I’ve always been a bit of a tomboy. Who am I kidding? I am a down-and-dirty, in-your-face tomboy trapped in a little girl’s body. Now before you guys get all pervy on me, when I say ‘little girl’ I mean my body has the physical attributes of a 13 year old girl but I’m actually 21 years old (nearly 22-please send birthday greetings and cash if you have extra).
How shall I describe my delectable bod? Slender? Willowy? Nebraska? I better explain ‘Nebraska’. That nickname came from one of my three older brothers. We were on a family vacation motoring through the Midwest on I-80. I was about 12 or so and my brothers were mid-teens. They had hormones pulsating off them like radar beams. Whenever they would see a female with any kind of tits, they would poke each other and make a comparison of that woman to a geographic location. You can imagine what ‘Grand Tetons’ and ‘Twin Peaks’ looked like.
Anyhoo, back to I-80. A very shapely woman had just walked by our booth during a food and potty break. As a wannabe boy, I wanted my brothers to accept me soooo badly. So I blurted out ‘Mount Rushmore’. OMG, you should have seen the food and drink spewing out of their noses! They were just howling with laughter. I don’t know why, but as soon as I joined in the name game they must have thought I needed a little humbling for being the precocious little shit that I was.
After they calmed down, my oldest brother nudged the brother sitting by him, pointed directly at my chest and stated, “Nebraska”. The three of them looked at each other and then nearly fell on the floor laughing their fool asses off. I sat up straight, looked from one brother to another, confused about why they thought that was so funny. So being the naïve sucker that I am, I asked my oldest brother what he meant.
He pointed at my chest again, and then pointed out the window toward the vast, flat plains of the state we had been crossing. He was just crying with laughter but managed to choke out, “you are as flat as Nebraska”. Needless to say, the boys rode that horse all the damned way to Colorado. I was pissed off at them but a little thrilled that I was included in their high jinks from that moment on. I’m still referred to as ‘Nebraska’ or ‘Cornhusker’ or ‘Neska’ (meaning Nebraska doesn’t need a ‘bra’).
The name my mommy and daddy gave me is Alexis. Thank you my dear rents, because I naturally became Alex for short; a very proper tomboy name. As I’ve implied, my booby size hasn’t changed much since I was 13. Visualize sunny side up eggs. My dear Mother is the one who graciously termed me ‘willowy’. My other female parts have shaped up pretty good due to a lot of sports and girlie hormones. I have an ass and legs that can turn heads if the man doesn’t see my front side first. My short, blond hair frames a decent enough face (featuring a smattering of tomboyish freckles across my nose) but I will admit that no movie casting agents have stopped me on the street begging for an audition (at least so far, IMAO). My best facial asset is my smile and blindingly white teeth-I could be the poster child for the orthodontic society. When I smile, my eyes get all scrunchy and some people (my daddy) think it’s just ADORABLE.
Where was I going with this? Oh yeah, ‘tomboy’. As a big girl I still love being around boys; their cussing, their spitting, their scratching. Since I’ve flown the parental nest, I still tend to hang around guys. When I moved into the city to start my glamorous professional life (ok, I’m the lowest slug ever in the corporate ladder) I sought out the best sports bar in my new neighborhood, knowing that there would be lots of young, horny men hanging out there.
Murphy’s is the kind of place that attracts 20-something guys like blow flies to cow pies. The big-ass plasmas hang all over the walls, continuously broadcasting sports. The only time I can remember watching anything but sports at Murphy’s was when ‘Dancing With The Stars’ had Jason Taylor (I would lick the sweat from his armpits he’s so hunky) in the finals. For the sports challenged, Taylor is the 6 foot 5 inch god-like defensive end who plays for the Miami Dolphins football team. I think you get it-Murphy’s is GUY place.
Oh, one more thing for my non-USA readers. I know you think football is played with a round, multi-colored ball by guys in short, silky pants. The football I’m talking about is the American version played by 350 pound water buffalos in pads and helmets. I don’t want you to be confused.
I know, I know, you are wondering where the sex comes into this story. Keep your pants on! Sheesh.
By hanging around Murphy’s long enough, I had ingratiated myself with the local boys who realized I didn’t need to be treated differently than any other guy. I know my sports and try as they may, I’m rarely stumped with a sports factoid. Plus, I can play pool without ripping the felt and throw a dart into the board rather than the wall.
Unfortunately, one of my brothers was in town once and I took him to Murphy’s. No, no, it wasn’t unfortunate that my brother was there. I love the big buffoon. It was unfortunate to take him to Murphy’s where he let my teenage nickname slip to the local boys. Thus, it was like déjà vu all over again (I think Yogi Berra said that). I became Nebraska again.
Not that the locals didn’t already know that I lacked front bumpers. They’ve got eyes that tend to pluck every chick that clucks by the bar. I’d gotten quite a bit of grief from them already. It’s just that my bro gave them a sobriquet (don’t ya love big words that look great in print but you stumble over verbalizing?) that I will never be able to shake.
One more thing; my Murphy friends love to play poker. I know it’s because ESPN calls it a sport and therefore shows HOURS of these Texas Hold ‘Em tournaments. If those card players are athletes I’ll stand naked in the city’s central fountain and pretend to be a swizzle stick. If you sense that it’s the one ‘sport’ I totally, freaking suck at then you win the stuffed panda bear.
That being said, since my guy friends like to play poker, then so do I. Here’s how I suck at poker: I have one of those faces that other poker players have wet dreams about. If I pair up deuces my face twitches like a kitten’s whiskers. Lord help me if I’ve got a set of aces. My forehead is like the Times Square electronic headlines billboard. In poker terms it’s called a ‘tell’. For me it’s more like ‘show and tell’. I lose my ass every time I play with my buds.
One fine summer day I arrived at Murphy’s and joined my boys at the bar. There’s a certain subtle slyness to the group as I elbowed my way to the bar. They are exchanging glances and poking each other in the ribs in a way that suggested something was coming. Regardless of the fact that they treat me like one of the guys most of the time, I don’t have a dick. Therefore they sometimes revert to their piggish ways and don’t think I have a BRAIN either (major eye roll if you could see me).
Every group has a leader and Bryan is ours. I should tell you that our core group of friends numbers six. Bryan epitomizes tall, dark and handsome (and filthy rich too if I can be so crass to note). I have a secret crush on him but he seems to favor the nubile bimbos that hang around the bar trolling for men (bitches!).
