Breaking the Texan

Friday afternoon, Clay stepped into the casino if only to get away from the heat but really he had come there to gamble.  A silver belt buckle, tight blue jeans, a tucked in button down shirt, 10 gallon hat, and boots, Clay was the icon of a cowboy as he sat down at the poker table. 

He looked around at the other players, most of them were there to lose and drink complimentary drinks except for one, a short man with dark skin, black hair, and dark eyes.  Clay guessed he was from the Middle East, maybe Pakistan or India, probably Saudi Arabia.  The man noticed him in return, their eyes caught in an uncomfortable recognition of two men on a mission, to win.

They played a few hands, both of them won in turns, piled up their chips.  Others came and went but they were at it for hours.  Clay nursed two drinks but the man always waved away the cocktail girl.  Probably doesn’t drink, he thought, keeps him sharp.  When seats emptied between them the man moved closer but didn’t say anything until there was a change of dealers.  They talked over their shoulders in not quite whispers.

“You play big,” the man said, “I like your style.”

He had a bit of an accent but Clay couldn’t place it, not that he had anything against foreigners, not really, it was more of a curiousness, a desire to know.  He liked the way the man played as well, a kind of confidence that made him difficult to read.

“Thanks,” Clay replied.

“I’m going to dinner soon but maybe you’d like to meet up later.  I’m hosting a private game up in my room.  There are some big whales who can’t play, they just don’t like to lose big so their conservative players but I think they’d like you.  Would you be interested?”

“How much do I have to have to get into the game?”

“Two thousand should do it,” the man answered.

The dealer eyed them suspiciously.  The stranger waved away his interest and said that he was leaving.  The dealer looked to Clay who began to count his chips.  It would be a bit of a hustle but he could come up with two thousand.  Why not?

“Okay, I’m in for tonight.”

“My name is Raj, let me give you my phone number.  We start after eight o’clock, make sure you get something to eat.  There will be drinks if you’re interested.”

“I like to keep an even head so I don’t indulge, too much.”

“Good, a worthy opponent,” the man replied.

He pulled a matchbook from his jacket and wrote down his number with his name, then handed it over.  Clay took it and thanked him as he watched the man walk away.

Fleece some whales of their cash, he thought, easy money.  He turned back to the dealer and indicated he was ready to continue playing.  He played a few more hands, but found he had lost his interest in trying to hustle the money.  He had a few hundred in the bank, a few favors he could call in, he thought.

Besides he didn’t want to wear himself out.  He stopped playing after a winning hand and walked away with his chips.  He cashed out and went back to his apartment after stopping at the bank, a simple dwelling, a studio apartment.  He called his friends, took a shower, picked out his best shirt and jeans, then headed out to his friends.  He drove all around town to bars, casinos, and homes to get the money but by the time he made it back to the casino he over two thousand dollars.  He had two bulges in his pants as he walked into the place.  He stopped at the reception to call up to the room.

“Hello, yes, come right up,” Raj said.

Clay walked with his shoulders high to the elevators, but noticed the regular elevators didn’t go to Raj’s room.  He smirked as he turned to the other elevator bank, a special elevator to the largest rooms.  He passed a few women headed to the pool, athletic women, and tipped his hat, watched their butts after they passed.  He stepped onto the elevator, pressed the button for the floor and put his thumbs in pockets. 

Moments later he was there.  He stepped off with a renewed commitment to win.  Everything made him feel like this was going to be his lucky night.  He strutted down the hall to the room where he knocked as cordially as he could, soon after Raj opened the door and invited him inside. 

There was a mix of men and women of different ethnicities around the room but he could tell easily that he was the poorest of them and for a moment his two thousand dollars didn’t feel like such a big bulge, but he steadied himself as Raj took him into the bedroom where he placed the wad of bills in a safe with piles of cash.  Raj was quick to take him by the elbow and usher him back out to the bar to introduce him to a few of the guests.

They made small talk for a few minutes as people began to move to the poker table set up by the window.  There were only six players, five men and one woman.  Raj continued to guide him by the elbow over to the table.

“Listen, I’m sorry for telling you the wrong amount.  The other players wanted to raise the entry limit.  I’ll cover you for another three thousand,” he whispered.

“Thanks,” Clay replied.  “But-”

Raj was quick to stop him by planting him in a chair.  Clay looked around at these other players and felt he could take them easily, it would be too good.  He’d make up the three thousand easily and maybe roll them for another couple of grand, he thought.  He decided to play.

And it was easy, except for Raj, but nearly everyone had a tell except for the Japanese man but he liked to drink too much so he bet more as the night went on and lost it all.  Like Raj had said the old men didn’t mind losing they just bet small so he had to slow roll them to get them betting more, feign weakness.  By the end of the night he was up twelve thousand and the game ended, not because they were out of money, no, but because most of them were drunk.  Raj walked them out in turn, thanked them for their time but really he was thanking them for their money.

Somehow, for some reason, maybe it was just to collect his winnings without anyone else around, Clay was the last as Raj made his way back to the table.  Two men, they looked across the table at each other and smiled.

“You did very good tonight,” Raj said.  “What will you spend your winnings on?”

“Steak, lots of steak, and maybe a woman.”

“No girlfriend?”

“No, couldn’t afford one, but now I can,” Clay said.  “Thank you for inviting me up for this.  You were right, they didn’t care about losing.  Just how rich were they?”

“I don’t like to gossip,” Raj said.  And for a moment Clay felt like he had asked the wrong question, but then the man grinned at him.  “Filthy rich,” he replied and they laughed a little, “they can afford to lose it.  I’d rather it be in your pocket then theirs.”

Clay groaned with relief as he sat back in his chair.  He stretched out his arms.  It was over.  He had won.  But Raj barely moved, in fact he stared at him.  Did he want to play another game, one on one?  He rubbed at his face, readied himself to quit.

“Would you be willing to play another hand?”

“I don’t know.  I’m tired,” Clay said. 

That’s good, he thought, be polite, just banter a little then get the money.  He could imagine himself walking out the door with all of that cash.  It probably wouldn’t fit in his pocket.  He’d need a bag.  Maybe Raj had one he could borrow, maybe even buy, he laughed at himself for the last thought.

“What if we don’t play for money?” Raj asked.

Oh no, Clay thought, the guy is queer and is making his move.

“Sorry, I don’t go in for strip poker or anything like that.  That’s for kids, college kids who want to see each other naked.”

“I’m not talking about strip poker,” Raj replied.

“What are you talking about?”

“I win your money.  You win my money.  We break even.  It doesn’t say much about us as men,” Raj said.  “But we could play for something else, something that could tell us about who we are as men.”

“You’ve lost me partner.  I don’t have a clue what you’re talking about.”

“Wait right there,” Raj said.

He didn’t have much choice, Clay thought as he watched the man walk away from the table.  He went into the bedroom and moments later returned with a long, ornate box that looked like it could hold a pool cue.  I’m not playing pool, he thought, besides it doesn’t prove much about being a man.

Raj opened the box carefully and revealed that inside on a red velvet lining was a long, thin almost plastic looking stick.  Hell of a box for a stick, Clay thought.

“I don’t get it,” Clay said.

