Asrai Devin

Kiss me, and you will see how important I am.” ― Sylvia Plath

The Poker Game



I smirked. “Deal the cards, Mr. Nash. We'll see who loses their shirt.”

I smirked. “Deal the cards, Mr. Nash. We’ll see who loses their shirt.”


I got home just before midnight. Early by my standards, Far too early, and I was barely drunk. But my ride wanted to leave, she wasn’t feeling good, and since she’s my best friend I didn’t want to be a bitch about it.

So here I was home. Cigar smoke hit me in the front entrance, which meant my step-dad, Dwight, had his poker night. Mom didn’t mind the poker, but the cigars pissed her off.

I heard voices from the back room. They were still playing. I held onto the wall down the hallway. I leaned against the doorway. My step-dad and two of his friends were at the table. One of his friends was Mr. Brad Nash, who was the hottest man I had ever laid eyes on. When we were teens, my girlfriends and I would giggle over him. And we were so jealous of Jody Flynn who saw him in his underwear once when she was baby-sitting. I was certain she lied about seeing anything.

John Flynn stood up. “Thanks for the game, gentlemen.”

“I best get home as well,” Earl Peters said, tossing his cards on the table.

“Kylie, we’re a few players short. You want to in?” Dwight asked. Yeah, my mom married a man named Dwight. He came around early enough to have been here forever, but not early enough for me to consider him ‘dad.’ My real dad was still around.

“I don’t have a buy in.” They were “serious” players here.

“We’ll spot you some,” Mr. Nash said.

They tossed me some chips. I took a seat while Dwight dealt the cards.

“What are you going to do about mom and the cigar smoke?”

“Take her out to breakfast.”

“The nagging is one thing I don’t miss about having a wife,” Mr. Nash said.

That made the tingling between my thighs even worse. He was single, I was single. If I was five years younger I would have considered it fate and spent the game daydreaming about him kissing me.

I looked at my hand and raised the bid.

An hour later, Dwight was out of money, and he said he was going to bed.

My buzz had worn off, but I was nowhere near tired. “Couple more hands?” I asked Mr. Nash.

“Just lock up,” Dwight said.

I dealt the cards. I went to the cupboard and poured myself some of Dwight’s finest whiskey. Which really wasn’t that great, but it was free. “Want a glass?”


When I slid it in front of him, his eyes widened. “No mix?”

“Straight whiskey in a dirty cup. Can you handle it?”

“I’m surprised you can.”

“That’s Dwight’s influence.” He looked at his cards and raised the bid. “So … how are your kids?”  That was a safe topic.

“Growing up. Teenagers. My wife ex-wife is getting married.”

“What about you? No second Mrs. Nash.”

“I haven’t even dated anyone. It seems everything has changed and I’m not sure how to date.”

I took one card and raised his bet.  He matched and took two. I spent all my money in the final bet, certain he was bluffing. He wasn’t.

We sipped our whiskey in quiet. “I guess it’s game over,” he said.

“Oh I don’t know. I’m sure I can think of something to bet.” I unbuttoned  a couple buttons on my shirt.

“I-I-I. Not. Good. idea,” he stammered, trying to look and not look at my cleavage at the same time.

I smirked. “Deal the cards, Mr. Nash. We’ll see who loses their shirt.”

Me, I lost my shirt. Though it was in part deliberate. Sort of, but my hand sucked as well.

I slid my chair closer to his. I took off my shirt and tossed it in his lap. After a long moment, he picked it up and pressed it to his nose.

He pushed back from the table.

“One minute touching for every dollar you bid,” I said. I took a large swallow my whiskey to give me a little more boldness. I cupped my breasts and pushed them up and together.

He pushed his chair back in. “I’m old enough-”

I put my hands on his hand. “I’m enough as well Mr. Nash. I’ll graduate university in a year.” He didn’t seem swayed. I took his hand and placed it on my breast.

“Brad,” he said in a strangled voice.


“Brad. If we are going to do this, you must call me by my first name.”

“Brad.  All the girls giggled over you when were kids. We all wished you were our dad, or stepdad. We all hoped you’d call us to baby-sit.”

“Oh?” He wheezed, shocked by my bluntness.

“Sorry, I’ll do my best not to scar you like that again.”

“Thank you.”

He dealt the cards, so I assumed he agreed to my deal. I had a good hand, no bluffing this time, and I won.  He took his money back in the second. And in the third, he won three minutes.

“Bra on or off?” I asked.

“Ladies choice,” he said.

My fingers wound themselves behind me, but nerves gripped me as I fumbled for the clasp. Brad reached behind me and flicked the clasp open. He brushed the straps off my arm, exposing me.

I set the timer on my phone and set it on the table. He looked into my eyes as his hands touched my shoulders.

His hands were warm and comforting as he caressed the soft flesh, his thumbs teasing the hard nipples. My phone beeped when the minutes were up. His hands dropped away, he looked sorry as he pushed my bra back at me.

“I think you won it,” I said, my voice low with desire.

“What’s your next wager?”

I emptied my glass of whiskey. I leaned over and whispered into his ear, “Winner take all. Oral, long as it takes.”

“Long as it takes?”

“For the winner to orgasm.”

He panicked, his eyes darting all over the room. His shoulders lifted, his eyebrows knit together. He was intrigued and shocked at the same time.

I shuffled the cards and dealt. “Mr. Nash?”

He picked up his cards. “I should grab you by the hair and pushed you down on the table, five spankings for every time you refuse to call me Brad.”

“I don’t think that’s an effective way to get me to call you by your first name, Mr. Nash.”

He smirked at me. It didn’t matter who won or lost, I intended to fuck Brad Nash. Right here.

