Poker Night ♥️♣️♦️♠️

Transcript

Poconite, written by Eli Casablanca, narrated by Fleur Rathbone. My red panties are at the centre of the table, displayed atop a small mountain of cash. The boys are staring at it in silence.

They are all but drooling, every last one of them. Let me take you on a tour around the table. To my right, meet Mark, my boyfriend.

He is handsome, he sports almost-but-not-quite-messy light brown hair, a sexy short beard, and he was blessed with an, I-should-be-working-on-a-farm build. I adore him, and he turns me on every second of every day. Sitting across from the table from me is Jonathan, Mark's best friend since they were kids.

He has long, dirty blonde hair, and eyes that might be brown but might also be green. I'm never sure and suspect it changes by the day. He's a model.

I swear, sometimes he brings a girl to the weekly poker game, always a different one, but not this week. This week we have Hans, sitting to my left, a German model friend of Jonathan's, in town for a shoot and sleeping on Jonathan's couch. Square jaw, bright blue eyes, and a beautiful bald head.

And, I did not fail to notice, strong-looking hands that I wish would scoop me up and slam me against the wall and hold me there while a hard German cock tickles my belly button from the inside. My name is Sarah, and if you can't tell already, I've been intensely horny for about an hour now just from looking at these guys and imagining what they could do to me. So when I ran out of poker money, removed my panties, and dropped them on top of the take at the centre of the table, their silky red fabric was already positively soaked.

The pleasant musk of my juices is now just reaching each men's face. I see their eyes change, the intent behind them shifting from want to need. I love it.

Makes me feel powerful. Allow me to get this right. Whoever weens this wound, hands repeats carefully in his irresistible German accent, looking right at me, gets not just the panties, but what you call the best head of your life, is that correct?

Yes, I nod. He turns to Mark then, and just stares, like he's waiting for confirmation, or maybe permission. Don't look at me, Mark says, palms up.

I'm not the boss of her. Hands turns back to me. And, he continues incredulously, getting head, that is English slang for blowjob, I am not wrong about zis.

I nod, giving the man a coy smile. You are very attractive, he says to me, earnestly. Then he adds, mostly to himself, I must win this.

He is charming, and I can't help but smile again. He's right about me being attractive, by the way. I turn heads when I enter rooms.

I could be a model, Jonathan keeps trying to get me to meet his agent, but the gig doesn't interest me. I do have the face for it, and more. Wavy, long hair, dark brown, and natural tits that almost look fake, the way they stay put even when the bra comes off, regardless of their considerable size.

I have hips full of dirty promises that lead to a round, firm ass you could bounce a quarter off of, and long legs that men would kill to have wrapped around their necks. I also have three twos, spades, diamonds, and clubs in my hand, so I'm getting those red panties back. Don't worry, somebody will still be getting the best head of your life later tonight, but it'll be Mark.

You're going first, he says to me. I smile, drop my hand to the table, cards up. Sorry, boys.

I'm leaning in, and making for the small pile of cash, when Mark flashes that irresistible grin of his and says to wait. Motherfucker. He can beat a triple.

He drops the ten of hearts on the green cloth fabric of the table, then the jack of hearts, then the queen, then the king, then the fucking ace. Royal flush. Insanely unlikely, but there it is.

Mark is having a good night. Ha! Jonathan exclaims.

Mark is about to say something self-congratulatory when Jonathan proceeds to drop the ten of diamonds on the table. He stays quiet for a while, relishing the moment, stretching it, coating it in suspense. Then he drops the jack.

He smiles, his eyes about to explode with excitement. The queen, and king, and ace follow. Mark is gobsmacked.

As am I. This has never happened. We've been playing together for over six years, and I've never seen anything close to this crazy.

You don't see two royal flushes at the same time. It doesn't happen. Hands clears his throat, so we all turn to him.

Friends, he says. I believe we should all go buy a ticket to the lottery. He says this, and he lines up his hand on the table.

One card after the next, all displayed side by side in a neat row. I get it. You won't believe me.

I wouldn't either. But I swear he has a royal flush. Mark bathes this time.

For over a minute, everyone is quiet. We're all doing the same thing. Math.

