A Friendly Little Texas Poker Game
Chapter 1

Copyright© 2006 by Roxanne

Erotica Sex Story: Chapter 1 - My friend Stan and I took a one-day trip to Yuma, to see a Padres spring training game. On the way, we decided to skip the ballgame, and drive farther. A week later, we were visiting friends in Dallas. They took us to a party, which ended up in a no holds barred strip poker game.

Caution: This Erotica Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa   Consensual   True Story  

Three of hearts, nine of spades, five of diamonds, seven of clubs and two of spades. Another rotten hand. The cards weren't coming my way. I'd only won one small pot. Stan wasn't doing much better. He hadn't won anything, but he'd only lost once. I'd lost 4 times already; with the next loss, somebody would claim my blouse. I was by far the biggest loser. I had a choice, put in the chips and stay, probably lose the money, but maybe keep my blouse, or fold and probably lose my blouse. I put in two white chips.

This was an interesting trip, and a very different poker game.

I came home to San Diego from a business trip to Idaho. I'd been stuck there three months, and had to go back to Post Falls in a couple of weeks.

Stan picked me up at the airport; I spent the night at his place. The next day, on a whim, we went to Yuma to see the Padres in spring training. En route, we decided to skip Yuma, and kept driving. We spent the night in Phoenix, the next night in El Paso. All we had were the clothes on our backs and our Visa Cards. It looked like we might be gone for a while, so we went shopping in El Paso. We each bought a couple of casual outfits, clean underwear, some toiletries and a suitcase to share. Day three ended in White City, New Mexico. We spent day four in Carlsbad Caverns. Today was Saturday, day seven, our second day in Dallas. We were staying with Gary and Laurie, friends from college, who had taken us to this party.

There were five couples present. All of us in our mid to late 20s. It was a casual gathering. We barbecued steaks at about 4 P.M., then sat and talked until about 6. The topic got around to poker.

As I sat there barefooted, looking at probably the worst hand ever dealt, I concluded the poker game was the main item on the agenda for the evening. Stan and I are both good poker players. We enjoy the game, and end up winners more often than not; it required no convincing to get us to agree to a "friendly little Texas poker game."

We adjourned to a big game room, with lots of couches and pillows and a big, low, round glass table that wasn't even knee high. It cost a minimum of $100 each to buy in to this friendly little game.

I only had $80 on me, but Stan had $155. He loaned me $35, put $5 away in case we needed gas to get to the ATM machine, and we each bought $115 of $ .50, $2.50 and $5 chips. We sat boy, girl, boy, girl, directly across from our spouse/date/SO. Most people bought a little more than $100 of chips, one couple bought $150 each. We were talking about a pot of nearly $1,200. As I was soon to learn, that was not all we were talking about.

Fred, the host, was seated to my right. "Roxi" (God, I hate it when strangers call me that. I always go by Roxanne, except for very close long time friends. Even Stan usually calls me Roxanne, and I've known him all my life) "and Stan, we play our poker a little bit differently here. Of course, we are playing for cash, but to make it more interesting we play strip poker at the same time. If a woman has the best hand, she gets a piece of clothing from the man with the worst hand, and also from any other man who can't beat the worst woman's hand. If a man has the best hand, it's the woman with the worst hand who gives up clothing -- maybe more than one woman -- any other that can't beat the worst man's hand. With ten people, we use two 53 card decks, joker's wild, dealer's choice, and other cards wild if the dealer wants them wild. At the end of the evening, you've got to negotiate with whoever has your clothing to get it back."

Strip poker is an interesting game; one that Stan and I had played before. We had played it with Gary and Laurie when we were neighbors at the university. It is really a chance game, not a skill game; at least every time I'd ever played it before. As I grew up, the concept of strip poker had grown boring. It was more or less a game of hurry up and strip so we can fuck. If that was the group's ultimate goal for the evening, there were faster ways to get naked, and keep the cards cleaner. Tonight's game intrigued me however, with the cash on the table and the strangers sitting around it.

"I won my ex-husband in a strip poker game, the terms are OK with me, but I'm probably not going to be exchanging any body fluids with folks I don't know very well."

One of the women, Melissa I think, said, "That is all right. Sometimes we do, sometimes we don't. Nobody gets forced."

