A Guy at Girl's Poker Night Pt 4
I slipped out of Diane's bed early in the morning. I had to rush to a job that got started early. I hate working on Saturdays, but there you go. I caught up with Amy late on Sunday afternoon. We were sitting in her kitchen. I had a gin and tonic in my hand and was watching her fix a salad. She looked like she had been poured into the shorts she was wearing, and I could almost see a bit of cheek peeking out below the hem if she bent over a little. A halter top completed the decidedly sexy ensemble. Amy is one of those voluptuously built short girls who look almost stocky except for the fact that she had a tiny waist that emphasized her ample bust and hips to great advantage. She had grown up to be quite the sexy dish--and to boot we were renewing a friendship that was loaded with promise.
"Well, what did you think about Friday night, Ted? Fun and sexy, huh?" She smiled coquettishly.
"All I can say is, when's the next game?"
"You will lose one day, you know. Count on it."
"So? I'll risk it. Reminds of our games as kids. You know what I mean."
Amy blushed. "Do I. We were really experimenting with sex, you know--the spankings, that was just an excuse for us to see each other's bare asses and stuff. You do remember our most audacious stunt don't you? The one that got us all in so much trouble?"
Yeah, I remembered. The Show. The summer of the Red Bottom Club.
We were all trying to figure out how to get the money to go to see this concert. The 'Stones were coming to town. Our parents had told us all to work for the money but we were too young to get jobs. It was our last summer before high school. We were 14 and 13, some of us, and a close knit group. It was me, Ron, Amy, Lindy, Brian, Susan and Angela. This was the gang that had played ping-pong for swats. We had gone underground after being caught and punished a year and a half previously. Our games were now held in secret--and were sexier. Like the ping pong thing.
We hit on a plan. The seven of us would hold a secret "strip show" for which we would sell tickets to other kids outside the neighborhood. We knew of an old barn, a ramshackle building long fallen into disuse, which was at the end of a logging road that cut across state land. It was rickety but intact. Best of all it was remote and virtually unknown to all but a few. We spread the word-- Amy, Lindy and Angela would do a strip tease down to sexy underwear. Susan would be the "announcer". For the finale Brian and I would do a "chippendales" act and at the end Susan would come out with a paddle and the audience would judge and vote on which one of us would get swatted with it. Then the girls would do the same thing. We made a paddle out of some thick balsa wood that somebody got from a hobby shop. It was so light you could hardly feel anything, but it looked real and made this loud "swock" sound. It was perfect for slapstick, which was what we were really doing.
We made up maps and gave them out. The maps had a description of the "action"--e.g. "LIVE STRIP SHOW". Word spread like wildfire. Amy and Lindy were cute enough but Angela was our ace. Angela was an early developer and had, at 14, nearly fully formed breasts and curvy hips and long legs. And she was beautiful. It was a certainty that legions of horney adolescent boys had stroked their willies in bed at night thinking of Angela Hardwick.
"Remember that Day? How excited and nervous we were?" Amy nodded. "We had kids coming from everywhere. We were going to make so much damn money it would have been enough to see the Stones five times."
"Yeah," laughed Amy, "but boy did we get nervous."
"I never asked you, where did you get that sexy teddy and garter thing? You couldn't have bought it."
"Angela's sister. She outfitted us all. And got in trouble too, later."
"Well, we all got in trouble--big time."
"Ouch! I remembered that part of it for quite awhile," said Amy with a wince.
We had the place all set up. A pair of blankets thrown over a rope tied between two posts at the end of the barn was our curtain. Kids were crammed in. Literally. We had a loft and they packed that too. Lots of younger kids too. Curious 10-11 year olds who had come with older brothers and sisters.
Things started out great. Susan was dressed in a sexy outfit that was black short shorts and a short tux jacket over a white blouse with a little bow tie. We had a boom box playing tapes and Lindy came out in a short skirt and tee shirt. Amid cheers and clapping she stripped down to a lace panty and bra. Boys were screaming for her to "take it off" as she wiggled around to the beat of the music. She was joined by Amy in an "evening dress" that we got from Goodwill. She zipped out of that to a lace teddy and stockings. Then came Angela. To whoops and hollers Angela did a slow bump and grind, first peeling off long "opera gloves" then slipping out of a strapless gown to end up in a white lace bra and panty set with white stockings. The place went wild.
The second act was Brian, Ron and I doing our best imitation of a male stripper routine. It produced more laughter than wolf whistles. We didn't care, we just hammed it up, almost to the point of silliness. We ended up in nothing but skimpy thong underwear, really just a pouch and a string. A shiny gold color as I recall. Somebody's brother got it for us. Kids really started to holler when Susan came out with the paddle. She played it for all it was worth. She asked them who they wanted to see get ten swats. They screamed so much for each one of us that Susan decided we'd all get swatted. So while the music started up again we each did a little dance then, one at a time, we each bent over and grabbed our ankles while Susan paddled each bare tush 5 times. We then repeated the scene for five more. We acted like they were hard licks and danced around like it really hurt.