The other four guys all have certain qualities and professions that make our group interesting and fun. Jesse (Rocky is his nickname) is a short, muscular wrestler type who day trades in the stock market. Art the Fart (unfortunate I know) is good humored, tall as a redwood and works for a big accounting firm. Condor (nee Jarod) got his nickname from having a wingspan of the condor, which served him well when he played collegiate basketball. Now he dunks doughnuts instead of orange balls as a beat cop. Meat (his veddy proper mother prefers Steven) got his handle from something the guys just can’t seem to keep their stories straight about. Once they told me he worked at a meat-packing plant when he was a kid. Later I hear he choked on a steak. Remember that BRAIN/GIRL thing? I know what they are chortling about (dumb asses).
By the way, Meat is an outstanding specimen of a man. He’s blond, with piercing, glacial blue eyes. I don’t care if you think I’m shallow but he could be a Chippendale dancer. He is a freaking gorgeous man. And he drives a sweet Beemer convertible financed by his big salary as an exec at a large multi-national.
Back to Bryan (oh yes, he is just Bryan-don’t ask me why). Bryan doesn’t work because he doesn’t have to. Remember that rich reference? He’s perfect for the leadership role of our group because he has so damn much time on his hands. He plans our road trips and keeps the group energized. He also has a bar tab as big as Shaq. He’s generous to a fault but on my microscopic salary I appreciate the free drinks and he never makes me feel guilty.
Ok, ok, ok, back to the fine summer day. Bryan propped his arms on the bar next to me and casually said, “Nebraska, put July 14th on your calendar for a road trip. I’ve got my dinghy all detailed for the summer and I want to treat our tribe to a day cruise and then poker that night. No dates and it will be an over-nighter so bring your bunny jammies.”
Now I’ve seen Bryan’s ‘dinghy’ from afar. It’s a friggin’ yacht, sports fans. I’m talking ‘make my panties wet’ big. You can only imagine that none of our group would turn down that invitation. Even though the whole atmosphere seemed suspicious to me, I was not going to wimp out on our group.
“What’s the occasion Bryan? Need some more of my money playing poker to gas up the cruiser?” I asked innocently.
“It’s an obscure special holiday you’ve never heard of. I’ve got my party planners working on the details. I want it to be a surprise so don’t ask me any more questions. Just show up,” he casually replied.
Art the Fart nudged my head with his elbow (remember how tall he is) and said, “Yeah, Neska, don’t forget to wear your poker face.”
Of course that comment caused some serious guffawing amongst my friends. I retaliated by twisting Art the Fart’s nipple so hard he squealed like a teenage girl. I knew I could get away with that because no matter how much I was one of the guys, none of them had ever really laid their hands on me, grab-assing like they do with each other.
Sure, they ogle my fine derriere when I lean over the pool table and think I don’t know it. And the tall boys get to peek down my blouse (as if that’s a big thrill) when I lean forward at the bar. Now here’s where I become contradictory: Yes, I’m a tomboy; yes, I’m one of the guys; and but yes, damn it, I have my needs. Don’t think I haven’t noticed Meat’s package when he wears his tight blue jeans-I DO know how he really got his nickname.
Even though we are a tight group, we’ve never been on an over-nighter before. As I stand amongst these five, good looking, successful men and I think about the upcoming cruise with little ‘ole me being the only female, I feel a little thrum between my legs. Oops, so much for the tomboy bullshit!
I know you are already imagining a cocoa butter orgy on this yacht trip but indulge me with one more side-story. It’s relevant to the trip so shut up and listen. My other nickname as a kid was Nancy Drew. I was always poking around in my brother’s stuff, looking for clues about what they were up to. I could go on for hours about some of their secrets. Anyway, you understand I can’t tolerate not knowing things.
Google is to me as milk is to a baby. I worship at the feet of those geeks who invented the search engines. Bryan didn’t say I couldn’t ask other people questions. Sooooo, I Googled ‘July 14 and Holiday’ and guess what dear readers?
NATIONAL NUDE DAY IS ON JULY 14!!!!
Hmmm, let me think. Alex has a brain. Alex thinks this holiday cruise has something to do with poker and nudity. Alex knows she plays poker like a clown. Alex better get her ass down to the spa for a Brazilian wax, pronto. Alex has a PLAN!
Anyone listening ever had a wax job? Girls? Scream out if you have. I’m not talking about a tidy little shave here. Have you seen that movie ’40 Year Old Virgin’ where Steve Carrell has his chest hair removed? My poor waxer must have thought I grew up in a family of longshoremen hearing all the curse words I screamed. I decided that since I was going through the pain of hairlessness that I would not even leave a landing strip. I was as bare as that butt-ugly dog Paris Hilton lugs around.
Wait, one more thing. This spa had a special deal (the owner subscribes to ‘Marketing Today’ I’ll bet). ‘Buy one Brazilian Wax and an Anus Bleach is half price’. LOL. I know you think I’m making that up. “What do you do for a living dear?” “I’m an asshole bleacher, thanks for asking.”
In for a penny, in for a pound (please, please, you Brits, don’t ever convert to the Euro or this idiom will become useless). You guessed it; I was all in on the pretty asshole concept. For all my sistahs out there, you know how you feel at the gynecologist when you get to ride the exam table like a cowgirl? Imagine the shame of having your naked butt up in the air with a technician’s nose about an inch from your asshole.
The moment of truth came when my new friends had finished their respective intimacies. “Missy, missy, please look now,” the Brazilian girls urged. There was a three-sided mirror in the room installed to give me the panoramic view of my leafless, willowy bod.
Holy shit, Batman! I looked like a pre-pubescent waif. If I didn’t have some pretty cool nipples (if I do say so myself) I could be mistaken for one of my dildos-a big head and a long, straight shaft. I twirled one way and then another to see everything. I even bent over (blush) to examine my pristine anus. Wow. This was like ‘Home Makeover’ on my torso.
Now that I laid the foundation for my upcoming cruise, I figured I better add some finishing touches. Hair, nails, pedicure, and facial…all that girl shit I secretly love. Don’t forget SHOPPING! Bikini, cool cruise togs and accessories.
The cruise holiday was just a few days off but I decided to avoid Murphy’s and the gang until the big day. I was a little nervous about all my preparations but I will admit to feeling like a lit fuse on a firecracker. I didn’t even masturbate even though I could hardly keep my hands off my polished places.
THE BIG DAY ARRIVED. I called Bryan to tell him I’d meet everyone at the marina. My strategy was to show up fashionably late and make an Angelina Jolie, red carpet entrance (I can’t believe I just said that and besides, I hate that bee-atch for looking so god-damned beautiful even when she’s as pregnant as a hippo).
I chose to wear tight, white Capri pants with a loose fitting, navy and white striped, nautical-looking top. I found an adorable floppy sun hat and wore that atop my newly coifed and highlighted blond locks. My eyes are covered with massive, black Gucci sunglasses (knock-offs of course-I’m poor, poor, poor). Completing the ensemble, my fashionista friends, are the CUTEST little Havaiana flip flops that matched my top perfectly. I brought an oversized canvas bag with all my other outfits for the cruise (more about those later).
