below. "I'll give you $100.00 for the panties right now. Take it or
leave it."

He had most of the money, and he could afford it. I pushed his hand away.
"I don't need $100.00. I just need $50.00 for my bra."

The best I could do was the $45.00 Tom offered. He made a big production of
removing it. He walked all around me a couple of times. He ran his hands
all over my breasts. As disgusting as I thought he was, I felt myself re-
sponding to his hands. Next he was kissing my nipples through my bra.

"Claim your prize and sit down. We have a hand to finish."

Thank you for saying that, Melissa, I thought to myself. Tom finally un-
snapped my bra, gave my nipples a sloppy kiss, and sat down. He fastened
the bra around his neck like a necklace. I stood there for a moment, embar-
rassed but proud. Nipples erect, breasts high and firm, stomach sucked in a
little tighter than usual.

Casually I returned to my chair, carefully counted my new $45.00 in chips,
and without picking up my cards said, "I'll see your $4.00, and raise you
$4.00 more." Only one person folded, and on the third go round, I only
raised another dollar. When the draw came to me, I discarded one card, an
eight of hearts. I kept the three wild twos and the king of hearts. I drew
the ace of hearts. Much better than I had hoped for. A wild card aided
royal flush beat the four kings I expected to have all to pieces.

Stan, bless him, had interpreted the signal exactly right. When I only drew
one card, he said, "Well, she was always the exhibitionist. There she goes
looking for that inside straight again."

"Don't you wish, smart ass. Put your money where your mouth is."

Tom played right into my hands. "That's right. I won her blouse when she
tried for an inside straight."

Two people folded by the time the betting got to me. I needed $5.00 to stay
in and I raised another $5.00.

Stan, who had won a few hands while I was going poorly, helped out by rais-
ing another $5.00. By the last go round, there were just three of us still
in. Tom, Stan and I. I put in every chip I had left, $24.50. Tom saw me,
and Stan dropped out, saying it was too rich for him.

Tom slowly laid out his hand, announcing each card as he set it down. Nine
of diamonds. Ten of diamonds. Jack of diamonds. Queen of diamonds, King
of diamonds. He started to reach for the pot.

"Not so fast! My hand is almost like yours, but mine starts with this ten
of hearts," and I put down a deuce. Another deuce went down "a jack of
hearts. A queen of hearts," was what I called the final deuce, "and a real
king and ace of hearts." I shook my tits at him, and held my arms out from
my body, "and nothing up my sleeve."

Kenny Rogers was right when he sang, "You never count your money when you're
sitting at the table," but when I stacked up the biggest pot of the night, I
knew I had well over $450.00 in front of me. Better yet, I had Fred's
shirt, and Bob's pants. As I unbuttoned his pants, I could see his eyes
were on my tits, and his dick was straining to escape, so I helped it out
through the fly. With a couple of pumps, it was imitating a flagpole. As
he sat down, it was pointing straight up.

After my big pot, the next half dozen hands were played much more conserva-
tively. Pots were back into the $20.00 to $40.00 range. Obviously, nobody
was dealt a big, gamebuster hand, because nobody bet like it, and no winning
hand was that spectacular. Nobody won two hands during that time, and only
twice did the winner get to claim two garments.

I was one of the double claimants. I got Tom's last sock, and Gary's pants.
As before, I helped a straining penis escape through the fly. This time, I
gave it a couple of pumps, and a kiss on the tip. I was rewarded with a
sharp intake of breath and a groan.

I only had one garment to lose, and it was only in real jeopardy once, when
I had the worst hand but Laurie had the best, and good old Stan gave up his
pants to the cause. Laurie followed the example I set, and slipped out what
I call the operating system. I compare Stan's penis to DOS 3.3. Not too
big, but very dependable; a real workhorse. She proceeded to give him a
full ride, all the way in and out of her mouth twice, leaving a lipstick
ring on the head. At that point, there were three "flagpoles" in various
stages of erection, but the only two nipples in full view were attached to
my breasts.

