Introduction:
In my high school years, a few friends would gather about once a month to play poker. Gambling was not the draw; we played penny ante. To lose $5 in an evening was a lot. We considered it a time of male bonding. We smoked cigars and drank a little. Those were the days.
One of the girls in our crowd had heard about the game. She wasn’t anyone’s girlfriend, just a friend who was a girl. She was cute: seventeen, small, with perky breasts, slim, blond, and lots of fun to be around. She begged to be included, but we said it was a guy’s game. Besides, our girlfriends would be jealous if she came and they didn’t. That logic kept her quiet for a while, but then she had a new idea. She wanted to attend as our waitress. She said she would serve drinks and sandwiches and clean up, just to be able to attend. That did it. We agreed. We also agreed that we would never tell our girlfriends, either.
The fateful Friday night came. The game was at Stan’s house. His folks were recently divorced, so his dad had moved out. And, his mom was going through her adjustment phase of re-entering the dating game with a vengeance. Therefore, we had the house to ourselves until morning.
I arrived early to help Stan set up because Stan was my best friend. Lynne arrived right on schedule, about 15 minutes before the others. We set up in the dining room, adjacent to the kitchen. We oriented Lynne to the locations of the food and drink and cups and plates. Right on schedule the others arrived. The game began with six boys of the tender age of 17.
Lynne was stunning. She had dressed like a cocktail waitress: short skirt, white blouse, black hose, high heels. She took our orders as the game began, and served us professionally, complete with serving tray and hand towel.
About an hour into the game, we noticed something. Her blouse was unbuttoned one button further than before. And, when she reached for a glass to refill, the bending and stretching motion gave us the clear indication that she wasn’t wearing a bra. For Lynne, this was not a problem, since she was 17 and had B-cup breasts. She gave several of us a real eyeful. Her breasts were firm and rounded, upturned at the end.
She gave no indication that she was aware of our stares.
Then, it dawned on me. Being normal, 17-year-old boys, Stan and I had given Lynne the once-over when she arrived. So had the other boys when they arrived. Since she was wearing a white blouse, the outline of her bra would have been clearly visible. If that familiar outline had not been there, we would have noticed. She must have removed her bra after the game had started. I’m not sure how long it took the others to piece this together. It took me about 10 minutes. But remember, we were only 17 and really naпve. The sexual revolution hadn’t started yet. An occasional feel was a memorable date. With a steady girl, you might progress to mutual manual and/or oral stimulation. Real intercourse was rare.
Another 15 minutes passed, and another button magically came undone. Then another. We played manfully onward, but our attentions were definitely divided. Her ministrations to our needs included more brushes of a breast across a shoulder, a hip across an arm. The turning point came when, as Jack folded after four cards in seven-card stud, and asked for a refill, Lynne came with a fresh drink and, after placing the drink, slid into his lap, asking, “I’m not much on this game. Why did you fold?”
Jack, always the gentleman, instinctively put his arm around her and picked up his hole cards. As he explained, she took the hand with the cards, folded them against her breast, and said, “Now I do know you shouldn’t show you cards until the hand is over.” Jack’s hand, hidden under both of hers, cupped a marvelous, firm breast and an erect nipple. I supposed it was erect because the other one was poking out the material of that stiff white shirt. As the hand ended, so did Jack’s free feel. As she hopped up, she made a point of looking back down at Jack’s lap, then asked, “Anyone else need a refill?”
Everyone needed a refill. She served us one at a time. As she returned on each trip to the kitchen, her blouse was open a little wider. She reached around Tom to place his drink on the table, rotating from left to right, putting a nipple in each ear along the way. For Terry, she faced him to reach across to his glass and brushed her blouse open on his nose in order to whisp her nipple across his lips. His reaction time was just slow enough to kiss nothing but cotton. By the time she came back with Rick’s drink, the blouse was gone.
Gentlemen to the end, we played manfully onward. She walked around behind us and rubbed our ears and necks with her fingers and breasts. Since she was behind each of us for a minute or more, we each had the opportunity to reach around and stroke her leg. But the one in the adjacent chair had the best angle. Only a contortionist could feel up a leg behind his back, but the player in the next chair had perfect access. I was the first to venture higher up her leg. Lynne obviously was in control of this situation, as she shifted herself to give an unhindered approach. My hand had gone up the back of her leg and discovered that she was wearing regular hose instead of pantyhose. The smooth flesh at the top of her thigh was warm and inviting. As I moved higher, expecting to find the bottom of her panties, I found only a bare bottom. She hadn’t worn panties, or at least had removed them at some time before any of us had gotten that far. I stroked and gently squeezed than luscious cheek several times before she moved on around the table. This voyage of discovery was repeated several times around the table. Stan was quicker than most, so he had more time with his hand up her skirt. He worked his hand between her legs, for which she accommodated him be spreading her feet to shoulder width. He stroked her slit apparently just right because her eyes closed and she turned her face a little upward. As she moved on to the next chair, Stan was obliged to return his hand. But he stopped to pass his finger under his nose, and then licked it clean.