Ta da! I arrive one-half hour late as planned. I see the boys on the deck of the boat huddling around the cockpit, probably getting hardons about the electronic equipment. I stand at the base of the gangplank waiting for them to notice me. FINALLY, Bryan looks over and does a double-take. It was just priceless how his mouth hung open.
My friends see me at Murphy’s usually wearing torn blue jeans or cargo shorts with basic blouses or knit tops; tomboy clothes. They were not prepared for the new Alexis. Soon, all five of them were openly staring at me on the marina dock posed like a fashion model.
“Permission to come aboard, Captain?” I called up to Bryan.
I almost burst out laughing the way the boys jostled each as they each tried to be first over to the gang-plank.
“Yes, um, sure. Come abroad, I mean aboard, Nebr…, I mean Alex…is,” Bryan stuttered. Bryan NEVER is at a loss for words. NEVER! Hmm, maybe this plan is working.
“Thank you very much,” I replied as I hold out my hand in the universal female sign language that says ‘I’m so helpless. Please hold my hand so I don’t stumble’.
In the rugby scrum that occurred because of that gesture, Rocky won the right to help me board the boat because of his bulk and aggressiveness. I held his iron-hard hand as we strolled up the incline. He looked at me like puppy in a shelter trying to get the attention of a prospective owner.
When I reached the top of the gangplank I leaned over and kissed Rocky on the cheek and said “Thank you Jesse”. Then I greeted each one of the boys with a kiss on their cheeks and said their names like I was the Queen of bloody England giving knighthoods: “Arthur”; “Jarod”; “Steven”; “Bryan”.
Will you allow me a moment to gloat a little? These yahoos were struck dumb. Not dumb like ignorant. Dumb like speechless. Whatever mindset they may have had about this cruise just flew out of their brains like confetti thrown at a New Year’s Party. I was in HEAVEN!
I paused dramatically as I looked them over and said, “Gentlemen, let’s get this party started.” And then I burst out laughing. I couldn’t help it. They looked so damned cute in their baggy cargo shorts, Hawaiian shirts and flip-flops. This was going to be an outstanding day.
They immediately relaxed; relieved that an alien hadn’t overtaken my body. The normal boy banter fired up as they helped Bryan ready the boat for our cruise. Soon we were motoring away from the marina and into open water.
After we were safely out of the inter-coastal Bryan turned the helm over to Meat and Condor. Rocky and Art the Fart were readying food and drinks at the bar. Bryan asked me to accompany him below deck so I could drop my tote bag in my room.
ROOM? Ha! Are you kidding me? My entire efficiency apartment could fit in here, plus have room for an iron lung machine. I felt like doing a Tiger Woods arm pump and screaming ‘Yessssss’. Of course, by now you know I’m much more sophisticated than that. I merely smiled at Bryan and said, “This is so lovely! Let me powder my nose and I’ll join you boys shortly.”
After Bryan closed the door behind him I twirled around the suite like a ballerina. I ran my hands over the mahogany wood and the granite counters and the sleek bedcovers. OMG, I hugged myself when I looked into the head (yep, I know my nautical terms).
I composed myself and went back up the stairs to join the boys on top. Rocky and Art the Fart had set up a buffet line of great looking finger food for the day. Condor put a white towel over his bare arm, bowed to me and asked, “Missy likee drinkee?”
When I’m at sea (gawd, would you listen to me!) I like the cute tropical drinks with umbrellas. So I responded, “Jeeves, bring me a Pina Colada, chop chop!”
Our gang settled into the rhythm of the ocean waves, the salty air, drinking, laughing and talking. Jimmy Buffett was crooning his tropical tunes through the boat’s music system. The afternoon was warming up so I excused myself to go change into PHASE TWO of my evil plan.
Down in my suite I stripped down to my birthday suit and rummaged in my tote bag for my second secret weapon. I pulled out my one ungodly extravagant purchase; a Brazilian thong bikini (hey, I already had the wax so it seemed appropriate). When I bought it I had to hold my breath when the saleslady ran my credit card. These teeny, tiny little pieces of fabric cost more per millimeter than spun gold.
I had a moment of trepidation when I put the thong on. Jezzzus, it was small. Gulp. Luckily I was fortified with a good buzz from the rum drinks so I forged on by putting on my top. I use the term loosely of course. The ‘top’ was essentially two pieces of fabric, each smaller than a pirate’s eye patch that barely covered my nipples. The strings tied around my neck and back because lord knows I don’t have the cleavage to hold the slippery material in place. The bikini was fire engine red which contrasted nicely with my fair skin. I slipped on a semi-transparent, white caftan and put up the loose hood to enhance the unveiling of Alexis, goddess of Brazil.
I went back up to the party and strolled casually around my five boys. I knew the sun behind me was creating a silhouette of my slim torso through the caftan. For the second time in one day I stopped all conversation amongst my friends. God, I am getting a big head!
“Guys, would one of you spread a towel on the sun deck? I’m a little sleepy from the food and drinks and would like to snooze in the sun for a while,” I asked coyly. I swear I did NOT bat my eyes either. Once again there was a commotion of motion for the men to vie for the honor of waiting on her highness. Meat won this round by whipping out a white towel out of the storage bin he was closest to. He hustled over to the padded sun deck and dramatically whipped the huge towel open like a matador in the bull ring.
“Thank you Meat! Now I need one more favor; would you rub some sunblock oil on my backside?” I was facing away from my friends so I knew my best side was about to be introduced to my gang of five. I flipped back the hood, unzipped the caftan and let it drop to the teak floor like a new statue being unveiled in the city park.
I’m not sure who did it since I was looking out across the ocean but someone tipped over their beer and said ‘Holy Shit!’ It sounded like Condor. I’m not a vain person but damn it, I know what it means when a guy fumbles his precious beer like that. The red strings of my thong hugged my hips and disappeared down the crack of my ass. The tiny strings of my top were barely visible since they simply supported the front patches covering my baby titties.
I handed Meat the bottle of oil, laid down on the towel and said, “Get busy.”
If you recall, I told you Meat is this hunky specimen who does international business deals on a daily basis and has his choice of air-headed women at Murphy’s. He speaks several languages fluently but at this moment in time his response sounded like pig-Latin.
“What did you say, Meat?” I asked innocently.
“Why, I mean, where do you want it?” he stuttered.
“All over, silly,” I replied in a breathy voice that I thought sounded sexy. I laid my head down on my arms, facing away from Meat and wondered how long it would take him to start. One other little devious trick I had was to take off my huge sunglasses and hold them away from my face a little bit so the lens acted like a mirror.
