The six of us had been playing a monthly penny ante poker game off and on for going on five years now. The game has deteriorated into a weekly bullshit session more like group therapy, than a game of wager.

We were so use to each other’s game play that bluffing was a lost art form and there was virtually no skill left in the game. It was boring to say the least. If anything was happening here, we were becoming like old married couples and just beginning to irritate the shit out of each other.

Take Bart Hester for instance. I used to enjoy his misogynistic humor and his biting wit even when it was directed at me, but lately I just want to slap him in the face every time he opened his mouth.

The problem with that is Bart is a big fucking guy, at least compared to me he is. I’m five foot eight and a little on the chunky side. The men on my side of the family tend to get that way once they reach their forties. My wife Stella says that if you look on Wikipedia under accountant you’ll find my picture there. Glasses, balding and an ample layer of fatty tissue uniformly distributed around my body. Bart on the other hand is fat only where his gut is concerned. His upper arms are as big around as my thighs from lifting weights, and he has all sorts of military themed tattoos covering each one. Bart has a barrel of a chest. He reminds me of the cartoon charter Bluto if you can imagine Bluto with a huge beer belly and no beard.

Then there’s Bob Fenner, my best friend and next door neighbor who is also a fairly large guy, but not nearly the size of Bart. Despite the amount of time we spend together I never seem to tire of Bob’s company. We just seem to fit like a couple of puzzle pieces.

Also at the table is Charlie Coggins, Kevin Burris, and Anthony Johnson.

Anthony is our token Black guy. I say that in jest. I really like Tony. He’s a very mild mannered guy not much taller than I am, but thinner and I guess I should stop thinking of him as our token black guy, because when I think about it, that seems pretty racists and I don’t like to think of myself as a racist kind of person.

Charlie Coggins lives down the block from Bob. He’s always been a decent kind of guy only lately at the poker game his banter gets on my nerves, but more often than not what is most irritating about Charlie is his habit of bitching about the same old thing. ‘My wife won’t have sex with me, boo hoo.’ Give it up dude, either be a fucking man and make her fuck you or except that you aren’t going to get any pussy and get on with your life.

Which leaves Kevin. Kevin’s cool I suppose, but I don’t know why he even plays poker. He sucks at it. He almost always loses, but when the largest pot is around five bucks and the big winner only takes home twenty dollars it’s easy to afford to lose at our games. Kevin is a tall lanky surfer type with sun bleached hair and a mellow attitude to match.

So here we are, another Friday night of boring Texas hold’em. Charlie is whining about Pam and her frozen pussy. Hester has insisted on smoking a fat smelly cigar and I don’t have the balls to make him put it out.

Bob wins the hand and rakes in a whopping eighty five cent pot. He slides the cards over to me and says. “Your deal Bill.”

I pick up the deck and start shuffling. Bart throws in his little blind and I wait to see if Kevin will remember he’s the big blind. He doesn’t, and I nudge him with my elbow. “You’re big blind Kev.”

“Oh, yeah.” he says and he tosses a dime in the center of the table and yawns.

We’ve only been playing a little over an hour and he looks like he’s about to fall asleep. Bob yawns in response to Kevin’s yawn and the yawn involuntarily rolls around the table.

Bob say’s. “Fuck guys I’m bored. Let’s play something else.”

“Like what?” Bart demands.

“Hell I don’t know, but old maid couldn’t any more boring than what we we’re doing.”

Then Charlie says. “Let’s play strip poker.”

“Yeah, right.” I shot back at him.

“Why not?” He challenges me right back.

“DUH! All guys. Dumb ass.”

“Well I bet it wouldn’t be boring. Dumb ass.” he spits back at me.

Hester Laughs. “Yeah, why the fuck not. He’s right. It probably wouldn’t be boring.”

Bob was grinning. Kevin had woken up, and Anthony was waiting to see what was going to happen.

“Seriously?” I said in disbelief.

“We’re all adults.” Bob offered.

“Yeah.” Charlie shot back at me like a petulant child whose mom just agreed with him against his sister.

Still not believing they were serious I asked. “So how is this supposed to work?”

Hester looks at me and asks. “You don’t know how to play strip poker?”

“Yes.” I spat at him. “But with females. Not with all men. I mean when a man plays with a woman there’s the suggestion that some sex might happen ... eventually.”

“Not necessarily.” said Bob “Martha and I and another couple played once and when the girls got down to their bras and panties we quit.”

“But I bet when you and Martha got home you tore up the sheets.” I pointed out.

“True.” Replied my neighbor, smiling as if remembering the incident.

“Well we could still play until we lost all our clothes.” Charlie insisted not letting the subject go.

“What’s the point? Just six guys sitting around a table naked.”

“At least it won’t be BORING!” Charlie shouted at me.

I shrugged and threw up my hands. “Fine, do what you want.” I said and pushed the cards into the center of the table.

Charlie snatched the cards up and began shuffling.