Raj returned to his seat at the opposite end of the table.  He leaned on his elbows, looked deep into Clay’s eyes.  It was an intense, unyielding look.  Clay curled his toes.

“When was the last time you were spanked?”

Clay gave out a nervous laugh, uncurled his toes.

“Is that what this is for?  Do you want to spank me?”

“I want to see how brave you are.  How brave are you?”

“I’m brave.  I’ve been spanked.  Hell, I’ve even cut my own switch for my mother to whip my ass but that was decades ago.  I was a bad kid.  This barely looks like it will hurt.”

“We set aside our earnings.  The money you won is all yours.  We get new chips, a hundred each, but this time the loser collects.  The number of chips equals the number of times we get whipped.”

“We?”

“I’ve played this game a few times and no one ever ends up with all of the chips.  Eventually someone gives up when they start to lose.  The person with the lowest number gets it first from the other player.  It’s easier that way.”

“I don’t know man, this is some weird shit,” Clay said.

“Are you scared?”

Clay laughed him off with a push of his hands, then looked to the stick between them, not a stick, a cane, something like the British used to have before corporal punishment became illegal.  A cane, on his bottom, he shrugged at the thought, but as he looked at Raj looking back at him so eager he couldn’t help but think of winning and taking it to the man, really laying into him with it, maybe he’d stop playing.  He could teach this man a lesson, he thought.

“Okay, let’s play a few hands,” he said.

It started in jest, the chips were set aside and new ones put in their place, a hundred each.  Raj started the blind low, made small bets.  Clay tried to prod him into committing more, hand after hand they pulled the chips back and forth at nearly even amounts until Clay started to notice his pile was getting larger and Raj was winning more hands.  He was difficult to read, especially now as he had a new, almost sadistic intent.  The stick became more ominous as Clay found himself betting more trying to intimidate his opponent but Raj stuck with him and a few losing hands later Clay doubted his strategy and thought to change it up.  But that stick was in his mind even when he closed his eyes, it was almost like he could feel it striking his bottom.  Finally he lost his nerve as he collected a pile of chips and looked to Raj who had twenty-three piled neatly in front of him, and threw in his cards.

“Okay, you win, I lose.  You beat me fair and square, but I’m still not sure about this whole thing.  I mean I don’t think I’m going to let you hit me with that thing.”

“Are you going to welsh on a bet?”

“You know, I don’t ever, I mean, I ain’t ever, but this is just too much.”

“Don’t you want to give it to me?” Raj rippled his chips a few times, twenty three chips, he picked them up and dropped them one at a time a few times as Clay looked to his own collection.  Maybe, just maybe he could hurt the guy enough to give up, maybe even if he wanted he could refuse when it came to his turn.  He’d get his money and just leave, he thought.  But a bet is a bet, he thought, hell he’d done foolish things before because of a bet: strip poker, run naked through the streets, and even dry hump a stuffed animal on his girlfriend’s bed.

He could strike Raj a few times, try to get an idea of how it felt, and make his decision later, he told himself.  He bit at his lip as he leaned over the table and picked up the cane.  He sat back and swiped through the air a few times.  It had a distinct swish that raised the hair on the back of his neck.  Twenty-three and this guy is toast, he thought, especially if it’s on the bare.

“Okay, let’s do it,” he said.

“Good,” Raj replied.

Good?  Clay was starting to have doubts but Raj was quick to get up from his seat and move around the table.  He looked to Clay with vulnerable eyes.

“Where?” Clay asked.

“Anywhere,” Raj replied.  “The person wielding the cane gets to decide.”

“Okay, lean against the poker table,” Clay said.

Raj first undid his belt, opened his jeans to reveal silk briefs, then turned to the table.  He lowered the back of his underwear to below his cheeks, leaned against the table and pulled up his shirt at the same time.  Clay got up and moved behind the man.  He looked at the man’s butt, firm cheeks with a few scars.  Were they scars from this cane?  Some of them had to be, but maybe some of the scars were from other canes, he reasoned.  How much did this man play this game and how much did he win?

Clay practiced a few swings in the air and he noticed Raj tense with each swish.  It was the man’s idea but even this cane made him nervous.  Just how much did it hurt?

“Sorry, I’m not messing with you,” Clay said.  “Are you sure you want to go through with this?”

“Yes, do it,” Raj replied.

And like that Clay landed his first blow to the man’s buttocks.  It was a soft one, partly held back by Clay’s own hesitation to cause the man pain.  He struck him a few more times, tried to move up and down over his flesh, never hit the man’s spine or kidneys, he thought.  Raj took each hit with a determined grunt until fourteen and then he began to whine a little as Clay saw the marks he was leaving were crossing over each other.  He swallowed hard at the thought of being on the receiving end, but fifteen and he realized he was running out so he began to strike the man harder and harder trying to get him to break.  Maybe he’ll give it up, Clay thought as he got to twenty, but the man had a renewed breath with the hit.  He had been counting too, just three more, so Clay made them good ones but the man didn’t falter.  The final blow and Clay set the cane on the table and stepped away as he watched Raj steady his breathing.

The man turned on him, smirked a little as he pulled up his underwear and his pants.  He tucked in his shirt, fastened his belt buckle, and zipped up his fly.  He looked to the cane then to Clay who stepped back again.

“There’s no way I can take one hundred and seventy-seven,” Clay said.

“I’ll make you a deal,” Raj said, “just seventy-seven and that’s it, all you have to take and then you’ll get your cash and you can be on your way.”

“That’s still, I don’t know...” Clay said.

“You made a bet.  Are you going to honor it?”

The man was questioning his honor?  No, no way, Clay thought.  He stepped forward and undid his belt, set the buckle on the table as Raj picked up the cane and stepped behind him.  Clay unbuttoned, unzipped, and pushed his pants down to his ankles.  Why had he chosen white briefs?  He shrugged off the thought as he pulled them down around his butt just like Raj had done.  He leaned against the table, puled up his shirt, and readied himself.

“Just do it,” he said.

Raj was quick with the first strike.  It hurt but Clay tried to shrug it off like a bug bite, just don’t think about it he told himself, but the second one was in the exact same spot.  Raj wasn’t being as merciful as he had been by moving up and down, a few more and he’d break skin.  The third and fourth were succinct and in a different place, but still close, two more and Clay balled his fists.  Seven, eight, nine, and ten were all in different places but they bit into his flesh with a kind of sting that lingered. 

Another three and he felt a pain that was building up in the middle of his cheeks.  By the time Raj got to twenty the pain moved up his back to just above his butt, another five and the pain ran along his spine to his chest.  He congratulated himself for taking more than Raj had and still not crying.  Five more lines and his skin began to turn against him, his butt twitched, one cheek then the other, a pain in his lungs.  He refused to cry out in true pain, refused to ask for mercy.  Thirty-five and the pain was in his throat, a throbbing sensation that ran back and forth between his shoulders and his butt. 

Forty and the pain that had stopped in his throat sunk down to his knees, his ankles and his feet, but he refused to let himself fall.  Another five in quick succession. He tried to hold himself more steady but as he pushed himself up his elbows ran against felt and the sensation confused his nerves.  The pain in his throat pushed up behind his eyes and that was all he it needed as he began to cry salty tears that ran down to his lips.  He could taste himself.  He grabbed at the table but the man struck him again, five more times, lines that crossed over lines.  Was that blood?  Did he break skin? 