I could see Meat gesturing to the other four guys like a monkey in a zoo. It was easy to tell that he was asking for advice about how to go about rubbing oil on someone who, up until today, had been one of the ‘boys’. My ass was humped up in the air like they do when a girl lays down flat on her tummy. I nearly laughed out loud when I saw the reflection of Art the Fart do a pantomime of a man masturbating.
Finally I felt the tentative touch of Meat’s fingertips on my shoulders. He must have thought I was radioactive based on how light his rubbing was. I squirmed a little to encourage him to keep going. He added his other hand to the job and he started to get into a rhythm on my shoulders. His circular rubbing worked down to the small of my back and I felt him pausing at the swell of my ass cheeks.
Instead of continuing, Meat shifted positions and moved down to my feet. He oiled up his hands again and started working up my calves and thighs. Soon, however, he faced the same conundrum that he had on the top side-what do I do about this girl’s ass? He paused so long that I sleepily called out to him, “Meat, my butt will burn if you don’t oil it.”
Again, I was eyeballing the other men in my glasses. They were all making shooing motions with their hands that meant ‘get on with it you fucking idiot!’
Meat must have dumped half the bottle of oil in his hands because when he finally laid one hand on my butt cheek I could feel the oil run toward my crack. He must have noticed because he hurriedly tried to stop the drip from reaching my thong that was buried deep in my crack. In doing so his thumb slipped between my two ass cheeks like an otter diving into a pond.
I heard a kind of strangled cry come from poor Meat as he fumbled around trying to do damage control. My butt was getting massaged like a Kobe beef cow in Japan. What I noticed the most was that his thumbs were pulling my cheeks apart occasionally and lingering in that position a little longer than necessary. Yes! Thank you my Brazilian hand maidens!
I turned my head back to face toward the group and said, “Thank you so much, Meat. I’m sure that I’m well protected from the sun now. You can go back to your beer.”
Meat was fidgeting around, still facing away from his buddies. He was surreptitiously trying to adjust his namesake body part which had apparently gotten aroused during the oiling ceremony. I glanced down at his crotch and saw what looked to be the center pole of a circus tent inside his cargo shorts. It was soooo funny. And soooo provocative.
He finally wrestled his anaconda down and shuffled back to his deck chair and gratefully downed the rest of his bottle of Corona. The other boys were pretending to not notice Meat’s discomfort or my shining ass. When Bryan finally looked over at me I gave him my brightest smile and said coyly, “You forgot to tell us why we are on this special cruise. What’s the obscure holiday you mentioned?”
Even though Bryan was visibly flustered by the erotic body massage he just witnessed, he managed to recover with the reply, “Um, yes, the surprise is will be revealed tonight after dinner. Just be patient.”
“Okie Dokie, Bryan. Hey, wake me if I fall asleep too long on my tummy. I want some sun on my front side too,” I replied.
I really didn’t expect to fall asleep but damned if I didn’t. It must have been the combination of warm sun, salty air and alcohol but all of a sudden I felt a hand on my shoulder. Condor said quietly, “Alex, you asked to be awakened. Is that ok?”
Condor kinda jumped back when I turned over quickly. He or the other boys hadn’t seen the front of my micro bikini. His eyes were glued to the itty, bitty red patch barely covering my nether region. I stretched like a cat in a sunny window, arching my back. That move was a little wasted because of my lack of boobs, but I knew it would make my pelvis thrust upward and draw attention away from my flat chest.
“Honey, would you be a dear and oil my front? I’m feeling really lazy,” I slyly asked Condor.
Now remember Condor is a tough, macho cop. He deals with a lot of shit in his job that makes him a little hard core on the exterior. With my request, however, you would have thought he was a gay interior decorator. He beamed from ear to ear at the other men who were shooting eye daggers at him for being in the right place at the right time.
The bottle of oil was snatched up quickly and like Meat, Condor started rubbing the slippery liquid on my safest outer limbs. His arms are so damn long that he could sit by my waist and still reach both ends of me easily. I was really enjoying this princess treatment. Maybe I’ll hijack this yacht and enslave these boys to my harem.
Another side benefit I didn’t expect was the sensuous nature of the oil massage. Condor was taking a lot longer than necessary working his way from toes and fingers inward. His hands were very hard from lifting weights but they felt soooo good I started to get aroused.
God has a way of compensating for flaws in her master blueprints of human beings. Witness the blind person with supercharged hearing and smell. In my case, because she chose not to grace me with much breast tissue I was given extraordinary nipples. When I get cold or sexually aroused my nipples get very large and hard. Condor was doing such a good job stoking my fire that I could feel my nips getting bigger by the moment. I was wearing my very dark sunglasses so I could surreptitiously watch Condor’s eyes widen as he observed my nearly flat chest all of a sudden get much more interesting. My nips were like two hard lemon drops under my bikini top.
Condor to his credit did not falter too much as he oiled the rest of my chest and stomach. I bit my tongue to keep from giggling when I heard the deck chairs shifting around. Condor was blocking the other boys’ view of the final frontier of the oil application!
The fabric of my red bikini was silky and clingy. My Brazilian wax left me bare as a newborn baby. Put those two facts together and there is very little left to the imagination for a trained observer like Condor. I knew without looking that my pussy lips were clearly outlined by the little patch of modesty the bikini bottom represented. His oily fingers were sneaking dangerously close to home base. I could feel one hand pressing on my pelvic bone that normally would have some vegetation growing on it. Condor’s other hand was working upward from my smooth thighs.
I gave a tiny little groan of pleasure and spread my legs apart slightly to give Condor a better view and access if he chose to. His large hand slipped between my thighs and I’m not going to lie, I felt the very early stages of the big O. For me that means my insides get all tingly and I actually feel like peeing! Careful girl! Save some for the finale!
I cleared my throat and said, “Thank you Condor, that was so nice of you. I don’t think there’s a chance of me getting burned now.” I gave him one my patented smiles and touched his arm in gratitude. Sure enough, there had been a flag raising ceremony in his loose shorts too. In his case I suspect he was going commando today because there was a little wet spot on his dark cargos. Hee hee. God, I’m so naughty.
Since I already had my siesta I decided to join the conversation by turning on my side toward the group of men who were in a semi-circle facing me. I propped up my head with my arm and smiled warmly at my boys. The sun was getting lower on the horizon but was it still intense as it was directly in my face.
Girls with rounded, womanly hips may have struck a better pose than mine at the moment but I did have the advantage of a very lean body so my pelvic bones were prominent and kinda sexy, if you lean toward the runway model look. This posture also made my bikini bottom nearly disappear between my thighs. I could see some adam’s apples bobbing as my buds tried to reconcile the fact that just a few days ago I was just another one of the guys arguing who was better; Kobe or LeBron.
