I should have known better. Of course I should. I knew how much my husband’s poker nights meant to him, and how competitive they had become. I don’t mean the cards though. Sure, they all wanted to win, but after ten years or more of the boys playing against each other, the edge had gone. Rob enjoyed victory at the card table, as did his mates, but some nights they won and some they lost. They never bet what they couldn’t afford to lose – on the cards, at least.
About a year ago, so Rob told me, the poker itself had started getting a little stale and the gang were looking for ways to spice things up a bit. For a few months they got competitive over who could put on the best spread. One month they would be at Chris’ house and he got in some speciality beers instead of the usual cans of Carling. A few weeks later at Jim’s place they were treated to a sushi buffet. They came to our home and Rob got champagne.
That could only go so far – Dan joked that he’d hire a yacht and lap dancers, if only his girlfriend would let him re-mortgage the house to pay for it. They still needed something more than just the poker. That was when the side bets started. A few quid wagered on the winner of a football game, then on the colour of the next car to drive down the street or how attractive the next woman to walk past the window would be.
It was my Rob who started what they called the “girlfriend bets”. They were at our house and next month they would be at Jim’s.
“I bet you thirty pounds you can’t get your Sal to dress in stockings and a short dress and serve us drinks at the next game.” I don’t think Jim was at all sure about it, but he couldn’t say no. He accepted the bet. Friday night four weeks later and, much to their surprise, sexy Sal was there in her little black dress reaching down to mid-thigh, flashing her stocking tops and suspenders, serving them drinks and snacks throughout the evening. She even made sure to bend over and give them a glimpse of her knickers.
She told me about it a week later, over coffee in Costa. Jim had been really nervous, almost stuttering as he’d asked her, but finally he’d got it out and she took it better than he had feared. She thought it was a bit of a laugh – easy money. Once Sal had gone for it, the rest of us girls were going to look like prudes if we said no and she was right – it was just harmless fun. The problem was, of course, that the boys couldn’t keep with the same bet. Each month the wager had to be just a little bigger and better than the last and each month one of the girls would have to be persuaded to go along with it. Sal had set one rule firmly in stone though: the boys paid out if they lost, the girls got the money if they won. If she was going to flash some flesh for a bet, she would damn well be the one who benefited.
At the end of that night it was Jim’s turn to make the next wager. He bet Dan thirty pounds that his wife wouldn’t lift up her top and flash her bra to them. “And we all want to get a good look, mate – none of this blink-and-they’re-gone crap.” he’d laughed. By this time the girls all knew the score. We weren’t all mates, but word had got around between us. Dan asked his wife and she was up for it. She was going to give them a good show.
At Dan’s place the next month, his wife wore a satin Wonderbra that pushed up her already-large breasts, along with a tight polo-neck top. When it was time for the reveal the boys were all sitting at the card table cheering and clapping. She pulled up her top to reveal her breasts with lots of flesh on display and sashayed round the table given them a little bounce on the way. If Dan thought maybe she’d gone further than he wanted, he hid it well and, naturally, she won the bet.
We girls were keeping an eye on it too. I think we all wondered how far it would go – how far we would go. Sure, it was just a bit of fun, but I found it pretty sexy too. I thought about Sal bending over, flashing the boys some thigh, revealing her knickers. I imagined it being me in front of all those men and it made me feel damn horny – enough that I brought myself off to that mental image more than once or twice.
Next up was Chris. Dan bet him that his girlfriend wouldn’t serve them drinks and snacks wearing just sexy lingerie. Dan’s girlfriend, Abby, is one of those women I’d hate if I didn’t like her so much. A svelte five foot eleven with high cheekbones she’d tried out as a model in her teens and despite getting some work realised it wasn’t for her. If that isn’t annoying enough she’s clever as well as gorgeous: Masters in Microbiology, working on her PhD. But despite being beautiful and intelligent, she was frustratingly nice.
She did it too. Abby’s choice for the evening was a low-cut lacy silk bra and a thong that left very little to the imagination, both black to show off her pale skin to its best advantage. She played the part, coming in with beers and crisps throughout the evening and, to great applause, “accidentally” dropping an empty plate or cup a couple of times so she had to bend over and pick it up, her shapely bottom laid out on display for the gang.
