                     Many Hands of Poker
                     by Ms. Screwloose

(My wife wrote this recollection of one of our hottest 
experiences.  This is the beginning of a hot saga.  When 
she can spare some time from her new job, I hope that she
will share the next couple chapters, too.)

(Names have been changed to protect the innocent and the 
not-so-innocent.)

A few months ago, my husband Bob asked me if I would be the
hostess for a poker party the next weekend.  He had been
asked to find a hostess/maid/bartender for a poker night
with three business clients from a nearby city, just someone
to serve the beer and wine, chips and snacks.  Sure, I
agreed.  At least that way we can spend the time together.

The day of the party, he brought home a cocktail waitress
outfit for me to wear: a sheer white blouse, short black
skirt -- I mean really short, only halfway down my thighs,
and draped loose so it swings when you walk -- thigh-high,
light stockings, and bright red, tiny bikini panties.  Why
the sexy uniform, I asked?  Wait a minute, you're not
planning any strip tease or orgy or anything.  I just won't
do it, I won't screw anyone, Bob.

He told me not to worry, there would be no real sex.  "Of
course I don't expect you to screw these guys.  Just some
playing around, the guys feeling you up a little.  You'd
like that, wouldn't you?  Just be the cocktail waitress, be
sexy, swing your hips a lot and let them pat you on the ass,
or whatever you want to do," he said.  "I'm just supposed
to bring a cocktail waitress who might not mind a little
good-natured playing around, like being felt up by the boys.
They think I'm bringing a sexy, playful cocktail waitress,
not a hooker.  Sexy, not sluttish.  But not my wife, either.
They don't have any idea that you're my wife and I'm your
husband.  They're important clients, and I want them to have
a good time.  It wouldn't be a lot of fun if they felt
inhibited by that."

Well, I thought that a little fondling is okay, some
flirting, some T&A, a little rubbing in the right places,
wink, wink, but nothing serious.  It's important to him, and
besides, I figured that it wouldn't hurt my ego at all if
these guys found me desirable.  After being married for nine
years, the sex is great.  We practice it often enough, and
Bob is a great lover.  But you begin to wonder if other men
still find you attractive.  So I said, Okay, sounds like
fun.  What I thought was, actually, it sounds hot.


The game was in Chuck's apartment, one of the other men.
The other guys, Al and Dan, were already there, and they all
said they liked my uniform.  They sat down to play cards,
and I start serving drinks and chips.  As I left the table,
Bob patted me on the rear.  That was a little forward, I
thought, since he and I aren't supposed to be "together"
but he was probably just trying to show that I was playful,
as I was supposed to be.

A few minutes later, Bob came into the kitchen when he had
folded a hand.  He kissed me, not just a peck but a real,
passionate kiss.  He held me close and his hands wandered
over my hips and butt and breasts.  Then, over his shoulder,
I saw one of the others, Chuck, watching us.  Bob didn't
notice, and he probably wouldn't have cared anyway.  He was
just trying to warm me up.  He was doing a good job of it,
too, so I didn't stop him.  He continued to hold me and
touch me, and I responded in kind.

From watching us, Chuck apparently got the idea that I was
available for that sort of thing.  A short time later, I was
coming back from the kitchen with drinks in both hands, and
Chuck stopped me in the hallway.  He stepped right up to me
and kissed me, put his hands on my hips and pulled me to
him.  I resisted a little but not much.  Chuck was really
cute, like a grown-up version of one of my serious
boyfriends in college.  And I couldn't really do much with
both hands occupied, could I?  He kissed me long and hard
and kneaded my ass, pulled my hips toward him to press my
crotch into his.  Then he moved one hand from my waist up to
my breast.  I gasped.  This was the first time in years that
any man other than my husband had touched me in an overtly
sexual way.  But it thrilled me.  I liked it and I let him
know it.  I pressed into him.  Then his hand slid down
between us, reached down over my belly and felt my crotch
through the skirt.  Boy, that felt good.  I groaned and
pushed my pussy into his hand.  Then we broke.  I went into
the living room to deliver the drinks and he went off to the
john.

