It’s Just a Game


I haven’t been this drunk since college.

The thought flitted into view, seemed for a moment utterly significant, then irrelevant, then was gone with the last of my drink. I set the shot glass down more heavily than I intended and fixed my husband in my gaze.

“You—hey, you.” I motioned for eye contact to show I was serious. “No more of these. I’m a gin girl. You can’t be feeding me all kinds of crazy concoctions.”

He gave my drunk-serious act as much respect as it probably deserved. “I know Liz, that’s what I keep telling them! But these hooligans”—he gestured grandly at the three other guys with us at the bar—”they just don’t listen!”

These hooligans were also known as Ed, Jean, and Roche. They, along with Anne and Caesar relaxing on a couch behind us, were our college friends. Mostly Frank’s college friends, but I had to admit I had missed clowning around with them.

“C’mon, Liz,” Ed wheedled, already pouring me another gin and tonic, “it’s our big reunion! Loosen up!” He clinked glasses with Roche, and almost took a sip before remembering he made the drink for me.

“What, you don’t think this is loose enough?” I feigned offense. “I’ve got my hair down. I’ve got buttons undone.”

“Maybe just one more button would do it,” Roche said, his deep-set eyes twinkling.

I’ve always enjoyed getting Roche to drop his serious facade and play along. He’s the one who arranged this little reunion, got the private room at the bar and everything. I have no idea how he got them to let us make our own drinks, but it was fun playing bartender for each other at the little speakeasy.

Anyway, I wasn’t about to undo another button on my top—my cleavage was already on display—but I did squeeze my tits together and give them a shake as I made a face at him. It’s the kind of move I would usually stop myself from doing, but I was drunk and Frank didn’t seem to mind. I guessed my husband was having just as good a time as me.

Ed stood up and turned, surveying the small brick room with its two leather couches and scattered tables and chairs. “You’ll have to excuse me while I make sure my wife isn’t being seduced over here.” Caesar obviously heard, and flashed his bright rakish smile as Ed walked over.

I turned back to Jean. “You’re far too quiet. We’ve gotta fix that.”

“Ah, you mean it is time for drinking games,” he said in his light but delightful accent.

“Drinking games? How juvenile. Who plays drinking games?” I scoffed.

Several drinking games later, I was undoing another button on my top.

See, the thing is that we knew we were too drunk. We couldn’t keep taking drinks as penalties, but we wanted to keep playing. I in particular was on a hot streak and had no desire to stop now. Add in the fact that I always get horny when I drink to excess, and I put up less resistance than I’d like to admit when Jean calmly suggested we play for clothes.

Frank and I looked at each other, and I was surprised to see his agreeable expression. Probably hoping to get me going and get a blowjob out of it later, I thought, and that didn’t sound so bad to me either. In silent agreement we turned to Anne. It seemed fair the only other lady in the room should have a veto.

She was already blushing, but I knew how to push her buttons. “Well…” I said, “only if Miss Priss here is okay with it.”

Her blush deepend, bright red cheeks in the frame of her short dark hair. “Oh, I’m Miss Priss?” I grinned back at her in reply. “You’re on, Lizzie.”

“Okay then,” I said. It was just too easy, although I don’t know why I was suddenly the one trying to make this happen. “Maybe just one round. To see.”

Of course, we ladies got lucky the first round, and then we didn’t want to stop. We were playing quarters, some bastard version Roche had cooked up, and Caesar got bad bounce after bad bounce. We all knew he kept in shape, but I was still impressed when he pulled off his shirt to reveal the powerful pecs under his smooth dark skin.

“Damn Caesar, you’re making us look bad!” Ed said.

“Don’t pick on me next time, then,” he laughed.

They didn’t, and that’s how I ended up unfastening not one but all of the buttons on my top. Pulling it off, I was thankful the bra I had grabbed off the top of the pile in the morning wasn’t too sexy. Dark blue, thin, and a tiny bit lacy, but at least they couldn’t see my nipples through it. At least, I was pretty sure they couldn’t.

“Yeah, yeah, get it out of your system.” Even Anne was staring. “C’mon, next round!” I picked up a quarter and got it started.

Next round, Anne was the victim. Her plain black bra didn’t give much away about her tits, but I envied her flat stomach. Roche’s shirt came off next and showed off a tangle of dark chest hair I wouldn’t mind running my hand through, and as the game went on I began to realize the tone of the room had shifted.