The following month the boys should have gone to Andy’s flat but Andy had recently split up with his girlfriend. That wasn’t the reason Rob gave me of course. I was assured it was only because Rob was decorating, and his place was a mess. Right. Fact is, the girlfriend bets had rapidly become the highlight of the boys’ sessions – no girl, no poker. With Andy being missed out, it was Rob’s turn to play host – but what would the bet be? Where could they go after having ex-model Abby prancing around in her undies for the evening?
“So,” Rob opened with that evening, over dinner. You know when someone’s trying so hard to sound relaxed and casual that it comes out forced and you can see straight away they’re nervous as hell? That.
“Yes?” I innocently prompted him. If he thought he was going to get any help from me on this one he was very much mistaken.
“Erm…you know our poker nights?”
“Yes.”
“You remember I told you about the bets we had with the girls?” Now this was interesting. True, Rob had told me about that – and lucky for him too, as he’d have been wearing his balls as a necklace if I’d found out from someone else first. But truth be told, Rob hadn’t exactly gone out of his way to fill me in on all the details. Most of what I knew I’d got from Abby and Sal.
“Not sure I do remember.” I lied “Can you remind me?” I’ll save you Rob’s tortured efforts to explain what the boys had been doing without making it sound like he was desperately perving on other women. Phrases like “I hardly noticed, to be honest.” and “Just a bit of harmless fun.” cropped up as I tried to keep a straight face. We had both long finished eating when he managed to finally drag himself to the point of the conversation.
“Here’s the thing. Chris and Andy have bet me £60 then when the lads come round here in a couple of weeks, you’ll serve drinks topless.” I wasn’t expecting that! Flashing a bit of thigh or wearing a push-up bra, that was one thing. The lads would have seen more flesh at the beach or swimming pool. But putting my naked breasts on display for everyone – that was going further. A lot further, it seemed to me.
“Whoa, stop right there Tiger!” I told him. “You want me to get my tits out for your friends? Really?”
“It’s just a bit of fun.” he pleaded. That line again.
“Fun for who exactly?
“Come on babe, it’s no big deal. It would just be for a few seconds – you take off your bra, flash the puppies, we pocket the winnings…”
“I pocket the winnings.” I corrected him.
“…that’s what I said babe, you pocket the winnings and we’re all done.”
“Let me think about it.” I told him.
“But babe…”
“I said let me think about it. It’s not a ‘no’ – give me a few days.”
I wasn’t comfortable. I’ve never been an exhibitionist and I wasn’t sure whether flashing my breasts to Rob’s friends was better or worse than to complete strangers. On the other hand, the other girls had all done their bit – and enjoyed it. Did I want to be the one killjoy? I had the beginnings of a plan that might just keep everyone happy. The next evening I met up with Sal and Abby in a local bar and, over the course of a few cocktails, we agreed.
###
Saturday evening. Seven days before poker night.
“I’ve thought about your…proposal.” I told Rob as we finished dinner.
“And?”
“First, thank you for not hassling me about it – I needed a bit of time to work out a few things.” I lent over and gave him a peck on the lips. He nodded.
“…but I’m not going to agree to it.”
“Oh.” Rob was crestfallen.
“Instead, I’ve got a different proposal for you – for all of you.”
“Go on…” he said cautiously.
“The price is one thousand pounds – two hundred from each of you. If Sal, Abby and I all spend the evening serving you boys with drinks and snacks we get the money. Each of us will be wearing knickers, stockings, suspenders, high-heeled shoes.. and nothing else at all. That’s the deal, take it or leave it. I assume you’ll want to discuss it with your friends.”
It was a lot of money to see some bare breasts – the boys could have gone to any number of titty bars, seen a lot more and paid a lot less. But over the last few months I reckoned these girlfriend bets had taken on something of a life of their own. Either way it seemed likely this would be the last one – would they go out with a bang or a whimper? I didn’t have to wait too long to find out. Rob went into the other room and, after an hour on Skype, he was back.
