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Strip Poker
By
Poppet

Strip Poker

Who Will Win?
A bottle of Jack Daniel’s, a deck of cards and two daringly naughty people. What could possibly happen?

“Strip poker? Really? That’s what you want to play? I haven’t played in years,” I groan taking a large gulp of Jack Daniel’s straight from the bottle.

“Even better reason to play, because I’ll end up winning,” he gives me a wildly cheeky smirk. How can I even resist when he does that?

I smile back, and he knows he’s gotten his way. He deals out the cards, as I split up the poker chips. I’m not sure how well I’m going to do given we've nearly polished off an entire bottle of Jack already, but what’s the worst that can happen?

Back and forth we go. Hand after hand we joke, laugh, drink, tease and strip. I’m doing fairly well, surprisingly. I've only lost my sweater, one slipper and a sock. He’s lost both of his socks, his pullover and his watch. I call that cheating, but he reminds me that we didn't make any rules on what we considered removable or not. He has a valid point, so I give in and take out my hair-tie the next time I lose.

“Oh come on, that’s not clothing,” he groans at me.

“Neither is a watch! No rules, remember?” I tease him, flicking the hair-tie at him.

Round after round we play, until we’re both down to our last piece of clothing. It’s been a close game the whole time. When he deals out the cards, I look and see that I have a Queen of spades and a ten of spades. It’s an okay hand, but I've had better. I simply call, and he raises me. This concerns me, wondering what he has. I don’t want to give him the chance to win, so I call.

He deals out the flop. There are two more spades out; the three and eight. I could get lucky and get a flush. I could win with this hand. The idea of winning is arousing. I want to win. Who doesn't like to win? It would also be nice to see what he’s hiding under those boxer-briefs. I lick my lips lightly and raise the bet as I raise the bottle again to my mouth. He looks at me with a smug look, instantly making me think he also has a good hand. He calls…

When he deals the turn, I’m let down to see it’s not the fifth spade I need. It’s the ace of hearts. I simply check, but he raises three times as much as I did the time before. Can I let this go? Can I let him win? No, I must raise, let him think I was testing him. I push in what he raised, plus three times as much as he just did. He calls…

The tide has turned, it’s a spade. I want to jump out of my skin and do a happy dance. I could never be a very good poker player, because I don’t have the face for it. I check, and he raises me again. I’m starting to think he really does have a good hand. What to do? I push all in! He calls…

We show our hands, and I see that he has a straight to my flush. I cry out a long, giggling laugh as he leans back stunned.

“I can’t believe I won!” I giggle still looking at his cards. “Go on, remove your last piece of clothing, mister.”

“I can’t believe you won. I was convinced I was winning,” he pouts, as he removes his briefs.

I watch as he removes them. I lick my lips again admiring his cock. Even when soft, it looks perfectly suckable. “I guess that’s what happens when you get cocky, babe,” I giggle once more. Jack Daniels has set in, I’m buzzed and now extremely horny. “Here, let me make it up to you,” I whisper.

Slowly, I crawl towards him over the poker chips and cards. I smile, kissing him deeply. The taste of him, me and Jack is a wonderful mix. My lips trail down his chest, over his wonderfully detailed stomach, towards his cock. Already it’s hard knowing what is to come. I let out a soft moan, and flick my tongue over his tip caressing the slit.

Stroking his shaft, pulling his foreskin downwards, I wrap my lips around his head. I start to suck on him gingerly, until his iron-hard tumescence is ready for my full assault. I let out a humming moan, and feel his entire body stiffen. That is my cue, I know he is ready. I swallow every inch of him into the back of my throat just as he grips my hair. In a kneeling position, he begins to fuck my mouth.

He offers my mouth long, deep strokes. My wet, hot mouth is bathing his cock with need. I hum louder, knowing he loves the added vibrations while I suck on him. His pace is fast, hungry, needy. My teeth begin to graze him, the head of his cock hitting the back of my throat. I gag as I take him deeper. He shivers, moans out, cursing in delight.

I reach under, stroking his balls lightly with my finger tips, and that is when he lets out a cry. He stiffens for a moment, thrusts again and begins to fill my mouth with warm, salty goodness. His hips sway until he is empty. He pulls out as his cock begins to soften, and the soft pop of my lips around him makes him moan once more.

“Are you sure you won, babe, because it feels like I've won. If that’s you winning, I should let you win more often,” he teases me with his eyes full of lust.

“I’m pretty sure I won.” I lick my lips, his creamy goodness coating my mouth and throat.

Who knew winning could taste so sweet?
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