Just twenty-seven more, he told himself, but oh god even those first twenty-seven had hurt.  It was only going to get worse.  He felt his cheeks twitching uncontrollably.  He had lost control of himself.  His feet wouldn’t move, it felt like they were stuck in cement.  He continued to cry as Raj seemed to have stopped.  He cried until he felt as if he had run dry and his body felt like it had come under his control.  Raj watched him carefully, one hand gripped the bottom of the cane as the other stroked it maliciously.  It wasn’t over, Clay thought, but he had come this far.

“Are you ready?” Raj asked.

“Yes,” Clay croaked.

“How many are left?”

“Twenty-seven,” Clay said.

“What if I decide to call in all of my bet?”

“No, you said...”

“You made the bet, but I’ll tell you what, I’ll think it over if you strip off your clothing,” Raj said.

And there it was.  The man had plans for him, further humiliation, and yet there was no stopping it.  Clay pushed himself up and tried to unfasten a button, he tugged at it to pop it loose and Raj stopped him.  He set the cane down on the table and with steady hands he undid the buttons of Clay’s shirt, even helped him get it off.  Clay let it drop to the floor but Raj wouldn’t have it and picked it up, set it on the table.  Clay felt like putty as he bent over to let the man pull off his undershirt.  It fell from his fingers and he felt so much cooler as if he had shed his skin.  He leaned back carefully and for the first time he realized just how much he had sweated, just how much his muscles had tensed.  Raj pulled a chair in front of him and sat, then picked up each of Clay’s feet in turn to pull off his boots and jeans. 

All that was left was his underwear, a pouch really, that covered his dick and balls.  Raj stood and with a gentle hand pushed him backwards until he was staring up at the ceiling.  Clay looked down to Raj as the man pushed his feet into the air.  His bare butt stuck out.  Was that all he wanted?  No, Raj gripped his white briefs and pulled them down across his thighs, over his shins, ankles, and his feet and then they were gone.  He was bare, on his back, in a stranger’s hotel room on a poker table and the man wasn’t done with him.

Fifty, Clay told himself, fifty and there’s twenty-seven left, less ahead than behind.  Raj placed his arm along the back of Clay’s knees and pushed until his thighs were against his belly, his dick and balls trapped.  Raj was careful to line up for the next swing as he appreciated just what he had done to the man.  Caned and crying, naked and on his table in the most vulnerable of positions, his asshole on full display and exposed the man didn’t know just what he was letting be done to him.

Clay felt the shift of his skin, no longer protected by the meaty flesh his asshole seemed like an unlikely target.  By the second strike of this new round he realized just how wrong he was as he felt a blow across his hole.  It was a new kind of pain that went directly along his spine, through his lungs, and to his brain.  He began to cry again, sobs really, through five more strikes, not all of them across his hole but when they landed it felt like the pain had doubled.  Two more to his taught, vulnerable skin, the inside of his ass cheeks and he kicked out, his thighs fell against the end of the table and he reached for his butt as the man stepped away.  He wiped at his eyes with the back of his hands but it was little help.  He felt his bare chest rising up and down, the small of his back not quite making contact with the felt, his butt felt like it had spread out into impossible shapes, his nipples in the cool air, and his dick limp over his hairy balls.

“How many more?” he asked the man.

“Seventeen, or maybe a hundred and seventeen, I’m not sure,” Raj answered.

“Please, I can barely take one more, there’s no way I can take a hundred.  I’ll do anything, anything, just please let this be over.”

“Stand up,” Raj said.

“What?”

“I said stand up,” Raj ordered.

Clay pushed himself up to his feet, his skin twisted and reformed in new ways made it feel like he was ripping apart his own butt cheeks as he did but he got to his feet but his eyes fell to the floor.  He saw his own bare feet, felt his own bare dick hung down over his balls, the way his chest filled with air.  And then he saw it, the cane, low in one of Raj’s hands but right there in sight.  He cringed at it.

“I’m not done with you,” Raj said.  “Down on your knees, hands and knees.”

Clay fell to his knees, his hands and knees, as ordered.

“Crawl forward,” Raj said, and he did.  “Ten more like this.”

Raj struck him across the butt, his own body felt incredibly heavy, his knees burned and his hands felt like they would give but he held himself there for the rest of the blows despite the tears falling from his eyes.  Then Raj walked away, across the room to a couch where he sat.  Clay looked across the room to him.

“Crawl to me,” Raj said.

Clay did.  He crawled across the floor to the man until he ended up in front of him, at his knees, at his feet.  He looked up to the man’s eyes but when he looked back Clay broke away and looked to the man’s chest.  His chest, his belly, his thighs, anywhere but the man’s crotch where he saw a bulge.

“Take down my pants and underwear,” Raj ordered.

Clay reached up quicker than he really knew what he was doing.  He grabbed at the man’s belt, undid it, undid his pants, and with one tug had both his pants and underwear down around his ankles.  He went back to all fours and looked to the man’s impressive dick that stuck out along his left thigh, ejaculate leaking from the tip.

“Suck my dick,” the man said.

Clay pushed himself to it.  He grabbed at the man’s thighs and his dick, stuck it between his lips.  He suckled at it, licked at it, and gagged as he tried to stick it all of the way into his throat.  Raj pushed him away at the sound.

“Don’t be so greedy.  A good blow job should take time and I know you’ve never done this before so I don’t want you to choke.  Just suck on the tip of it, lick it up and down a little, tongue my balls, suck on my nuts, let that tongue get under them, really in there almost to my asshole but if you get that far you get more of the cane.”

Clay nodded with each thing the man said but as he actually considered it he felt repulsed a little until he shifted and felt his butt against the heels of his feet.  He’d do anything for a little reprieve, anything not to feel a hundred more strikes.  He went back at the man’s dick and did exactly as he had been told.  He sucked at the tip, licked the shaft, tongued the balls, even sucked on them a little, and ran his tongue as far as he could stand along his taint.  Did he reach the asshole?  He hoped not.

But the man’s dick was easier to stroke and as he felt it swell he sucked at the head some more hoping to push him over the edge to true satisfaction.  Raj grabbed hold of the back of his head, fingers in his hair, he pushed Clay down onto his dick as he felt his orgasm.  Ejaculate hit the back of the his throat, ran down it, into his stomach.  Clay pulled away and Raj let him go.  He pushed away to the floor and looked up to the man who grinned back at him.

“Not very skilled but damn that was hot,” Raj said.

Clay felt his own nakedness, his own vulnerability.  He looked up to the man as he pushed himself up on one elbow.

“Am I done?” Clay asked.

“Just seven more,” Raj answered.

Act Your Age The Brat Ch 05 - Up To No Good

By the time I got to Leo’s house I already had two drinks at a bar near my father’s office before I caught the bus.  I had to change buses twice and was kind of irritable, but I forced myself to smile as I knocked on the door.  I wasn’t surprised to find a naked, male stranger answering the door.  He looked like a hippie with long hair, a natural, thin build, and body hair.  His dick was uncircumcised and a few inches when limp.  I had to force myself to look him in the eye.