“We’re on.” he said. One thousand pounds, but we expect you girls to earn your money.
“Don’t worry, we will.” I told him.
###
Poker night. Boys were strictly banned from coming upstairs as Abby, Sal and I got ourselves ready.
“I wish I had tits like yours.” Abby said to us as we all put on our make-up. An empty wine bottle lay on the floor – we were making short work of the contents of our glasses, a little dutch courage for the night ahead.
“Are you kidding me? Tall skinny, ex-model jealous of dumpy five foot two midget?” Sal exclaimed, incredulous. “Sorry, Abby, but no-one is going to believe that for a moment.”
“Curvy is not dumpy!” Abby told her. “Have you got any idea how much stick I got from the boys at school for these little things. ‘Ironing board’, ‘mosquito bites’,’pancake’,’zit-chest’. I’d have given anything for a decent cleavage.”
“And how many of those boys were sick to their stomachs when they saw you in that perfume advert and realised they could have dined out on the story of how they dated a model instead of how they teased one?”
Abby laughed “Half the little shits probably say they dated me anyway.”
“You look great.” Sal told me.
“Thanks, babe.” We’d had a girly shopping trip earlier in the day to buy our outfits – spending a good chunk of our winnings before we’d even got our hands on them. Each of us wore black satin knickers, fishnet stockings, suspenders and shiny red heels. Abby was sporting a tiny thong with Sal and myself going for high-cut briefs.
Finally the three of us were ready: make-up as good as it was going to get, stocking seams straight and three pairs of breasts proudly on display. All five boys were downstairs. We could hear they had started playing a hand, but there was no doubt what the main event of the evening was going to be.
“Ready?” I asked. The three of us all clasped hands. “Ready!” Abby and Sal replied. Together, we headed down the stairs. I’d prepared the food and drink earlier (I’m not a complete amateur) so, holding trays of drinks and bowls of snacks, the three of us stood outside the door to the front room where the poker game was in full flow.
“We’re all here boys, hope you’ve got your money ready!” I called out. From inside the room the five of them started clapping. “IN! IN! IN!” they chanted. Taking a deep breath, and with a final glance at my partners in crime, I pushed the door open and, hips swaying and lips pouting, the three of us entered. The boys burst into loud cheers which didn’t stop as we made our first round of the table, handing out refreshments with our own goods laid out on display.
We did a couple more rounds, retiring to the kitchen and to our wine glasses in between each. By the third time, and with more help from some friendly bottles of fermented grape juice, we were pretty relaxed, enjoying ourselves. I made a point of bending forward when I served each of the guys, brushing my breasts against their arms. Abby seemed to getting pretty clumsy, forever dropping things and having to pick them up – bending at the waist to do it, showing off that cute bottom with barely a piece of dental floss to protect her modesty. Sal, who’s breasts were the biggest of us all, walked around holding a tray, her forearms pressing her tits together, showing them off at their best. The boys made no secret of how much they appreciated our efforts. This was fun.
The lads were putting away plenty of beers too and on our fourth refreshments round we walked in on a heated, and no doubt alcohol-fuelled – blow-job debate.
“Got no end of shit from Tiffany,” Andy was saying about his ex “but I’ll give her one thing – I have never had a better blow-job. The things that girl could do with her tongue, just amazing.” He looked up as we came into the room. “Any of you girls want a few pointers on improving your oral technique, just give Tiff a call. For giving head, she’s the tops.”
“Bullshit.” I said, slamming another beer down on the table harder than I’d intended. I wasn’t going to take that from anyone – my oral technique was quality. “I bet you’ve never had a good blow-job so the first girl who comes along who’s half-way decent and you think you’ve found the princess of head.”
Andy laughed. “If you think you’re better than her, prove it.”
“Sure, you tell him Rob.”
“Woah, girl. Rob’s never been sucked off by Tiffany. I’m the only one who can compare. If you think you’re better than she is, you need to get on your knees and prove it.”