Thinking back to the rest of the game, Mark grabs the discarded pile and searches through it. He looks up at us. Jack of clubs, he says.

That's it. The only face card in there. We're quiet again, and there is reverence in this quiet.

We're all card players, and tonight we've witnessed a miracle. Everything's short of it, so we pay our respects, soaking in the moment so we can remember it later. But then, slowly, all faces turn back to me.

Because a minute ago I promised some cock sucking. I see Jonathan's gaze shift down just a bit. He's looking at my lips.

They are plump, painted with a gorgeous shade of red. And he's thinking about how good they'd feel around his cock. Okay, let's pause this story for a second.

Come in. Come close and look me in the eyes. I want you to read in them with absolute clarity that I'm sincere, that I mean every word when I say I love cock.

I love cock. I love to squeeze a hard cock in my hand. I love to stroke a hard cock, feeling bumps and ridges move under my tight grip as it slides up and down, edging it closer and closer to sweet release.

I love to suck a hard cock, too, with a passion. I love the power in it, sure, the control, but I also love the sensation, the pre-cum leaking onto my tongue, the feeling of a head pushing through my throat muscles to slide deeper down my neck. I love getting face-fucked by a hard cock even more.

The surrender of control, being used. I love to get messy. I produce a lot of very thick spit when I give head or get my mouth fucked hard.

And using that spit elevates the endeavour to an art form for me. I slobber and I moan and I deep-throat like my life depends on it. And I love to get brutally fucked by a hard cock.

I mean railed. I like it rough. Hard cocks deserve to be unleashed.

I don't want 10% of their potential. I want it all. I adore them.

It's one of the distinguished features that Mark loves the most about me. Amongst many, I'm amazing. All this is to say, what I'm really coming to, is that the best thing about a hard cock, the thing I love above all else, is the cum they give when you do a good job.

I will beg for cum, without shame, and I will work hard for cum, tirelessly. I crave it, the texture, the sort in it. The feel of it when it hits my flawless skin.

The soundtrack of a male moaning that accompanies its arrival. Everything about cum is perfect. Look into my eyes.

Look into my fucking eyes and tell me I'm lying. Okay, back to the story. Clear the table, I say.

My face is playing it cool. It takes an effort, but I show none of the excitement that I'm definitely feeling. Lust building up inside me so quickly, I'm afraid it might crack me open.

I light a cigarette and lean back on my chair, watching the men do my bidding. My cunt drips with need. The three men before me, all of them busying themselves, scooping up carts and dollar folds and wallets and keys and loose change from the round playing table, are handsome and I mean drop dead.

If you put a gun to my head, I couldn't tell you who looks best. They are that fucking divine. When they're done, they turn to me, their gorgeous eyes filled with urgency.

My god, they are so beautiful. I turn to Mark. You're cool? I ask.

I'm cool, he says with a smile and a nod. I love you, babe, I reply before addressing the room. Strip, I say.

These three men, these gods who belong on the cover of magazines, who belong on the silver screen kissing gorgeous women at sundown, slowly begin to remove their clothes. I can't help it. I hitch my skirt up to my hips, exposing a perfectly landscaped pussy, and slide three fingers inside, while my free hand brings the cigarette back to my red lips, so I can take a long drag of it.

I'm slowly fucking myself, grazing the roof of my tight cunt with my fingers as my palm applies just the right amount of pressure on my clit. I take in the sight of my three friends showing off their perfect bodies before me. All of them are rock hard, already.

The promise of sex with me will do that to men. I moan from pleasure as much as from anticipation, and my hips begin to sway lightly, helping my fingers reach deeper inside me. I'm aware I'm putting on a show for them.

I enjoy it. The performative aspect, and the pleasure I'm giving to myself, each enhance the other. I watch as beads of pre-cum begin to ooze out of the three stiff cocks dangling in front of me like prizes.

I want them all. I want to whore myself out to these men. I want, I want, I want, but for now, I'm putting on a show.

The men slowly move toward me, their eyes enthralled, scanning every inch of my body as my fingers push in and out of my perfect cunt. Other than my moans, the room is tense with silence. Three things happen at the exact same time.

