Escapades of a Porno King

by George Alexander

  Art turned around and looked at Jack in disbelief. “Jesus,” he said, “I can see that's the fast table. Bring an item of clothing over—I've got the chips here.” Jack figured he'd better get four hundred instead of two hundred. He didn't want to run out that fast next time. So he removed both shoes and walked over to where Art was measuring out his chips. “Make it two.” Jack said. “Where do I put these?”

  “Throw them on that scatter rug right there.”

  “Is that the bank?” Jack asked. “That's right. And the rules are that you can only take out what you put in. I don't want you walking out of here with any black silk flowered panties!” Art laughed, handing Jack his chips, and turned back to his cards. Jack, returning to his own table, matched Sharon's bet of fifty with a raise of fifty, and slumped back in his chair quite satisfied. His jaw almost fell to the floor when Sharon, who had been relatively silent so far, seized her chair, pulled it back, jumped up, and exclaimed “Ha! Now I've got you right where I want you!” She laughed, and ran over to Art. “Give me four hundred chips,” she said. Art swung around and nearly fell off his chair. “My God,” he said, “we haven't even got a shoe lace untied over here, and you people are half naked!”

  “I'm not any more naked than I came,” Sharon said, “I only have four items of clothing on!” As she spoke, she leaned forward, and put her hands on her knees, crouching down to watch Art count out her chips. As she did, the front of her dress fell away from her, and the slit down the side widened to a gaping hole. Sharon's breasts hung firmly but heavily down, brownish, small nipples pointing directly at the floor. They swung back and forth as she giggled. “Jack will be back over here for chips in a second.”

  “Why,” Art asked, raising his eyebrows, “are you going to wipe him out?”

  “I sure as hell am,” Sharon returned. She gathered up her chips and returned to the table. Placing them in neat stacks before her, she matched Jack's bet, and then threw in a raise of one hundred. Joan was beginning to get the giving spirit, and she quickly made a trip over to Art to get more chips. When she returned, she was without her necklace and one of her shoes, but she threw in one hundred and fifty to cover the bet so far, and then shoved in one hundred more of her own. Just to stay in the game, Jack had to use all his chips but one hundred. What the hell, he thought and tossed in the hundred too. With that, Sharon raised him two hundred, and Joan stayed in and Jack stayed in, and people were running back and forth, throwing pieces of clothing onto the floor, and buying chips like crazy. By the time the smoke had cleared, Jack was down to his pants, his underpants, and his undershirt, having relieved himself of his socks and his shirt. Jack's guess was that Sharon had a full house, and that it was probably three sevens and two aces, since that would assure her that he could not have a full house with aces high. Anyhow, he dealt the last card down, thinking to himself that Sharon was not such a good poker player—how could she know whether he had his other Queen or not? When he looked at his down card, he knew that Sharon didn't know where the last Queen was, because he knew where it was. He had it. But Sharon, picking up her three down cards and shuffling them thoughtfully as she gazed off into the distance, apparently didn't care. She started off the last round of betting with two hundred. At this point she still wore her dress and panties, but win or lose, Art knew he could take care of that. Joan, who was giggling by now almost uncontrollably, stripped off her dress and threw it on the rug, revealing her long, voluptuous body, clad only in a tight fitting pair of bikini panties, tanned and statuesque looking. This time Art had a little more trouble counting the chips, as Joan's pink nipples bobbed before his eyes. But he kept to his task, and soon Joan was back. She raised the bet another two hundred. Art threw off his shirt and pants, and then realized that to raise again, he would have to strip completely! Gretchen was looking at him with amusement, and simply could not believe that somebody was going to get completely de-clothed before the first hand had been completed.

  “Hey Art,” Jack said, “it looks like I'm going to have to give up my undies to raise again!”

  “Hold it!” Art said, “That's not the way it's supposed to work! We never had anything like this happen before, but only one person is supposed to lose all his clothes—not everybody in the Goddamn group!”

  “I'll tell you what,” Sharon suggested. “Give us the chips on credit, and whoever loses will have to pay for them with what he's got left.”

  “That's a good idea,” Art agreed. “Go ahead, you maniacs, and play your game. And let us know when you're done! Because—I forgot to tell you this little part of the tradition—the first looser has to do a little dance on the table top for us!”

  “I think Jack will be able to handle that,” Sharon said smugly.

  “We'll see,” Jack said. Then he put in his final raise. “Well,” Sharon said, “there's no sense in going any further. This will get the job done.” She shoved in the last of her chips, and sat back in her chair.

