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The Pot. - Chapter 1

A poker night gives three friends an adventure


I was getting frustrated now. “No, it has to be a double amputee.” I repeated.

“We’ve nothing like that,” Lady Lydia said, “I can do a midget if that’s any good?” She asked.

“A midget, eh?” I thought aloud.

“Yes, a midget. She’s in her twenties, and very pretty” She said, “for a midget” she nonchalantly added.

“err, hang on” I instructed her. With that I put her on hold and fast dialled my best friend, Martin.

“Rich?” he answered.

“Hi Mate, just a quick one, the list says a double amputee. Can’t find one anywhere. I’ve tried about 20 agencies so far, but it’s like trying to find rocking horse shit.”

“Yes, that’s the idea.” Martin said, sighing with impatience. “You have to work for it.”

“But I did find a midget!” I exclaimed convincingly. I knew the answer before I heard it. “So, what about a midget, will that do?” I asked whilst nodding my head and crossing my fingers.

“No,” he answered and promptly disconnected our call.

“Well, fuck you very much” I muttered to myself whilst reverting the call back to Lydia. ” No, sorry Lydia, but thanks for trying.”

I put the phone down and placed my head in my hands.

My phone pinged with a text. “Rich, you know the rules, move on to the next one if you can’t complete a task” The text was from Martin.

I nodded in agreement and reached into my desk drawer. My wallet lay there. Inside my wallet, folded into four, was the list

I reviewed all 9 tasks on the list again.

My phone pinged again. “ffs Rich, you’ve only got 4 days left!!”

I sarcastically smirked, shrugged my shoulders and shook my head.

Let me start from the beginning. Every first Friday of the month, myself, Martin, and an ex house mate of mine, Carl, get together for a friendly game of poker. There can usually be up to seven of us at the start of a game, but it’s always the three of us that are left at the end of the game.

At every poker game we talk too much. If you ask me who actually won the game each month, I wouldn’t have a clue. I do know, however, that no matter much money I take to the poker night, I usually come home with empty pockets.

Last month’s game took a sinister twist. After being a little worse for wear, I happened to exclaim aloud after losing my third call in succession that I was a crap poker player and added that my sex life, or lack of it, was boring. I had been single for 2 years now and although I was having infrequent casual sex, the experimental side of things was non-existant. If I managed to slide a finger inside a girl’s bottom whilst I was fucking her in a missionary position, it would be a miracle. In my experience, couples only tend to try new things and experiment once they’re completely comfortable with one another.

Carl sat there nodding at the sentiment.

That’s when Martin, also worse for wear came up with the idea of a compiling list of things we should all do. Carl and I nodded in agreement like a couple of dolls you would see in the back window of a car.

We were each given a post-it note and told to write three unusual sexual activities on each. Each of us would then have to perform one of the acts on the list each month before the next game until all tasks had been completed. If any player does not manage to perform one of the tasks, then that player would have to put £1000.00 into the pot at the beginning of the next poker game.

As we were all drunk, we all agreed. What I didn’t take into account was the following:

  1. Carl is gay.
  2. Martin is a fucking pervert.
  3. I’m quite picky and have only ever slept with a few certain types of women.

Once we had all written our lists, we handed them to Martin who wrote one long list from all of the items on the post-it notes. This, in turn, was then copied two more times times and we were all handed a copy.

So Carl’s activities were (surprise, surprise):

  1. Visit a gay sauna.
  2. Have full sex with some one of the same sex.
  3. Have sex with someone outside. (As nature intended)

I objected to Carls Number 2. Whilst this would be extremely unusual for me and maybe Martin too, it was pretty routine for Carl.

Martin, who had by now nominated himself as judge and jury, overruled my objection. Instead he said if he and I had to sleep with some one of the same sex, Carl, being gay, would have to sleep with some one of the opposite sex. Carls’ face dropped.

Martins tasks were:

  1. Visit a BDSM Dungeon and get pegged.
  2. Sleep with a double amputee
  3. Join a swinging orgy.

As I said, Martin was a pervert.