“So, what’s for dinner tonight,” I asked. “I’m getting hungry.” All the guys knew I was a chow hound. I never share my food like a lot of girls do, thinking it made them look feminine. I’ve been known to distract other male eaters by pointing out the window and exclaiming, “Oh my God, look at the hooters on that skank!” That’s when I would snatch some of their fries or onion rings.
“Geez, keep your pants on Neska,” Art the Fart replied and then continued, “Oh, wait, you don’t have any pants on.” Art then hee-hawed like a mule, slapping his thighs at his own wit. Art the Fart seemed to be the least affected by my stunning beauty-I will make him pay-everyone must worship Alexis today.
Bryan answered my question after Art’s braying subsided. “We will dine at sunset here on the deck in one hour. Anyone who wants to shower and freshen up should get a move on. After dinner we go below, play poker and celebrate the holiday.”
“And what did you say the holiday was, Bryan?” I asked again.
“Nice try, Nebraska,” Bryan retorted, “You will find out with everyone else.”
You know my suspicions that all the others were in on this. I could see the little eye shifts from Meat to Condor to Rocky. I was already getting ready for poker by reading their facial tics. Ha! Phase 2 (or 3, I forget where I am now) is about to begin.
“Sure, Bryan, I’m just excited about it. You know how I love holidays,” I answered. With that I got up, turned my back to the boys, bent over at the waist and picked up my caftan. Meat was my butt oiler earlier so he had a pretty good idea of how tiny my thong was. Dental floss may be thicker. I knew my butt cheeks would spread a little when I bent over but I did it with the confidence of native girl from Ipanema. My tiny, bleached anus would be clearly visible and winking like a hooker at a Navy Yard. Thank you, thank you, thank you my asshole bleaching sister; I’m writing a letter of commendation to your boss.
I stood up and draped the caftan over my arm. “Ok, boys, Alex is going to do her thing,” I stated as I sauntered around them toward the stairs. I tweaked Rocky’s kinda gnarly ear (a wrestler’s badge of courage) on the way by. “See ya soon”.
I won’t bore you with all the details of my preparations but I will tell you that I dabbed a dot of Chance by Chanel (a gift from one of my thousands of admirers) under each ear, each nipple and on my upper thighs. The Frenchies call this liquid gold ‘parfum’. I call it ‘bait’.
Now it was time to reach into my tote bag of tricks and put on layer after layer of clothes that I brought along. All of the under-layers were very thin so I wouldn’t look bulky. I had on three panties; starting with a tiny, sheer white thong covered by a black, French cut panty to the outer layer of My Little Pony cotton panties. On top, I wore a sheer, white camisole that matched my thong. I slipped on white, lace topped, thigh high Donna Karan nylons that felt like feathers encasing my smooth legs. The top layer was a cute baby-doll number I picked up cheap at Needless Mark-ups (I mean Neiman-Marcus). I put on some fuck-me pumps that I NEVER wear because they hurt like hell.
Are you sensing my strategy? Have you picked up the bread crumbs I dropped along the path of this story? Are you annoyed that there hasn’t been any steaming, torrid sex yet? Ok, to review: National Nude Day; a poker night; Alex sucks at poker. Me thinks there may be a strip poker game upcoming with the gang of five conspirators who think they can take advantage of my large print face. We’ll see….
I made my grand entrance in about seventy minutes (never be early, girls). The boys had set up a great looking, white linen table with mounds of catered food served family style. There were oysters on the half-shell in a bed of ice, cold jumbo shrimp as big as bananas, a veggie plate and gigantic strawberries next to a dish of whipped cream.
“Let’s eat!” Bryan said as he rang the boat’s brass bell. Rocky wrestled off the cork of a bottle of champagne which went flying up to the captain’s bridge (for the wine snobs, it was a fine little 1998 Dom that would cost me a week’s wages for sure). Rock filled everyone’s glasses with bubbly and we all raised our glasses to each other and the spectacular sunset. Bob Marley was doing his thing on the sound system. Is this heaven? Perhaps.
Bryan (who is really kind of a softie) raised his glass and said quietly, “To best friends”.
Condor is a closet poet so he raised his glass after Bryan’s toast and stated loudly, “To friends: as long as we are able-to lift our glasses from the table.”
The toasts went around the table until it got to me. I tilted my glass at everyone and stated my favorite, “Salud, dinero y amor,” (Get out your Spanish dictionaries).
We all sat down and dug into the food like knights at a medieval feast. The food was sooo good and it was pretty decadent using our fingers to eat. The wine was giving me a major buzz and the conversation was lighthearted and filled with friendly banter.
Please allow me one more little aside that was realllly funny (are you getting tired of my detours?). I was feeding Art the Fart a strawberry dipped in whipped cream. Some whipped cream stuck on the side of his mouth which reminded Condor of a joke.
Condor is funnier than a rubber crutch when he’s buzzed so he commanded our attention and told the following joke:
“A penguin is taking a road trip when his car suddenly breaks down. Luckily for him, he finds himself just down the street from a mechanic. So, he pushes his car to the shop and asks the mechanic to take a look. The mechanic tells him that it will probably take a little while to find the problem and asks him to come back in an hour.
The penguin goes over to the supermarket, buys some fish sticks and vanilla ice cream, and spends the rest of the hour hanging out in the frozen section. After the hour is up, he waddles over to the mechanic’s shop.
Seeing him come in, the mechanic walks over, and wiping his hands on a rag, says, ‘Looks like you’ve blown a seal.’
The penguin blushes, wipes his beak with his flipper and says, ‘No, it’s just vanilla ice cream.’”
No shit, I’m not kidding, we literally cried with laughter. Tears streamed down my face. Every time we calmed down, one of us would take a fingertip of whipped cream and wipe it on a neighbor’s chin. That went on so long my stomach hurt. Tooo funny.
We all pitched in to clean up the table. When we were done Bryan rang his ship’s bell again and announced in a pirate’s voice, “Arrrrrr, mateys. All hands below decks before I keelhaul you!”
We all stumbled down the stairs; I needed a helping hand because those darn shoes. The yacht’s salon was gorgeous. Nautical prints hung on the walls between the brass portholes. A glittering, mahogany trimmed bar displaying top shelf liquors dominated one end of the room. A round, glass-topped table sat in the middle of the room with six chairs. Poker chips and cards sat in the middle of the table.
“My friends,” Bryan began, “we never seem to need a reason to play poker, but today is a special day. Today just happens to be National Nude Day. In honor of such a momentous occasion, I propose that tonight we play Strip No Limit Texas Hole ‘Em poker.”