With that, Lynne announced that Jack’s glass needed refilling, grabbed the glass, and disappeared. When she returned, the skirt was gone. She was left in high heels, black stockings, garter belt, and a thin silver necklace. For the first time we were assured that she was a natural blond. Her neatly trimmed bush had bikini-wax edged edges. Her pussy lips were neat and straight, but clearly puffy and wet. Her clit was a prominent little tube at the top. As she placed Jack’s glass in from of him, she sat in his lap and planted a big kiss on his lips. Jack was so surprised that he momentarily forgot to kiss back. But, soon they were locked in a battle of tongues as Jack’s hands stroked first one lovely part of Lynne, then another.
Suddenly, Lynne broke off the embrace, stood up, grabbed Jack by the shirt, and led him down the hall to the master bedroom. Jack stumbled once or twice along the way. Lynne closed the door behind them. After a moment of shock, we individually came to the conclusion that Lynne had wanted Jack all along, and this was the way she set about to get him. So, we went back to the cards.
Twenty minutes later, Jack sheepishly appeared at the door to the hallway. He stood there a moment, dazed and still blinking in the brighter light of the dining room, when a bare female leg hooked around him from behind. By process of elimination, we determined that it was Lynne’s leg. She rubbed it up and down Jack’s leg. Then a hand and arm appeared to stroke his chest, then his crotch. Still invisible to us due to her short stature, she took him by both shoulders and moved him back to his chair and sat him down.
For the first time since her reappearance, we now had a full view of Lynn. The garter belt, stockings, and heels were gone. Her pussy lips were red and curled outward. Her clit was still a visibly hard knob. Her throat and upper chest were flushed. And one more thing. There was a condom full of semen knotted around her necklace. The filled end hung down between those perky breasts.
Tom was sitting next to Jack. Lynne pivoted expertly and stepped over Tom’s legs to sit on the edge of the table, recently occupied, slightly open pussy in full view. She put one hand on his shoulder and leaned down to caress the obvious bulge in his pants. Then, grabbed his belt, pulled him up, and went back down the hall. When they returned, Lynne had two filled condoms on her necklace.
I had the good fortune to be third. Having recently been introduced to oral sex, I was anxious to try my new-found techniques. Fortunately, the condoms Lynne had purchased (and secreted in her purse that had been placed in the bedroom with the coats) were not pre-lubricated, so I did not get a mouthful of spermicidal gel. I let her undress me, then I laid on the bed on my back. As she started to put a condom on me, I stopped her and guided her hips toward my mouth. Apparently, she was unsure what to do, so I explained to her that I wanted her to cum like she had never cum before, and that I was going to do it with my tongue. In her fledgling experience, she had never been with boy who had put her satisfaction ahead of his own, so no one had ever eaten her out for more than a few minutes, and then only as part of sixty-nine. In her limited experience, her partner had always wanted to shift to penetration before she reached the top.
She had had orgasms, but never this way.
After a little explaining, she straddled my head and gripped the headboard. I must give some credit to the two who had gone before, because she was already at a high level of sexual excitement. But, in all modesty, I must say that I used my tongue rather well, reading her movements to learn quickly what gave her the most pleasure, but not repeating one thing so much so as to wear it out. I ran my tongue first up one side, between her left lip and the shaft of her clit, up and back, then over the top and down the right side, avoiding the tip exposed by her erection. Up and down, up and down, then around, then dipping down to her hole and in and out and back again. Then I would suck in a lip and knead it between my lips, and poke the tip of my tongue up to her clit again. All the while I was squeezing first her buns, then her hips, then her waist, then her nipples, then cup her breasts gently. As she started to shake and hump involuntarily, I would suck the whole area around her clip and tease the end with my tongue. As she tensed, I would drive my tongue between the end of her clit and the surrounding flesh, around and around and up the length of the shaft, and at the same time ever so gently rub hernipples.