My pathetic tasks were:

  1. Join a dating site and sleep with four members in a month.
  2. Have a threesome.
  3. Sleep with someone at least 20 years older than you.

I intentionally put that last one in as I quite fancied the woman at the local florist who looked like she was in her mid-sixties but was really fit. I would walk past her shop each morning on the way to the train station and I would wave at her. She, in turn, would give me a beaming smile and wave back.

So, our final task list or “Fuckit list” as Martin would later refer to it as, was:

  1. Visit a BDSM Dungeon and get pegged.
  2. Sleep with a double amputee
  3. Visit a gay sauna.
  4. Join an orgy
  5. Join a dating site and sleep with four members in a month.
  6. Have a threesome.
  7. Sleep with someone at least 20 years older than you.
  8. Have full sex with some one of the same sex.
  9. Have sex with someone outside.

I hope that explains the initial call to Lydia.

So here I am with four days left until the poker game and unless I can tick one off, it was £1000.00 in the pot for me.

Once again, as always, I had left it to the last minute to act. To be fair, I was hoping everyone would forget about it. I also thought that I could just lie and tell them I had completed one of the tasks. How would they even know?

That was soon put to bed when I received an email from Martin, the self-proclaimed organiser, stating that we had to produce enough evidence to convince the other players that our story was genuine.

Chapter One: Visit a Gay Sauna.

This had to be the easiest task. I could go in, have a sauna, and come out. I didn’t have to do anything. Just sit in a sauna.

Once I got home from work I googled “Gay Sauna. Aylesbury” The first entry on the list directed me to the website of an establishment called “Tops Sauna” in a place called Hemel Hempstead. As I happened to be in Aylesbury the very next day for a business meeting with a potentially huge client, it made sense to find a sauna in that area. Hemel Hempstead was only twenty minutes away.

I called the Sauna. It seemed simple from what the rather camp receptionist told me. You turn up, pay, receive a towel and a locker key, shower, undress, pop in the jacuzzi or steam room and have fun. Although I thought to myself, my version would be: you turn up, pay, receive a towel and a locker key, shower, undress, pop in the jacuzzi or steam room, stay for 5 minutes and then shower, dress and leave. Simple. Rich was £1000 pounds better off.

That’s not quite how it went.

As I planned the sauna visit the following day, I drove to the meeting. This was unusual for me as I would normally use the great British public transport system. That way, I can list the meeting minutes and actions on my return journey. However, as my scheduled meeting with a Mr Anderson, the owner of Kelda Products, was not until 4pm, I calculated that by the time we were finished, and I had driven to the Sauna, it would be very late. So, on this occasion, I thought it would be better for me to stay over for a night.

I booked a hotel I had managed to find three streets away from the sauna. My plan was to have my meeting, drive to Hemel Hempstead, visit the sauna, return to the hotel, watch some TV, and then sleep. Again, that’s not quite how it went.

The meeting, I thought, had gone quite well. The potential client, Mr Andersson, seemed quite impressed with our proposals to improve his logistics. Mr Andersson was a very large man. He was around six feet tall and sported a long shaggy grey beard and he had a huge belly which hung over his belt line. His head was completely shaven and I noticed the edges of tattoos protruding from his shirt sleeves and another just above his neck collar.

When the meeting was concluded, Mr Andersson stated that he would give me an answer very soon regarding whether I had convinced him to switch suppliers.

He then asked if I were staying locally that evening. Without thinking I told him I was. He, to my utter annoyance, proceeded to invite himself to dinner with me and advised me that he would be happy to reserve a table at his favourite restaurant. He claimed that as I was not from the area I wouldn’t know any good restaurants and would end up eating at a greasy spoon cafe. I thought it would be rude to refuse him and hardly a good start to a potential business relationship. I felt that he was almost testing me and wanted to get to know me and my company a little more before agreeing to a long-term commitment.

Now, this was going to be a bit of a problem. I now had just over two days left and the perfect opportunity to complete a task was slipping away from me. Although the sauna was a 24 hour a day operation, I didn’t really feel like staying up until the early morning hours with Mr Anderson and then be faced with having to find the place as well as having to go through the motions of stripping, spending a short while in the sauna, just to get dressed and leave again. I thought that perhaps I could end the evening dinner with our potential client short by feigning a headache.