Back out at the game a couple hands later, I was standing
between Chuck and Al.  Chuck reached over and put his hand
on my ass while I was standing there, and all the others
could see it.  I flushed, I was embarrassed, but I didn't
slap his hand away and I didn't leave.  I liked the feeling
and I liked the display.  I liked being fondled like that
while they all watched.  The other guys looked over at Bob
to see if he would object, but he just smiled.  Then I
remembered: they didn't know we're married.  They just
thought he brought me, and they thought I was a waitress
slash sex toy.  So Bob wasn't going to stop him, and at that
moment I didn't want to, either.

Geez, suddenly Chuck's hand was kneading my ass and even my
thighs up under my skirt, and it felt really good.  It felt
wonderfully sexy to have him gently caressing the tops of my
legs.  God, it was wicked and incredibly exciting to have
the other men watching.  They couldn't see exactly where his
hand was, but they could imagine from his movements and the
skirt's movements and my expression.  His hand being out of
sight under my clothes felt much more intimate than any
touching on top of clothes could be.  Eventually he patted
me on the ass and asked for a glass of wine, and I left.

For the next few hands, whenever I was at the table, the
guys felt me openly, running their hands over my ass, and I
eagerly swung my butt back into their hands in response.
Then they started to feel my boobs, too.  Often the guy on
one side had his hand on my bottom and the guy on the other
side concentrated on my top, kneading my breasts and teasing
the nipples to excite me.  It was as if the guys were trying
to turn me on, a little at a time, with a feel here and
there.  It certainly was having that effect on me.

I let them feel my body under my skirt: my thighs, my ass,
and even my crotch.  When I stood by the table, I always
stopped with my feet apart.  This kept my legs open just a
little, made it possible for a guy to run his fingers from
my ass forward to the panties over my sex.  When he pressed
the panties in, he could separate my lips a little and
tickle my clit and my hole.  I didn't let any of them get
under the panties, though, just outside.  Not even Bob.  I
let them feel all they wanted outside the pants, and I loved
it.  I really got turned on by all this attention and
touching, my panties got increasingly wet and they all
noticed it, too.

Eventually, I became more a sex toy than a waitress.
Someone proposed, and they all agreed, that I should be the
prize for the winner of each hand, while the next hand was
being played.  I'd sit on his lap during the next hand,
which usually meant he couldn't concentrate to play the next
hand, so the "Poker Prize" (or "Poke-Her Prize" as Chuck
suggested), namely me, moved around a lot.

During one of these sessions, when Chuck had won the hand,
he wanted me to lap dance for him.  Sure, I said.  I stood
with my legs astride his, moved my hips and shook my boobs
in his face.  He slid his hand up my leg, all the way up
under my skirt, to cup my crotch openly.  I closed my eyes
and swayed to the music.  He rubbed my pussy, opened the
lips and found my clit through the panties.  I was very
close to coming, my pussy was dripping.  I sat down on his
lap and kissed him passionately.

This little performance set the tone for the rest of the
night.  The sex play got hotter and the poker pots got much
bigger since I was added to the pot.  The competition was
for more than money now.  Everyone wanted to play with me,
and I was just in a constant haze of sexual excitement and
exploration.

Then there came a really big hand.  Bob was out of money to
make the final call, needed fifty dollars.  He offered his
fancy watch as security.  Chuck said no, not the watch.
But, he suggested, they'd accept my panties for it.
I was shocked.  Bob looked at me but I was just frozen,
couldn't nod or shake my head or even breathe.  Bob lowered
his eyes and said okay.  Very tensely, they turned over
cards.  Omigod, he lost.  Bob lost the hand and I had to
give up my underpants in front of all these men.