The next four hands substantially increased the skin showing. Laurie had
her slacks claimed. The very next hand saw Julie lose her slacks, and Mel-
issa join me in toplessness. Stan enjoyed claiming those two garments.
While he was claiming Melissa's bra, she was holding his penis in both her
hands and he seemed to be moving a bit sluggishly, but with a big grin on
his face. Somehow, I do not think Stan was cognizant of our private agree-
ment about no body fluids. Frankly, I was reconsidering it myself, as long
as I could stay away from Tom, who had just lost his shirt. When Fred lost
his pants to Melissa, I thought he was going to go off right then and there.

All of a sudden, it was eleven o'clock. We took a break. It was definitely
time to stretch, to hit the bathroom, to have a snack. I was a little self-
conscious walking around topless, just my virtually see through panties pro-
tecting me from total nudity. Melissa was topless like me. Laurie and
Julie were in bra and panties and Kathy still had her slacks. Among the
men, Tom still wore his trousers. The other four men were wearing T-shirts
and undershorts, each with a slightly erect penis peeking out from the fly.

The men had an edge in clothes. They had eleven garments. We women only
had nine. I was not too sure what significance that had, but I was to find
out soon enough.

I had at least twice the chips Tom had. Stan had about what he started
with. Everyone else was down to a short stack or was running on fumes. I
had no real interest in buying anyone's clothing, but since I had the money,
I thought I would have to be a sport about it.

I went into a corner, as much out of modesty as to see the sculpture on the
shelf. Stan came up behind me. He cupped my breasts, gave them a little
squeeze and whispered, "So far, you are the class act of this assembly."

"How so?"

He gave my breasts another squeeze. "Does that answer your question?"

I looked around at the other women. Melissa had a bit of tit sag, but she
had a better waistline than I did. I do not need to drop any weight, but I
need to get rid of an inch around the waist and hips. Laurie and Kathy were
pretty firm and sculpted, but Julie was chunky. The women as a group looked
better than the men. Only Stan and Gary looked like they were in good
shape. The others were on the way towards turning to lard, but they were
not there yet.

Stan was still playing manual brassiere, holding me in nice and tight. I
backed up against him, wiggled my butt, and caused his penis to take offic-
ial notice of where it was. I turned my head and whispered back to him.
"You're not half bad yourself. You might be quite a prize tonight, and
somebody new at that."

"You'll be quite a special attraction yourself. You know, there is a lot
you can do without exchanging body fluids."

Stan had verbalized what had been going through my mind for at least an
hour. "No exchanges?"

"No exchanges," he replied.

"Except with each other!"

The girls got another squeeze for my answer.

I did not pay too much attention to what went on between the others during
the break, but when we resumed our seats, I noticed all four penises on dis-
play were more erect than I remembered them. It seemed as if Stan and I
were not the only ones to have a little "chat."

The next hand was one of those poker hands straight from hell. My former
mother-in-law would have called it "nothing with nothing." Before the draw,
nobody bet much, so it did not cost too much to stay in. I discarded the
entire hand. I got back five useless cards, with a jack high. My only hope
was that a woman would have the best hand. No such luck, but at least Tom's
was not the best. Actually, Stan won the pot with a great bluff, but the
high hand, and therefore the temporary owner of my panties, was Bob.

I sighed and stood up, reluctantly ready for the show to begin. As Bob wal-
ked around the table, I noticed not only did he have a major league hardon
poking through his fly, but his penis was actually pulsing as he walked.
For a moment, I thought he might shoot his wad on his way around the table.

I figured I might as well make the most of my unveiling, not that there was
much that was not already on view. When Bob came within range, I reached
out and shook his penis as if I was shaking someone's hand, and he went off
right on the spot. A real Texas gusher. I wondered if he was a Texas oil-
man. A few years ago, I would have knelt down, placed that functioning in-
strument in my mouth and sucked it dry. Since it was a penis I had never
met before, I still knelt, but I alternated firing it at my left nipple,
then at my right nipple. I used the tip of Bob's penis to rub his cum all
over my breasts. When he was finished, I stood, gave him a big hug, and
wiped myself off as well as I could on his T-shirt.