I’d arranged to meet Mr Andersson at my hotel later that evening. From there we were to get a cab to the restaurant. Mr Andersson raised an eyebrow when I gave him directions to the Hotel. I knew he was probably asking himself why the hell I had booked a room in an entirely different town when there were many good hotels and motels near the offices we had held the meeting in.

I kind of gave him a shrug of the shoulders and a submissive smile and lied to him that a friend’s friend owned the Hotel and we received special rates. He nodded.

At 7.55 pm my room phone rang. It was the receptionist advising me that a gentleman was waiting for me in the foyer. The slight pause she made before saying the word “Gentleman” had me intrigued.

I grabbed my jacket and left the room. I got to the foyer where Mr Andersson shook my hand. I guessed that he was around 50 years old. Surprisingly, he was wearing a torn pair of jeans and a black leather waist coat with a white Tee shirt underneath. His arms were completely covered in ink. I, on the other hand, had decided to wear a suit complete with a formal waist coat and tie. I felt a little overdressed but thought it was better to be safe than sorry.

We left the hotel to hail a cab. The weather for May was unexpectedly warm and I noticed that the streets seemed unusually busy. Mr Andersson seemed like a pro. He expertly weaved and pushed his way through the throngs of pedestrians to the kerb side and whistled loudly. Within 20 seconds a cab was parked in front of us.

The driver was given the instructions and another twenty-five minutes later I found myself back in Aylesbury arriving outside a tiny Indian restaurant. The only two things I could think about now was: first, the task, and secondly was how Mr Anderson looked just like an insane biker you were likely see in a Mad Max movie.

As we entered the restaurant a small Asian waiter approached us with a huge smile. “Welcome Mr Tony” he exclaimed. “Your usual table?”

“Yes please, Ahmed” Mr Anderson replied.

We were shown to a table with four chairs. Two of the chairs were nestled against a wall facing the door and the other two on the opposite side where halfway into the waiter’s small passage way.

It was quite comical watching Mr Anderson squeeze his huge frame into one of the tiny chairs against the wall. His big belly pushed the table five or six inches further out resulting in my chair ending up even further into the passageway.

He sighed and looked at me. “I’m such a fat cunt” he said shaking his head.

I looked back at him and burst into laughter. I certainly wasn’t expecting the CEO of an international company to use such langauge. Furthermore, how on earth do you reply to that? To agree with ‘Yes you are a fat cunt Mr Anderson,’ could be a game stopper. To disagree could be construed as sucking up to him, which he may not like or foster respect for. So, I just laughed.

Thankfully, he looked at me, smiling, and indicated by waving his hand that I should take a seat opposite him.

Throughout the evening we chatted. Tony, which he had by now asked me call him, told me the story of how he had grown his business over the past twenty years. He had only started it when he was sacked from his job as a nightclub bouncer for punching one of the managers there. He went on to explain that the reason for his actions was that not ten minutes earlier he was set upon by three rowdy cliental he had previously turned away. He had left the nightclub to dispose of some empty bottles. The council skip  was located around the corner from the nightclub. As he was not in the other bouncer’s line of sight and they could not hear him shout, he found that he could not raise the alarm.

Although he had eventually managed to get the better of the three lads, the nightclub manager had later told him that it was his own fault he had nearly gotten beaten up for leaving the door area. As Tony was high on adrenaline at the time, he just looked the manager in the eyes, smiled, and punched him square on the chin. His employment was immediately terminated.

After three months, Tony had gone on to design a device hat would act as a panic alarm as well as a communication system. It was operated remotely and was completely wire free. Any team could now remain in constant contact. He was now a multimillionaire from this invention and more recetly had won many contacts internationally.

Tony told me that he also had a love of motorbikes and that he owned fourteen Harley Davidson bikes, as well as his trusted old Triumph Bonneville. I think this explained the mean Hells Angel look that Tony had adopted.