They all stared at me.  As if in a daze, just standing
there, I slowly reached up under my skirt to the elastic,
pulled down the panties.  They all gasped when they saw the
tiny, bright red nylon triangle.  Wow, they hooted.  Bob
took them from me and dropped them into the pot on the
table.  Chuck raked in the money and the panties.  No one's
eyes had left my face and my body since the cards were
turned.

My face flushed as red as the pants.  Now I was standing
there with all these men and they knew I had no underwear
under this short skirt to protect my cunt from them.  I
could feel the air on my ass, the cool draft coming up the
very short skirt to my wet pussy and thighs.  Oh, geez, what
now?  They've been feeling me up all night, even under my
skirt, and now there's nothing between their hands and my
slick channel.  Only Bob has been in there, inside me, for
years and years.  But what could I do?

My pussy was hot, hot, thinking about this.  I could feel it
burning and I thought it would drip right down my leg.  I'll
get everyone a fresh drink, I said, and I turned to go to
the kitchen on weak legs.

Since Chuck won the hand, I was his toy during the next one.
I stood next to him and he felt up my legs under the skirt
to my bare ass, all over it, but he didn't go for the
goodies right away.

The next few hands, they were all a little slow to take
advantage of the new freedom under my skirt, like they
didn't really want to take unfair advantage of my situation.
After one hand the winner found me in the hall near the
kitchen.  He kissed me up against the wall, felt my boobs.
Then he put a hand on my thigh and up under the skirt, up to
my mound.  He worked his finger between my thighs, pushed on
them a little, so I opened my legs for him, and he slid his
fingers up and down the slippery lips and then up into the
opening.  He found the opening and impaled me on one then
two fingers.  I swooned, pushed my hips down onto his hand.
He twisted and pumped his fingers in me, put his thumb on my
clit.  Another man's fingers going inside me, feeling me,
exciting me!  I moaned my delight.  We were still kissing.
He heard me moan into his mouth.

Al came into the hall on his way to the bathroom and saw us.
He stood there watching Dan's hand far up under my skirt and
my legs wide apart, and he must have known that Dan's
fingers were inside me from the way I was moving.  This was
a new level of sex play for the evening.  Soon, I expected,
they would all get inside me, they would feel deep inside my
hot, wet hole.  Strangers in my most private space, where
only my husband had been for years.  Let him watch.  I
closed my eyes and relaxed and pumped my pussy on the
fingers probing me.  After a minute, Dan stopped, pulled his
dripping wet fingers out, and licked them off.  We kissed
one last time and stepped apart.

Back out at the game, Chuck won another hand and wanted
another lap dance.  He sat in the straight-back chair, took
my hand.  I danced around his knees, then came toward him to
straddle his lap.  His legs were together straight out in
front of him, mine were outside his so I could sit down on
his knees facing him.  As before, I swayed my hips and moved
my breasts right in front of his face.

He reached to the table beside him and picked up an empty
wine bottle, one of those German wines with the long, thin
neck.  He drained the last few drops from the bottle then
put it between his legs, clamped it between his thighs up in
his crotch.  He held it pointing straight up, where his cock
would be if it were out, only longer and harder.  He had
quite a lump in his crotch, too, I'm sure he was hard as a
rock.  Probably they all were, I thought.

I looked down at the bottle, puzzled.  What is this, I
wonder.  He says, Go ahead, sit down on my lap, sit on it,
do it.  I looked down now at it, Omigod it was like a huge
cock pointing up between my legs and I was waving my bare
pussy right over it.

I looked over at Bob and then at the other guys and then
back to Bob.  They were all entranced by the idea.  They
answered my questioning glance with looks of pure lust.
They all wanted me to do this.  No one made a sound, but
they all stared hard at me, barely breathing.  Bob
especially looked at me with pleading, please, go ahead,
don't stop now.

Chuck was still holding my hand, started to pull me toward
him and down.  I was concentrating now only on the bottle,
how that was going to feel inside me.  I guess I had already
decided to do it, what the hell, I figured, just lower
myself a little, carefully positioned, and I can get poked.
After all the fondling and teasing, my pussy was crying out
to be filled, dying for something hard to slide into it, in
and out.

