My husband had left for a "weekend with the guys" before I made it home from work on Friday. I dress casually for work on Fridays and this day I was wearing a low cut blouse and mini-skirt. To make myself more comfortable, I kicked off my high heels and removed my garter belt and hose. I poured myself a glass of pop and flipped through my mail. All junk. I went into the kitchen and tackled the dirty dishes. If I didn't do anything else productive this weekend, at least the dishes were done. Just as I drained and rinsed the sink, I heard the back doorbell ring. Probably my mother or my mother-in-law. I wasn't expecting anyone and salespeople don't come to the back door. I went to the back and opened the door. I couldn't believe who was standing at the door smiling at me. It was Rod.

Rod's mother was an old friend of the family but the whole family had always been on the "wrong side of the tracks" and Rod was worse than most. We had known each other as kids but hadn't seen each other in years when we bumped into one another while I was in high school. He had dropped out by that time. He was _very_ intelligent but hung out with the wrong crowd, made trouble and I assume did drugs. He was about three years older than I so he probably would've been out of school anyway. We saw each other for a few days in a friendly way. (His mother and mine made sure it was no more than that! Besides, I was a goody-two shoes so he wasn't my type.) I didn't hear from Rod again until I was out of college. I got a letter from him. I thought letter writing was an unusual form of communication from someone like him until I looked at the return address. He was writing from jail. He sounded like he really wanted to create a better life for himself so I corresponded with him frequently for a long time and even sent him some books. I wrote motivational and educational things that would help him (mentally) survive while in jail and improve himself when he got out. He wrote back letters of appreciation and fondness. I was engaged so I downplayed his interest in me and attributed it to the lack of positive attention in his life. At some point, I lost touch with Rod. I vaguely heard he was in trouble again but this time not jail, but prison. I guess my inspiration wasn't so inspiring. That was the last I knew until now. Here he was, standing at my door.

"Hey, Michelle! How are you? Long time no see, eh? Can I come in?" Rod asked.

"Sure," I said, too startled to say anything else. We didn't hug or touch or anything. We didn't have that kind of friendship. I think I was always a little scared of him and after our letters I was always careful not to lead him on or make him think I was interested when I wasn't.

"So, what's up? How've you been doing? I haven't heard much about you in a long time. You're looking good." I said.

He told me about how he got out of prison awhile ago and had been staying with some friends in the area but they were moving out of state. He had a buddy up north who found him a job and was going to let him move in with him. Things were looking up.

"In fact, that's part of the reason I'm here. I need a place to stay, just for tonight." Rod said. His friends moved out of their house that day and his buddy from up north couldn't come and get him until Saturday. He had no money and there were no hotels in our small town even if he had money. His family no longer lived in the area. He had slept in a park once and got in trouble for it with the police. With his history, he didn't want to take any chances on meeting up with the cops. He really hated to inconvenience my husband and I but didn't know where else to go. I wasn't sure what to do. He didn't know it, but my husband wouldn't be home all night. I was sure Rod wasn't going to _do_ anything but it still left me somewhat vulnerable and it also meant having a man (ex-con) stay in my house with me while my husband was gone. Not a situation many people in my circle would approve of. But, he was an old family friend and needed help. If I turned him away, what would happen? Don't my own religious and moral values insist that I allow him to stay? What do I tell him about my husband Darrell?

"Of course you can stay," I told him. I teasingly told him he'd have to be a "good boy" since my husband was away but what's a friend for but to help a friend out, blah blah blah. I showed him upstairs to the spare bedroom. I asked if he was hungry and he was but he said he felt dirty too. I gave him clean towels and showed him the bathroom. (What I didn't know is that before he showered, he made a phone call.) While he was showering, I went downstairs and fixed a quick spaghetti, garlic bread and tossed salad dinner. If my husband were home, I probably would've served wine but didn't think that was a very good idea this time.