“Fine, trousers down big boy. Let’s see what you’ve got.” I didn’t even look at Rob. Whether he was horrified at his wife offering to go down on his friend, or turned on by it, or maybe both, I had no idea, and right then, after several glasses of wine, I didn’t care. My honour had been attacked, I was going to set the record straight.
“Stop right there.” We all turned. It wasn’t Rob. It was Abby. “I’m not taking this shit. I’m fucking amazing at giving head. How do you think I got those modelling jobs? If she’s going to prove it, so am I.”
“Me too.” Sal chimed in, whether from a genuine desire to prove her talents at taking a cock in her mouth or just carried along with the mood I didn’t know. The guys were grinning like Cheshire cats at this unexpected turn of events – as well they might.
“Ladies, we have a problem here.” Dan said. His wife was the only partner not here – I didn’t really know her so I hadn’t asked, though Sal was friendly with her. “Three girls, five guys. There’s no point you sucking off your own man – I’m guessing you do that often enough. So which of the other four is each of you going down on? We’ll let the cards decide.” He gathered them together – the hand they had been half-way through playing quickly abandoned in favour of a higher stakes game. After a thorough shuffle, he put the pack face down on the table.
“Let’s start with you.” he said, looking at me. “Rob gets you later, so for now it’s between me, Jim, Chris and Andy. We’ll cut for you, Aces high, highest wins. Jim cut first – the ten of clubs. Chris went next, a mock pout on his lips as he turned up the three of hearts. Dan smiled as he cut the queen of spades. Andy was last and couldn’t resist a shout of “YES!” as he showed the ace of diamonds. “Whoa there!” Dan said as Andy started undoing his trousers. “Let’s get everyone ready first.” Andy and I looked at each other. I slowly pushed my finger into my mouth, sucking it and running my tongue around it, my gaze on his crotch. He’d see Tiffany as a rank amateur by the time I finished with him.
“Next up is Abby.” Dan said. “It can’t be Chris, and Andy’s already taken so this is between me, Rob and Jim.” The three men cut the cards as before. Dan swore when he turned over a two, Jim got the five of clubs and so it was Rob’s turn to smile as his six of spades was enough to claim the prize. So my Rob would be getting a blow job from beautiful, ex-model Abby. I was hardly in a position to complain.
“Last we have the very sexy Sal.” Dan shuffled the cards again and slapped the pack down on the table. “Jim, Andy and Rob are out of the running, so this is between Chris and me.” Chris cut first, drawing the nine of spades. Dan blew in his hands and rubbed them together, before turning over the next card in the pack. The jack of clubs. “There we go,” he said. “Andy, Rob and I get to test your theory ladies. Let the experiment commence.”
###
Dan, Rob and Andy turned their chairs to face away from the table and all three unzipped themselves and pulled down their trousers and pants. I could hear Rob fumbling with his buttons but Andy was quick and within a few seconds his hard cock had sprung out. This was really happening – I was about to perform oral sex on a friend of my husband and in public. Across the table from me Abby and Sal dropped to their knees, but from that moment my mind was on one thing: I had a point to prove.
I ran my tongue around the head of Andy’s cock, then up and down the shaft. He was average-sized, perhaps slightly larger. His scent filled my nostrils – I could feel myself getting wet. Raising his cock up with one hand, I flicked my tongue over his balls, brushing over his dark, curly hair. Very gently, I put my lips to his testicles and was rewarded with a gasp of pleasure as I opened my mouth and sucked them in. Releasing them, I moved my attentions to the tip, dragging my wet lips back along his shaft to get there.
I avoided licking the ultra-sensitive tip directly and, swirling my tongue around the head and top of the shaft, concentrating underneath, I took him in. I could feel him expanding inside me, pressing on my lips, stretching my jaw. Keeping my tongue running up and down the underside, I swallowed him deep into my mouth, raising my body so I could tilt my head back and take him deeper. He gasped again as I felt the end of his cock pressing against my throat, and swallowed to massage it inside me. remaining on [poker night](https://thebestsexstories101.blogspot.com/2019/10/poker-night-orgy.html)
Source: reddit.com/r/Erotica/comments/draqce/pokernight_orgy