The grand finale was to be the girls doing the same thing. They came back out in the lingerie oufits while Susan waved the paddle. One by one, in the middle of a dance number, Susan would go up to each one, shake her paddle at her, as if delivering a mock scolding and bend the dancer under her arm. Then she would deliver 5 or 6 swats. Each of the girls would give a sexy wiggle in time to the swats then jump up and do a dance rubbing her rear end like it really stung. They hammed it up pretty good and it was unbelieveably sexy to see them dancing in sexy underwear rubbing their hineys in reaction to the mock paddlings.
Unfortunately it all came to a crashing halt. It was the maps. How stupid could we be? I think we all wanted to go to that concert so much we discounted the risk--in denial, as they say. Of course careless kids left the maps around where their folks would find them. Of course the parents would call each other---and plan to catch us red handed--or red bottomed, I should say. We certainly had attained that state by the end of the day!
A cadre of parents entered the barn and stood in the shadows. We didn't see them or even hear the squawking at first as kids, seeing the adults, started to high-tail it out of there. What I remember hearing first was the booming voice of Mr Hardwick, Angela's father who said something like, "Angela Hardwick, stop that hootchie-coo and turn that damn thing off." Angela shrieked, "Daddy!" And the place fell dead silent.
"God, we knew we were in for it then," Amy recollected. "There was Ron's dad, Angela's dad, and everyone else's mom." And they had Sheriff Bates, too.
What happenned next was to stay with us for a long, long time. Sheriff Bates officially "arrested" us for "lewdness", I guess to lend some legal authority to the proceedings. All the parents were busy writing as many names as they could while kids tried to scatter for the door. For awhile it was bedlam. We knew we weren't going anywhere.
Angela's dad was first to act. He said that he'd show her what happened to brazen hussies who danced half naked. In front of the kids too scared to leave, and us, and the parents, he plopped an old crate down right in front of our "stage", sat down, and yanked poor Angela face down over his lap. Then he skinned down the lacy panties to reveal Angela's bare bottom in all its glory. For the next five minutes solid the only sounds in that barn were the pistol shot smacks of his large palm impacting Angela's tender fanny and her wails and pleas for mercy. I swear, it was the soundest most thorough spanking I'd ever seen. She wiggled and kicked frantically but he had her in an iron grip. Again and again his hand flashed up and down flattening the rounded summits of Angela's behind which took on a hot red glow.
We watched transfixed. When he finally let her up and she was sobbing and rubbing her rear. That broke it. Before we knew what was happening each parent had grabbed a kid and was hauling them over laps, knees, tucked under arms, whatever. Some sat on hay bales, some sat on crates, some just propped a foot up on whatever was handy. Pants and panties came down and the smacking started. The din was deafening as six parental palms spanked six wriggling butts in a cacophanous symphony of staccato cracks accompanied by frantic cries and pleas for forgiveness. The lickings seemed to go on and on. I was over my mom's lap as she sat on a bale. She was just using her hand, but she used it a long time and I was on fire when she finished. I could see Amy out of the corner of my eye, over her mom's knee, face down in the dirt floor, her mom's hand repeatedly splatting Amy's jiggling cheeks, her jaw set in an expression of grim determination.
"Remember after they spanked us we thought it was over?"
"Yeah--but we hadn't counted on Sheriff Bates."
We both remembered. When the smacking and wailing died down, the Sheriff took over. He told us that we could be sent to reform school. Then he huddled with the parents. While we waited in a corner of the barn, sobbing, rubbing our hot rear ends, they talked it over. They finally settled on the sentence. There would be no trial. We would each get 15 licks with the sheriff's Sam Browne belt right there and then. Case closed. This seemed like good country justice to our folks.
Somebody found a saw horse and an old blanket for padding. One by one our parents hauled us up there. We were made to bend over that saw horse and take 15 hard belt licks from our parents. The belt was long and thick and it hurt like hell. Sheriff Bates, who it was rumored, had done this sort of thing before to keep order in the jail, showed our folks how to wrap the buckle end around the hand, thus making the belt a long flat whip. He showed them how to stand back and swoop it down on our defenseless butts so that the end cracked across our bottomcheeks without wrapping around. After a few licks they all got the hang of it.
On top of that spanking, the pain was excruciating and some of us had to be held down to get through it. Amy, Angela, Ron, all of us--we all went bottoms up over the saw horse for a memorable belt licking. I still get shivers when I think about it.
"We got teased about being the Red Bottom Club for the rest of the summer, remember?" said Amy.