We ate dinner and talked about what little "old times" we shared. We talked about my job and about his new job. We talked about "doing time". He dropped some hints about his feelings for me, similar to his old letters, but I changed the subject. I asked about his family and he asked about mine. I cleared the table and suggested we watch TV or something. He asked if I had playing cards and said he'd like to show me a few things. He had learned some great card tricks while in prison which he entertained me with until it was dark outside. Seems like darkness came early. Perhaps we were going to get a storm. The front doorbell rang. Again, I wasn't expecting anyone and wasn't sure how I would explain Rod's visit. I opened the front door and there were two men standing on the steps. One was a big burly man with brown hair and a beard. The other was a nervous looking black guy of medium build.

"May I help you?" I asked. Salesmen or religious group? I was having trouble deciding. They didn't look like either one. They looked behind me and saw Rod and fairly pushed their way past me, into the house.

"Rod, man--hey, how ya doing?" "Good to see you!" "Hear you're leaving?"

They were saying these and other exclamations. Rod said, "Hey, guys, let me introduce you to my good friend Michelle. Michelle, this big guy here is Bruce and this one is Tom. You don't mind if they hang out with us tonight do you?"

What could I say? The next thing I knew, we were all sitting around my dining room table playing poker and drinking beer. I don't normally drink but they teased me until I gave in and decided to have "one". I also don't know much about playing poker but they needed a fourth and I was there.

No one had any money (except me but I wasn't saying anything) so I pulled out some poker chips that I had from a game. They were pretty easy on me and helped me figure out which was worth more - a flush or a full house and what each of those were. We played for awhile and things were pretty even.

I asked if anyone would like another beer. These good-hostess actions were natural on my part. I didn't want them drunk and it wasn't my beer but this is what I'm "supposed" to do so I didn't really think about it. Everyone needed beers all around. As I was getting up to get them, Tom commented that the game was kinda dull since we weren't playing for money. Rod agreed but reminded him that we didn't have any money or anything to play for.

Tom suggested we play for clothes - good old-fashioned strip poker. I was in the kitchen at this point with Bruce right behind me (to help with the beer?). I laughed and said, "I don't think so." The guys in the dining room laughed and teased and tried to cajole me into saying yes even though they knew it was a futile effort. I opened the 'fridge and bent down to pull beer off the bottom shelf. As I turned and stood with the beer in my hand, Bruce was facing me very close. Quietly he said, "C'mon Michelle. I think you should play." He was standing kind of stiff and my eyes instinctively lowered and came to rest on a gun. Ripples of fear ran up and down me! "Really, Michell. I think you should do whatever we want you to do.

I think you should be a good girl and tell them you want to play." He moved the cold metal barrel of the revolver against my bare thigh and slid it up my skirt. I laughed nervously with my eyes locked on Bruce's eyes. "Okay, guys. You talked me into it. But you guys gotta swear you won't tell anyone I did this." My knees felt weak and I felt almost like a cold seat of fear. I grabbed another beer, deciding I wanted to drink another to help me relax. Bruce looked at the beer and smiled. He pulled his gun away and hid it again. I looked at Bruce and hissed, "You can't -" but before I even got the words out he interrupted, "Oh yes, I can. Don't worry. If you cooperate, you won't get hurt. In fact, we just want to play and have fun. Let's go play."

Between the effects of the first beer (I don't drink much and I'm sort of small so one beer does effect me) and the fear, I wasn't able to think straight. Even if I wanted to play, I should've thought about the practicalities of fairness. I was wearing only my blouse, bra, mini-skirt and panties. They were each wearing two shoes, two socks, pants, undershorts, shirts and undershirts. They had 8 articles of clothing to my four! But, like I said, I didn't think about that.

Needless to say, the first hand went quick and I lost. I had a pair of two's but Bruce had a full house. I started to lose my nerve. I couldn't take off my clothes in front of these guys. Bruce stood up and pulled me up. He turned me so I my back was to Rod and Tom. He reached for the first button of my blouse.

"I can do it," I protested. Bad enough that I had to strip but I didn't have to have this guy touch me.