When she came, she nearly crushed my skull with her knees. I loved watching her perky, tight breasts, erect nipples, flat stomach, and downy pubes as she stretched and shook and stiffened and moaned. The two full condoms on her necklace swayed out as she rocked forward, then slapped back, again and again. After three times to the top, she couldn’t stand it any more and fell off my face. It took her a few minutes to get her bearings. Then she realized that I was still naked and hard as a rock. As her own loins pulsed and glowed and receded to semi-normal levels of sensation, she descended on my cock and balls like a girl possessed. She licked and sucked and massaged and rubbed and pulled and even nipped and pinched.
This was before the days of HIV (in the mid 80’s), so condoms were for birth control only. You couldn’t get pregnant from sperm in the mouth.
When I knew I couldn’t last much longer, I grabbed her hips and pulled her to me, loosening her suction grip on my penis. She looked back questioningly. Although I’m no strongman, she was small, so I could virtually lift her off the bed and turn her around to mount me. She caught on quickly and made the position change smoothly. Fortunately for both of us, she recovered enough of her senses to remember the condom. She grabbed it quickly from the sheets where it had been abandoned earlier and rolled it down expertly. She impaled herself on my cock in almost the same motion. The combination of her own wetness, my saliva, and the fact that I was the third penetration in 90 minutes made it easy. She wasn’t quite down from the oral ecstasy of a few minutes earlier, so she immediately went back to spontaneous humping. She fell into self-awareness mode, not thinking about my pleasure but about hitting just the right spots for herself. That was fine with me because her obvious pleasure heightened my own.
I tried my best to keep from coming, to prolong the moment. But, when she came again, her pussy went through spasms that rippled up and down my cock. There was no holding back. I emptied myself into the condom. She flopped down on my chest, still engaged. Being so small, she was a comfortable coverlet of warmth and softness. Her pussy continued to throb, milking me dry. Seventeen-year-olds usually can recover their erections for a second round in less than a minute. In later experience, I found I could go three or four times (those were in years gone by, not now). In fact, sometimes I would pull out just before ejaculation because, in doing so, I could start again immediately. But not that night. I was done.
We dozed a moment, until someone flushed the toilet in the bathroom on the other side of the wall. The sound of voices from the dining room reminded us of the obvious next step. We kissed one time – our first, actually. She slowly rolled off and turned to recover the condom from my semi-erect cock. It pulled off easily. She deftly tied it with the other two on her necklace, three evenly spaced trophies, one at each nipple and one in the middle.
I pulled on my clothes and dutifully stumbled back down the hallway, Lynne hiding herself behind as usual. I paused at the door for the now usual show of her leg rubbing down mine and her hands patting my crotch. She put me back in my chair and pirouetted over Stan’s lap. She had seemed sluggish as we had left the bedroom and as she had manoeuvred me to my chair, as though this had been enough. She had had three hours of foreplay, teasing us. After that she had had two hours of serious fucking. (Yes, I had taken an hour after Jack and Tom had each only taken 30 minutes or less. I suspect they only satisfied themselves without thinking of her.) But, her mission kept her going. She had set out to screw the poker club. Besides, her sexual tension was not altogether depleted. After all, she was seventeen, too.
Still straddling Stan’s lap, perched on the edge of the table, she swayed forward to dangle the three condoms in his face. As they swung out, Stan being Stan, he caught the middle one in his mouth. This re-lit the fire in Lynne’s eyes. She leaned further forward, trusting that Stan would catch her, and reached both hands into his lap. Stan held her up with one hand on each breast. Lynne unzipped his pants. Fortunately,
Stan wore boxers, so she had little trouble reaching through the fly to grip his erect member and pull it out. She hopped down and stepped back over his lap, never losing her grip on his cock. He had no choice but to stand and then follow as she pulled him to the bedroom. Valiantly, we played on.
Stan returned in 20 minutes, looking dazed. Lynne had a fourth condom on her necklace and a renewed vigor. It was nearly 12:30 and she had two more trophies to collect.
Terry was next. Lynne made no more pretence of teasing or modesty. Instead of straddling his lap as she had with the others, she came around behind him, swinging the condoms over the top of his head and dragging them back. The newest one, still wet, stuck to some hair briefly. She reached around him and began unbuttoning his shirt. When the last button was undone, she pulled it off him, then gripped his tee shirt and peeled it up over his head. She grabbed both his nipples and rolled them between her fingers, pulling slightly at the same time. He tried to reach back and return the favor, but he couldn’t manage it from that position. Then she reached over both shoulders to keep him in place and unbuckled his belt and unzipped his pants. Grabbing him by the nipples again, she pulled straight up, so Terry quickly stood up.