" That was hard, but you know we still had that stubborn pride thing about it. Kids teased but we shrugged it off. What can you say? We tried an outrageous stunt and got whipped for it. My mom watched me like a hawk after that."
"We still played that ping pong game that year," ventured Amy.
"Yeah, but later...much later," I said with a laugh.
"Want to play now?" said Amy with a coy smile.
"What--you want a rematch? From 20 years ago?"
"Why not? I'm game if you are."
This was getting interesting. "You have a table?"
"In the basement," she said, pointing towards a door in the kitchen. "The previous owner just left it--it...ah... hasn't been used."
"You're on."
"Same stakes as...before?" she said teasingly, letting it linger.
With my excitement building, I followed her down the steps. We pulled a dusty cover off of a ping-pong table standing in the middle of the room. There was a rack to the side with paddles and balls. Amy selected one and twirled it around, grinning.
"Two smacks per point?" she said.
"Two it is. Covering?"
"Hmmm, I'm out of practice. Let's say two layers of protection, ok?"
"I'll just bet you're out of practice, but ok."
She laughed and took up her position at the end of the table. The air was thick with sexual tension. Amy was mouthwateringly cute in her halter and shorts outfit.
"Your serve," said Amy.
I took the ball and popped it her way. She returned. I countered. She missed.
1-0, my favor. We were both out of practice. It must have been ten years since I had played ping pong with anyone. The game was close though. When I smashed the final shot to Amy's left, just out of reach, the final tally was 21-18.
"Looks like you're more out of practice than me," I said. "Time to pay up."
"Uh, how about double or nothing? I needed a game just to warm up."
"This was your idea, Amy. Sure I'll give you another game." She reached for the paddle and ball. "As soon as you pay up for this one."
"Oh, ok," she pouted. "Where do you want me?"
"You can just lean over the table. Stretch out and make yourself comfortable."
Amy bent over the end of the table, making her lush posterior present nicely, stretching the tight fabric across her rump. The panty line of some french cut panties was clearly visible. I moved behind her and put my hand on her back. I tapped the ping pong paddle on her seat the pulled back and let fly for six stinging swats full across both luscious cheeks. I gave them to her slowly, about 5-10 seconds apart. She yipped a little at each one and jumped up rubbing her buns after no.6.
"Ok Mr big shot, how about next game only one layer of protection? hunhh?"
"Don't say I didn't warn you, but ok."
I won that one too. This time 21-16. My semi-turgid cock sprang into full erection as Amy shimmied her shorts down to expose her luscious seat clad only in skimpy panties. She leaned over the table once more, pressing her upper body down, which had the effect of broadening and presenting the soft swells of her behind. I proceeded to lay on 10 solid swats with the ping pong paddle. The cracks of the paddle had a sharper sound, falling as they did on nearly bare fanny. Each swat made the flesh of her bottom ripple, and she sucked in her breath on a few of the swats that hit square across both cheeks of her lovely sit spot. After the 10, she stood up, rubbing.
"Whew, Ted, that stung a bit. I bet I'm all red back there," she said looking over her shoulder to survey the damage. "You still know how to cook a girl's butt, don't you?"
"That's why I'm here," I said smugly.
"Ohh...you. I shouldn't do this, but I want to get you good, you meanie. Tell you what. Give me one more chance. This time triple swats and loser has to bare all. How about it?" She eyed the bulge in my pants as she said this, confident that with Little Ted in control I would not say no.
I know I should have sensed that something was wrong here, but the infallible male in me could not resist. After all, I had bested her twice, and by comfortable margins. And, there was Little Ted to consider.
"I'll just leave the shorts off while we play this one. You don't mind do you?"
Mind? "Of course not," I said. Later I would tell myself that it was the distraction of watching Amy cavort in skimpy panties and a halter that did it, but I know that that is hogwash. The fact is, she set me up. I was hustled. It wasn't even close. She played like the top seed on the Chinese Olympic team. When the dust settled she had blown me away 21-7.
"You tricked me! You could play like a pro anytime you wanted."
"Ohh...poor baby. Now I seem to recall someone tricking me at the poker game Friday--several times in fact."
"That's the object in poker, not in ping pong," I fumed. This logic was lost on her and she just clucked and shook her head, grinning from ear to ear.
"Well now Ted, time for the big payoff or payback, whatever. Let's have you shuck the shorts, honey, I want to see that cute tush of yours."
With a resigned sigh I dropped the shorts. My hard-on was now fully visible, poking out making a tent in the front of my briefs. "Ok, where do you want me?"
"Ted, I said this was bare. Take it all off--I want you naked as a jaybird."
God, that's right. She said "bare all". Chagrined, I took off my shirt, shoes, and finally underpants leaving me in nothing but short white socks.
"You can leave the white socks on. It adds a nice touch." She was glancing at my penis as she said this. It was sticking straight out.