We were still laughing and ribbing each other, but there was something else present, a hushed undercurrent of tension. I saw Ed whispering masaj porno in Anne’s ear more than once, and I’m pretty sure he had a hand down the back of her shorts. I found myself bumping into or brushing against Jean and Roche with increasing frequency. Caesar managed to bounce a quarter into my bra, and when I playfully slapped his arm I let my hand linger longer than was probably necessary.

Then I saw that everyone standing around the tall table was looking at me, and I realized I had just lost another round. “Shit!” I said. Their faces said there would be no getting out of this one. I frantically racked my brain for what panties I was wearing. Fumbling with my jeans, I still had no idea what I was about to flash to the room. I gulped and yanked them down, like ripping off a band-aid.

Red silk. Not quite a thong, but not so far from it either. Now I was blushing, doubtless matching my panties better than my bra did. I kicked my jeans off my feet, having long ago shed my shoes. “Well, I think that’s enough losing for me,” I said.

“No, come on!” came the unanimous response. “What’s wrong, Miss Priss?” Anne said with a smirk.

“Hey, you’re only a couple bad bounces from showing everyone your tits, too.” As I heard the words come out of my mouth, they only made me less certain that I wanted to quit.

“Wait, wait,” Jean interjected. “You don’t have to get naked.” Easy for him to say, still wearing all his clothes. “How about, if you lose again, you just give a lap dance to your husband.” That damn accent. I’m pretty sure no one else could have made the suggestion sound reasonable.

I stared him down, but my resolve was already softening. The alcohol in my system and the eyes on my body were making me nervous and excited in a way I was not accustomed to. “And I get a handicap,” I insisted.

“Sure!” Ed agreed immediately.

“A one round handicap,” Frank said.

I gaped at him and punched his bicep. My own husband, working against me. And did he realize just what game he was playing?

“Hey, we’ve got to be fair,” he said while making a show of rubbing his arm. The mischievous look in his eyes said that he might know more than I gave him credit for. Did that make it better or worse? I wasn’t sure, but I could feel a heat growing between my legs all the same.

“Fine,” I said, resolving to make them pay.

That worked for all of one round, in which Ed lost his shirt. Then I lost again. Ed and Roche whooped, Anne blew me a kiss, and Frank, damn him, just grinned and pulled over a wooden chair.

I gathered my nerves and walked over, determined to make him more embarrassed than I was. Summoning every striptease I could remember watching onscreen into my mind, I started with a slow shimmy. I shook my ass at him, then bent down to rub it in his lap. But it was too much with everyone watching. I spun around and straddled him so I could pretend we were alone.

“You jerk,” I whispered in his ear. “I’m gonna make you pop a boner in front of all your friends.” I gyrated on his lap, searching for any indication that I was succeeding. Frank reached for me and I slapped his hand away.

“Uh uh!” I announced. “No touching!” Under my breath, I continued, “Only I can touch.” And I went to work unfastening his belt and jeans. To my surprise, he didn’t stop me, just kept his hands at his sides like a good patron while I shook my boobs in his face.

I leaned forward, pushing his nose into my cleavage to cover the motion of reaching into his pants. Not that I really cared if they noticed, at this point. Unfortunately I ended up outside his boxers, but I was still pleased to feel the shape of his hardening cock.

“I bet you wish you could fuck me right now,” I whispered. His member twitched and I shifted it right under my pussy, so that I could rub it with every shimmy.

“Bet you want to just pull out your cock and stick it in me, in front of all of them.” This was definitely working on him, but it was also getting me wet. “But you can’t, and all you’ll get is a boner to hide and some blue balls.” I nibbled his earlobe. “Until tonight,” I finished.

Satisfied that he was hard, I turned around. One more shake of my ass against him, plus a jiggle of my tits and a bow for the crowd, and I was done. The crowd clapped, and I bowed. My embarrassment at performing my first lap dance was overwhelmed by the perverse glee I got from watching my husband trying to hide his erection from a roomful of friends.

We circled back around the table with the unspoken acknowledgement that the stakes had been raised. It didn’t take much for Roche to convince us to move to a speed round. Two of us at a time, across the table from one another, aiming at the same shot glass. First to make it is safe, and the other immediately suffers the penalty. At my behest, we started with Frank versus Ed and went counter clockwise, so I would be the last to compete.