Tom laughed. "You haven't played strip poker very much, Michelle. Bruce won that round so he gets to remove the article of clothing of his choice. He won so he's gotta win something, see?"

I was tipsy and scared. I knew I couldn't physically fight this guy and he had a gun besides. He promised I wouldn't get hurt if I cooperated. I stood stiffly while he unbuttoned my blouse. As he unbuttoned the buttons at breast level, his fingers lightly trailed along my cleavage but he didn't pause in his duty. His eyes opened wide when they saw my chest. I'm only a "B" cup so that surprised me and I looked down. I had worn my jade green and black lace bra. It _is_ sexy. He slid the blouse off my back and arms and let it drop to the floor. Grinning at me, he turned me around for everyone to see and held my chair out for me. I sat down, my face red as a beet.

Our dining table is high, but not high enough to hide my lingerie display. Tom stopped shuffling and Rod stopped drinking and stared at me when I first sat down. Maybe they didn't think I'd really strip. (Maybe they didn't know about Bruce's gun?) Tom quickly dealt another hand. I groaned. (So much for a poker face.) Another pair of twos! What was the problem? I exchanged three cards and was treated to another two. Good. That'll be a little better.

No luck. Tom had a glittering handful of diamonds. He got up and walked over to me excitedly. I was a little excited but very scared and not about to let on my excitement. Before he got to me, Rod spoke up. (I think he felt sorry for me.)

"Man, Shelly. You need to relax. We're just playing a game here. Taking off your clothes never hurt anyone. I mean, it's okay to look. I've got something to help you relax and have fun." Rod said.

With that, he pulls out a marijuana joint. I hadn't done pot since I was an undergrad.

Bruce cracked up. "You think little Miss Goody-two Shoes does pot?"

I had to defend myself. I may be pretty straight but it's not like I haven't had my moments. I'm not totally square.

"I've smoked pot before. Although I have to admit, I haven't done it since I was in college." I said.

Tom, Bruce and Rod all cracked up. I, of course, didn't get it.

"Haven't smoked pot since college, huh? Yeah, me neither." Tom said.

"Nope," Bruce joined in. "Not since college. Man, Rod, you did find a live one here, didn't you? This is great."

While they were having laughs at my expense, I thought back to the last time I'd done pot. The last time I could remember was the only time my fiancee (now husband) and I had ever smoked it together. We were in his apartment with his roommates and all smoked together. No sooner were we done then I was pulling Darrel into the bedroom. We had some incredible sex that night. Drinking makes me horny but pot makes me even hornier! In fact, the time before that when I'd smoked pot was kind of a funny experience. Somehow I wound up playing cards in some guys room. There were 4 or 5 guys, one other girl (who was kind of dike-ish) and me. We started to play a smoking game (kind of like a drinking game but with pot - that may seem obvious to you but I'd never heard of such a thing.) Anyhow, whenever you lost a round you had to take a hit off a pot bong. I was pretending I was very experienced with smoking from a bong (I had once before). The first time I went to take a hit, I had to draw very hard to get anything. The next time I went to take one, I drew hard again, knowing that it would be obvious if I didn't take a good hit. I thought I got plenty but the guy beside me took the bong and said that we can't get anything out of it. He popped out a little screen and scrubbed it with something over an ashtray. He put the screen back in and passed it to me saying I had to take another hit since I didn't get much the last time. I was already flying and not thinking really clear. I drew really hard, as I had before, but there was no resistance and I filled up with the smoke. My lungs burned briefly, but then I floated around the room. I fell back against the sofa, feeling great and _very_ horny. If anyone in that room had hit on me, the woman included, I probably would've made love to them in front of everyone. I exaggerate but I think you get the point. Unfortunately/fortunately, no one seemed interested in me that night.

While I was day dreaming, they had lit the joint and were passing it around. Rod was handing it to me.

"No, thanks." I said.