  “Well,” Joan said, sighing slightly, and smirking mightily, “I've come this far—I might as well go all the way!” She shoved in the last of her chips too.

  “O.K.,” Jack said to Sharon, “let's see what you've got.”

  “You're supposed to show me,” Sharon told him. “You made the last raise. I called you.” Art, who was watching their table intensely—as was everyone else in the room—broke in. “The lady's right,” he said.

  “I know, damn it,” Jack said. “Well, I've got a full house, Queens over aces.” He flipped his cards over with satisfaction.

  “As they say in the movies,” Sharon said, “not good enough! I've got four sevens!”

  “Holy shit!” Jack said. “Well, I guess you win.” Then they both turned to Joan. “Well,” Jack asked, “what does your pile of garbage look like?”

  “I'll tell you,” Joan answered, “as soon as I find out myself. Let's see—I have a four of clubs, and then I have the jack of spades, and then...”

  “We can see that,” Jack said. “What do you have for your down cards?”

  “Well I don't know too much about poker, so I don't know whether this makes anything,” Joan giggled. “But I have a seven of spades, and then here I have an eight of spades,” she said rather timidly, dropping the cards to the table, “and then I have nine of spades, and the ten of spades. And then, as you can see, I have the jack of spades. Is that anything?”

  Jack rocked back in his chair and looked at the ceiling. “Yeah,” he said. “It's called a straight flush. I've never seen anything like this in my life. Did somebody fix the cards?”

  “It doesn't matter too much,” Art said from behind, “if they did we'd never know it.”

  “Well, you were dealing,” Joan observed, “so if anybody fixed the cards, it was you. I'd almost believe you did it on purpose—cause you and Sharon are going to lose everything together. What a nice way to go!”

  “We've never had two losers before,” Art said. “Anyhow, you both have to do a dance on the table!”

  Sharon got up from her chair. She was wearing only her panties, and her dark features and flashing eyes, framed perfectly by her dark hair above the luscious mounds of her breasts, caused Jack's dick to start pressing against the cloth of his underwear. “O.K.,” Sharon said, “let's see how you dance!” She swept the poker chips and cards off the table, sending them flying in all directions. From somewhere, music began to penetrate the atmosphere—strange music, primitive drums and a flute, whose eerie sound haunted the atmosphere. Sharon stepped up on the table, her slim, animal-like body already beginning to respond to the drum beat, her hips quivering and her pelvis thrusting in and out sensuously. Jack joined her, and although the table was large and heavy, with thick wooden legs that seemed anchored to the floor, still the position seemed precarious to him. He wondered how he was going to get through the whole thing without falling off. He glanced at Gretchen, who was regarding him with some amusement, sipping on a drink and talking to Sal Fortunate.

  “Are you all
ready for the great unveiling of my pussy?” Sharon asked. There was a general roar of approval through the room. Sharon hooked her thumbs into the front of her panties, and began to draw them slowly downward. As the cloth moved imperceptibly over the slight bulge of her stomach, Jack could hear chairs scraping and the noise of conversation in the room beginning to quiet down as people got in position to watch the act. All eyes were fastened on Sharon and her slowly descending panties. Gradually, a puff of dark pubic hair began to come into view, the hairs, long and soft, springing gently up as they were released. Sharon turned slowly around to give everyone a good view, and her slim, firm ass brushed against Jack's rod, sending tingling sensations to it through the flimsy cloth of his underwear. Sharon's panties were riding up on the golden globes of her buttocks, and as she moved, the flesh undulated magically before Jack's eyes. Finally Sharon drew her panties all the way down to her knees, and spread her legs, stretching the panties out as she did. That was a very sexy pose, and she knew it. The room was completely quiet now. Sharon's hands wandered down to the furry bush of her cunt, over the tempting mound of her pubis and all the way to the juicy slit below. Delicately, she laced her hands so that the tips of her index fingers rested at the top of her slit, and then she began to draw the flesh apart. A pearly white interior gradually came into view. The folds of her inner lips made a dark V where her clitoris protruded loosely. Holding her cunt open with the two fingers of her left hand, she began slowly to massage her clit with her right. Her breathing began to come harder, and her knees quivered. Jack could see that she really enjoyed putting on a show. Finally, Sharon kicked off her panties. They landed right next to Sal, who picked them up and, turning them inside out, sniffed at the crotch. “Good stuff,” Sal said, and everyone laughed. Then Sharon, her knees slightly flexed, the fine flesh of her ass curved tightly, began to revolve slowly, as if she were on a turntable. Necks craned, and tongues hung out as her cunt, becoming juicier by the moment, pointed its gaping hole at person after person. Jack sat down on the edge of the table for a moment, to get out of the way and to get a view of his own. When Sharon came around to him, she inched toward him, and squatted down lower, bringing her cunt directly toward his face. As the furry mound of flesh approached him, all watering with the anticipation of things to come, he felt his rod go rock-hard in his pants. He tilted his head back and stuck his tongue out as if to lick Sharon's cunt. In seconds, he was doing just that, as Sharon fitted the slick, pearly flesh over the tip of his tongue and began grinding her hips slowly. Jack probed his way up into her hole, feeling the hard nub of her clit brush against his nose as he did so. The smell of the open cunt shot waves of pleasure through him, and involuntarily his hips began to move. Now he was really eating Sharon out, and she was humping up and down, riding his face like a horse. There was cheering and whistling from the assembled crowd and Jack felt that he had better do something else to keep them—and him—happy. The music, which he had all but ignored for a few minutes, now came back more strongly into his consciousness, fitting the rhythm of his quivering loins. He stood up next to Sharon, and she immediately shoved her hands down inside his underwear and began massaging his balls. It was like cool running water, and Jack realized for the first time that the atmosphere in the apartment was heavy, and he was warm. As soon as he realized it, he forgot it. Sharon's expert hands took all the heat away, and left him quivering, as if someone had shoved an icebag into his crotch at the peak of orgasm.