Using his confusion to gain the advantage, she quickly pushed his trousers and drawers down, dropped to her knees, and sucked his dick into her mouth. At the same time, she pulled his drawers to his knees. Because jeans were tight and no one had thought to remove their shoes in anticipation, that was as far down as she could get them easily. She pulled back and slowly revealed his cock, sucking hard, as she used one hand to play with his balls and the other to steady herself on his butt. The head of his cock slowly appeared. The very instant that it popped from her mouth, she jumped up and ran to the bedroom. Terry tried to follow and fell over, forgetting the location of his jeans. He scrambled to his feet while pulling up his pants (why up?), grabbed his shirt, and headed down the hall. He was gone only 15 minutes.
With five condoms on her necklace, Lynne can back, somewhat unsteadily, for Rick. Amazingly, we never broke the civility of the moment. There were no catcalls, no lewd comments, no grabbing. While Lynne was in the bedroom obviously fucking her brains out with the former occupant of the empty chair, we played on as though the missing party were merely making a head call. No one asked another player how his turn had been or what had transpired. Those who went early were obviously more relaxed than those whose turns had not come. But, after the second trip to the bedroom, no one doubted that all would get a turn. Lynne was definitely in control.
What would she do for the last man standing? She looked tired, sated. But now she had a real resolve to finish what she had started. And she wanted to do it with style. She moved predictably to Rick’s chair. Instead of perching herself almost lewdly, splay-legged, perched on the table edge across his lap, instead of stripping off his clothes and grabbing his cock, she slipped as demurely as a naked, five-times-fucked girl could into his lap and nestled into his chest with her arms wound his shoulders, hands caressing his neck and ears. “Ricky,” she said, “I’m about worn out, and I’m afraid I won’t be much fun for you, laying like a rag doll on the bed. Let’s take this one slow. I have an idea. So you can get as excited as you deserve to get, and I can be as relaxed as I feel right now, let’s do it here, on the table. You can screw me – only you – while the other five caress me and stroke me and make me feel like a purring pussycat. Are you up for that, lover?”
Who could refuse? Lynne sent Stan to the bedroom for her purse and suggested that the rest of us clear the cards and chips and glasses from the table. Fortunately, we had put a plastic tablecloth on the table that evening to prevent damage to Stan’s mother’s dining room table, so the final act that Lynne had obviously planned in some detail could unfold, consummate, and be erased without leaving a trace. In the minute or two it took us to clear the deck, she began to work her magic on Rick. A seventeen-year-old boy may talk a good game, but performing in froom of five friends could be stressful. She stayed curled up in his lap, stroking his hair and ears and neck and chest while nuzzling his neck and lips and eyes with her lips, whispering her desires to only him. He was in heaven while still fully dressed.
Rising gracefully from his lap, she focused her eyes deep into his and took his hands. With a gentle pull, she imparted the next idea: stand up. She pressed her beautiful body into his side while unbuttoning his shirt, then slowly removed it. Next, she helped him with his tee shirt. Since taking the shirt over his head is somewhat awkward, she took a moment to re-establish the mood by suckling at his nipples and rubbing her body up and down his. When he was again in dreamy sexual stasis, she slowly dropped to her knees by sliding down his leg. As she untied his sneakers, she spread her legs and slowly humped his calf. With his shoes untied, she unbuckled his belt and slowly lowered his zipper. Reaching up to rub both his nipples, she then dragged her hands down slowly to his waist and ever so carefully lowered his pants and shorts just below his butt. As soon as his erection popped free, she took his balls in one hand, the head of his dick in her mouth, and wrapped her other hand around his knees. She pulled forward on his knees slightly while pulling down on his balls, so he say back down on his chair. She stepped across his legs with her back to him and bent double, displaying her gaping pussy in front of his face. Before he could react, she grabbed both cuffs and pulled straight out. The shoes went with the pants. Having taken two steps forward in the process, she turned to finish the job on his underwear, removing the socks in the process. When she had finished, she was leaning slightly on the table, facing Rick.
Staring deeply into Rick’s eyes, she said, “Now boys, I need your help. You’ve left me a little sore, so Rick and I will need some lubrication. So that Rick can stand up and screw me and be in complete control while I relax and enjoy, I will need to be at the edge of the table. So, two of you need to be on either side of Rick to hold my legs. Two more need to be on either side of the table to massage my boobs. And one of you needs to play with my head. Stan, get the bottle of baby oil and a condom from my purse. You be in charge of the oil. Hand me the condom.”
