The Odd (Wo)man Out, Day 02

Literotic asexstories – The Odd (Wo)man Out, Day 02 by NotHemingway,NotHemingway
This is a sequel to my story “The Odd (Wo)man Out.” This is a stand- alone story, but you’ll understand the characters better if you read the other one first.

Day Two.

I’ve previously described how 6 of us, three girls, three guys, (ones who didn’t go home, but remained on campus during Spring Break), spent the first day hiking to a waterfall in a national park. How we all had skinny dipped in the lagoon there – except for Amy. Shy Amy, who hardly dated in high school, insisted on wearing a bathing suit – at least Initially. But peer pressure, silent but unrelenting, finally compelled her to take off the bikini. The thrill of the forbidden, the freedom of open nudity, and the sight of multiple naked guys, was a revelation. She loved it.

The next day: “Clarice, that was pretty amazing yesterday, wasn’t it?” she asked me.

“How do you mean?” I said, not letting her off easy.

“You know, everyone lying around naked. Especially the guys. Unlike us, they have stuff down there to hide, but they were nonchalant about it.”

“Well,” I replied, “guys think we have something down there to hide too.”

“You know what I mean,” she said. “It’s different.”

It isn’t, but no point in arguing.

“Do you think we’ll do it again?” she asked.

“Nah, one hike into the woods is enough. But a fraternity is having their annual party tonight for all us orphans left on campus,” I said. “It can get interesting.”

“How do you mean?” she asked.

“Lots of booze, and I’ve heard they sometimes play strip poker upstairs.”

“Oh. That would be weird. At least we were naked in nature.”

As if that made a difference.

After a little thought, she said, “But I’m a very good poker player. My father taught me.”

“You’d do it?” I asked, impressed with her apparent new boldness.

“No, not really. I’m just thinking aloud,” she replied.

But I didn’t believe her. Once the barrier to the forbidden is breached, the guilty pleasure awaiting can be intoxicating. She was a moth flying around the flame.

“Well, I don’t even know if that will happen this year,” I said.

The party at the fraternity house was in full swing when we arrived. The guys who lived there were already on their way to intoxication, having begun early. We had some catching up to do. I did my share, but Amy did not drink much. I wondered if she wanted to keep a clear head for later.

As the evening wore on, the crowd thinned out. Some of the guys and their dates drifted upstairs.

Amy asked one of the fraternity brothers where everyone was going. (Asked innocently, although I knew exactly what she was getting at.)

“Oh, there’s a game room upstairs. Some of the guys like to gamble, play poker and stuff,” he said.

“Could I watch?” Amy asked.

“It’s just the players up there. It might be awkward with non-players watching. This is not your normal card game,” he ventured, probing for how to deflect a wannabe observer.

“How’s it not normal?” Amy asked, again with that innocent look of hers.

“Well, they like privacy, as the poker games are unconventional.”

“Do you mean they’re playing strip poker?” Amy asked, deciding to cut through the word play.

“Yes.”

“I want to watch,” Amy said. “Maybe I want to play,”

Now, Amy is a pretty, blue-eyed brunette, with nice breasts and a shapely behind. No college guy still breathing is going to turn down the suggestion that a pretty girl might want to get naked.

“OK,” he said. “But just for a while.”

I tagged along with her, sort of her chaperone.

The room upstairs had a glass card table, with 4 people seated around it, two guys, two women. One guy had lost his shoes and was bare chested. One woman also was shoeless and shirtless. She sat there in her bra. They looked up as we approached.

“Hey guys,” the brother said, “these ladies are thinking about joining the game. Can they watch for a little bit?”

Ladies, plural? Oh my. It wasn’t my intent to participate; I was Amy’s chaperone. But it would be creepy to say I was just there to watch. So, I stayed silent. We pulled up chairs.

Simple rules. Seven cards, nothing wild. The worst hand at the table had to remove a garment, and stand while doing it. If someone lost everything and was nude, they could continue to play; if they won a hand, they replaced a garment. If they had the worse hand, and had nothing to take off, they earned a demerit. Beware being the person with the most demerits at the end of the night; he or she had to complete a challenge the group determined. We watched the first hand. A woman won with two pair. One of the guys had a bust hand with a Jack high. He took off his shirt.

The second hand saw a fellow win with a full house. One girl had the worst hand, and removed a shoe.

The woman in the bra then lost her skirt. As required, she rose so everyone could watch her remove the garment. A skimpy thong was all that remained below the waist. It clung to her, and not much was left to the imagination. One fellow lost his pants and revealed sexy briefs, similar to Speedo swimwear, which clung to his contour. The play continued but the “easy” loses were coming to an end. Some serious skin was about to be displayed.

The guy in the briefs looked at us ‘watchers.’ “If you ladies want to stay, you need to play. Because very soon, one of us is going to be revealing a lot. This isn’t a peep show.”

Fair enough. If we were risking our modesty too, we would be entitled to look. But if not, we were just voyeurs.

“I’ll play,” said Amy, and turned to me, “if you will too.”