I looked down at the neck of the bottle sticking up, the hem
of my skirt swaying over it.  I inched forward a little,
bent my knees a little.  The neck of the bottle disappeared
under the hem of the skirt a few inches.  All the guys were
staring intently at the bottle and the skirt and my thighs
inching down toward the thing sticking up.

I moved down a little more, then I had to move forward to
position my pussy over the bottle.  I couldn't see it
anymore, I had to find it by feel.  I closed my eyes and
concentrated on feeling my way.  I eased down a little more
and felt the cold neck of the bottle on my thigh to one
side, then the neck hit the lips of my pussy, a little
forward, up near the clit, so I bounced up and down a little
to move over it, to get my body into just the right
position.

Then down another inch, yes, then I could feel it, right
between the lips, right at the opening.  God, there's this
hard thing at the entrance to my cunt and I wanted it
inside.  All I had to do was move down a little to push it
in, so I did, slowly, slowly.  I pushed down and gasped and
exhaled sharply, oh, oh, I closed my eyes tight and felt the
cold and hard pushing up into me.  I pulled up a little and
then down more, breathing harder with each pump, sliding
further down onto it, feeling it reach up further into me.
I cried out, oh, oh, oh, with each stroke, each extra inch
of delicious hardness in me stretching my cunt and pushing
up to my womb.

I grabbed Chuck's shoulder for balance and I was reminded
that this was public.  There were four men here watching me
fuck myself, fuck myself with this bottle, fuck myself and
love it, my wonderful husband and three others all lusting
for me, all wanting me to fill my cunt with the long, hard
thing, and drip my juice over it, and come on it.  I
continued harder now, further up and further down, pushing
harder down to get as much as possible up inside, to feel
the hard glass prick way up inside me, to stretch out the
opening of my vagina on the widening neck of the bottle.
This way I controlled the pumping and sliding, I took the
cock as hard, as fast, and as deep as I wanted it.

I pulled way up and pushed way down, sliding down slowly,
savoring how it spread open my insides, then pulling up fast
and far till the neck was almost back at the opening, then
pushing my hips down again hard and feel it force me open,
shove up into my body.  Oh, God, it was wonderful.

A finger came down on my clit.  Oh, yes, I need that, please
stroke it in time with the fucking, yes, yes, another ten-
twelve strokes rubbing my clit hard, yes, yes, and I came,
ah, ah, ah, ah, I shuddered and my legs were weak, I could
barely stand up.  I grabbed his shoulders with both hands to
keep from falling, I saw stars with my eyes still closed.
His hands at my waist helped lift my hips off the bottle.
He sat me down on his knees, and I collapsed against his
chest, still breathing hard and not caring where I was.
After a minute or so, I recovered and sat up.  I was so
embarrassed.  I knew where I was: I had just fucked myself
and come in front of these strange men.  Even though they
couldn't see my cunt -- still none of them had seen my pussy
at all -- they could just tell from the way I moved and
gasped and lusted and shoved my hips that I was being
fucked, that I was fucking myself, that I was taking that
long hard shape into my cunt and pumping it and loving it.
I looked around at the others, their eyes were filled with
the most incredible combination of lust and admiration and
desire and tenderness.  They were delighted that I had
enjoyed myself and come, they all wanted me to be happy and
satisfied.  I looked back at them with thanks.  What a
wonderful experience!  I was glad I hadn't missed it, glad I
hadn't been prudish about it.

I got up and went to the john, I played with my pussy some
more while I was sitting there.  Oh, what a wonderful, warm
feeling.

On the way back Bob met me in the hall and kissed me, told
me that I was wonderful and he loved me, I thanked him for
the chance, told him I loved him and I loved doing this and
why didn't we do this some more!  He patted me on the mound
and kissed me tenderly.