“Hey,” he said.

“I’m Shane.  I’m here for Leo.”

“Yeah, come on in,” he said.

He pushed open the screen door so I opened it, then stepped inside the house.  It smelled of pot but was otherwise clean.  Someone called my name so I walked further into the house to the dining room.  I grinned when I saw Leo, Parker, Matt, and Trent were all playing strip poker.  Each of them was mostly undressed as there was a pile of clothing in the middle of the table.  The guy who had let me in walked past me and went into the kitchen.  I followed him with my eyes and I was delighted when he went to the refrigerator, opened the door, and bent over to get something.  I could see the full shape of his cheeks, the depth of his crack, two swinging balls, and the hint of his dick.

“Still misbehaving?” Parker asked.

“Sometimes,” I answered.

I continued to stare at the new guy, unashamed, or maybe a little drunk and not afraid of what they would think of me.  I watched him get out some food that he carried to the counter out of view.  It was only then I looked back to them.  They all had been watching me and started to laugh.  I know I turned a shade of pink as I cleared my throat and moved to an open chair.

“So, you’re the birthday boy tonight,” Trent said.

“That means we get him proper fucked up,” Matt added.

 They all laughed a cheered.  I looked around at them.  Trent was closest to me on the same side of the table.  I noted that he was down to his boxers, the way a small bit of fat created a roll at his stomach.  It was kind of cute.  Leo and Parker were shirtless so I studied their muscled chests and their nipples.  Matt still had his shirt on but I had a feeling he wasn’t wearing pants.  Who takes off their pants before their shirt in strip poker?  I was about to say something when I felt the presence of the guy who greeted me at the door beside me. 

When I turned my head I was looking straight at his dick.  I let out a nervous laugh and the other guys laughed at me.  I had to crane my neck to look up into the stranger’s eyes.  He was casually eating some kind of salad from a bowl.

“This is my roommate Ross,” Leo said.  “He lost at poker.”

“He’s not very shy,” I said.

“You’re in my seat,” Ross replied.

“Of course,” I said before getting to my feet.

“Want to play a hand?” Parker asked.

“No, I’m okay,” I said.  “I thought we’d be going out drinking.”

“Oh yeah, sure,” Leo said.  “Let’s finish this up then.”

“Can I put my underwear back on?” Matt asked.

“What do you say guys?  Let’s call it quits and get some drinks before we go out to the bar.”

“Amen,” Matt said.

“Fine with me,” Parker said before laying down his cards.

“Let’s get drunk,” Trent said.

Leo got up and began to sort through the clothes.  Matt stood and grabbed a pair of underwear.  I couldn’t help but notice his slightly erect dick and a little tightness in his balls.  Straight or not he was getting off on this, I thought.  It wasn’t long for them to pull their clothes back on, clean up after the game, and spread out through the house.  I was a little unsure of what to do until Leo motioned me into the kitchen.

“What are you drinking?  Do you want a beer?”

“I’d prefer liquor,” I said.

“Whiskey is in the cabinet there.  Clean glasses are probably in the dish washer.”

I retrieved the bottle from the cabinet he had indicated and found a clean glass in the dish washer like he said it would be, then went into the dining room.  Leo followed after me with three glasses and a beer in his hand.  He set the glasses down in front of me and indicated I should pour some whiskey into each one.  He took a seat as the other guys slowly made their way back into the room.  Parker, Matt, and Trent took a glass and found a place to stand.  We didn’t talk.  I was the first to finish so I started to pour myself another.

“Big drinker?” Matt asked.

“You remember the way he killed that bottle of vodka,” Parker said.

“Oh yeah right,” Trent said.

“Ever have a Fuzzy Navel?” Matt asked.

“No, I don’t think so,” I said.

They laughed mischievously and I knew I had missed something but I shrugged it off.  Leo looked at me impishly.  I knew he was setting me up somehow but I didn’t know what he would do.  How could I prepare myself for everything?

“Ever have a Pink Belly?”

“What’s a Pink Belly?  Is it some kind of drink?”

Leo jumped up from his seat and shouted, “Pink Belly!”, then charged towards me.  I started to try and get away but the guys on either side of me quickly took hold of my arms and together with Leo at my ankles they forced me onto my back in the middle of the table.  They pulled my shirt up to expose my belly.  They laughed and cheered. 

I was going to find out what a Pink Belly was.  Leo started to slap at my skin, soon the others had a free hand and were taking turns.  I laughed and screamed for them to stop but they didn’t and instead they continued their assault until my laughter stopped as I felt my belly hurt.  It seemed like they were equally drained.  There was no more fun in the prank so they let me up.  I felt a twinge of pain in my abs and my belly.

“That hurt,” I said.

“Let’s get you another drink then, this time at a bar,” Parker said.

We walked the few blocks to the beach and the first bar.  It was a straight bar in the way that all bars are straight bars unless otherwise stated.  We took a table in the back.  When everyone else ordered food I decided it was a good idea and got some as well.  I didn’t realize how drunk I was until I figured out that I hadn’t talked much the entire time so to sober up I ate as much of my food as I could, then headed to the men’s room.  I was surprised when Parker came in after me.  There was something brotherly about him, something paternal and I didn’t like it.

“You don’t have to take care of me,” I said.

“You didn’t look too steady on your feet,” he replied.

My dick between the fingers of my one hand I leaned against the wall with my other to stabilize myself.  I felt the familiar release of a bladder full of alcohol, closed my eyes.  When I opened them a moment later I was surprised to see him there next to me.  He unzipped his fly and pulled out his dick.  He pulled back the foreskin and started to piss.  He looked down at where I stared, then up into my eyes.  I raised my vision up to meet his.  He looked down to my dick.

“You’ve been done for some time,” he said.

“Thanks, I was just letting it air dry,” I said.

“I’d put it away before someone thinks your up to something perverted.”

He tucked his own away after finishing and went to the sink.  I did the same, swayed a little when I got to the counter.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“You don’t have to be so damn paternalistic,” I said.

“Relax, you just don’t look too good,” he said.

He turned away from me.  I followed after him.  When we got back to the table I sat back down in my seat and looked around at everyone who was talking amongst themselves and I suddenly wanted a cigarette.

“Does anyone smoke?” I asked.

No one seemed to notice so I asked again but louder.  Everyone looked to me and I suddenly felt kind of ridiculous.  Was it too loud?  Did I drink too much?  I raised my hands to dismiss their concerns and criticism.  It wasn’t long after that we headed out of the bar.  I fell to the back.  The alcohol had caught up with me.  I looked at my phone.  There were several messages from Mr. Grant, a few from Ethan.  I dismissed them and checked the time.  I was horrified to find it was still early in the night.  Leo fell back, put his arm around me to get me to walk faster. 

“Put your phone away,” he said.