“How old are you Kylie?”

“Twenty-two, Mr. Nash.”

He held up two fingers. Twice I called him Mr. Nash.

I smiled. He raised an eyebrow.

“It’s your turn.” He took two cards. I took one. We did three rounds, he called. I tossed my hand on the table. Two pair, queens and fives. Not bad, not great.

He laid his down. A pair of aces. I grinned. He sobered a little. I grabbed our glasses and refilled them with whiskey. I stood behind him and put them both on the table. I pressed my chest into his back and let my hands roam his body. Back, shoulder, chest. Then with my heart beating double time I ran it over his crotch. His cock strained against the fly of his jeans. He grunted as I rubbed my palm over his erection.

“We can stop, if you want,” I said. I knew he didn’t want to. But if his conscience would bother him, I wanted to give him an out.

“Do you want to?”

“I have never wanted anything more, Mr. Nash.”

In a flash he was up from his seat and behind me. He grabbed me by the hair and pulled me tight against him. “Sometime you will pay for that, missy.”

“Sometime? Not now? “

“I want you to scream without worry of interruptions.”

That sounded promising. “What now then?”

“I have a debt to pay.” He looked around the room. He lifted my skirt and pulled my panties down. In a moment he would discover just how turned I was. Embarrassingly turned on.

“You will sit on the table.” He lifted the back of my skirt so my bare ass was on the table. I picked up my glass and sipped the whisky. I held it out to him. “Drink?”

He took it and emptied it with a wink. He slid into the chair and positioned himself between my legs. He put his feet on my arms of the chair. As if he had all the time in the world, he rubbed the hem of my skirt between his thumb and forefinger. At this rate I’d get a postmortem orgasm. How best to interest him?

“I am … embarrassed by how wet I am right now.”

“That so?” He pushed my skirt up, exposing my pussy to the room. To him.

His fingers brushed my thighs where I had dripped. He moved around the outline of my cunt gathering moisture as he moved inward. I leaned back a little, dropping my knees outward, opening myself more.

“You are very wet, missy. Soaked.” His finger circled my clit. “Are you still embarrassed by it?”

“No.” I shook my head so my body moved.

“Stay still, missy.” He kissed my knee

I giggled. “Yes, Mr. Nash.”

“I am still counting.”

“I am counting on it. Are you free tomorrow night?” I put my hands on the edge of the table.

“Yes. You?” He nudged my legs open further, sliding his tongue along the skin of my inner thigh.

“I am.”

“What will you tell your parents?” He looked up at me.

“I’m young, I go out almost every night. Study, party, dates, friends. No one asks.”

His tongue flicked along my slit. “I’m not sure if you are a very bad or very good girl.”

My legs shook.”I’m whatever you say I am.”

He sucked on my clit, then soothed it with his tongue. I grabbed the side of the table and leaned back on my elbows.

He pulled away from me and I whimpered. “I’d love to train you to come on command.”

“You can do that?”

“Oh yes, love.” He pressed his mouth against me again, teasing me with slow strokes, then swirling my excitement with quick flicks of his tongue. My moans got louder as I got closer to coming and he hushed me, “You don’t want to get caught.”

I didn’t nor did he. This was too fragile.

“Come for me Kylie,” he crooned. Then his tongue assaulted my clit with every move he had. That worked wonders, as my body shook from the inside out. Pleasure exploded everywhere. I bit my bottom lip hard enough to draw blood while I kept myself from screaming in release.

I laid back on the table. “You can fuck me now.”

“I could, if we had condoms.”

“I don’t down here. Upstairs.”

He pulled me onto his lap and kissed me. His mouth was still wet from my pussy, his tongue tangy and behind it all, just a hint of him. The way he moved against me, the taste, the feel, it was like sex in my mouth.

I wanted to peel his pants off and suck him off. He put me on my feet. “I better go before Dwight comes down to find out why I haven’t left yet.” He stood and wrapped my shirt around me. He buttoned me up

“Wait, I don’t have your address or a time. What’s your cell number?” I grabbed my phone from the table. We exchanged numbers, then I followed him to the front door. He kissed me again and then slipped out. I locked it behind him.

I turned around and nearly screamed. Dwight was standing there. “Wonder why I hadn’t heard the door,,” he said. “Don’t tell your mother.”

“Don’t tell her what?” my heart beat so fast, I pressed a hand to my chest.

“Right. Get to bed.”

“I’ll be up in a minute.” I had to go retrieve my panties before someone saw them. “Light is still on in the back room.”

I went back there and there was no trace of them. My thighs were sticky. I turned off the light and went up the stairs. I brushed my teeth and washed my face clean of make-up.

I was about to pull back the covers when my phone vibrated. Brad! I swiped the phone on to see what he said. The picture downloaded. My panties on a pillow.

“I went back to look for them, but I couldn’t find them. Naughty.”

I took of all my clothes and slid between the sheets. I got a dick picture. He was hard. I wanted to lick him through the phone.  I replied, “You aren’t supposed to send those unsolicited.”

“Not unsolicited if you asked me for it earlier.”

I laughed. I requested much more than pictures of his dick. “I’m going to sleep. Naked.”

“That’s how I was imagining you. I’m will use your underwear to jerk off, then go to sleep. I’ll text you time and location in the morning. By the way, the count is 20.”

Twenty? Twenty spanks I remembered, I said Mr. Nash four times after he insisted on calling him Brad.

“I like calling you Mr Nash. Adds a nice layer of authority.”

“Twenty-five. We’ll discuss that tomorrow.”
Asrai’s Note: This was supposed to be a quickie I had, but it’s begging me to make it a full story.

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