I looked around the table, half-way expecting to see some sexual activity
amongst my fellow players, but they all seemed to be mesmerized by Bob and
me.

"Well, big boy, it seems I have something of yours."

Bob's hands were actually trembling when he claimed his prize. I thought I
might get some action in return, but he simply slipped the panties down my
legs, and I stepped out of them. He picked them up and walked back to his
chair. He had not said one word.

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During the last refreshment break, Julie put a large stack of towels and
washcloths on the corner of the bar. I walked over and got a washcloth,
waited for the water in the bar tap to warm, and wiped my breasts off. I
took a towel, walked back to the table and rubbed myself dry. I put the
towel on the back of my chair and sat down to resume play. At first, I
tried to cross my legs, a concession to modesty, but then figured what the
hell. I knew the rules, accepted the terms, and had been the first one nak-
ed. I would not be the last, so let them look if they wanted to. I spread
my legs a bit. They had certainly seen similar sights before. Besides, I
had almost half the chips on the table.

Without any clothes to worry about losing, I could concentrate on the money.
If I had nothing, I could fold and only lose my ante. That meant that, more
likely than not, somebody naked would have the worst hand. At the moment,
that meant only me. When a woman won, all the men who could not beat the
worst woman's hand of the women still with clothing would lose. If a man
won, it was the worst hand among the woman with clothing who would give up
something.

The next hand proved how much easier it was to play just one kind of poker
while everyone else was still playing two kinds. I got another garbage
deal, so I folded and lost only one white chip, my ante. Those women with
bad hands had to stay in at least through the draw, hoping to improve their
hand, because with only four women still with clothing, there was a greater
chance of being the woman on the bubble, the one with the worst woman's
hand. Except for Kathy, the next woman to lose was going to show some seri-
ous skin.

The men had a slightly different dilemma. Since there was theoretically at
least a twenty percent chance that I would get the worst woman's hand, and
since I no longer counted as the worst woman's hand, if a woman won, the
losing men had a twenty percent chance of having to beat the second worst
woman's hand.

It cost everybody else four bucks to stay in through the draw, and some of
those players were about out of chips. Six people folded after the draw.
Presumably some of the folders felt safe, with good enough cards they did
not fear being low hand, while some of the others did not help their cause
by staying in, and were hoping somebody of their gender would win. Only
Bob, Tom and Kathy stayed in, and the pot kept growing, as they all kept
raising. Kathy turned out to be the big winner, and Bob was virtually tap-
ped out. Fred and Gary were unable to beat Melissa's poorest hand, and
Kathy claimed their T-shirts.

Before the next hand was dealt, Bob said, "I need some chips."

"So do most of us," said Laurie.

"Well, I need an offer on something." He was looking directly at me, since
I had so much of the money.

"Stand up, Bob," I said. "Your T-shirt isn't something I'd want, smeared
with all that cum. I wouldn't give you even five bucks for it. Maybe one
of the other women would give you more, as a souvenir or something." I
paused. Nobody spoke. I continued, "I'll tell ya what I'm gonna do. I'll
give you a choice. Fifty bucks for your shorts, or a hundred bucks for my
panties."

Before Bob could reply, Tom said, "House rules. You can't put them back
on."

"Gee, Tom, I'd think somebody else might enjoy taking them off if they got
lucky, but Julie already told me I couldn't redress. However if I own my
own panties, it makes the end game negotiations easier for me."

Tom still wore my bra around his neck, and he was the only man there I wan-
ted nothing to do with. Tom however seemed to want somebody new, and he
told Bob, "I'll give you $110.00 for Roxanne's panties."

Bob looked at me, suddenly an auctioneer with a hot property on the block.
I considered the possibilities. Tom already had my bra, I did not know just
what was meant by "negotiation," but if he won the bidding, he would cer-
tainly have the upper hand in whatever negotiations would take place. I
might be expected to fuck him to regain possession. On the other hand, Tom
was a far superior poker player than Bob. If I let Tom buy my panties, he
would be at a poker playing disadvantage, because he was bidding about half
his chips for them. I took a chance, "I'll bid $120.00 for my own panties."