Frank, my husband the insufferably talented, nailed it on the first öğretmen porno bounce. Ed and I groaned, and Anne’s blush returned when her husband had to shed his pants. His striped boxers were too baggy to show anything off, but counting my way around the table told me I would get a chance to disrobe him completely.

Next up were Caesar and Jean. I was eager to see more of Caesar’s sculpted body, but I also wanted Jean to finally lose. I kept thinking he was about to, as Caesar’s quarters skipped off the rim in agonizingly close misses. But it was Jean who managed to sink one, after a dozen bad shots.

Caesar, always good natured, just smiled as Anne and I whooped at his loss. Frank, having abandoned the no touching rule since we got back to the table, gave my ass a squeeze in response, but as far as I could tell he was still the good kind of jealous.

Caesar did not disappoint. His tight boxer briefs showed off strong legs and a considerable package. I wanted to whistle, but thought better of it. I also thought about getting the real view, or even getting my hands on him, and by the time the sound of quarters hitting the table drew my out of my daydream my pussy was wet and getting wetter.

Anne put away Roche without too much trouble, and the modesty of his boxers did not stop my immodest thoughts from wandering to him either. At least, until I realized I was up.

An odd number of us meant that Ed’s second turn was my first, and he had at least as much to lose as me. “Wait, so how does this work?” he asked. “I give a lap dance to Anne if I lose?”

I spoke without thinking. “You touch yourself if you lose.” All eyes turned to me. “Get hard or get naked, your choice.” Frank laughed and clapped his hands together, and Ed saw that the table was on my side.

“Alright, fine,” he said with a hammy grimace. “I’ll just have to win then.”

My second quarter dropped in. A beautiful bounce. Except that it landed on top of his own second shot, which snuck in a split second earlier. The table erupted in cheers.

I threw my head back, resigned to my fate. “Dammit! Okay, okay.” I made a move toward the chair, but Anne interrupted me.

“Uh uh, not your husband again! We’ve seen that.” And this fickle group, of course, leapt onboard with her.

“Ahh, it is true, the second loss must raise the stakes,” said Jean.

“Who, then?” I asked.

Roche replied. “Dealer’s choice. Unless you want to get naked instead, of course.”

I mulled it over and was about to decide that losing my bra was worlds easier than the alternative when I had an idea.

“Okay,” I said slyly, and walked around the table. “I’ll just need to borrow your husband.” Anne’s face showed she hadn’t considered this turn of events. It’s true, though Ed was cute in a kind of nerdy way, he wouldn’t usually be my first choice. But I could not pass up this opportunity to throw Miss Priss off balance.

I led Ed to the chair, sat him down, and launched into my second ever lap dance with ferocity. This time, I was playing to the crowd. My practice run with Frank and the dampness between my legs had loosened me up, and I was ready to give them a show.

First, they got the rear view as I got my hips swaying. My hands slid up and down my body, pausing at my waist, teasing him with a peek beneath the strap of my panties. Then I turned around and sat down to really work him over. It didn’t take long bumping and grinding into his lap to feel his dick pressing up at me. My audience couldn’t see yet, although they did have a nice view down my bra, but Ed and I knew just how turned on he was.

In contrast, I was the only one who knew how wet I was getting. As I rubbed against him, feeling out the contours of his erection through two thin layers of cloth, my pussy begged to be filled. I let out a gentle moan without thinking, and hoped against hope it would come across as part of the act. To sell it, I squeezed my tits through my bra and moaned again, this one obviously faked.

But there was no way to fake my way out of being this horny. If I kept dancing on him for long, I would be all too tempted to pull his cock through his fly. The thought rippled through me like one of my dance moves, from no, are you crazy? in my head all the way to yes oh god please between my legs.

I had to stop. I stood, turned, and straddled him in one motion, trying to keep his erection out of sight until the big reveal. But first, I had one more reveal in mind. I worked my hands up my body to my boobs, gave them a jiggle to make absolutely sure I had his attention, and then flipped the cups of my bra down to give him a close up, full frontal view.

The sounds of surprise and excitement from behind me put a grin on my face. I gave Ed a good long look at my bare tits, replaced my bra, and stood up to take another bow. The crowd’s disappointment at not getting a taste of the show only made me wetter.

“Damn,” Roche said.

My husband was speechless, but oral porno I could read his thoughts and they were quite inappropriate.

“That was…” Caesar caught himself, then went on anyway. “That was fucking hot, girl.”

“Why thank you!” I said. “I can’t wait to see what you’ve got for us.” I winked at him as we circled back up.