“Wait.” Bob interrupted. “We should make sure everyone has the same number if clothing items on and we should decide if there is going to be some kind of consequence for the looser.”

“Like what?” I asked.

No one had an answer for my question. Then Hester rocked in his seat. “We could have the winner instruct the looser what to do.”

“I’m not gay.” I stated.

“Who said it had to be something sexual. It could be anything like ... go get everyone a beer while you’re naked or the loser might have to clean up after the game ... naked.”

I still wasn’t convinced and I was just a nat’s hair from getting up and going home, then I remembere ... I was home.

Bob looked around the table. “So is everyone in.”

He looked at me. I shrugged and then nodded and reluctantly said yes as did everyone else though they seemed much less averse to playing than I. I figured it was unlikely that I might lose, especially with Kevin playing.

We checked our clothing and decided on five items both shoes one item, both sox one item, shirt, pants, and undershorts one item each. (Twenty nine hands of play to determine the winner if everyone, but one person lost everything. A loser could be determined in five hands. Neither scenario seemed probable as somewhere in between was more likely).

Kevin had no sox, so each shoe for him counted as one item and Hester had an undershirt, so he took off his top shirt leaving a well-worn wife beater ‘T’ shirt. An abundance of black hair sprouted out of his chest at his neck line and his arm openings.

To my surprise, despite my protests and my initial irritation, I was beginning to get a little excited at what was about to happen. Sure I wasn’t too confident at what might go down considering we were a room of men, but just being naked was in itself somewhat exciting.

Charlie was squirming in his seat. Hester was no more animated than normal. Kevin was alert and apparently prepared to play. Bob still had that silly smile that he had at the beginning of the discussion, and Tony just calmly sat there with his arms folded.

Charlie dealt.

The rules were simple. All hands were to be played face up with no betting. You were in the hand till the end no matter what. The loser removed one article of clothing. The first man to lose all his clothing was the overall loser and the man with the most clothing on when someone lost all his clothing was the winner.

As confident as I felt when Charlie dealt the first hand I wasn’t feeling very confident after twenty one hands. In fact I was sweating bullets. Charlie and I were down to our underpants and that’s all. Hester, Bob and Kevin were down to their underpants and shirts. Tony had only lost his shoes and sox leaving him with his pants shirt and under shorts.

Then just like that Tony lost two hands in a row and was sitting in his boxers like Charlie and I.

Charlie scoffed and with a tremor in his voice said. “Well this sure as hell ain’t boring.”

Everyone laughed. There could have not been more tension in the room if it had been the final table at the World Series of Poker, although I doubt that at the WSP that every one of the players at the table would have a raging boner.

My tighty whities were stretched over my erections as was Bob’s and Kevin’s Hester’s fat cock was sticking out of his boxers and he did nothing to try to conceal it. Tony and Charlie attempted to keep their hard dicks covered with their boxers, but it was a losing battle.

Half of us could be the overall looser with just one loss and as luck would have I lost on the very next hand. When the river card rolled and I didn’t pair up a collective sigh was heard from everyone but me. That signaled the end of the game, but there was a tie for player with the most clothes remaining.

Since Hester, Bob and Kevin still had two articles of clothing each it was decided that they would draw for high card to see who the winner was. I was praying for Bob to win. I figured since we were best friends he would take it easy on me and wouldn’t make me do the things that I figured Hester might make me do.

Hester drew a Jack, then Kevin pulled a five out of the pile and then it was Bob’s turn. He heightened the tension by spreading the cards out and then piling them back increasing the anticipation. He slid a card out of the pile and flipped it over. A king! Bob had won with a king. I woopeed as Hester and the others congratulated him.

Bob asked. “Who wants a beer?”

Of course everybody wanted one. “Go get everyone a beer Billy.”

Bob knows I hate to be called Billy. Call me Bill or William or Wil and I’m fine with that, but I hate Billy. He knew it and he knew that I knew that he knew, so he was just busting my chops. I gritted my teeth and went into the kitchen to gather the beers, my stiff dick waving before me as I walked. While there I could hear them talking, but I couldn’t tell what they were saying.

At one point there was a loud cheer from the dining room. They were smiling when I walked back into the dining room. I placed a beer in front of each of them as I went around the table. As I set the beers down I noticed they each had a card face down in front of them.

Bob said to me as I handed him his beer. The guys think you should call me Sir when you address me and I agree. He looked at me as if he were expecting me to say something.

Then it hit me, “Oh yes Sir.” Once Bob had won I had decided to do pretty much whatever he asked me to do and calling him Sir was well within those parameters I had set in my head.

“I’ve decided to share my winnings with everyone at the table to night. I’ve always wanted my own personal cocksucker and now since I’ve just won one I’m going to share.”

When I heard him say cocksucker I hoped he was just fucking with me, more of busting my balls so to speak. So I didn’t say anything to refute his assertion that he had just won a cocksucker. Then he said. “Ok, everyone turn over your card to see who gets the first blow job. High card goes first.”