I looked at Stan. I raised my eyebrows. He knew I was looking for his agreement that there would be no body fluids exchanged with strangers. He nodded yes.

"Deal the cards," I said.

This hand was deuces wild. (Most hands were deuces wild except when Stan or I dealt. I hate ALL wild cards; that isn't real poker.) I kept the deuce, and drew four cards. Seven, five, king, five. Three fives. Not a good hand with all those wild cards and two decks, but probably good enough to keep my blouse. When the bet came around to me, I folded. I'd never played with two decks before -- it was a different game with strange strategy -- and bluffing was harder, because everybody had to show their hand to determine who won and who lost. Once so far, the woman who won the pot bluffed the man with the best hand. She got the pot, but he got my left sock and Melissa's shoe. Melissa had the worst hand that time, but I couldn't beat Bob's worst male hand.

My wild card aided three fives did save my blouse, as Stan lost his other shoe, and so did another guy who couldn't beat three fours, the worst woman's hand. Geez, I'd come very close to losing again. I knew I would be uncomfortable showing skin to this group, at least early in the game, and I was determined to postpone it as long as possible.

My dilemma was that to win the pot, you had to take intelligent chances. To not lose clothing, you merely had to play it safe. I liked to take chances and win cash. It would have been fairly easy to keep most of my clothes and lose all of my money.

With the small pot I'd won earlier, I still had a little over $100. Looking around the table, that seemed about average, except for Tom, to my left. He was the big winner so far, and since he'd started with about $150, he had nearly twice the chips I had. But I was the only one to have lost half their clothing; Tom had several pieces he'd won, including a shoe and sock of mine. He was really the only person there I didn't like. He was loud and obnoxious, and reminded me of my ex-husband, both physically and verbally. I didn't want to have to "negotiate" with him to get back anything important.

Eight or nine hands went by fairly quickly. I didn't lose anything, except chips, and the state of undress approached my own. Then I won a nice pot, with a full house, queens and tens. I got Stan's final sock and Tom's first sock. Pretty soon we would have to get down to garments; we were rapidly running out of shoes and socks.

Pretty soon was right. Two hands later, the group showed some skin. My skin. I broke one of the cardinal rules of poker -- never draw to an inside straight -- but I figured with all the wild cards this hand (not only the two jokers, but eight deuces and four one-eyed jacks)... I should have known better. I did know better. Worst of all, Tom, acting more and more like a clone of my ex-husband every minute, was the winner. I sighed, and started to unbutton my blouse.

"No, no, no! The important stuff isn't surrendered, it is claimed," Tom said.

I gritted my teeth, as he stood and walked behind me. He put his hands on my shoulders, and brought them gently down my sides to my breasts. I willed myself not to respond, and thankfully, there were no involuntary reactions. Quickly, he unbuttoned my blouse, took it off, folded it and put it under his chair with a growing collection of female apparel. My bra was not really see-through material, but it was skimpy and thin, and clearly showed my prominent nipples in bold relief. It was obvious the bra was not required for support.

The next eight or nine hands were not good to me. I didn't lose any clothing, but I lost lots of money. Three times I had the best woman's hand, and each time I bet quite heavily, only to lose the pot to a man with better cards. I had less than $40, definitely the least amount at the table. Stan won the biggest pot. I had four kings and an ace. Stan had three aces and a joker. Damn, I hate playing poker with wild cards.

Stan claimed the second blouse, from Kathy, only to be the first man to lose his shirt to Kathy on the very next hand. As he claimed her blouse, Stan slipped his hands inside her bra, and gave her nipples a brief massage. When she took his shirt, she ran her fingernails over Stan's nipples, through his undershirt. He reacted as he always does to that stimuli, with an erection that threatened to split his trousers. As his erection grew, I felt myself responding too; my nipples were getting hard and I could feel a slight dampness beginning between my legs.

My next two hands were pure garbage. I had to stay in until the draw, hoping to get something, at least a wild card aided pair. Both draws were useless. I folded; I had the worst woman's hand both times. Luckily for my modesty, Melissa and Laurie were the winners, and two more men lost their shirts. I had a little better hand the next deal, but again I folded after the draw. Tom won this hand, he was definitely the biggest winner and the smallest loser. He claimed Julie's blouse. Her bra was virtually transparent, and Tom paid a lot of attention to the breasts he'd exposed.

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