Suzanne's Supreme Night of Poker

Finally, I pulled on some black sheer stockings that came up high under my dress. They would be the only thing that any of the guys might think was outside the normal, at first glance anyway.

The guys came to the house singly in their pickup trucks and parked in a line up the driveway that Tuesday, as usual, but all within fifteen minutes of each other. Billie was first, a little short guy with a small dark mustache and his ever-present baseball cap, a bit tense and serious, but his brown eyes were kind, his bearing unnaturally erect, like he was compensating for being so short. He had nervous hands that always were fidgeting with something - his keys, his glasses, a pen.

"Hi Suzanne," he said, and gave my cheek a quick kiss, and then shook hands with Jim.

Roderick came straight from the quarry, rockdust still on his boots. His big farmboy face, clean-shaven with red cheeks, always made him look ten years younger than the others. His arms were big, shoulders wide. He was a good straight-shooter, patient and attentive. For the most part he was usually quite reserved, but was capable of loud, noisy energy when surrounded by his band of brothers.

Rob, almost by tradition, was the last to arrive, and I had already seen to it that the boys each had their first Budweiser in hand.

"Hey good looking," he went as usual, his eyes going up and down me. I know he noticed the stockings, since he gave me a small, amused smile. "A black and tan."

"No heels, I see. Guess you're not playing tonight then." He gave me a quick kiss on the cheek.

I felt his hand on my hip when he leaned down for the kiss, not unusual, but I wondered if he could tell through the thin fabric that I didn't have regular panties on. My pulse quickened a notch.

"Well, we'll see," I replied, maybe a little impishly. "Night's still young."

He gave me an inquiring look but turned to the rest of the guys.

They started in on their game pretty much straight away, on the small, square, wooden four-legged table pulled to the center of the study, which is a cozier place than the living room.

I hung in the distance for the first hour or so, nursing a glass of wine at the kitchen table where I could glance at the game and hear the conversation. I came in a couple times to top up pretzels and see if any of the guys needed anything. I thought Rob gave me a longer than usual glance once, a vaguely lecherous smile on his face, his eyes on my breasts. I made sure he got a good look when I leaned over one time.

There was a marathon hand around eight PM, with a pile of protracted bidding and I could sense more tension in the air as the bets increased, and the guys were quieter, less bantering. Finally a whoop went up from Billie, and I heard a bunch of crowing about winning the pot, running the table, plus some complaining and whining about "Lady Luck" from the others.

I saw Jim's face was gloomier than usual, he didn't take losing easily, and I guessed from the jests that he had bet and lost the worst.

I sauntered in with a tray of beers, and opened ones for any of the guys who were done, or nearly so.

"Sounds like somebody won larger than usual," I said casually, surveying the guys.

"Billie cleaned up big time," said Roderick, making a face.

"Can't believe two pair did it," added Rob.

"Always tough to be the loser." I said this with exaggerated empathy, although I think only Rob picked up on my tone.

He gave me a long look-over, his eyes drifting from my stockings to my now erect nipples beneath my dress.

"Your guy took the the biggest hit, betting like a madman all the way to the end," he said. "Not sure his night will ever recover."

As I went around the table I made sure that the fellows saw the movement of my breasts inside my dress. By Jim's expression I knew that this was the first time he had noticed I was braless. His eyes reflected both interest and alarm.

Billie's eyes followed me hungrily, like he had never seen a girl's breasts move around inside a blouse untethered before.

"Well, we can't have poor Jimbo sulking, that would ruin it for everyone," I said.

Taking a deep breath, I then "accidentally" let the bottle-opener fall out of my hand and drop under the table. I put the tray down next to the cards and bent down under the table to retrieve the opener.

Jim's hand was reaching for it too, but I stopped him with a touch. My heart was racing.

I crawled under the table, knowing that maybe part of my rump would be visible, along with the wide black top-edgings on my stockings, to some of them anyway, as I went. I fetched the opener.

Underneath the table it was darker than the rest of the room of course, but I could see the crotches of all the guys arrayed in their four respective seats. It smelled sweaty, a bit musty, salty stale socks and boots and leather and male flavors.

I made my way over to Jim's crotch and, heart in my mouth, undid his belt and fly and fished his penis from his undershorts. It took the guys a few moments to figure out what was going on.

I liked his smell, as always. A bit sweaty, but with his own ballsy, crotch scent that never has ceased to excite my nose. His penis was soft, but by sucking lightly on his cockhead, and running my tongue along his dick's ridgeline, he hardened quickly.

But the boys had noticed I hadn't emerged from the table with the bottle-opener in hand, and one by one they realized what was happening.

A stunned silence, punctuated by a nervous cough or two, descended on the group.

I was acutely aware of myself, time slowing down, my unseen presence making a huge dent in each of these guys' consciousness. But they all knew I was there, right next to them but beneath, doing something to Jim that usually only occurred in private - for them in the quiet and seclusion of their own bedrooms, with their own wives. But their old friend - their host - they knew he was getting his cock sucked.

A couple feet crossed and uncrossed, maybe a beer bottle got lifted and put back down on the table, but it was unnaturally quiet as everyone stopped conversation and listened, all senses alert. I imagined they were looking at Jim's face, trying to figure out how much he was enjoying having his penis pleasured. He had initially half-resisted my advance, pushing his hips away, but had given in. I hadn't really left him any choice.