Have you ever seen one of those tacky cat clocks where the eyeballs and tail flick back and forth with every second? That’s what my boys looked like after Bryan’s announcement. Flick at me, flick back to each other. It confirmed that they were all in on this gambit to get me naked, knowing my poor bluffing abilities.
I broke the silence after a minute, clapped my hands and exclaimed, “What a great idea Bryan! I’m looking forward to seeing your pathetic little weenies wagging in the salty air with all your chips in stacked in front of me.”
Guffaws and chortling (and did I detect a little nervousness?) followed that statement as everyone grabbed a chair. Bryan seemed a little taken-aback by my easy acquiescence but he forged ahead by announcing the modified rules. The way he tied in the strip part of the game was to allow the winner of each hand to point out one other player to take off one article of clothing. Additionally, the first person to fold in each round had to take a shot of tequila.
The overall winner with all the chips would win the right to demand a special service of each loser (Bryan gave examples like a car wash or being a chauffer for a day). Everyone nodded their agreement and the chips were distributed evenly amongst us six players.
I won’t give you all the rules of Hole ‘Em but one aspect of No Limit was that you could go ‘All In’. That means you push all your remaining chips in the center of the table and force someone to call the same amount. If you lose you are out of the game. Thus, another modified rule Bryan created was that the loser of an All In gamble had to strip off their remaining clothes and sit naked, watching the others finish the game.
We started the game with Bryan, our host and leader, on the button. (I’m going to throw around all these poker terms like a pro-I know the rules-I just can’t bluff worth a shit). The big blind was Rocky and the little blind was Art. I was after Art the Fart, Meat was on my left and Condor was last.
The two hole cards were dealt and I took a quick peek. Hellooo bitches, I just got two very lovely queens. Since I was left of the little blind it was up to me to start. I chucked in chips to match the big blind and didn’t meet anyone’s eyes as I did it. Meat stayed in but Condor immediately folded and reached for the bottle of Patron and a shot glass that was sitting on the side table. Bryan stayed in for the flop as did Rocky and Art.
The Flop is three, face-up community cards, which are combined with your hole cards to make the best poker hand. The flop cards were a Jack of Hearts, a deuce of clubs and a five of hearts. Damn, nothing. Art had matched the big blind so Rocky made a modest bet. Art and I called but Meat folded. Bryan stayed in.
The Turn is one card, face up. Uh oh, a Jack of Spades. Now everyone had a least two Jacks. What if one of these other monkeys had a hole Jack? God forbid, two. Grrr. Rocky again bet modestly, probably playing the rest of us along. Art wimped out but I tossed in my call bet. Bryan stayed in too. Down to three players; may the best girl win.
Bryan burned a card and slowly flipped over the River card. Thank you Jesus! It was a Queen which gave me a boat (that’s a full house for you novices). I did everything I could to keep my face straight. I counted backwards by threes; I tried to remember all my grade school teacher’s names; I even resorted to a Zen prayer I learned from one of my goofy professors in college.
Rocky and Bryan were eyeballing me like cattle buyers at an auction. After a long pause, Rocky pushed in a big damn stack and looked at me with a smile. I smiled back sweetly and matched his stack and then pushed out another equally big stack. Please, please, please don’t have two hole Jacks. It’s the only thing that can beat me.
Bryan immediately mucked his cards and sat back in disgust. He figured I wasn’t bluffing. Rocky, however, had a pretty good investment in the hand. He might have pocket Kings or even Aces. He must have felt a little unsure because he called me rather than raising me again.
Rocky flipped over his cards. Yep, pocket Aces. He grinned at me like a monkey masturbating in a zoo. Two pair. Good hand. BUT NOT GOOD ENOUGH, as I tossed my cards face up. Rocky’s face dissolved into a look of disbelief. The other boys hooted and hollered as they waited to see who I pointed out. There was no question; I pointed straight at cocky Rocky and said, “Off with something, dude.”
His shirt came whipping over his head and he threw it disgustedly in the corner. Rocky had been so confident about the game that he was only wearing a shirt, shorts and no sandals. He glowered at the rest of us and growled, “My deal.”
I should have known starting off so strong would come back to haunt me. The very next hand my hole cards were an unsuited 3 and 7. Ick. And I was the little blind so I was invested. I had zero confidence, Rocky’s big stack in front of me and a lot of clothes on. I folded like a wet, paper bag and reached for my shot glass.
Guess who won? Rocky. Guess who he pointed at after he won? Moi. Ok, boys, showtime.
I stood up, reached under my baby doll dress and carefully pulled down my outer layer of panties. My competitors did not know about my diabolical plan yet so they watched in awe as they saw me give up my underwear so quickly. I inched my little girl cottons down very slowly and sat down to get them over my shoes. When I had them in hand I dropped them in the middle of the table. The boys came unglued when the saw the My Little Pony graphic. I thought poor Art the Fart was going to have a heart attack he was laughing so hard.
I had terrible luck after the initial hand and I the guys were picking on me more than each other to take off clothes. I shed a shoe, then two. I lost a close hand to Bryan and he pointed to me to undress further. Bye, bye baby doll dress.
So, here I was down to my sheer white camisole, black panties (covering my sheer, white thong) and white stockings. This cami was so sheer there was very, very little left to the imagination. Granted, I don’t have much upstairs but remember my gorgeous nipples! I was getting a little loopy with some of the shots I’d taken and I was getting a little aroused watching the boys shed some of their clothes. Thus, my little honeys were standing up like soldiers on parade. And the boys were not paying as much attention to their cards!
The next hand, I got really lucky with my hole cards and Meat was eyeballing my chest rather than his hand. He was also down to his skivvies and very few chips. We got down to a showdown and he went All In. Since he had so few chips it was an easy call. Busted big boy!
Little did these guys know that I would have so many articles of clothes on, get pretty lucky at times and have such outstanding little titties. Meat took it like a man going to the gallows. He stood up and turned away from me as he dropped his boxers. The other men had seen Meat’s meat changing in the locker room and such. I, however, had never had the honor.
I couldn’t help it but when he turned around I squeaked like a little mouse cornered by a huge cat. I don’t know who was redder in the face, him or me. His dick was long and thick and pink and veiny and OMG, every other adjective you can think up. Remember, I told you Meat could be a Chippendale dancer on his looks? It would be standing room only if word got around about his package.
“Are you happy now, Nebraska?” Meat asked me.
“Um, yes, thank you for asking,” I replied looking at his crotch and then dissolved into giggles.