Huh? What did her sudden fixation with nudity have to do with me? “Why me?” I asked.

“I don’t know anyone here. I’d be more comfortable with you playing too.”

“Make a decision, you two,” said one of the women. “I’m waiting to get a privileged look at this hunk,” looking at the guy in the briefs.

There was amiable laughter at this. We were slowing down the game at a critical point.

I nodded at Amy and said to the group, “We’re in.”

It was decided, to be fair, that we couldn’t start with all our clothes. The average loss among the group was 3 garments. We shucked our shoes, and we each removed our blouse. I was glad I had not gone braless, as I sometimes do. Amy was in a push-up bra that emphasized her full breasts. My bra was more sedate, a lacy number but my nipples showed through the fabric. I felt exposed, as indeed I was.

The game proceeded. As luck would have it, the woman got her wish; ‘Mr. Speedo’ soon had the worst hand.

With a little theatricality, he stood up, and shook his hips as he pulled the underwear to the floor. He slowly turned around to also give the crowd a good look at his well-muscled buttocks. His penis was not erect, but neither was it flaccid. Semi-hard, it poked out in front of him, a protrusion among a forest of dense pubic hair. Amy openly stared at it, more than the rest of us who feigned a little sophistication. Having seen the male genitals up close for the first time only yesterday, she was making up for lost time. I was surprised she didn’t grab it. (Spoiler alert: That would come later.)

Mr. Speedo (or more accurately now, Speedo-less), sat down. But his male parts were visible through the glass. The game continued.

Amy was a good poker player, I’m sure, but the cards talk. She lost the next hand. She rose to remove her skirt. She had soft blue panties beneath, and I thought I saw some dampness on them. Arousal? She was breathing heavily, and I knew she was excited.

More garments were shed, as is the object of the game. Mr. Speedo won a hand, and we watched as he rose to put his underwear back on. The display as he pulled the briefs back into place, having to adjust his engorged penis in the process, was as sexy as first seeing him remove it. And as was his luck, two hands later he had the worst hand and had to rise to reveal his male organ again.

Amy lost the next hand and had a decision to make. The bra or the panties. To my surprise, she rose and pulled down the panties, giving us a look at her neatly manicured bush. I think she decided that being able to sit back down, where most was concealed, was better than playing topless. But a few hands later, she again lost. The bra came off and she was nude. Her breasts weren’t huge, more medium-sized, but proportional to her body and well-shaped. One of the guys gave a little wolf whistle upon seeing them. Despite betraying extra color in her cheeks, I think she was thrilled. And once that Rubicon was crossed, she made no effort to conceal herself (like by holding her cards in front of her chest.) She almost seemed proud of her nakedness.

The group had set an ending time and when it arrived, two of the guys and Amy were nude. One lady was topless. I and another player had a few remnants of clothes remaining. One of the nude men had accumulated several demerits, and was the ‘loser.’ It was time for the group to decide on his penalty.

“It’s only fair that we get a look at that penis in action. I say he has to masturbate,” the topless women brazenly suggested. Amy’s eyes went wide. But not in shock; she had an idea. “I have a thought. I’ll rub him until he comes.”

Amy had watched me perform that trick at the waterfall. I knew she had never done anything like that in her life. But now she wanted to try it. The moth flying even closer to the flame.

The losing guy thought that was a much better idea, so that was the penalty. He lay down on the floor. Amy set to work. At first she yanked roughly on the penis, provoking a reaction.

“Hey, they didn’t say to pull it off.”

“Sorry,” Amy said, “I’ve never done this before.”

Good Samaritan that I am, I moved in to help. “Here, let me show you.”

I guided her hand, showing her how to slowly and gently stroke the penis from the bottom to the tip. The rough part would come later, once the organ was fully aroused. I had her use her other hand to massage the testicles. All the players were highly amused hearing my instructions, and the other women offered some advice too.

“Stroke near the ridge at the top, circling around it. That always works with my boyfriend.”

A bottle of massage oil was produced from a fraternity cabinet (just happened to have some) and Amy lubricated her hand.

The ‘victim’s’ body tensed as sensations flowed up his penis and he lifted his buttocks to rise to the hand that was the source of the pleasure. Amy kept pumping up and down.

He began to whimper. He was close.

“Aaagh,” he cried and semen spurted out, landing on his chest.

Amy continued to pump on the penis, but I cautioned her to stop. Once the penis collapses after orgasm, the game is over.

“Wow,” Amy said. “This is amazing. I didn’t know I could do something like this.”

“It gets even better that that,” I said, “but that’s for another day.”

Everyone was amused at Amy’s wide-eyed innocence. They had quickly realized she was essentially having an initiation into sex play, and complimented her. “Thank you,’ she said, with a demure smile. She was very cute in her obvious pride of accomplishment.

I shared Amy’s excitement as we walked back to the dorm. I felt I was watching a butterfly emerge from the chrysalis. And this was just day 2 of our 10-day Spring Break. Hard to contemplate what further mischief we could get into with 8 more days to go. I’m so glad we didn’t go home.