The game continued after that, and I continued as hostess.
I was free for all to feel, of course, and so they did.  My
breasts and ass and vagina were there for all and I loved
it.  Typically, when I was standing between two guys
delivering drinks, they would both feel me, usually one on
the top and one on the bottom.  One time, both went under my
skirt and started feeling up and down my wet crack, I leaned
over onto the table spread my feet apart to make room for
their hands.  Their fingers opened my inner lips at the
opening, one finger went up inside, then was joined by
another, then a third, and a fourth.  Omigosh, two guys both
had two fingers in me and were twiddling them around, oh.  I
pumped down and up and around to feel all those little
tentacles tickling inside and stretching outside.

Then two of the fingers left my cunt and played up and down
the crack of my ass.  I wiggled my ass and hips, showing
that I was pleased with the sensation.  The other fingers
played around my anus.  Oh gosh, I thought, he's going to go
in my back end, too, and he pushed on it and I pushed back,
and his finger went in, an inch, then two, then twisted and
turned.  Their fingers in my cunt and my ass could feel each
other through the thin wall of flesh, and I cried and wailed
and pumped on those fingers penetrating me.  I was so turned
on and so wet the juices were dripping from my crotch down
my legs.  I didn't come again that time, but the next time
with the other two men, Chuck went in me and Bob played with
my clit until I did come again.  Two men fingering me and
two more wanting to -- I melted.

The rest of the night was pretty tame by comparison.  I just
sat in their laps and they felt my boobs or up under my
skirt lightly, tickling my thighs and my bush.  When the
game broke up around one, we drove home, Bob with his hand
in my pussy and me with my hand on his cock all the way
home.  When we got home, we screwed like teenagers.  We
didn't get to sleep until dawn.  We were wrecked the next
day, but it was certainly worth it.


I told my best girlfriend Eve about the poker party.  She
pumped me for every detail.  I got exciting and wet just
retelling it to her.  She got so turned on listening to me
talk about it, she put her hand inside her shorts and played
with herself right then.  She actually came when I told her
about dancing with the bottle.  She says she'd like to join
me at one of the parties: two waitresses could handle a much
larger crowd of men and provide more varied entertainment.
She said she'd always toyed with the idea of being a
stripper.  The thought of performing sexually in public
turns her on.  She says the idea of going further than
stripping, of being totally in control of fucking herself
with something, and doing this in front of a group of men
drooling for her, just drives her wild.  She has a
fantastic, tight body and very sexy ways, and I'm sure the
men would love her, too.  Bob has always said he'd like to
play with her.

I can't wait for the next party.  We're already planning it,
with Bob and these three men and a lot more, a total of
eight or ten next time.  I love the feeling of flirting with
and being played with by a group of men like that.  Since
the poker party, I've been testing out my flirting and sex-
play skills with a couple of our friends whom I've always
found attractive.  I've managed some delightful groping and
fondling and finger-fucking in hallways and in the garden
during dinner parties.  (Good things happen when you don't
wear panties to parties!)  But the sensation of being
fondled and fingered in front of others is just wild, and I
want to do that again.  And again, and again.

And we've acquired a whole series of sex toys for me to put
on a show with.  I'll still keep most of my clothes on,
since it seems to be even sexier that they can't quite see
exactly what is going on, that someone or something is
actually touching me and penetrating me.  They just have to
look at my face and my movements and the way I react to
something pumping inside me.  And I plan to put on one hell
of a show.

We have some rubber cocks for me to use.  One of them sticks
to a flat surface with a suction cup.  I'll use it on
something like a glass coffee table: stick the cock to it,
squat over it to shove the cock up into me.  The position
will permit especially deep and wonderful penetration.  I
tried it last weekend on our coffee table and it was
fantastic, I came without anyone else touching me.  Bob went
wild at the show.  I think it will be a real hit.  I think
I'll show it to Eve next week, too, and see what she thinks
of it.