I put it away and put my arm around him.  I was about to say something romantic when I spotted a gas station ahead of us and demanded that I needed some cigarettes.  They obliged.  I felt a little out of place at the counter.  Everything else felt like it was too slow but I suspected I was the one in slow motion.  The clerk barely acknowledged me as we exchanged money for cigarettes and a lighter. 
Just outside I opened the pack, took out a cigarette, and offered them to the rest of the guys.  I was half surprised when Parker took one.  I lit his first, then my own.  I took a deep drag, held it in my lungs.  There was a familiar buzz.  I perked up right away so we kept walking.  I had two cigarettes by the time we got to the next bar.  We had two drinks each.  Leo, Parker, and I slipped out to the alleyway for a smoke between them.  I caught my second wind by the time we were leaving.  I don’t remember much about the place except that it felt like a fake dive bar. 

We had to catch a bus to the third place, a gay bar farther down the beach.  There was a bouncer at the door who checked our ID’s, then let us into the place.  Everyone else was a little drunk too, but holding up in their own ways.  Trent and Matt clung to the table afraid someone would ask them to dance.  Leo was quick to strip off his shirt and go to the dance floor.  Parker seemed to hold us together like an anchor as he watched over everyone.  He sat there casually drinking whiskey for a long time before he got up and went to the men’s room. 

I was too slow to follow right behind him.  I got to my feet, started after him, but the place was crowded.  When I bumped into someone I liked it a little too much, apologized, and continued to move.  I was almost there when I saw someone I didn’t want to ever see again.  It was the moment I had dreaded ever since Mr. Grant had fired Ryan, I saw him and he saw me.  We passed each other but I didn’t look back.

Instead I pushed my way into the men’s room.  Parker was at the urinal trough so I made my way next to him and unzipped my fly, pulled out my dick.  I swayed a little.  He grabbed the back of my shirt with his hand. 

When I finished I barely noticed that Parker had his eye on someone else at the trough.  I just laughed to myself and moved to the sink where I washed my hands and watched in the mirror as Parker went into a stall followed by a stranger.  The other guy fell to his knees. 

“If you’re drunk enough,” I said aloud.

I watched as the guy took out Parker’s dick and began to suck it.  I was about to say something, turn on them, and try to ruin it somehow when Parker managed to close the door.  It pissed me off.  I wanted him right then.  I should have been on my knees.  I had my chance at the party but I had passed it up.  I didn’t want to cheat on Mr. Grant.  I stumbled out of the men’s room, down the hallway, and back out to our table.  Matt and Trent looked to me.

“He’s going to be a while,” I said.  “Some guy’s sucking his dick.”

They rolled their eyes.  I was about to say something back when I felt a presence next to me.  I half thought it was Parker so I turned kind of casually, readied myself for a joke or something.  Instead I felt a rush of adrenaline and clenched my fist when I saw it was Ryan.  He was dressed in a button down shirt that was open at the collar.  He had that same grin.

“You got me fired,” he said.

“What?” I asked.  He looked ready to repeat himself but I stopped him.  “No, you got yourself fired.  You shouldn’t have done that to me.”

“It was a joke,” he replied.  “But I guess it helps when you’re fucking the boss.”

I got to my feet.  We were chest to chest.  I was clearly the more drunk of the two of us as I bumped against him, then steadied myself.

“Do you know how humiliated I felt?  I didn’t want to go back to work after that.”

“We could have settled it between ourselves.” 

“What do you want to fight?” I asked.

That’s when he raised his hands in a show of peace as we stared in each other’s eyes.  He started to back away and I clenched my fist.  Even then it felt like he was getting away with something, slipping out of the responsibility.  I thought to take a swing at him for some reason, just push through that resistance I felt of behaving myself.  It was a relief when Leo stepped between us with a drink in his hand.  He set it down at the table, then looked to each of us.

“What?” he asked.

Ryan didn’t move so I turned and walked away, out of the bar and into the cool night to light a cigarette.  I moved to the wall and leaned against the brick.  The bouncer kept me in his peripheral vision as he checked the ID’s of some other young guys.  By the time I was almost done with my cigarette I was surprised to see Leo, Parker, Matt, Trent, and Ryan as well as two of his friends stepping out of the front door.

Somehow I felt he had tricked them to his side before I saw them split up a little.  Parker and Leo made their way to me.  Matt and Trent stood in the middle, and Ryan and his friends were at a distance but still close by.  Leo had his shirt in his hands and a coy smile on his face.  I was about to ask him what he was thinking when I looked past him to Ryan and his friends who weren’t leaving.

“Oh no,” I said.

“He just wants to talk.  We’re all going back to my place.  Is that okay?”

I gritted my teeth together, exhaled the smoke through my nose to make myself look as tough as possible.  It did little as they were too caught up in their own minds.  Leo pulled on his shirt, adjusted it around his waist.  I looked to Parker.  That feeling of protection I had denied earlier felt needed, wanted and at least with him there it would be fair.  He could overcome all odds. 

“They drove here so we’re going to catch a ride with them.  Don’t worry you don’t have to be in the same car as Ryan.”

I stepped from the wall and into the group.  Leo got behind me, put his hands on my shoulders.  We all meandered to the street parking.  I ended up in the back seat of a stranger’s car with Parker.  Leo ended up in the passenger seat or Ryan’s car.  I knew Leo had more than an apology in mind.

When we got back the house was just as we had left it, though Matt and Trent quickly left after we got inside.  They said they were walking home so I figured they didn’t live far away.  I didn’t really notice because I headed straight to the liquor cabinet where I took out a bottle of whiskey, then found a glass in the sink.  I rinsed it off, poured myself a drink.  Ryan and Leo had made their way to the living room.  Parker and the two strangers were in the dining room. 

As I passed Parker he tried to signal, then call me back to join him, and when I got to the living room Leo and Ryan stared at me as if I had ruined something.  I was kind of happy I did.  I downed half of my drink before I sat between them.  I didn’t want my friend and my enemy getting together.

“Would you get us something to drink?” Ryan asked.

“Sure,” Leo said before pushing himself away.

I leaned back into the cushions, turned my head to Ryan.  I wanted to say I hated him.  I wanted to say he humiliated me.  He just smiled at me and somehow I almost wanted to forgive him, even when he took my drink from my hand and finished it off before setting the glass on the table.  He leaned back into the cushions, half turned to face me.  I thought he might kiss me as he stared at me.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

“Me too,” I said.

“Really?”

“I don’t know.  I’m really drunk.  Ask me in the morning.”

He laughed it off.

“I really am sorry,” he said.  “It’s just that the job cost me.”

“It cost me too,” I said.

I felt like I could say anything to him because there was a good chance I wouldn’t remember.  I could blame my loose tongue on the alcohol.  No, it was more than that.  I felt as if the entirety of my being had been contracted to just my head. 

“What did it cost you?” Ryan asked.

“I can’t say,” I replied.

“What?  It cost you money?  It didn’t cost you the job.”

“It cost me,” I said.

“Tell me,” he said.

I bit my lip until it was good and wet.

“A spanking,” I said.  “It cost me a red ass, not directly, but sort of indirectly because I fucked around all day and didn’t act responsibly.”

“What the hell does that mean?  Who spanked you?  Was it your father?”

“No, it’s an arrangement we have.”

“Who?  You and Mr. Grant?  You mean, he, like spanks you.”

“Only when I misbehave,” I said.

“That’s messed up,” he said.

“Actually it kind of helps because I was a mess when we met.  It’s not like blackmail or anything.  It’s a challenge.”