Tom bid $130.00.

I bid $140.00.

Tom bid $145.00.

"Pay the man," I said.

I think Tom was shocked. He probably thought he could get me to offer Bob
even more, and then drop out of the bidding himself, leaving me with chips
much closer to the amount he himself had. True, he still wore his trousers
and underwear, and he owned my bra, panties, blouse, a shoe and a sock, but
I still thought I had outfoxed him, because he only had about $65.00 or
$70.00 left.

I had the best woman's hand on the next deal, but Bob, the poor poker play-
er, had the best hand. The pot was only about $65.00, $15.00 of it from me
and $15.00 from Tom. Bob claimed Julie's bra with great relish. He had his
hardon back and poking through his fly, as he removed his prize, he spent a
couple of minutes kissing her breasts and nipples. At this point, Julie
only had four bucks in chips, and she sold her panties to Bob for $60.00.
He laid her on a couch to remove the panties, spreading her legs as he slid
them off her left leg. He leaned down, and slipped his penis into her for a
few quick pumps. When he removed it, it was wet and shiny. The game had
definitely moved up one level, to a new dimension, and I was excited about
it. So it appeared were most of the others.

I dealt the next hand. "No gimmicks, straight poker," with only the manda-
tory jokers wild. I probably would have folded after the draw, except by
the time the bet got around to me, only Bob and Melissa were still in, and
neither of them had bet heavily. I saw them, but did not raise. When nei-
ther of them raised, the betting was over. To my surprise, my three queens
were high hand. To my greater surprise, the worst woman's hand from the
women still wearing something was Melissa's pair of aces, and even more sur-
prising, three of the men could not beat Melissa. I was going to have a
good time now.

The first garment was Tom's trousers. This was my third pair, and just like
the other times, I reached in through his fly and extracted Tom's penis. It
was huge. It was clearly the biggest there, but rather than excite me, it
was a turnoff, because it looked so much like my ex-husband's. Tom was vir-
tually a physical clone of my ex, as well as being loud and obnoxious. He
was probably a lazy lover too, just like my ex.

I did not stay turned off for long. I claimed Stan's T-shirt, paying some
attention to those erogenous nipples of his, which got almost as erect as
his penis still poking out through his fly. I noticed some pre-cum on the
end of his penis. "He's ready for you ladies."

I moved along to Gary next. My good old college buddy and former neighbor.
He had been an occasional sex partner a few years back and, our host here in
Dallas. His penis was out at ninety degrees, hard as a rail, and very long.
I took his hand, and led him to the bar, where I took a condom from the box
Julie had put out with the towels during the last break. If possible, his
penis got even longer when I took the condom. He went willingly to the big
couch in the middle of the room, facing the table. I took Gary's shorts
off, and unrolled the condom up his penis. What I had seen and done left me
well lubricated, and I pushed him down on his back on the couch and mounted
him, impaling myself on his phallus with my back to him, facing the table.
It did not take too many ups and downs and vaginal contractions before I
could feel Gary go off inside me and inside the condom. Within seconds, I
followed, with an orgasm so intense that I got cramps in my legs.

I lost all track of time and space. Gary had amazing control and staying
power. I do not know how long my orgasm lasted. It seemed like many min-
utes, but I really had no idea of time.

Eventually, I opened my eyes and looked up at the table. Nobody was there.
Something was covering the table, and clothes were strewn all over the room,
and couples were intertwined, sucking and fucking and making love.

My orgasm had finally subsided, but Gary was still hard, still thrusting. I
could still feel the pleasant afterglow of our fucking. I knew I could cum
again. I looked over my left shoulder at him. "You're not finished yet,
are you?"

Gary shook his head no.

I lifted myself from his member. There was an audible "plop" sound as the
vacuum broke. "Let me get on the bottom."

