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Lesson Three: Faggotry Begins at Home.
Furtive looks and the trail ends of whispers greet my arrival, then they all look over at me as I walk in. Clearly the subjects of myself and strip poker have been the only topics of conversation since I left. They all seem more alert than when I left and Phil actually blushes as I smile at them.
'So what are the rules?' I ask as I sit down in the seat left vacant by the piece-of-shit now gently snoring on the bed. This is greeted by an unbelieving silence. Finally Josh answers, clearly feeling lucky in more ways than one tonight.
'Shoes and socks don't count, only visible clothes can be removed. Worse hand after two swaps loses'
I look down as see that they're all barefoot and, excepting a be-trousered Phil, wearing shorts. Above the waist to a man they're wearing t-shirts, four of which I recognise from my boyfriend's wardrobe. I look back up to Josh to nod my agreement, finding his eyes on my chest, possibly trying to determine if I wore a bra tonight or not. Where as earlier this would have left me sighing and feeling slightly soiled, now all it does is make my nipples harden. Maybe they want him to see them thru the folds of my dress. Maybe I want him to be able to tell all that stands between him and my bare breasts is just this little shift. Well he'll find out soon enough. They all will.
The cards are dealt to my renewed explanations that I've really never played this game before, this is met with ever growing smiles. John starts to tell me something about different kinds of poker and what kind this one is, but I hear very little of it, nodding every so often for politeness only.
Instead I'm checking them all out as thoroughly as they're checking me out. Josh is kinda cute I guess, though not really my type, quite big and broad, clearly works out quite a bit, short black hair. He knows exactly how cute he is, which is sually the sort of guy I can look right by. Phil is a little bigger, not fat exactly, but a little chubby in the face and not exactly svelte in the waist. He has quite an open face, still quite boyish in many respects, smooth skin around his jaw and upper lip betrays the fact that he's still to start shaving properly.
John and Dave are both, well normal, I guess. Average heights, their arms toned a little, brown hair gelled up in alarmingly similar styles. These guys should call each other before they go out and co-ordinate haircuts. The last is Peter, by far the quietest of the group, almost shy but with a knowing and intelligent look in his eye. He's quite short, only just taller than me in these heels, and fairly skinny. If he were taller he'd look quite gangly, but he does have quite an angelic face underneath a mess of light brown curls.
So these are the guys I'll be playing with tonight, I guess. I smile to myself, if a girl's to have a random orgy then she really could do much, much worse than this collection. I start to wonder what they have in their pants as I lift my cards.
The first few hands I get through clothed, to my disappointment as Dave and Peter both lose their tops and Josh rather leeringly pulls off his shorts, just to be different. He can leer all he likes, because I'm leering right back, my eyes grabbing a hold of the bulge in his CK's, only to be left hoping that there's more than meets the eye under that snug cotton wrapper.
Phil removes his top also, blushing mightily, clearly unaccustomed to exposing his slightly wobbly stomach to anyone, let alone used to disrobing in this type of situation. The air is thick, the drinks have slowed as the cards are concentrated on. As I get a fifth good hand in a row (3 kings is pretty good right?) I excuse myself and go downstairs to hunt out an unopened can of coke.
I return to find my boyfriend still out for the count and an air of innocence in the room as the five guys sit with their fixed hands. Each only swaps one card. I swap two, twice. Surprising, and with statistical implausibility they all have extremely good hands. I lose my first hand. Finally.
I sit there for a moment as they l