A cock kneels before me. He removes my fingers from my pussy and slides them in his mouth. I feel his tongue on them, cleaning them, savouring the taste of me.

Then his face disappears between my legs, and he begins to do something that he excels at more than any man I've met. Eat pussy. Jonathan approaches me from the right.

With his hand, he gently guides my face toward him. His cock is right there, inches from me. I've never sucked it, but I saw it once when we went skinny dipping at night, and I've wanted it in my mouth ever since.

He attempts to slide it between my lips, but misses, and its tip drags across my face, smearing it with pre-cum. The sensation makes me shiver. I love being a mess.

He gets my mouth on the second try, and like that, begins to slowly fuck my face. Hans approaches me from the left. He kneels, and with his left hand, remember how I mentioned they looked strong earlier? Well, from close up, god damn.

He cups my left breast and squeezes, so firm, he whispers, his voice shaking. He squeezes a second time, harder, and then he proceeds to unbutton my shirt. His deft fingers get it done in seconds.

Soon he guides my arms out of my shirt one after the other, and throws the garment somewhere behind him. His hands slide to my back, immediately locate the latch of my red bra, and flick it free. Once that's dispensed off as well, I feel his hands grab both of my tits.

His grip is strong and passionate, so, my mouth filled with Jonathan's cock, I moan loudly at the power of his touch. He leans in and starts sucking my left nipple hungrily. Hans loves tits.

So here I am, three men groping and sucking and handling me, their willing whore. Mark's tongue is sliding in and out of my pussy, as his nose rubs against my clit. He is so good at this.

His technique is perfect, and he finds all my good spots. The way Hans handles my tits is superb. He massages with passion and fervency, absolutely under their spell, sucking and licking my areolas, nibbling at my erect nipples, and Jonathan's cock, dear lord, is everything I wanted and more.

He's pushed it deep down my throat by now, getting his entire shaft in me. He fucks my mouth slowly, and whispers things with every push. He calls me a good whore, and I am.

It's all I aim to be. Mark knows how much I love that word. The abandon in it, the pursuit in it, the surrender, and the power in it.

I want to be a filthy little cum whore, and get fucked by three perfect specimens, until I'm a dripping, sticky cum dumpster, so every time Jonathan's perfect cock pushes down my throat, I savour the fill of it, the taste of his skin over my tongue, the pre-cum smearing on the roof of my mouth and down my throat, how his thick vein throbs with every thrust. I moan all over him, and make sure my lips are sealed tight around his girth. I'm a good whore, and I love it.

Suddenly, Jonathan pulls out and strokes his cock, its purple tip aimed right at me. I watch as a gorgeous ribbon of thick, white cum erupts from his slit. It almost happens in slow motion.

The load of cum lands in a line that starts on my forehead, and crosses my face from top to bottom diagonally. A second load coats my left cheek, and a third splatters on my chin and down my neck. Jonathan quickly shoves his cock back in my mouth so I can suck all the cum left in him.

There is a surprising amount, and I get it all, savouring the salty, metallic tang and the thick texture before I swallow. When Jonathan pulls his cock out of my mouth again, I'm shaking. Mark is in the midst of making me cum.

He has three fingers in my pussy and is sucking on my clit. I was so focused on Jonathan, I took the climbing of my pleasure for granted, but now it consumes me. Throw me on that table and fuck me, I beg, like the needy whore that I am.

It is Mark who takes charge here. Hands moves out of the way, and Mark lifts me up and slams me onto the table. It is small, a table built for playing cards, only thirty-six inches across.

Mark makes sure my head is hanging from one end of the table, and that my pussy is perfectly positioned for him to fuck. When Mark is fully turned on, he gets brutal. It took time to make him understand he could unleash the full measure of his vigour on me without fear of going too far, but seven years into this relationship, he knows exactly how much fucking I can take.

In seconds, I feel his shaft slide into me. My face glistens with Jonathan's cum as I mow my pleasure into the room. Hands waste no time in reaching the opposite end of the table, where my head hangs upside down, perfect for easy access to my throat.

Would you like a good throat fucking? he asks, as his finger grazes my cum-covered face. Please, I whisper, my tits bouncing up and down as Mark violently fucks me.