His erection was still as strong and stiff as when I claimed his underpants.
The condom still looked okay. I knew we should get another one, but we did
not. I lay down on the couch, one leg on the floor, the other one on the
top of the back of the couch. I lifted my hips, and Gary slid his penis
right in. He was not quite as tall as I, and he was in the perfect position
to suck my nipples. My nipples are hardwired directly to my cunt, and in
short order, I was thrusting my hips up in time with his every stroke, con-
tracting my muscles against his penis as Gary nursed himself on my breasts.
There was no milk to be had, but if there had been, he would have drained
the whole supply. While Gary was nursing, my hands were alternating between
lightly fingering the back of his balls and the rim of his asshole. If any-
thing, my second orgasm lasted even longer than the first. This time,
Gary's control and staying power reached the end of his endurance, and he
started to cum just after I did. It was an incredible sensation.

Time passed. We must have dozed, Gary atop me and inside me. I awoke to
the sound of snoring. I was still on my back, Gary still firmly inside me,
with the semi-standard early morning erection that most of the men I have
waken up with seem to have. I could tell the snoring was not coming from
Gary, but all I could see was his face and the ceiling. I began to rhyth-
mically contract my muscles around his penis, and he responded in his sleep.
I alternated contracting and thrusting, and he began to breathe irregularly,
taking in great gasps of air. His breathing woke him up just as we came to
orgasm.

He kissed my lips. "What a nice way to wake up."

I smiled. "And that was a nice way to go to sleep."

I looked around the room for the second time since three queens put me on
this couch with this man I had not seen for years. The only people I saw
were Stan, sleeping on his back and snoring, naked but for what appeared to
be a wrinkled and well used condom, and Laurie, wearing even less than Stan,
using his stomach for a pillow. Stan had kept it in the family too, so to
speak, with old friend Laurie. I heard voices through the sliding door to
the patio. Gary and I walked outside, hand in hand.

Frank, Melissa and Kathy were in the hot tub. Somebody was in the swimming
pool. Melissa said, "Well, you folks sure put on an exciting show."

I blushed. I'm not sure why.

Kathy pointed towards the outdoor shower. "Shower off and come on in. The
jets will reinvigorate you."

Gary and I walked over to the shower. There was a small plastic trash can
with some used condoms in it. We turned on the water, and waited for it to
get warm. Gary began to roll off the condom.

"I put it on. I'd like to take it off for you. I've never taken one of
those things off before."

"No, you'll give me an erection, and they are easier to get off when they
are a little baggy. You can watch."

It looked a little difficult to roll down, as Gary's pubic hair kept getting
caught in the rolls of rubber, and it seemed like he had to tear some of the
little hairs out by the roots to get it off.

"The least I can do is clean it off." I took the bar of soap, lathered my
hands with it, and knelt down so Gary's penis was at eye level. I began to
soap it carefully. It miraculously expanded, and all the wrinkles went
away. I was able to get it thoroughly soaped. Then I soaped the rest of
his body. Finally, I put the soap in the soap dish and carefully hand-rub-
bed all the soap off his body.

I took the soap from the dish and handed it to Gary. "Your turn."

He reciprocated. He took special care of all my special places. It was not
so much a sexual experience as a warm and gentle, sensual experience.

When we turned off the water, it was COLD. It was COLD walking over to the
spa. When we got in, it was HOT. The comparison was staggering. Those
perky, pointed nipples I had en route to the hot tub were gone. They re-
tracted to their normal, non-aroused state, present and accounted for, but
not standing at attention.

I was between Frank and Kathy. Gary was across the tub, next to Melissa.
Melissa's hands were under the water, and Gary soon had a smile on his face.

The bubbles were so comfortable. One of the jets was positioned on the
shelf where I was sitting, and where it was doing me the most good. The
bubbles then rose along the front of my body, and they felt delicious as
they tickled my nipples back to life. I wanted to enjoy the arousing feel-
ing of the bubbles rising around my pussy, but as I got used to the hot wa-
ter, I found myself getting drowsy.

