Cards

The Thursday night poker game was held in the windowless back room of the local men's apparel store. The room was better appointed than it might seem being behind a downtown business. There was a full sized leather sofa, two matching side chairs, a well stocked wet bar with a small refrigerator and a poker table with an overhead light.

The poker table was unusual. Instead of a standard, round or eight sided table, this table was kidney shaped with seats for six players and a place for the dealer on the concave side of the table. We had been playing the game for over seven years with the same table and, mostly, the same six players.

My name is Annabelle and I'm the dealer. My father owns the clothing store and I give him a small retainer every Thursday night to allow the game and look the other way. The kicker is, I get ten percent of every pot to cover the cost of the retainer and the booze with some left over for me.

For over a year, the same six players, in the same seats have been playing. Going around the table from my left are: Dale, Quinn, Mitch, Mike, Leo and Josh. All of them are married with white collar jobs. I've met their wives when they come into dad's store to buy work clothes and none of them have a reason to wander outside their wedding vows.

There's never been a hint of impropriety from the men. They get together every Thursday night to play poker and nothing else. They're all in their middle to late thirties and I'm at least ten years younger than them. I've never felt any desire to be anything more to them than the dealer of the Thursday night poker game.

That is until four weeks ago.

Four weeks ago the game started at eight pm, the usual starting time. We agreed, as usual, to play until ten o'clock or until someone tapped out. The stakes weren't high but it wasn't a nickel, dime, quarter either. Most pots consisted of some coins, dollar bills and an occasional five. That night the game was Texas Hold'em. The evening was nearing our agreed upon ending time and we decided to play one more hand.

In a highly unusual event, all six players were still in the game after the river card and the final betting was complete. I looked around the table trying to read the mood of the players. They all seemed confident of their chances.

I looked at Dale. "Whatcha have?" I asked.

Dale didn't move to turn over his cards. "Five inches," he said.

His response brought quiet giggles from the other five players and a shot to my libido. I didn't know if he was joking or serious but I decided to play along. It wasn't a difficult decision. I had broken up with my boyfriend and roommate of three years the past weekend and not having sex for seven days was starting to bother me.

"I get ten percent," I responded.

The giggling stopped and there was suddenly a serious atmosphere in the room.

"That would be a half inch," calculated Dale.

I turned to Quinn. "Are you bidding in this game?"

"Six inches," he said.

"Hummm," I said. "That would be six tenths of an inch. I'll tell you what. I'll just round up to the nearest inch. That's a total of two inches so far."

I polled the remaining players in turn. They all stated their bid without comment from the others. Except for Leo. Leo's bid of seven inches brought an outburst from Mitch. "Bull shit," he yelled.

I had six total inches bid. "Okay," I told the group. "The winner of this hand gets the pot, less ten percent, and his inch."

Before I could begin to call the hands, Dale interjected another option. "Why don't we play all or nothing?"

"How would that work?" I asked suspecting what he was thinking.

"The winner of this hand gets the pot and all six inches," he suggested.

The other five players immediately agreed. I didn't offer my opinion but, internally, I was in favor. So much so that I was beginning to get wet thinking about the possibilities.

When all the hands were turned over, Mike's full house had won. He raked in the pot, counted it and pushed ten percent in my direction. All of them counted their chips, cashed them in, stood up and started to leave.

"Whoa, Mike," I said.

"What?" he asked.

"You still have to collect your six inches," I stated.

That stopped traffic. "I thought we were just joking around," Mike said.

"One person's joke is another person's wet dream," I responded.

Mike smiled. The others fist bumped him on the way out.

When I heard the outside door close and latch, I looked at Mike. He looked lost, unable to fully comprehend what might happen. I prompted him.

"How do you want to do this?" I asked.

That didn't help him. If anything, he looked even more nervous. I realized that I had to take the lead. I took his hand, led him to the sofa and sat him down. I stood in front of him and began to play with the buttons on my shirt.

That got his attention. I watched his mood change from skepticism to certainty. When he adjusted himself in his jeans, I knew how this would end and I was more than ready. Slowly, but deliberately, I removed my shirt and draped it over the arm of the sofa.

Mike watched intently, his manhood increasing his discomfort. I waited and when his expression turned to one of uncertainty, I pointed to him. "Your turn," I mouthed silently.

He responded immediately. Seconds later, his shirt was lying on top of mine. He wasn't wearing an undershirt. I eyed his reasonably developed chest with a modest amount of hair. He was holding his breath, expanding his chest for my approval.

"Breathe," I said.

My turn. Smiling, I reached behind my back, unclasped my bra and let it drop to the floor in front of me.

Mike had forgotten how to breathe. "Oh my God," he croaked.

I'm not naïve. My breasts are not world class but they are nice. They're a full "C" cup and sag slightly from their size. My nipples are flush with the surface of my areola except when they're excited. That night they were excited, standing almost a quarter inch high.