I delighted in feeling his cock grow in my mouth, become hard, feel so smooth and engorged on my tongue and along my lips. I made a little more noise than usual, wet licking sounds, knowing the guys above would be paying close attention.

I was intensely aware that there were three other cocks within reach. It wouldn't take much effort to get to any one of them. It was darkish under the table, enclosed, almost claustrophobic, but highly alluring. My own groin began to dampen. I felt like a teenaged girl again, doing something dangerous and daring on a date, something I might regret or would get me in trouble.

Finally, there was a nervous laugh and Billie said, "Well, looks like the loser's feelings are getting soothed." There were a couple chuckles, a bit forced.

After a few minutes, long enough to get Jim good and worked up without getting too close to an ending, I retreated and sat back on my haunches. I had to tuck my head down, there wasn't room to sit properly. I wasn't coming out yet.

A long awkward silence ensued. I was starting to wonder if I was going to have to issue instructions, sort of a disembodied voice from down under, to continue with the game, when Rob seemed to intuit what was next.

"Think it is my deal," he said, in his confident way, and I heard him shuffle and dish out the cards in turn to the rest of the crew, and another round was underway.

I looked at each of the crotches, one by one, trying to imagine what each penis was like underneath their trousers. My nerves were on edge, the next piece of my plan now very exciting to me.

The banter was sparser than usual, and a bit contrived. This hand was much shorter, and Roderick I judged to be the worst loser. Billie had won again by a bit.

My hands trembled a bit as I fussed with Roderick's fly and belt. Once upon a time I had been good at this sort of clandestine endeavor. Finally his cock sprang free, not real erect but hardly soft. I slid his foreskin up and down a couple times and I could feel his body stiffen when I took his cockhead in my mouth for the first go-over.

The guys were deathly silent, and again I imagined all eyes on Roderick's face.

I went real slow, lips up and down over his smooth, excited cockhead, and Roderick hardened very quickly into a fine state. My heart was racing. I had no feedback from the crew other than the nervous shifting in their seats, their few awkward words, and of course, the movement of Roderick's hips when I had him under my spell. He was trying to keep them still but wasn't succeeding.

This was my first cock other than Jim's for the last twelve years. Roderick's penis felt real different from Jim's. The head on Roderick's cock was narrow and pointy, and it was easy to slide his foreskin up and down when my mouth wasn't on him, and for some reason, more than for any of the others, I enjoyed just using my fingers on him, stroking, pulling his foreskin up and down, massaging his balls, watching his cockhead emerge from its sheath and then get covered again.

But a few minutes of my mouth was enough to have his hips moving restlessly, and I left off. I wanted each of them absolutely aroused to within an inch of their lives by the time I emerged from underneath the table, for part two of my evening.

Jim was the next "loser," his hard cockhead once more comfortable in my mouth, and then Roderick again. The first murmurings from above suggested there was some doubt now about how enthusiastically folks were playing to win.

When Roderick lost but before I had taken his cock in my mouth for the second time, Billie insisted on seeing the cards Roderick had turned down when he folded, the last guy still wagering.

"A Queen!" he said indignantly. "You were sitting on a Queen! That would've made a pair!"

Rob "lost" the next hand, and I was even more nervous than the first time with Jim, when I started it all.

I had no idea what to expect, but I found myself very eager to pull Rob's cock out. He smelled real nice, sawdust and sweat, and I could feel the heat emanating from his crotch.

He too was pretty darn hard by the time my lips got to him. He had a big, round prominent head on his penis, his shaft felt thick in my hands, I couldn't get my fingers completely around him, and I couldn't stop myself from using one hand to fondle his balls. He spread his legs to ease my access.

My own crotch was really seeping at this point, I could feel fluids start to drift past my thong. My imagination went wild, I so much wanted to be out from under the table, maybe on a bed, and have Rob's member doing lovely things to me.

I was slow and thorough, maybe taking more time with him than even Jim, and his cock was ramrod hard at the end, pointing straight up, no curve at all. The head looked beautiful to me, gleaming wet in the dim light.

I was under the table for about six or seven hands. Enough so that each penis got at least one go-over. Enough so my knees were getting uncomfortable. Billie was the last, and he was the only weak link in my plan.

Billie was an ardent Methodist, the only one in the group who never missed a Sunday in church. He was devoted to his wife, Stacey, a short, plain, almost dowdy woman at only age thirty-five, and if someone was going to cop out or otherwise pose problems for the rest of the evening, it would be him.

But by the time he badly lost a hand, I found that even before I began to fish his penis out of his pants that he was hard. Like rock hard. I gave his balls a good squeeze in encouragement, and found that his cockhead was already straining past his foreskin, which I slid down the last way. He had a small skinny penis, but there was no question about his excitement. I could take all of him easily, and his cockhead felt nice going all the way into my mouth.

The odd thought that popped into my head then was that maybe Stacey had never sucked him. I would not have been surprised if they had only done it missionary, that the Bible didn't allow for this sort of thing. It was possible that this was the first set of lips to ever run over Billie's penis.

The other guys were quiet while I worked him, and pretty soon his hips were squirming. I had them all under control.

I left off and very slowly and deliberately emerged from under the table.

I stood up, dignified, my knees grateful for a break, shook my head to even out my hair, smoothed my dress, and looked evenly at each of them in turn.