May I be rough? he asks politely. As rough as you can manage, I moan, the anticipation driving me wild.

The handsome German man grabs my hair in both fists and drives his cock down my throat like a freight train. He gives me the face-fucking of a lifetime, using me like a perfect sex object. At this moment, I'm an instrument devoted to his ecstasy.

Some people don't understand how pleasurable devotion can be, but I do, and I have mastered it. He oozes more pre-cum in me than I ever thought possible. It's saltier than Jonathan's, and I love it.

When he pulls out to let me catch my breath, I spit a thick rope of saliva on his shaft and watch as it wraps around him and dangles like shoelaces on each side. I moan, feeling Mark perfectly fuck me, my cunt hugging his girth, every inch of him stretching me. Slap me with it, I plea, looking up at hands.

As my head bobs from the hard fucking I'm subjected to on the opposite side of the table, pleasure pounded into me with each violent thrust. I receive his cock on the left side of my face first. He hits it hard.

The spit on his cock mixes with Jonathan's cum still on my face, making it even prettier. He slaps the left side of my face a second time, then the right side twice. I love feeling his cock hit me, I love the violence of it, because it is still sex, beaten against me and into me.

I'm open wide and hands resumes his assault on my mouth. Jesus, Mark fucks so well. As my mouth fills over and over with Han's cock, I relish Mark's brutal pounding.

His thumb is pressed against my clit, applying pressure as his cock reshapes my insides. He has the thickest cock of the three, and I feel every inch of it over and over. He keeps making me climb, hurting me and pleasuring me, my legs up against his chest, his hands gripping my ankles.

I cum, and cum down, and cum again, and cum down. He fucks me better than he has in a long time, and I'm willing to bet it's because the side of my face getting fucked by Han's turns him on. Eventually, I hear him moan, and his cock leaves me.

I feel cum land on my belly and tits. Mark cums a lot, and load after load covers me. My breasts drip with the precious juice.

I run my hands all over myself, smearing his precious nectar over my skin. I squeeze my breasts, and feel the cum seeping out from between my fingers. I want so badly to show these men how filthy I am.

To demonstrate, with absolute competence, that I make being a whore an art form. I want them to never forget this night, what I can do, and how much I can take. Without warning, my mouth fills with cum.

Han screams his pleasure, unhinged, as more and more sperm shoots out of him. I swallow as much as I can, but the liquid spills from my lips and drips across my face. He keeps fucking for a good minute, and for that time he feeds me more cum.

I feel like a princess, fed and nurtured and taken care of. When his cock finally leaves my face, I slowly sit up on the table. The men stare at me, as though admiring a work of art on the mantle.

I let a thick stream of cum pour out from between my lips, and land on my chest. I cup my hands below my tits, and collect the cum as it drips from them. I pour it back down into my mouth, and let it out once more.

This time, I smear what I collect in my hands all over my face, moaning. The three men are stroking their cock, each hard again, as they watch me. I lean down on the table once more, back arched, touching myself as I admire them.

We are all watching each other as we pleasure ourselves, and it is beautiful. One by one, my three lovers cum on my body. I savour some of it, and some of it stays on my skin where it belongs.

Was it good? I ask the group, before sliding a cum-covered finger into my mouth. You were, and always are, my perfect whore, Mark says lovingly.

Flawless, Jonathan adds. Duh, Hans agrees. The German man collects my clothes from the floor, and hands them to me, giving me a good smile.

Of course, I do not clean myself up. I put my bra back on, and slide into the dress, and swell with pride, watching these men's cum as it seeped through its red, expensive fabric. Babe, Mark says, my red panties hooked around his finger.

You forgot to put these on. You three won them, remember? I said with a wry smile.

I wonder who'll get to keep them. You'll have to fight it out amongst yourselves, I guess. I leave them to ponder that, and enter the washroom.

I stop in front of the mirror. I admire my cum-covered face in the spotless reflection. I look so pretty.

My cheeks, smeared with a mixture of mascara and cum, look especially perfect. I grab my purse, find my favorite shade of red lipstick, and lean in for a touch-up.