“And we see what Ed has for us,” Jean remarked dryly, and all eyes went to the obvious erection straining at the fabric of Ed’s boxers.

His face went bright red, but he didn’t shy away. “Hey,” he said, then paused. “Worth it.” Anne’s resulting glare didn’t change that assessment, which made me proud.

Back at the table, Frank and Jean faced off. Finally, one of them would have to take something off, and to my delight it turned out to be Frank.

“Streak’s over, honey,” I gloated as he pulled his shirt over his head. “Show everybody that six pack.”

“Yeah, right,” he laughed and slapped his stomach. It’s true, he hadn’t had a six pack since college, but he kept in shape. His chest was nothing to be ashamed of either, and he didn’t seem to mind joining the rest of us in the half-buff. Only Jean remained stubbornly covered up.

The next matchup was just the opposite. Caesar and Roche had but one item of clothing each, which meant someone was about to give us a show one way or another. Again Caesar struggled, but Roche fared even worse. Shot after shot went wide or bounced off the rim, until finally Caesar clenched it. He gave a victorious fist pump as we all turned to Roche.

“What’s it gonna be, R?” Frank asked. “Are you the first to drop trow?” Roche looked uncharacteristically, maybe historically uncomfortable. I couldn’t detect a blush in his complexion, but his normal knowing smile was replaced with a nervous one.

“The other option is I touch myself?”

“Mm-hmm,” I nodded.

“Okay, you got me,” he admitted. He stuck his hand down his boxers, rustled it around for a few seconds, and withdrew.

“What!” Ed exclaimed. “That doesn’t count. I was told you have to get hard.”

Roche scoffed. “Get hard? I would need some stimulation for that.” His gaze danced across Anne and me.

“Don’t look at me,” I said. “When I lost I took my medicine. And, I already gave you a show! You are more than welcome to use your memory of it, though.”

“You already started, just finish the job,” Jean chimed in, and Roche gave up. His hand went back into his boxers, more slowly this time. When he shut his eyes, a few of us leaned over none too subtly to get a better view. Before long his dick was clearly tenting his boxers, and he gave it a few more strokes before stopping and opening his eyes.

“Eat your hearts out,” he said with palms upturned, trying to reclaim some of his usual confidence. Based on what I had seen, he had a right to it. “Who’s next?”

I, standing directly to Roche’s left, was next. And across from me with a quarter in her hand was Anne. “Oh, this is good,” Roche said. “Why couldn’t you have gone just before me?” I ignored him and readied myself. I had no plans to get a losing streak going.

Anne had her own plans. “This game is rigged!” I cried as her third shot clinked in. I sighed, but before anyone could taunt me I reached behind my back, unclasped my bra, and shrugged off the straps to let it fall to the floor.

“Eat your hearts out,” I quoted with a middle finger raised to the group, but no one was looking at my hand. Well, they just watched me give two different guys boners, let them ogle my tits. Maybe the next guy to get hard would do it while checking them out, and that idea sent a shiver through all the right places.

With that, we had come full circle. “I think we need a little break,” I suggested, and despite some disappointment no one objected.

Anne, Ed, and Caesar retired to the couch they were lounging on earlier. The rest of us headed for its twin on the opposite wall, until Frank peeled off and took Jean along with him to make drinks at the bar.

“Casual drinks!” I admonished. I could use something to sip on but I did not need to be chugging more alcohol while I lost at quarters. Not that anyone seemed likely to suggest we go back to those lower, more innocent stakes.

“Casual drinks,” Frank assured me, “super casual.” A likely story.

That left me, wearing nothing but a damp pair of red silk panties, sitting alone with Roche and the only slightly-deflated erection poking up from his lap. He saved me from having to talk first, but only to proposition me.

“Doesn’t seem fair that Frank and Ed got all the fun. I mean, Frank gets to go home with you anyway.”

“”Hey, Roche,” I deflected. Away from the competition, I had just had a horrifying thought. “What if a waiter comes in or something?” I gestured to the door.

He laughed. “Did you not see me lock it? I took care of that around the time of your first dance. Besides, the owner is a good friend. He knows we didn’t want company.”

I sighed with relief. “I don’t know where you get these good friends,” I needled.

Roche grinned and shrugged. He didn’t try to go back to the proposition, but now I was thinking about it. Thinking about that curly chest hair that I still wanted to run my fingers through, and about how quickly I could get him back to fully hard…