As I sat listening and eating my main course, the waiters repeatedly bought us bottles of Kingfisher beer.  I was downing them like there was no tomorrow. By eleven o’clock I was pretty much wrecked. Tony and I had laughed throughout the evening and I thought that regardless of the potential contract and the commission I would get, Tony was actually a person I could easily become friends with.

I suddenly sobered up when I remembered the task. I looked at my watch to see that the time was almost midnight and my heart sank. ‘Fuck it’ I said aloud. Tony was fascinating, the food and beer were great. I decided that it was worth taking a risk at the poker game this month.

Noticing me glancing at my watch, Tony asked if he was boring me. I reassured him that I was having a great time and downed the last of my beer. Although I had only known him for a few hours, I felt comfortable in his company and I decided to tell him about the list.

When I had finished, he looked at me with a straight face. I thought I may have over stepped the mark and was just about to apologise when he shouted mockingly, “Where the fuck are you going to find a double amputee?!”

I let out a resigned gasp, smiling and shaking my head.

“But, you know, I may be able to help you with one of them.” He said

I suddenly froze. Was Tony about to tell me he would be happy to shag me? I froze again. “go on.” I replied not really wanting to hear his answer.

“Well there’s a gay sauna not a mile from here.” He explained. ”It’s called ‘The Zen Rooms.’ It’s invitation only,, but I could probably get you in.”

Tony obviously noticed the confused face I was wearing. “Yes, Richard, I’m gay” he added.

After short silence I maintained my confused look I answered him, “OK. Tony, now that is a surprise. I would never have thought you, of all people, were gay”

His facial expression change immediately, he looked angry. “What’s that supposed to mean?” He said through gritted teeth. “Cos I’m not carrying a pink fucking handbag?” he added.

I remained calm. “Well actually, it’s the lack of a mini skirt, fish net stockings, and white stilettoes” I replied winking. I knew I was playing a dangerous game, but felt I knew the man well enough

His face turned back from a vicious frown and developed into a raucous laugh. The entire restaurant fell silent and everyone there immediately turned toward us.

“Time to go me thinks” Tony said in his deep Brian Blessed voice whilst he pulled two fifty pound notes out of his pocket and threw them on the table we were sat at. They landed in the practically empty poppadum bowl. He waved at Ahmed and rushed toward the door.

I took a last gulp of my bottled beer as I rose and followed him.

When I finally caught up with the big man he had already hailed a cab, told the driver our destination, and was opening the rear door to climb in. Again, like a little lost lamb, I followed him.

In the back of the cab Tony looked at me and said, “I hope you’ve got clean underwear on lad, we’ll be at the sauna in five minutes”

I suddenly panicked. “Tony, I ought to tell you I have never been with another guy.  I’m not sure I’m ready for it yet”

Tony looked down at me, he put his huge arm around my shoulder and squeezed “Don’t worry lad, I’ll protect you from all of those nasty Nancy boys.”

I laughed again shaking my head.

We arrived at the sauna after a few minutes. Although I was nervous, the few extra bottles of Kingfisher were without doubt calming me.

After we had entered the reception area, I was handed a black towel, some slippers, and a pink wrist band with a key lodged inside it. It was similar to the rubber wrist bands I would get when I would visit the local community swimming pool as a child.

Tony walked in a determined gait, and I. a few steps behind him, followed obediently.

I noticed Tony’s towel and slippers were not black, but a navy blue and they seemed much larger than mine. He was obviously a regular visitor here.

We walked down a huge hall way and through some oak panelled doors into a large changing area. To my relief it was empty.

Tony sat on the wooden changing bench and started unbuckling his biker boots, I took my jacket off and started un buttoning my waist coat. Tony, handed me a ticket.

“What do I do with this?” I asked.

“You show it to your poker buddies, you knob.” He replied. “You need proof.”

I smiled. “Oh yes.” I said. “Cheers, can we go home now?”

Tony laughed. “If you want.” He said, “but I think you might like it” he added.

“Only kidding, Tone” I answered raising my hands in mock surrender.

By now we were both stripped down to out underwear. I had a pair of black boxers on and tony had the largest white Y fronts I had ever seen. They were huge.