  Jack could hear people beginning to yell things around him, but it took him a while to sort out words from the chaotic background noise, and music from the throbbing roar in his own ears, caused by the blood that pounded through him in his excitement. “Fuck her, fuck her!” someone was yelling.

  “Get it in, get it in,” someone else was giggling.

  He felt Sharon drawing down his underwear, and as she did she squatted down before him, covering his prick with her mouth. His cock went from ice cool to red hot, and then back to ice cool again, as she stroked up and down on it, swallowing it almost at its full length. As Jack looked down, all he could see was her bobbing hair, swirling around his stomach and onto his balls, and her curved back split in two by the cleft of her ass.

  Robert, who had brought Sharon to the party, was sitting directly behind her, as she knelt to give Jack a blow job. The sight of her fluffy cunt all bunched up like a flower before him was too much for Robert, and he leaned forward and licked it—and kept on licking it, with longer and longer strokes, that finally went all the way up the crack of her ass and then back down deep into her cunt.

  “Hey,” someone else said, “that's not fair! We should get some too!”

  Sharon, hearing this, began to revolve slowly around in her crouched position, presenting her cunt and her ass hole to everyone in turn. As she revolved, different men started coming up and eating her out, taking turns. If was almost like riding a merry-go-round and trying to get the gold ring—it was really quite funny. Jack, overlooking it all, managed a short laugh between deep breaths.

  When Sharon had made a full revolution, and all the men at the party had had something to eat, she began to suck even harder at Jack's dick. For a moment, Jack thought he was going to come—but Sharon really knew what she was doing. She stopped just short of giving him a climax, and suddenly stood up. Almost instinctively, Jack grabbed her and turned her upside down and, still standing up, shoved her cunt onto his face, her legs sticking over his shoulders, while her arms and hair dangled down to his cock. He flexed his knees slightly, and her mouth covered his cock again. They were doing a standing sixty-nine, and the crowd loved it. There were cheers and applause, and once more, Jack was teetering on the brink of a climax. He lowered Sharon gently down, until she was flat on her back on the table, and proceeded to point her legs straight up in the air and spread her cunt as wide as he could. From somewhere a banana came sailing through the air, and landed on the table beside him. He laughed, and reached over and picked it up. Then he turned to Sharon, who was sucking his balls vigorously. Holding up the banana, he asked, “Do you want it peeled, or unpeeled?”

  Sharon looked at it with a kind of amusement— as if to say, “You silly boy, are you going to play games with that banana?” A second later, she really did say, “If somebody will eat it out of me, you can take the skin off!”

  Jack held the banana up and turned to the audience. “Do I have any volunteers?”

  That was a silly question. Every man in the house was ready, willing, and able. Ceremoniously, Jack peeled the banana, and he casually flicked the skin in the direction of the kitchen. Then he showed the peeled banana to Sharon, and began to move it toward her hole. Helping him, Sharon reached her hands down along the table till they grasped her buttocks, and then, stretching her fingers as far as she could, placed them on her cunt from beneath. As Jack brushed the banana across her clit, and slid it down toward her hole, she spread herself as wide as she could. The walls of her pussy parted and revealed a dark, gaping hole. It was almost big enough for Jack to put the banana in without having to touch the hole's sides!