One more round and sure enough, I was picked to strip. I stood up again and reached for my black panties. The boys looked confused about my choice until they saw that I had yet another pair of panties under them. A chorus of boos and hisses rained down on me. Art the Fart, being the anal accountant, asked for an immediate forfeit. Bryan admitted that he didn’t specify how many clothes a player could wear and ruled that the game should continue.
Alexis, goddess of the seas, was now a vision in sheer white. My nipples were standing proud under the camisole. My legs were encased in beautiful lace-topped stockings. My bare pussy lips were now clearly visible under the sheer thong. There’s one more thing about my body you need to know. It might be part of that compensation thing I speculated on earlier.
When I get aroused and I mean really aroused, my little love button gets abnormally engorged. Normally a girl’s clit is hidden behind the folds of her labia and/or pubic hair. I was really turned on by being on display like this. God, maybe I’m an exhibitionist at heart! Anyway, my clit was throbbing like rock concert speakers. I could feel it growing between my pressed together thighs, which only increased the stimulation.
Conversation had stopped once again to allow for the boys to recover their senses. I glanced over at Meat and saw him cross his legs. This was so much fun it must be illegal.
The game continued with me gaining ground because of my distractions. Condor busted out to Bryan. Condor shed the rest of his clothes without much inhibition because he was getting pretty intoxicated with the shots. He had a nice looking, average size dick that seemed a little semi-hard at the moment (could that be from me?).
I lost a few hands and the boys really turned the heat on me. Both stockings were gone, leaving only my cami and thong. I nailed Art the Fart in an All In move. He stripped down quickly and proved that height didn’t translate to his man show. Of course, Meat made everyone look puny. It was still cute as a bug though. Hee hee.
Bryan lost to Rocky and unsurprisingly Rocky picked me to strip. I stood up and did a little burlesque move, bumping and grinding as I pulled it over my head. I twirled it around my finger and the let it fly into Meat’s lap. I swear his dick twitched when the warm, silky fabric landed on his namesake.
All eyes were fastened on my hard, little chest nubs. I fanned myself with my hands and asked, “Is it just me or is it a little warm in here?”
“Let’s finish the game,” Bryan finally croaked out.
I knew my distractions were working when Rocky made a rookie mistake playing his cards. He went All In with nothing and I smacked him down hard. Rocky is not only muscular but very hairy too. When he dropped his Calvins I fumbled the shot glass I was playing with. Even his cock was muscular. Thick, not too long, but very thick. It looked like one of those really fat salamis at the deli. (I know I’m getting a little graphic here, but I’ve had quite a few shots and besides, don’t you want to know too?)
Bryan, the last man standing (actually sitting, but you get the point) had only his underwear left, just like me. Not surprisingly, he was wearing one of those expensive, European briefs that are high cut on the hips and basically hold the package in a thong kind of design. It was very distracting because he was sitting directly across the glass-topped table from me. His boys were cradled between his legs and I wanted to set them free if I could.
For my part, I knew that desperate times call for desperate measures. While the cards were being dealt, I hooked my feet behind the chair’s legs and leaned forward as if I were really intense on the game. Naturally, my sweet little pussy was now front and center and with all the stimulation, my clit was swollen like nobody’s business. By spreading my legs, the little trooper peaked out of its hiding place. The other thing that was happening to me was that in my excitement, I could feel myself get wet. My sheer thong clearly showed the stain. I could see Bryan glance down though the table repeatedly.
My two cards flew across the table and I caught them under my hands. Bryan and I were dead even in chip count so this could last a while if we both played conservatively. I leaned down close to my cards and peeked at them one at a time. Ace, Ace, Hail Mary, full of grace. I could visualize Bryan’s thong dropping to the floor before mine did.
It was my bet; I was pretty loopy with Patron shots and I was very horny because of the naked men all around me. I decided to test Bryan’s resolve right away. I shoved every single chip I had in the middle and declared All In even before the flop. I was hugging myself with excitement and surreptitiously massaging my nipples. It felt so good I didn’t care who was watching.
Apparently Bryan was watching because he barely looked at his cards. He was staring a hole through the table at my wet panties and licking his lips nervously. It was not like him to be so uncertain. Maybe I had bewitched him! Yes, that’s it; I’m Glenda, Good Witch of the East!
The other men were egging Bryan to call me and end the game one way or another. I know who they want to lose. Bryan probably didn’t have much in his hand but he couldn’t wimp out in front of his friends. He pushed his chips next to mine and said, “Call; let’s see ’em.”
It was high noon at the OK Corral; I picked up my bullets and slapped them down on the glass table with a loud smack. Bryan muttered, “Oh shit,” and flipped over a deuce of clubs and ace of clubs.
I’m not going to lie; my bare pussy was dripping with repressed sexual energy. I glanced down and saw a wet stain on the cushion of the chair-oops, what will the maid think?
I looked around the room at the other men and damned if all them didn’t have some state of arousal going. I almost feel sorry for Meat’s girlfriends; he is HUGE!
The Flop hit the table and revealed a Jack of Hearts, an 8 of Diamonds and a 5 of Clubs. No apparent help for either of us. A card was burned and the Turn card was a 3 of Clubs.
Uh oh. A little worm of dread crawled around in my tummy. Bryan has a potential club flush and I’m still sitting on my Aces.
I am literally pinching my poor little nipples now. I looked over at Bryan’s lap and he is absently stroking his penis. It appears that his bulge is going to outgrow the cute, black thong. Oh my, what have I gotten myself into?
The final card is burned and the River card is poised to be turned over. Everyone is holding their breath as the final card is tipped over. 4 freaking of Clubs. I held my head with both hands and let my held breath go. Straight flush and Alexis, Queen of the High Seas, was toast.
I peeked at Bryan through my fingers and he was holding out his hand with his index finger extended.
“Hang your thong on this hook Miss Alexis, por favor,” he said softly.
All righty then. I had tried every trick in the book and came up a little short. As in short of my panties very soon. I was still very turned on (and a bit intoxicated) so I got up from my chair a little wobbly. I hooked my thumbs under the floss and pulled the thong down far enough so that it fell to my ankles. I stepped out of one leg and then bent my other leg back so I could snag the thong with my fingers.
Ooooh, it was wet and slippery. I reached across the table and hung the prized thong on Bryan’s finger. “Congratulations, Bryan, you win. I’m your slave I guess. What do I have to do?” I asked with a little trepidation.
The men were staring at me with shock and awe. My pale chest was flushed from the excitement of playing strip poker with five hunky men. I was totally naked; my nipples were bulging and my clit was throbbing and peaking through my pussy lips. As I scanned the room quickly, every one of them was either fully erect or nearly so. Meat was 10 inches of prime, grade A beef; Condor, Art the Fart and Rocky were each sporting nice woodies.