He stood up and slid them down his chunky legs.

I followed suite and slipped my boxers off.

The towel I was given I had wrapped around my waist to hide my modesty. Tony just slung his over his shoulder. We located our lockers and loaded our clothes into them.

“Okay, where shall we start?” Tony asked. “Fancy a tour?”

I nodded. “Yeah, why not”

“I will warn you now, there may be a few sights you may not want to experience” He said. “The kind of sights that may stay with you for a very long time” he added.

“I can take it” I answered. People seem to forget or not even know that I had house shared with my friend, Carl, for 18 months. It wasn’t the first time that I would get home from work to find Carl in the front room of our house on all fours being taken from behind by a guy he had picked up from Craig’s List or Grindr, whilst taking another guy orally that he had picked up from Gaydar. I would just smile at them, nod and close the door. 

Tony and I left the changing room by another door and I was presented with a long, carpeted hallway. I walked alongside Tony. The Hall was illuminated by modern lights and the walls and ceiling were all white. It was almost clinical. If it was not for the deep pile carpet I could easily have mistaken it for a hospital corridor.

At the end of the hallway there were a pair of oak doors decorated with brass handles and a small pad. I realised the pad was biometric and for Tony to place his thumb against. There was a quick double click and the doors opened away from us.

This then led to a flight of stairs which we descended. I was in awe of the place and I realised that I hadn’t said a word to Tony during the walk.

He turned to me. “Impressed?” He asked.

“God, yeah.” I replied. “How much money does a membership here cost?” I asked

“Too much.” He replied. “I think last year I paid around ninety thousand”

I stopped in my tracks. “Fuck” I whispered under my breath.

We reached the bottom of the stairs and were presented with another corridor. This one was much darker and ornate. Mini chandeliers had been mounted on the walls, and the flooring looked like it had been laid in marble.

A series of unmarked oak doors were on each side of the corridor. Each door had a small glass viewing panel above a brass door handle.

As we approached the first door, Tony instructed me to take a peak in.

I looked through the panel into a red illuminated room. In the centre of the room I could see six or seven men writhing almost poetically on a double bed. All of the men on the bed were either fucking or being fucked. Three of the men had formed a human train and were slowly gyrating their hips as if choreographed.

I could have watched them all night. Or all morning as the case was.

The alcohol felt as if it were slowly leaving my veins by now and I thought I was beginning to sober up.

I turned to Tony. “Wow,” I said.

As I turned back to the panel I noticed two things almost simultaneously. The first was that in the distance, down the hallway, walking toward us, was a very tall black woman. When I say tall I mean very tall. Probably well over six feet. She was wearing a white gown which was slightly open at the front. Her skin seemed smooth and every step she took revealed the thigh of her leading leg.

“I thought you said it was a gay sauna?” I reminded Tony.

Tony leant toward me and whispered in my ear. “Women can be gay too, you know?”

My stupidity sobered me a little more. If I was going to carry on looking I would need another drink soon.

The woman glanced and aimed a smile at us as she walked by. She was beautiful. I could not help but turn my head toward her as she disappeared up the flight of stair I had just descended.

The second thing I noticed was a small cannister had been mounted by each door. Each cannister contained what resembled tiny white mints. “That’s clever, giving everyone fresh breath at each door.” I said to Tony.

Tony laughed. “They aren’t mints,” Tony laughed as he reached for one and placed it on his tongue. “Try one. It will help you relax”

Apart from the seldom joint, I hadn’t really done drugs. But, on the other hand, I had never been in this position before. I took one and popped it into my mouth. It was so small that I managed to swallow it dry.

We continued walking toward the second door. When we reached it, I noticed that the viewing panel on this one had been blocked. I looked at Tony. “Happens sometimes.” He stated. “Private party. Probably a celebrity. Or an MP”

“An MP?” I asked.

“Now they’re the worst. Fucking perverts the lot of them.” Tony exclaimed

He put his hand on my shoulder and guided me away.

I glazed through the viewing panel on the next door. Another bed and more men fucking and sucking each other.