Leo brought Ryan a drink and noting a change in the atmosphere of the room he left us to talk.  Ryan downed his drink in a few swigs.  I thought about moving but it just felt too good to rest there.  I had overdone it again.  When I thought about if I might piss myself I felt this kind of laughter even though my face didn’t move.  We were quiet for a long time before Ryan finally broke the silence.

“Do you think if I let him spank me he’d hire me back?”

“No,” I said.  “He doesn’t really mix business and pleasure.”

“Do you know anyone else into that kind of thing?”

“Why?”

“I don’t know.  I’m kind of curious.”

“Well, if you’re serious I’d be willing to do it,” I said.  I couldn’t believe what I was offering, what I was potentially getting myself into and yet it was happening.  If he just said yes, if he just offered himself to me, then I’d be able to really see what it was like to be the one administering a punishment.

“We could do it right now,” he said.

“No,” I said, “not now, I can’t really get up.  We’ll make a date and figure out a time and place.”

He asked for my phone number and when I told him it he punched it into his phone, then saved it.

“Okay,” he said.

“Good,” I replied.

He got up from the couch and went to find Leo.  I wanted to say something.  I wanted to do something but I was so inebriated that I couldn’t move.  And then I saw myself as if I was having an out of body experience.  It was like I was in the corner of the room looking back at myself.  I look so small, I thought.  Then there was darkness.

I awoke hours later to find myself face down on the couch and covered by sheet.  I felt the softness of it against my skin so I felt around to find that I was down to my underwear.  My body felt stiff and disconnected.  I rolled onto my side, felt the line of my briefs across my upper thigh.  At least my asshole doesn’t hurt, I thought. 

There was a familiar sound from somewhere in the house.  It was the sound of a headboard hitting the wall.  I listened more closely and thought I could make out grunting and moaning.  Someone was getting it.  I thought about Mr. Grant.  I thought about the time we made the headboard knock.  I started to get an erection so I reached down into my underwear and started to play with myself.  It didn’t feel right but I couldn’t stop it.  I just wanted to feel something, anything.  My dick became slippery easily with my own ejaculate, the head felt extra sensitive.  I tickled it until I had an orgasm, then fell back asleep.

When I awoke it was to the sound of cereal being poured into a bowl.  The sheet was across half of me, wrapped between my legs.  I pushed myself up.  I needed to piss but I also had an erection.  Self-consciously I crossed my legs, draped the sheet over them as I looked around to see if I could make sense of what was happening, who was awake and where they were.  I was glad to see Ross emerge from the kitchen with a bowl in his hands.  He was dressed in jeans and an old t-shirt. 

“Where’s everyone at?” I asked.

“Leo is still in bed,” he answered.  “That guy who was with him last night left a few minutes ago.  Why?”

I shook my head to dismiss the question when I spotted my jeans on the floor.  I picked them up and pulled out my phone.  There were several messages from Mr. Grant and two from a number I didn’t recognize.  They were picture messages.  I sighed to myself as I opened the first one.  It was me, in my underwear with a wet spot on my crotch.  The second message was of Ryan’s face with my crotch in the background.  In a moment of pure anger I threw my phone against the couch and was horrified when it bounced and fell to the floor.  My life couldn’t get much worse, I thought.

Place Your Bets Pt. 1

After a three day weekend in Vegas the cross I wear around my neck and my wedding ring became the costume of a character I had always pretended to be.  I hadn’t been there previously and when I got the chance to travel there for work I was psyched to do it.  My wife thought it was nice they were trusting me with the opportunity and thought it could lead to a big promotion in my company.  I was wary of what I knew was ahead of me though. 

Men could get raunchy, and business men were the worst.  I had taken clients out to strip clubs and bars, got them laid but had always avoided cheating on my wife for the most part except when one stripper forced her tongue in my mouth once but then I got out of that pretty quickly.

Guys talk.  They brag about anything and everything they did and didn’t do.  I had learned the cadence and the vernacular to fit in any situation but I didn’t really mean it.  Even though I said all these things I thought of myself as being sexless and committed.

So three days would be hard but I had gotten through lots of situations before.  And really once I committed I wasn’t backing out.

It was a long drive from L.A. with my assistant and he had come prepared as he had been there before with his previous boss.  We loaded a rental car at my house with our bags, snacks and a cooler for the road. 

He was casual about the whole situation.   He kicked off his sandals as soon as he was in the passenger seat and reclined with a sleep mask and a family size bag of Cheetos that he rested in his lap.  He ate whatever he wanted but he was skinny.  And young, much younger than myself.  So capable at his job I wondered why he hadn’t been promoted.

We listened to Sirius radio half of the time until he grew bored and pulled his MP3 player from his pants pocket and told me he’d put on some tunes.  “Just hit shuffle,” he said.  I adjusted the cruise control and worked to plug in the player.  I hit shuffle and obnoxious rap began to play.  Stuff I wouldn’t really listen to but I couldn’t deny it sounded good.

Even if it was obnoxious it seemed appropriate and I went along just like with every other situation.  When we got to the city it was evening and the sun had begun to set.  My assistant, Brad, pulled off his sleep mask and sat up.  He grinned at the neon lights and said it was his favorite city in the whole wide world.  I asked him if he had been to very many cities of the world sarcastically and he shook his head at my cynicism and said that he had.  I was impressed.

He knew the place well enough that he gave me directions to the hotel.  When we got there he was quick to find someone to help with the luggage and told the valet just to park the car on the side because we would be back out in five.

Five what? I thought.  But it didn’t matter.  It was his show so I went with him to the counter where we checked in and then up to the room with the bagman behind us. 

When we got to the room he pushed open the door and began to turn on every light.  I walked in to find that he had gotten a suite for us.  But then I was instantly disappointed when I found there was only one bedroom then when I went in there I was shocked to find only one large master bed.

The bell hop right behind me smirked at my shock but when I turned on him he cleared his throat, setup the bags and held out his hand for a tip.  Brad had already begun to strip down and was in his underwear before I could get the money from my wallet.  In my anxiety I handed the man a five dollar bill.

The bellhop pulled the door closed and I looked back to Brad who stood at the window in a pair of briefs scratching at his side lazily.  He was as skinny as I thought and I could make out his ribs and spine easily.  One foot went up against his other calf to scratch at it and I could see the cleft of his buttocks easily.

He was my assistant but I was shocked by his brazen attitude and decided that I was still the boss so I told him to get dressed. 

“In a minute,” he said.  “Come here and look at this view.”

I walked to where he stood and was instantly taken with the view.

“Tonight we go out to have some fun in this city,” he said.  “Get dressed in your second best suit while I go shower.”  He dropped his underwear right there and walked away from me. 

I looked after him partially in shock but also a bit angry only to see his buttocks jiggle nicely as he walked.  A skinny man with a nice ass, I thought, such a weird sight. 

I looked around the room and suddenly became embarrassed about the way he treated it like a locker room.  It was too nice.  I was about to pick up everything when I thought it would make me look like his assistant instead of the other way around. 

His casual nudity and being inconsiderate was a new thing for him.  He was never like this at the office so I decided that when he got out of the shower I would talk with him.  My second best suit, I thought.  I went about unpacking all of my clothes and hung my jackets in the closet before I remembered there was only the one bed and a couch out in the main room to sleep on. 