I may have dozed off for awhile, I'm not sure. Suddenly, I felt a hand on
the inside of my thigh. Then a second hand on the inside of the other
thigh. They felt good. The bubbles were still lapping at my lips, and the
hands occasionally brushed the same area, sending little jolts up through
me. I spread my legs a bit wider. I opened my eyes. Gary and Melissa were
across the spa from me, Gary appeared to be sleeping. I was still between
Frank and Kathy. That thought jolted me wide awake. One of the hands gent-
ly rubbing my pussy had to be Kathy's. I did not want that! Not a woman,
but the sensation felt so nice. I wanted to say "NO!," but the words would
not come out. The excitement was definitely building up inside my loins.
Somebody's finger had slipped inside my channel, and was making tight little
circles. Kathy turned, and began to suck at my engorged nipple. It felt so
good. I took my hands and groped beneath the water. I found Frank's penis
with my right hand, then Kathy's cunt with my left.

I felt a hand move up from my thigh to my right breast. It was a big and
hairy hand, Frank's hand, which meant that Kathy was the one inside me, dri-
ving me up to a higher and higher pitch.

I felt myself responding to Kathy's finger probing in and out. My muscles
were contracting as they would around a penis. My left hand seemed to have
a mind all its own, as it groped without success for Kathy's clitoris. My
right hand had a firm grip on Frank's penis. I'm sure I was just tugging on
it. Kathy kissed and licked and sucked and chewed on one nipple and Frank
was gripping my other breast all the while. Kathy's finger was like an in-
satiable, all knowing penis. The woman's touch was different than a man's.
Kathy clearly knew what worked on her, and that was what she gave me! There
was no erection to lose, and the motion just kept coming, and so did I.
Frank finally took his hand from my breast, and using both his hands, for-
cibly removed himself from my grasp. I scarcely noticed, as I was caught up
with what Kathy was doing to me. Frank moved across my body, and faced
Kathy.

Still continuing to work with her magic finger, Kathy changed position, and
somebody's hand removed mine from Kathy. Frank moved between her legs. It
was obvious that Frank and Kathy were fucking while Kathy continued to fin-
ger fuck me with tremendous results. Kathy did not stop giving me orgasms
until after Frank had provided one for her.

After it was over, Kathy and I hugged each other, Kathy leaning back against
the coping of the spa, with me on top, breasts to breasts, pubes to pubes.
I was grinding against her a bit, and she was responding, but mostly we were
just hugging.

This was only my second woman to woman experience. The first had been two
years ago, after playing tennis. I had deliberately avoided any possible
subsequent event, not because I did not like it, but because I liked it too
much, and was therefore afraid. I fell asleep in Kathy's arms, satiated,
tired, and a little concerned about my sexuality.

This time, it was the smell of strong coffee, bacon, and cinnamon that woke
me. Julie and Frank were bringing out steaming platters of bacon and scram-
bled eggs and hot cinnamon rolls. It must have been nearly noon, and I was
famished.

An entirely different group of naked people gathered around the long patio
table for brunch than the group of casually dressed people who had gathered
around the same table for dinner some eighteen hours before. Interestingly,
the table talk was not about last night, but was a continuation of the same
politics and jobs and the economy and the middle east and the petroleum
business and the cost of living in Texas as we had discussed at dinner. The
only difference was that everybody was naked, and nobody seemed the least
bit self-conscious about it. It was early in the spring, unseasonably warm
for Dallas at this time of the year, somebody said. Thank goodness, I
thought.

After eating, Julie said "I'm not sure I want to finish the poker game, and
I don't think we need to do any "further negotiating." There was no addi-
tional discussion, and we trooped into the game room and, after some sear-
ching for and trying on of underwear, we all managed to get dressed.

Frank uncovered the poker table, and we sat at our places and he cashed us
out. I had $560.00, Bob had $227.00 because he had sold my panties to Tom,
who fortunately for me derived no benefit from their possession, and Stan
had $191.00. Everybody else cashed in $20.00 to $40.00. I repaid Stan the
$35.00 I had borrowed, and stuffed the balance in my purse.