Tony tapped my shoulder and pointed to the hallway ceiling. I was gob smacked. The ceiling was glass. “It’s the bottom of the pool” he explained. As if it were planned , a naked guy swam over our heads.

“How have I never heard of this place before?” I asked.

“As I said. Invitation only.” He replied.

After seeing more doors and more rooms and more men having sex with each other, we finally reached another set of stairs heading down a level.

I was feeling a little different now. A little light headed. Not dizzy. Just as if I were nicely floating.

The next floor was similar to the ground floor. Very clinical. We approach a set of double doors and Tony again placed his thumb on to a small panel. The doors let out a small beep and began opening inwards.

Through the doors, the floor had been lined with small roman tiles. The entire place was blue with a huge white mosaic of a chariot and horse being driven by a roman soldier. The amount of detail was amazing.

Two huge archways lay ahead of us. As we approached them I realised that it was the jacuzzi room.

Once through the arches the room opened into a huge area. Several Jacuzzis were bubbling away. Each of them must have been several metres in diameter.

It looked to me that Tony knew exactly which Jacuzzi he was destined for and beckoned me to follow him. He took his towel from his shoulder lay it on the floor and climbed into the bubbling water,

I followed suit. I removed my towel and climbed in. I sat about a metre away from Tony leaned the back of my head against the wall of the jacuzzi and closed my eyes. The pill I had taken was working its magic. I felt totally at ease.

I must have faleln asleep as when I opened my eyes I found another two guys had joined us. The small gap I had left between Tony and myself was now occupied.

“Rich, this is Phil and Manny. Friends of mine.” Tony introduced. “Phil, Manny, this is Rich. He’s a pal, too” Tony added.

I smiled to myself as I nodded to the men. Phil sat on the right of me between myself and Tony. He was, I guessed, also in his fifties. He had a slight build and his back, chest and shoulders were covered in wiry short greying hair. Like Tony, he sported a full beard. Unlike tony he had a full head of hair which was brushed back.

Manny sat to the left of me, He, again, I would put in his fifties. In contrast we was completely hairless. I thought at the time that he must have either spent hours shaving each day, or he suffered from Alopecia.

What suddenly dawned on me was that both Manny and Phil had their respective hands on each of my thighs. Normally I would flinch, stand and run away. However, I just leant my head back, closed my eyes and relaxed some more.

I felt Phil’s hand travel higher up my leg and his fingers starting to gently rub my ball sack. Both Manny and Phil were chatting to either me or Tony, but I could not hear them.  It was as if my mind had chosen to ignore them and they were just echoes in the distance.

I felt Manny slowly wrap his hand around my hardening cock and began stroking it. After a few seconds I was fully erect. I felt my right-hand reach for Phil’s cock, but when I got there it had already been engulfed with Tony’s huge hand. “You need to move faster than that, lad” Tony smiled shaking his head.

No worries I thought as my left hand reached for Manny’s cock.

Unlike Phil's, Manny’s cock was free. I wrapped my left hand around it and started to gently stroke it. I could hear Phil’s breathing getting faster now. I turned my head to face him and I gave out a small moan when I saw that Phil was now kissing Tony full on the lips.

I felt Manny’s hot breath in my left ear. “Rich” he said. “Sit on the edge”

In obedience I stood and lifted myself on to the edge on the jacuzzi. Within a few seconds Manny has replaced his hand with his mouth. This was traveling the entire distance up and down my shaft.

“fuck” I gasped quietly. I closed my eyes again.

My right hand almost out of instinct nestled on the back of Manny’s head as my thumb gentry rubbed it.

i opened my eyed and to look at Tony. He was still in the Jacuzzi, but by now Phil was sitting astride him obviously being fucked. Phil was moving in a similar way to the men in the room I had witnessed. He was rising and falling slowing but firmly.

Tony suddenly let out a gasp at almost the same time as I did. I was cumming. I felt that I should warn Manny, whose mouth was still around my cock, but as it was a surprise to me too, I just didn’t have the time. Manny did not move. A small drop of my cum escaped the slide of his mouth. The rest was greedily swallowed.



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