Maybe we’d flip for the bed or else I could pull rank and make him sleep out there.  I finished unpacking and stopped to listen to see if he was still in the shower.  When I heard the water still running I decided it was the best time to change.  What kind of night did he have planned?
Gambling, drinking, and girls all came to mind.  I made quick work of putting on my second best suit and had time to check my hair in the room’s mirror before I heard the water stop. 

I remembered that the last time I saw him he was naked and not wanting him to think I was waiting around in the room to check him out or else see him naked I decided to head to the main room.  I looked over the amenities.  Five dollars just for a bottle of water!

I was reading the room service menu and looking out at the city when I saw his reflection in the window.  He had a hotel towel wrapped around his waist and his body was still partially wet.  His hair wasn’t dry.  He went to the mini bar and got two glasses and a bottle of Scotch that he brought over to me at the desk by the window.  He went back for ice and quickly poured two drinks.  I still had the menu in my hand and looked at him with suspicion as he handed me the glass of liquor.

“Sorry for being such a jerk but I just get so excited when I get here.  Don’t worry I’ll clean up before we leave because it’s always nice to come back to a clean room.”  He raised his glass and I was taken with his sincerity so we clinked glasses.  “Here’s to new times and fun.”

“To new times and fun,” I replied.

We each took a deep drink, then he went about the room, as he had said he would, cleaning up after himself.  He even took our glasses to the sink and put away the bottle.  He was taking so long that I turned on the television. 

Things were fine again until he stopped in front of the screen while I was watching the news report and pulled his towel off, then began to dry his hair, patted at the rest of his body.  I could see him from the side and make out his limp dick, a few inches flaccid, and his black pubic hair that gleamed with dew. 

I told myself it wasn’t gay to look.  I had checked out guys all the time and they checked me out too.  It was a guy thing ever since I was in high school to see what the competition was like.
It gave me comfort to know that there was this thing that God made different for everyone in length and girth when limp or hard as a rock.  And dicks didn’t look like the people they were attached to.  I knew many handsome men with small ones and average guys with big ones.  He slung the towel over his shoulder and walked from the room.  I saw his muscled ass and I rolled my eyes.

It didn’t take him long to get dressed after his little show.  By the time he was ready though I felt like I was being dragged along, though the feeling vanished when we got to the first bar in our own hotel.  We had a few drinks but the place wasn’t very busy so there weren’t many people around.  He looked like he was on a mission and I wasn’t surprised when he told me we were going somewhere else.  The second bar at the hotel next door was a little more lively with a karaoke machine and amateurs trying to sing their favorite tunes.  We only lasted a few drinks there before he said he was calling a taxi for us.  I tried to protest but his youth, his enthusiasm, was overwhelming.

That’s how we ended up at the bar that would change my life.  The place was crowded, a mix of heterosexual couples and gay men.  I thought it was a little odd at first for him to bring me here, especially when I saw the drag show, but then he gave me a drink and we found a table near a group of men and women.  I looked them over and figured there were at least a few women who might be heterosexual, especially when they took note of us, well Brad. 

“I signed you up next, the guy behind the bar said it wouldn’t be difficult to get you a dress and some makeup,” he said.

“Very funny,” I replied.  “A few more of these and I might just do it.”

I was feeling pretty drunk by the time I took another sip of my drink.  I knew I had to eat something so I looked around for a menu.  There wasn’t one.  Impulsively I got up from my seat and headed to the bar to ask the bartender.  He handed me a few bowls of snack food.  I wanted something more but took them anyway. 

When I got back to the table with Brad I almost walked past it because two other people were sitting there with him.  He motioned for me and I looked at him confused before I realized the place was crowded.  I moved to the empty chair and sat with them.  Brad leaned close to me, his lips at my ear.

“These are my friends Tucker and Pete,” he said.  “They just stopped by for a drink.  Do you mind?”

I looked to Tucker and Pete who seemed preoccupied with the show.  They looked harmless.  Boy, was I wrong.  They talked with Brad and drank.  I started eating my snacks.  I felt like a glutton and selfish so I offered them to the table.  Brad slid my drink to me.

“Finish this and I’ll get you another,” he said.

I picked up my drink, looked over the amount inside, braved myself to what I would feel, and downed it.  Brad left for the bar and I looked to the two men at my table.  They looked back to me and for a moment I thought one of them was going to speak but they didn’t.  I was thankful when Brad returned and broke the tension.

Despite my snacks the next drink began to hit me hard, or else it was all the ones before catching up with me.  I asked Brad if we could leave and he said we could.  He told Tucker and Pete, both of whom looked disappointed and whispered something back to him. 

“Do you mind if they come back for a drink?”

I just wanted out of there and anything sounded good as long as it meant I was getting to my feet and back to my room, back to my bed.

“It’s fine,” I said.  “Let’s get out of here.”

I looked around at the table as they finished their drinks, then began to get up.  I thought about sobering up so I decided to down my last drink.  I got my feet and started to follow after them.  I was okay until they stopped and I ran into Brad.  He laughed me off, put my arm around his shoulder.  He escorted me out to the parking lot where Tucker said he had a car.  Brad led me to the backdoor and helped me inside before going around to the other side.  He helped me buckle my seat belt before I stretched my head back against the rest.  Tucker seemed to drive fast, hug the curves.  I let out a moan and closed my eyes. 

It wasn’t really sleep and when they pulled up to the hotel I sat up and opened my eyes, smiled at the sight.  When I struggled with the buckle Brad released it for me.  I got out slowly, closed the door and leaned against it.  Tucker handed over the keys to the valet and Pete looked to me with concern.

“I’m alright,” I said.

“Let me help you,” he replied.

I started to push away from the car but realized I didn’t feel good.  Pete and Brad on either side of me moved in and took hold of my arms, wrapped them over their shoulders.  I didn’t resist as they walked me from the car and into the hotel.  I hung my head though, afraid I would see anyone and hoped no one would recognize me.  They got me into the elevator and Tucker stepped in with us, pressed the button for my floor.  The elevator was quick but I managed to hold myself together and not get sick.  It was a slow walk to our room.  Brad let us in with a key.  They led me to the bed where I tried to sit but they insisted I lay on my stomach.

Hours later I awoke to the sound of the television and the guys talking in whispered voices.  I rolled onto my back, my dick stuck out against in my pants as I realized I had to piss.  Luckily, I thought, I was in the shadows.  I looked to them in the corner of the room around a small table.  They seemed to notice I was awake but I didn’t want them to really notice me, notice my erection, so I slid to the bed and put my feet over the side.  I looked to the clock and noticed it was two o’clock in the morning.  I shook off the annoyance and headed to the bathroom once my erection subsided. 

After I pissed I washed my face with some water and dried off, combed my hair and looked myself over in the mirror.  I looked tired but I didn’t feel like sleeping.  I hadn’t drank like that since college and I remembered whenever I did that I only slept a few hours to let the alcohol wear off.  I went back out to the room and started to walk towards the guys when I noticed something peculiar on the floor.  It was clothes.