"I can see the idea of your impending paddling is not a totally unpleasant prospect," she said with a giggle.
I felt ridiculous standing there naked while Amy looked around and found a chair. She dragged it away from the wall, plopping it in the center of the room. She sauntered over to the table and grabbed the ping pong paddle, then took a seat, smiling all the while. I just stood there in nothing but stupid white socks and a hard-on.
"Well Ted, let's see. It was 21-7, that's a margin of 14, so..."
I had already done the math--42 swats with the ping pong paddle. That's the fate that awaited me. And it was bare butt, and yes it would sting.
"42, Amy, you know darn well what it is," I said letting my arms flop at my sides. "Could we just get on with it?"
"Oh, you're anxious for your spanking now, hunhh?" she said with a gleeful grin. "Well then get your little tushy over here. I think I better hold you down, so you can get right over my knee. I'll do this this naughty boy style. How long since you've had a good old fashioned naughty boy bare ass tanning?" She asked this question with obvious relish at my predicament.
"It's been awhile," I said.
"Well let's get you reacquainted with the experience. Bottoms up," she said, patting her thigh with the paddle.
I eased myself face down over her lap. She parted her thighs to let my rock hard shaft slide between her legs. Then she clamped them together giving it a little squeeze. The friction was delicious and I nearly lost it. That wouldn't do.
"Oh, my Ted, your buns are even cuter now that you're all grown up, " she said, patting my hiney with the paddle. "How long has it been since you were in this position?"
"It's been awhile but I have very warm memories, thank you." Yeah warm, but not fuzzy.
I felt nothing but cool air for a moment then, splat! I think I heard the paddle's crack before I felt the heat. Yeow! It stung alright. Then splat! again. And again. Yeow!
Amy kept up a running commentary as she paddled my rapidly warming tush. "Gee, Ted, (crack!) You sure look cute. (Crack! splat!) Just like a bad boy over momma's knee. (Crack! Splat! Whap!) You should see the way your buns bounce. (Crack! Whack! Splat!) Bet you liked seeing me get my fanny tended to at the game Friday, didn't you? (Splat! Whap!) Well, I really like tending to yours. (Crack! Splat! Whap!)"
If I wasn't so busy dealing with the atrocious stinging the paddle was dishing out to my ass I might've been annoyed with Amy's prattle. As it was there were two sensations competing for my attention. The first was the ping pong paddle whose sharp sting was getting more intense with every lick. The other was the pleasure from the sliding friction of my cock in the tight space between Amy's thighs.
She gave me the full measure--42 stingers. When she was done I gingerly lifted myself up and rocked back on my heels, kneeling at her feet. I must have looked like some chastised slave boy, punished by his mistress for disobedience, as I winced and rubbed my inflamed seat.
"Oh, did that smart Ted?" she asked with feigned innocence. "I do hope so. You've been entirely too cocky. Yes, too cocky...whoa," she added looking at the aforementioned cock which was hard as blue steel and pointing right at her.
"Stand up. Come here."
I stood and approached her. She pulled me to her and leaned over taking my shaft between her lips. I moaned as she slid her lips over my turgid rod. She made little "mmmm" sounds as she sucked enthusiastically. When she swirled her tongue around it I almost lost it again, but gritted my teeth and tried to think about baseball statistics.
"Mmmm, Ted," she purred, standing up and doffing her top. She had lovely breasts, full round, and high set. Then she slid out of her panties. We came together, our lips finding each other. I crushed her body to mine. She ground her hips against me, the top of my shaft sliding along the lips or her moist slit. I gently massaged the ass I had paddled, squeezing it.
"I'm ready for you," she said in a throaty whisper. I looked around. Where?
She read my mind. "Ping pong table" she said, and bent down over it offering her rump yet again, this time spreading her legs to accord me entry. I slid in. She was wet and tight. My sliding motion gathered momentum and she began to buck in respose. "Ping pong paddle," she croaked huskily, "use it on me while you fuck me."
I needed no further urging. I picked up the paddle and smacked the side of her ass as I rode her, pulling back and thrusting again. All the while I urged her on with splats from the paddle.
"Oh...yes...yes...harder..." she groaned as I pumped and smacked her behind with the paddle. We both came nearly simultaneously, bucking and bumping out of control.
The second time was slower--and upstairs in bed, but it took us awhile to get around to supper. In the afterglow, passion spent, Amy told me about plans for the next card game.
"We'll wear costumes. The girls can come dressed as French maids or schoolgirls...or maybe schoolmarms, the boys can be headmasters or Little Lord Fauntleroy or whatever. What do you think?"
Inwardly I groaned. Costumes at a Friday night poker game. Sacrelidge. Only women would think of such a thing.
"Sounds great," I said. "I can't wait." And, you know, I couldn't.
Built by Text2Html