That said and in possession of the condom, she put out her empty hand to Rick, who was still sitting down. He rose to stand directly in front of her, the tip of his rock-hard cock less than an inch from her stomach. Lynne opened the condom package and rolled it on, then she slipped up on the table. Terry and Tom took her legs. Jack and Stan put their hands behind her back so she could lean back onto the table slowly and gently. I took her head.
Stan poured a little oil on her pussy. Then Rick moved forward. He was mesmerized by the scene. Stan added a little more oil to the top of Rick’s condom as he slipped it in her pussy slowly. Lynne purred, “Oh, baby, that’s nice.” Rick started a slow in and out motion. The rest of us started to get into the moment, wanting this girl who had brought us such a memorable evening to have the climax of a lifetime. Stan figured out that the oil could make massages feel really good, so he proceeded to oil her from neck to toes. Her breasts glistened. Her nipples pointed out like brand new pencil erasers. Her flat tummy and blond bush received ample attention. Then her legs and toes were massaged delicately. Terry got the idea that his task at one leg should include the territory all the way to her clit. As Rick got into a slow rhythm,
Terry rubbed oil on either side of her clit. Not to be outdone, Tom oiled below her pussy until her anus was dripping. I kneaded her neck and shoulders and ministered to her ears.
As Tom played around her bottom, she sighed, “Go ahead, Tommy. Try a little bit.” Tommy began making slow circles on the patch between her two holes, being careful not to interrupt Rick’s concentration by hitting his dick or knocking his balls. “O-o-o,” she cooed. “More.” Of course, each one thought he was being appreciated, so we all redoubled our efforts. Every inch of her body was caressed and stroked and pressed and squeezed. Baby oil was everywhere. Tom sank two knuckles of his index finger in her ass and stroked in counterpoint to Rick.
She began to tense. Her pussy lips spread wide. Her clit stretched out. I helped her lift her head to get a better view and so she could look into Rick’s eyes again. She encouraged him as if no one else were in the room. “That’s it, baby. That’s the spot. I’m going to come. Come with me. She went rigid. Rick’s face turned red. He began to drive as fast as he could. She went over the top. I knew that Rick was getting the pussy massage I had felt. He came with a groan. After a few slow and unsteady final thrusts, he backed up and sat down, his condom full.
Lynne collapsed back onto the table, spent. The five of us massaged her lightly as she came down. “That was fantastic,” she whispered.
But now what? In a trashy porn story, we would have all whipped out our dicks and jerked off on her before leaving her there to clean herself up. Not his girl. She owned us. We carefully lifted her from the table and carried her well oiled body to the master bathroom where Stan had run a bubble bath. We soaped her gently and let her relax. Rick got dressed and helped, too. We retrieved the last condom. But, instead of awarding her the sixth medal of a whore, we removed the necklace and added it ourselves. Then, Stan came up with a gift box in which we could arrange it like the crown jewels, the necklace in an oval with six bangles fully straight. We arranged it on tissue paper, and showed her just before we put on the top and tied it up with ribbon. She watched as we carefully placed it in her purse. She knew that this secret was hers.
As the water cooled, we all knew the evening had to end. We helped her out of the tub and dried her lightly. No hands touched her, only towels. No one squeezed or felt. We helped her dress because we thought that leaving her alone might tell her we were rejecting her now that we had had our fun. Jack held her panties open and low. She put an arm across the willing shoulders of Terry and Rick so she could step into each leg. Stan and I pulled them up, front and back. Tom held her bra open in front of her so she could insert her arms. After Terry and Rick straightened the straps, I got the honor of hooking it. Next, with arms again supported by Terry and Rick, Stan held out her garter belt, into which she stepped nimbly. He positioned it neatly at her waist. Jack and I each rolled a stocking. One at a time, we smoothed them up her legs and attached them to the garter. Tom held her blouse in front of her like a coat so she could turn and insert her arms. I buttoned her up and tugged the blouse straight. Jack held out her skirt. He and I pulled it up. Tom zipped it in back. Finally, her shoes were slipped onto her feet and her coat retrieved. We escorted her to her car. Each one gave her a hug that no peeping neighbour would have thought was unseemly. When she arrived, she was in charge. When she left, she was still in charge.
None of us have spoken of that evening in the last 15 years. But what we learned has helped us satisfy other women, and has given each of us a memory that will last forever.

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