There were pants, socks, and shoes.  I looked up the table where I realized Brad was down to his undershirt while Pete and Tucker were probably missing some pants.  Why the pants before the shirts?  I shook off the thought and went to them.  They looked up to me and I smiled back.

“How are you feeling?” Brad asked.

“Fine,” I said.  “Not really, I’m not used to this.”

“Get yourself a drink at the bar,” Pete said.

“That’s a good idea,” I replied before I headed to the mini-bar.

“Want in on the next game?” Tucker asked.

I rolled my eyes at the thought, but to be polite I asked what they were playing.

“Strip poker,” Pete said.

I nodded to myself at the obvious answer as I poured myself a drink.  I downed it and picked up a second bottle, headed back to the table with my glass in the other hand.  There was an empty chair so I took it.  They each looked at their cards before they looked at me or around the room.  I laughed nervously before I emptied the second bottle into my glass.

“Read ‘em and weep,” Brad said before he laid down his cards.

The other two moaned in frustration as they threw their cards on the table in defeat, then they both took off their shirts and tossed them out onto the floor far from the game.  I laughed a little at them and started to feel confident.  If I joined now I would clearly have an advantage. 

“Well?” Pete asked.

“I don’t know,” I said.

Brad collected the cards and started to shuffle them.  I could see by the way he manipulated them that he was a little drunk.  They were all down to their undershirts and underwear.  It could be easy to beat them.  I shook my head a little to try and get myself to stop from joining but an impulse rose up from my stomach.  A quick game, they’d lose and then be gone, I told myself before I started to speak.

“Sure, I’ll play a hand or two, but I’m not taking anything off to make it even.  I start with all of my clothes.”

“No problem,” Tucker said.

The other guys agreed and Brad dealt the cards.  I had a pair of fives so I decided to stick it out.  I lost the first hand to Tucker who had a pair of Kings.  I slipped off my shoes but actually relaxed when I got them off.  The games slowed down after that as we all talked and joked with each other.  Tucker lost his socks, Pete lost his undershirt, and eventually Brad lost his as well, but in turn I lost articles of clothing as well. 

In just a few rounds I was down to my underwear and undershirt.  Unlike them I took off my socks and shirt first, then my pants.  It was kind of embarrassing to lose them but after I sat down Pete poured me another drink. 

“Looks like the last bottle,” he said.

“No problem, I got something in my suitcase,” Brad said.

He got up from the table.  I could see he had on white briefs. He crossed the room to his suitcase.  The movement caught my attention and in my drunken stupor I followed him with more than my eyes.  He had a great ass, I thought.  I could feel myself getting a little excited about the prospect of seeing him naked.  That’s when I realized I had relaxed in my chair and my knees were far apart, my hard dick poked out of my underwear.

When he got back and the guys seemed distracted by pouring drinks I sat up, put my knees together and tucked my dick between my thighs with one hand.  I thought no one noticed and decided to join them in another drink.  Why not?  Now we’re playing for serious stakes, I thought. 

Tucker dealt the cards and I felt renewed confidence as I had two Kings and Jack.  Pete folded easily.  Tucker wasn’t far behind him.  It came down to me and Brad.  I wanted it all.  I wanted everything to be decided.

“I’m all in,” I said.

“I just have my underwear,” he said.

“Sounds like you need to add something then,” Pete said.

I looked at the two of them who laughed and leaned onto the table.

“What could you add?” Tucker said.

“Something important,” Pete said.

“What do you think?” Brad asked.

He leaned forward into the light and I could see his small, muscled chest clearly.  He had perfect nipples, just the right amount of development.  I wanted to give them a twist.  My dick hardened between my thighs.  It reminded me of the hazing at a fraternity, just some good, nasty guy fun, but then I worried it would be too much.  Would they all think I’m a pervert?

“I say you have to give us a little dance,” Tucker said.

“I nice little strip tease,” Pete said.

I thought my face went red at the suggestion so I leaned back a little, made sure my dick was secure especially because it felt a little slick.  I coughed and looked around the room hoping some other idea would occur to me.  Something occurred to me.

“How about a wedgie?” I asked.

The guys laughed.  Tucker clapped me in the shoulder and said, “now he’s getting into it.”

“I don’t know,” Brad said.

“It’s a wedgie,” Pete added.

“How about it?” Tucker asked.

“I guess.” 

Brad looked over at me.  How could I have come up with such an idea?  Why did I want to humiliate him?  A wedgie didn’t sound worse than a strip tease.  Lots of guys get wedgies for lots of different reasons. 

“There we go,” Tucker said.

“I don’t know though.  We’re talking about all his clothes versus a wedgie,” Pete said.  I could tell he was trying to instigate something.  “How about the loser gets a wedgie?”
I shook my head.

“Come on,” Tucker said.  “It’s a good thing to bet.”

I liked the idea of giving him a wedgie better than getting one.  I shook my head again and sat back.  Both Tucker and Pete looked at me, kept at me.  Brad covered his eyes and I started to think I really had him.  He didn’t have the cards.  I sat back up.

“I’ll still do the dance,” Brad said.

“That’s good,” Pete said.

“Now it’s getting good.”

“Well?” Brad asked.

“Okay,” I replied, “you have to dance for all of us though.”

Brad nodded his head.  Pete and Tucker sat back laughing, adjusted themselves, took a drink.  I had another myself.  Brad did too.

“We should make this really good though.  A strip dance doesn’t sound too bad now with a wedgie on the line.”

“Guys,” I said.

“No, come on, you guys are going to be here all weekend.  We should make this good,” Tucker said. 

“Come on guys,” Brad said.

“Oh, he’s getting nervous,” Pete laughed.  He looked to me.  “How about you?  Are you feeling nervous?  Do you think you have the cards?”

I looked at my hand, then up to the guys and smiled.

“He’s got it,” Tucker said.

“How about you?” Pete asked as he looked to Brad.

Brad shifted in his seat, then looked at his cards.  He smiled back at them, looked to me. 

“What about the loser has to do whatever the winner wants for the weekend?” Tucker asked.  “It’ll be fun.  Winner doesn’t have to worry about chores.”

I shook my head.  Brad laughed a little.

“Ew, this is good,” Pete said.  “I wish I still was in the game.”

Was this some kind of setup?  Were they trying to see if I was some kind of pervert who got off on humiliating someone?  After all they all knew each other. 

“Guys, I think this is going too far,” I said.

“A weekend is too much,” Brad said.

“How about a day?” Pete asked.  “Maybe one night.”

“One day,” Brad said.

“Come on guys,” I pleaded.

It was too much.  I wanted it.  I wanted him.  The odds were high but I was confident I had the better hand and I was eager to gain something on Brad ever since I shook his hand.  I could get my revenge on him.  He’d have to strip down in front of me and the other guys, then he’d have to do whatever I wanted.  I wouldn’t have to lift a finger the rest of the weekend.  I’d could teach him a thing or two.  He’d have to respect me.  He’d respect me after this weekend.

“Deal,” Brad said before he laid down his cards.

For a moment I worried that I’d lost.  He had such confidence, but then I leaned in to set my cards down and quickly recognized I had the better hand.  I laid down my cards and the guys laughed as they looked to Brad who covered his face with his hands.  He turned away from us and let out a moan of agony.