They all cracked up. "Oh, yeah. She's experienced at smoking pot. You can tell she's a wild one. If you know how to smoke pot, Michelle, why don't you prove it? What's it gonna hurt? 'Fraid one of those college brain cells will get killed? Take a hit, baby."

I didn't even see who said it. Rod had one arm resting on the back of my chair and his other was holding the joint in front of my lips. I pressed my lips against it and blew very gently.

"She smokes like Clinton," Tom said. "C'mon, 'Shel. Quit wasting our dope. Ya gotta inhale."

"It's okay, Michelle," Rod said. "We're just playing around. We're just having a good time and want to make sure you do too."

I put the joint to my mouth and inhaled. I held my breath, holding in the intoxicating smoke for as long as I could. One hit was more than I needed but it was passed to me a few more times. By the time we were done smoking, we were all laughing but mellow.

Rod was about to deal another hand but waited. We had almost forgot, Tom was supposed to remove an article of my clothes. Tom came over to me and reached behind me for the hook. He fumbled around as Bruce started to tease him about his lack of experience. Finally, Tom looks at my back.

"There's no fucking hook on this thing!" He says. Everyone broke up laughing again.

"It's on the front you idiot! Haven't you looked at her tits?" Bruce told him.

Tom was so embarrassed I almost felt sorry for him. He took the hook in one hand and deftly flipped it open then walked away while I slid the straps down my arms and let the bra fall to the floor. Everyone was laughing so hard that they didn't think about my bare chest at first. Rod passed out the next hand. I was intent on my cards so I didn't notice the looks and the nudges the guys were giving to one another.

My tits are small but firm and well-rounded. They stand upright and are perky without a bra. My nipples are small but darkly contrast with my untanned breast area. My nipples are very responsive but only to touch - not to erotic thoughts. I had two fives and 2 aces. I traded one card. I got an ace! I swept that hand, no problem. I gleefully went around the table removing shirts. (This was after dismissing a feeble protest by Bruce that they should start by removing their shoes.) I wasn't excited about removing their shirts so much as I was excited about winning a hand in such a hotly competitive game.

I started with Rod, since he was to my left. He was wearing a sweatshirt. He sat in his chair as I lifted his shirt up over his head and draped it on the back of the chair. He was grinning from ear to ear. It was then that I realized my breasts were right at eye level for him. Next was Tom, who was sitting across from me. His shirt was a button up so it took me a few minutes to remove it. He enjoyed both the attention and the close-up view. Finally, I went to Bruce. The end of the table had some stuff on it so he was across from Tom and to my right. I was glad he was wearing a sweatshirt because I didn't want to spend much time that close to him. He was the gutsiest one of them all and I wasn't sure what he might try if I stood with my breasts in front of his face for very long. Once I sat down and looked around, I was glad I had taken off their shirts. I've always loved men's chests so this gave me something to look at.

We played another hand. I had nothing. I mean _nothing_. I don't think there was a more mismatched combination of cards in the deck. Bruce won. At least this would be quick. I was wearing a miniskirt with an elastic waistband. He had me stand up then he knelt down in front of me (what a show-off) but to my surprise, he reached _under_ my skirt.

"What are you doing?" I asked, pushing him away.

"I won. I get to take off any article of clothing of yours that I want. I want to remove your panties." He said.

"You can't do that. It's not fair." I said, pushing him a little harder. Tom and Rod were starting to snicker.

"Tell it to Hoyle," Rod said. He reached up and grabbed hold of my panties and tore them off - literally.

At least I wasn't any more exposed then before that hand...although I felt like I was. I never go without underwear so having my panties off, even with my skirt on, made me feel very naked and vulnerable. Tom dealt another hand (when do I get to deal?) and I looked at my cards. While I was looking, I felt a hand on my leg. I jumped and looked around. Everyone was looking at their cards and no one seemed to notice. It was Bruce. I looked at him and he had a very serious poker-face on as he rubbed his hand up my thigh. My pelvis twitched at the touch. I gasped. How could my body respond to this jerk?