To emphasize my breasts, I hefted them, one in each hand, and bounced them gently. Mike choked, probably on the excess saliva accumulating in his mouth.

His turn. I calculated that, except for foot wear, Mike would reach full exposure before me. He kicked off his shoes. I gave him a look that said, "That's it?" He smiled and took off his socks as well.

I kicked off my sandals. Even again and his turn.

If he had any doubts, he didn't show it. I guessed his reasoning was something like, what does it matter who gets naked first. We're both going to be naked. He stood and within seconds his jeans were on the arm of the sofa with the rest of our clothing.

He smiled at me and, with a gesture of supreme confidence, he reached into his boxer shorts and rearranged his erection.

I saw no reason to give him the advantage. With my own gesture of confidence, I opened my jeans, put my fingers into the waist band and quickly pushed down my jeans and panties together. I pulled them off my feet and stood proudly in front of him.

Only he wasn't standing. He had fallen back on the sofa and was sitting there in amazement. "Fuck," he managed to utter.

My hairless pussy was throbbing as I stepped closer to him, pushed his back against the rear of the sofa, took his shorts in both my hands and pulled. He lifted his hips and I removed his shorts completely. His erection was waving freely, pointing to my waiting pussy as I stood in admiration.

I moved toward him, intending to straddle his hips and his erection. "No," he whispered. He slid over on the sofa, sat me down and then lay me over with one foot over the back of the sofa and the other on the floor.

He positioned himself between my legs and paused. "Do I get more than six inches?" he asked.

"As long as it's the same six inches each time," I said.

Mike entered me. I held my breath as he slid inside. Fully impaled, he paused and then started a rhythmic stroking. Mike was a competent lover. He brought me to the edge but was unable to push me over. I attributed his lack of skill to his relationship with his wife. I assumed they had reached a plateau in their sexual activity that didn't fully satisfy either of them. I helped by rapidly circling my clitoris with my fingers until my orgasm exploded within me.

I could feel him nearing his own orgasm. "Anna," he whispered.

"Do it," I moaned.

Mike came inside me and, exhausted, fell on top of me.

I managed to extract myself, sat him up and sat next to him on the sofa. The next several minutes were awkward for both of us.

Silently, Mike found his clothing and dressed as I watched. Unable to look at me, he said, "Thank you," and then "Goodnight," as he left the building. I hoped his wife wouldn't ask why he was twenty minutes late getting home.

I sat on the sofa for several minutes. It hadn't been the highlight fuck of my life but I had gotten laid and I felt better. The pressure was off, temporarily.

I got up, dressed and cleaned the spot on the sofa. I put away the cards and chips and headed home.

The next Thursday, we gathered in the back room of the clothing store to play poker again. We sat in our usual seats. I traded chips for cash and shuffled the cards. "Same game?" I asked.

From the looks on their faces, I assumed they all knew what had happened after they all, except Mike, had left the week before. "Are we playing for chips or inches?" asked Dale.

That put the stakes squarely on the table. "Chips," I said.

I could see the disappointment on their faces.

"Inches if everyone is still in the hand after the river," I added.

Smiles all around.

The new possibilities changed the game. Everybody tried to stay in each hand for as long as possible hoping to win inches. When it became obvious that they couldn't win the hand, they quickly folded, knowing that if they quit, no one else could win inches either.

Except for the larger pots, the game proceeded as usual. Near nine thirty, the possibilities changed. Everybody was still in the hand before the river card was revealed. Here we were again. Inches were at stake. Six of them.

The river card helped no one. Against all odds, Mike won again. The others cashed in and left. This time there weren't any fist bumps, just looks of begrudging disbelief. I stood and watched them leave.

When the others had left, Mike stood up, came around the table, and kissed me.

Kissing was always special to me. In some ways, I considered it even more intimate than fucking. You were breathing each other's air and exchanging identical fluids. It was a two way experience, a perfectly symmetrical encounter, where each partner was involved to the same extent.

I kissed him back. The kiss led to a furious, tongue wrestling, spit swapping contest. We led each other to the sofa and undressed each other. I lay on the sofa in the same position as the week before, but instead of his erection entering me, his tongue penetrated my vagina.

His tongue, lips and fingers played havoc with my nerve endings. My orgasm started early and never stopped. No amount of twisting or convulsions of my body could free me from his oral embrace. Too late, and too soon, Mike relented and slid up my body and entered me. My orgasm adapted to the change in vaginal content and without pause.

He kissed me again, the slime from my pussy coating my lips and most of my face. I licked it off as best I could and kept kissing him, hoping for more. Hours (minutes?) later, Mike was about to unload inside me. I wanted to feel the heat of his ejaculate spread out inside me but I was unwilling to let go of the orgasm rattling up and down my spine between my pussy and my primitive brain.

Grateful for how much Mike had already given me, I squeezed my kegel muscles and held him in a vice like embrace. When I relaxed, he exploded. He pulsed a dozen times replacing my orgasm with a series of intense outbursts against my cervix.