Bryan, even though he still had his own thong on, was spotting his underwear with a dot of pre-cum. He locked eyes with me and slowly brought my thong close to his face and inhaled my scent through his nose. I’ve never had an orgasm without some physical stimulation but I was very close at that moment.
“Um, I realize I’m supposed to name your payment for losing now, but I’m a little distracted at the moment. Condor, Meat, Art and Rocky; would you mind if I gave you your jobs tomorrow? I want Alexis to join me in my room for her assignment,” he said without taking his eyes off mine.
He held out his hand, silently asking me to walk with him. Friends, you know by now that I have a smart mouth and that I can hold my own with the men. I couldn’t have said a word at that moment if my life depended on it. I quietly took Bryan’s hand and he led me to his captain’s quarters.
Everyone still with me? Ok, send the kids to bed. It’s time to get really naughty. I’m officially Alexxxis for the next few paragraphs. All clear?
Bryan closed the door behind us. Bright moonlight was streaming through his oversized windows which lit up the room with a soft, diffused glow. A reflection of the moon was bouncing off the swells of the ocean. His huge stateroom was impeccably decorated in a modern, black and white theme.
I felt Bryan turning me towards him. His face was shadowed but showed no emotion.
“Alex, you are probably thinking I am going to take unfair advantage of my poker win. This day has turned into something other than what I had planned. I was thinking we would have some laughs, drink ourselves silly and trash talk for weeks afterward. You have overwhelmed me today with a side of you I didn’t know existed. I am feeling terribly attracted to you as a woman, which I did not expect. That being said, I want you to know that you can get dressed right now and there will be no questions asked,” Bryan concluded. He heaved a sigh of relief after delivering his long speech.
I still couldn’t talk because of this massive lump in my throat. All I could do was reach out my arms and beckon him to hug me. Which he did. And it felt very, very good. I nuzzled my face into his bare chest and found my lips next to one of his nipples. I snaked my tongue out and found his nipple to be very stiff and salty. My teeth nipped him lightly and I heard a groan deep in his chest.
I worked my way across his chest and paid some attention to his other dark nipple. I was clutching Bryan hard because I was afraid I would fall to the floor otherwise. Slowly, I let myself slide down his muscled torso until my knees found the soft carpet. I pressed my lips against his thong covered penis. The material was made of black silk so it felt like part of his skin. I moaned a little with the erotic thrill of what we were doing.
I reached up and hooked the elastic of his thong with my thumbs. The thong slid off his hips but got caught on his erection. I had to grapple with the thong for a second but as I freed him, his penis jumped upward at full attention. Bryan was not huge like Meat, but his prick had a beautiful, circumcised head and a smooth, dark shaft.
Don’t ask me why, but at that moment I was overcome with emotion. I know, I know, I’m a tomboy and I shouldn’t be the weepy sort. Maybe the feminine part of me has been repressed so long it took these circumstances to liberate my female passion. Maybe it was the realization that someone as special as Bryan would want ME as a friend and lover hit me so hard. I clutched his warm penis to my cheek and held it there without moving. Tears flowed down my face and collected against his hard maleness on my cheek.
“What’s wrong honey?” Bryan whispered as he stroked my short locks, “Do you want to stop?”
“Oh Bry, no. I’ve never had a happier day in my life. These are happy tears,” I answered. With that, I licked my salty tears off his rigid cock and cupped his solid testicles in my small hand. I put my mouth barely over the engorged helmet of his penis and made a tight circle of my lips. I stroked the last two inches of his hardened prick in and out of my mouth, licking the tender underside at the same time. My manicured fingernail grazed the smooth area between his anus and balls.
Within a few minutes Bryan made some muffled noises that I took to mean I was doing something right. He groaned out, “Alex, I can’t hold it, I’m so sorry.” With that warning the first ejaculation sprayed into my mouth. It was hot and salty and more delicious than the shrimp we feasted on earlier. He was jerking in my hands but I held on tight and sucked even harder on the end of his thrusting cock. At least four spasms of creamy sperm, each with a little less volume than the last, collected in my willing mouth. I swallowed as much as I could, but some of the white liquid leaked out the side of my mouth and slowly dripped down my chin.
I looked up at Bryan with his slowly wilting cock still in my mouth. I was bathing his penis with my tongue which caused him to have little orgasmic aftershocks. His eyes were a little glazed over but he managed to croak out, “Sweetie, that was unbelievable. Come up here.”
Bryan reached down and lifted me effortlessly to my feet. When his face was next to mine he saw the white cum still on my chin. He stuck his tongue out and licked the sperm upward toward my mouth. I opened up and sucked his cream covered tongue into my mouth. We rolled our tongues around on his slippery seed while we looked into each other’s eyes.
Bryan broke off the erotic kiss, bent over and whisked me off my feet. I felt like a feather in his strong arms. He walked us over to the bed and gently placed me down on the soft, satin sheets. The moonlight was directly focused on my body lying prone on the bed. My nipples had lost none of their rigidity so there were tiny shadows behind each one. Bryan’s lips grazed on one and then on the other. Was this a dream? Please don’t wake me!
My heart was pounding so hard I’m sure Bryan could see it beating under my skinny ribcage. His fashionable, two day beard tickled my skin as he slowly moved down my sensitive tummy. I felt his fingers stoke my thigh and gently push my legs apart. I could feel the smooth wetness between my pussy lips. Bryan’s tongue darted out and clipped the end of my clit. Oh my lord, I almost lost it right there.
I clenched the slick sheets with both my fists trying not to go off too soon. Bryan gently parted my bare pussy lips with his fingers and exposed my womanhood fully. He licked from the bottom of my slit all the way to the top, pausing to suck on my engorged clit. As he gently pulled on it with his lips, I lost control. An ecstatic wave of pleasure overwhelmed me. I felt like I was spiraling into another dimension of time. My insides turned into molten liquid. Bryan held on to each of my ass cheeks with his large hands and forced his face deep into the cleft of my spread legs. I writhed and screamed as a second and third orgasm rocked me. My pussy was squirting clear liquid on Bryan’s face, making his face shiny with my girl cum.
Slowly I came back down to Earth. Bryan was still holding me tight but my pussy was so sensitive I shuddered each time he touched me with his tongue. I grabbed his dark, curly hair with my fingers and forced him to come up on top of me. He braced himself on his elbows so he wouldn’t crush me with his weight. His semi-hard cock nestled comfortably between my slippery thighs. We kissed and I tasted my own womanly fluid on his lips. Is there any way I can make this night last forever?
I smiled up at his handsome face and said, “I’ve never been happier to pay off a poker debt. Can I have a rematch?” We hugged each other hard and he rolled me on top of him for an encore.