Shortly after, we said out goodbyes, and got into the car with Gary and Lau-
rie. As Gary drove us back to their home, nobody said anything. On enter-
ing their living room, Laurie said that she was so turned on by the game
that she and Gary would not be downstairs until breakfast time.

I looked at Stan and said "neither will we." We spent the next eighteen
hours in bed, fucking and napping and fucking and napping. It was incredi-
ble!

A F T E R W O R D

It took us longer to drive home than we expected. We spent more time in bed
and less time sightseeing than we planned. We had some extra cash, and
stayed in nicer motels, too. Almost every time we thought about the party,
we became so incredibly turned on that we ended up making love.

Even after we got back to San Diego, we spent more time together than usual,
and more of that time was spent "staying in." Once we began to draft this
story, every hundred lines or so, Roxanne would come over and review what
had happened so far. We made minor changes to more accurately reflect what
really happened, and then we usually ended up in bed.

A writing project of less than a week managed to take nearly a month. We
are both glad it did. We do not know where our relationship will go from
here, but we do know that we have another in a series of special memories we
can share, no matter what.
____________________________________________________________________________
A B O U T T H E A U T H O R S

Roxanne L. Green is president and chief operating officer of a small family
business headquartered in San Diego. She spends about half her time on the
road, visiting their various locations, meeting with local managers, review-
ing operations and occasionally putting out fires. Her father is the sole
stockholder and chief executive officer. Roxanne is his only surviving
child, and presumably his heir. She is twenty-five years old, was married
briefly at age twenty, and divorced at age twenty-two. The court ordered
her to pay her ex-husband alimony for three years, but the dumb shit got
married almost as soon as the divorce was final, so she was able to stop
paying him. He invited her to his wedding to rub her nose in it. She at-
tended and had a lovely time. Her major interest, besides seeing mutual
friends, was to make sure he went through with it. He did not have a clue
about what effect his remarriage would have on his alimony, and she waited
several months before she told him, all the while ignoring his pleas for his
monthly checks. She dates several men, but Stan is her most frequent es-
cort. She and Stan have been friends and confidants since preschool. They
were in the same classrooms from kindergarten through sixth grade, and then
had many common classes from junior high school through university. Friends
do not understand why she and Stan do not get married, but she is not sure
that either of them are ready to settle down yet. She is "sort of" working
on her MBA. She is actively involved in KPBS, Public Broadcasting in San
Diego, fund-raising.

Stan G. Stanely is twenty-six years old. He has an engineering related sat-
ellite technology job. He lucked into the job, where he runs night shift
operations. He signed a non-disclosure employment agreement, and it is such
a secret that not even Stan knows what the hell it is he really does. He is
a writer of sorts, with several pieces published. He has not made big bucks
writing. He has been writing The Great American Pornographic Novel for al-
most six years. He enjoys the research when he has time and willing re-
search assistants. He was almost married, but his fiancee called it off at
the church door. Stan agrees her change of mind was for the best. She
lives in Anaheim with her husband. Stan is Godfather to her son. She edits
Stan's work, but did not edit this story, and has not seen the novel, and is
his agent. Stan inherited a penthouse from his grandfather. It has a fan-
tastic view, and a hot tub on the deck. He works about eighty hours a week,
with only a few nights off each month. He likes to relax mornings after
work in the hot tub. His place is so isolated that paparazzi with a 200mm
telephoto lens could not tell if he is circumcised, so he likes to enjoy the
tub au natural. One of his big regrets is his inability to have a meaning-
ful social life starting at seven-thirty in the morning. Not having a so-
cial life or a house payment, Stan banks most of his obscene salary. When
the project is done, he plans to quit work, travel, research and write until
he runs out of money unless his employer comes up with another project at
least as fun as this one. Based on his desire to see the world as an unem-
ployed person, he does not consider himself good marriage material. The
only likely candidate is Roxanne. If anything, she works even more hours
than he does, and most of her working hours are spent on the day side. At
work, the really important people work days, and Stan could not get on days
at anywhere near what he earns nights.