We lay together until one of us could move. We sat alongside each other on the sofa and I kissed him. "Thank you," I said.

"I should be thanking you," Mike responded.

"Mike," I asked. "Why the difference from last week?"

"My wife will kill me if I told you," he cautioned.

"I'll never tell her or anyone else," I promised.

"Last week changed my attitude," he said.

"How?" I asked.

"Let me tell you," he said.

I didn't move.

"Last week I drove home conflicted. I had just had sex with another woman and the potential for guilt was immense. I concluded that the only way I could justify what had happened was to have even better sex with my wife. As confusing as that sounds, I took refuge in knowing that I could be a better lover to her than with you and that would somehow make what we did okay.

"When I got home, I kissed her, stroked her, undressed her and seduced her. We had the best sex we've had in a dozen years. She was confused but not willing to jeopardize my new found enthusiasm. We've had sex every day since then. Each time has been more intense than the last, including tonight before I came over here.

"What we did tonight was my way of thanking you and building even more intensity that I can take home to my wife."

"Shit, Mike," I said. "How can I respond to that?"

"You don't have to," he said. "Just know that you hold a special place in my life and a memory I'll carry to my grave."

"Do you think we'll ever refresh the memory?" I asked.

"If we keep playing for inches and I win," Mike laughed.

"Maybe some other time?" I asked.

"I don't know," he admitted. "It would take an extraordinary change in things for that to happen."

"I get it," I conceded. "I won't push it but I retain the right to hope and fantasize."

Watching Mike get dressed that evening was a happy occasion. Our mutual joy continued as we kissed goodbye. I was too tired to get dressed and clean up. I fell asleep, naked, on the sofa.

I woke sometime in the middle of the night, dressed, cleaned the sofa, put away the chips and cards and wandered home asleep on my feet. I overslept in the morning and called my job, explaining that I was sick and would be back in on Monday.

Last Thursday was different again. Same players, same game, same stakes, only this time nobody dropped out of the first hand. After the river, all six of them checked. It was only a few minutes after eight and already inches were in the pot.

I looked at each of them. "You guys think you're cute, don't you?" I asked.

Nobody responded, only smiled.

"You figure if everybody stays in every hand, then, sooner or later, everyone will win and collect six inches," I postulated.

Nobody spoke but Mitch and Josh nodded almost imperceptibly, a tell I couldn't ignore.

How in hell was I going to handle this and gain control again?

I stood up and walked to the sofa. With my back to them, I undressed. I turned around, spread my legs and arms and called, "Who's first?"

There was a scramble to get around the table and get undressed, everyone except Mike. Leo won the race. I lay back on the sofa and he entered me without foreplay. He was every bit of his seven inches.

That evening, I had sex with each of them, except Mike. He sat in the corner of the room trying to ignore what was happening on the sofa.

After the others had left, I looked over the back of the sofa at Mike. "Are you okay, Mike?" I asked.

"I hated what they did to you," he said.

"Come sit next to me," I ordered.

Mike sat on the end of the sofa. "Could you please get dressed," he asked.

I put on my jeans and shirt. I tucked my bra and panties behind a sofa cushion and sat next to Mike.

"Mike," I said. "It wasn't my finest moment and it's not going to happen again. Next week, we're going to play poker. Just poker. Chips and no inches. If they don't like it, they can quit or get a new dealer. Last week you told me how I taught you how to have a better sex life. Tonight, I realized that you had taught me the value of good sex."

Mike seemed to be thinking about what I said. "Do you think things in the game will ever be the same?" he asked.

"I don't know. That's up to the others," I opined.

"I guess we'll know next week," he said.

"I guess we will," I agreed.

We stood up and I kissed him. He paused and kissed me back.

"Thank you," he said. "Only good sex," he added.

"Only great sex," I emphasized.

This Thursday, everybody arrived on time. Everyone except Mike was giddy with anticipation. Mike was smiling happily.

We took our places at the table. I exchanged chips for cash and shuffled the cards.

"What's the game tonight?" asked Dale.

"Texas Hold'em," I said.

"What are we playing for?" Dale further asked.

"Chips," I said.

They all waited for me to add the obvious additional stakes. When I started to deal, Dale couldn't resist asking, "No inches?"

"No inches," I confirmed. "No inches in the future either," I added.

When everyone had their cards, Mitch asked, "Are we all right?"

"As long as we play poker with chips, we are," I responded.

The rest of the evening was somber. We played poker. Strategy was returned to normal and everyone, except Mike, left at ten pm.

While I packed up the chips and cards, Mike leaned on the table. "Anna," he said, "I have to share something with you."

"Okay," I said...

"Can I kiss you first?" he asked.

"You can kiss me anytime you want," I confirmed.

Mike came around the table. I stood and he took my face in his hands and kissed me. There was something special in that kiss. I couldn't tell if it was a beginning kiss or an ending kiss. Either way, something was about to change.

Mike held me in his arms. "My wife wants to meet you," he said.