Co-Ed Naked Poker: Get Your Ace In The Hole
Every weekend seems to bring some breathtaking beauty to the forefront of my mind. In theory, this sounds like a nice breath of fresh air and leaving many options available to yours truly. Alas, the afore mentioned flesh demons of the fairer sex are the most unachievable hierarchy of earth born angels known to mankind as the �I�m way the fuck out of your league pal, but you are cool enough to at least hang out with� celestial beings, crashed landed on earth for one and all to enjoy�at least, from a distance.
I figured that a poker night with a few friends would be an extremely good way to have a mellow night, without excitement, adventure and the normal sorosis of the liver benders my weekends have grown accustom to. I arrived late on Friday night, stoned to the point of incoherency and stumbled into the waiting arms of my own personal siren. Modestly dressed as normal, her hair was tucked behind her ears and black framed glasses sat perched on her nose. I hate the fact that her physical presence makes my heart beat faster and even though I can keep my cool, it takes a lot of concentration to do so. Despite the butterflies FightClubbing in my stomach and the hard-on inspired by sitting so unbearably close to her, I took everything in stride and just made a night of it. Even when one of our fellow poker players (and a righteously hot babe as well) pondered if the two of us were an item, I totally kept it together. This lasted right up until about 3 AM when the model decided that between her I and the last remaining player that it was time to play a light-hearted game of strip poker.
My poker skills and gambling ability in general are quite suspect at best. Games of chance are not ones that I choose to play, in life, for money or when my articles of clothing are at risk. I lose my pants when I hit the tables in Vegas, major risks in life usually result with me rolling snake eyes and strip poker�? Well, I lost�twice. The first one naked, the first one redressed and at the request of my newest crush, the first and only one to warrant a return trip back to the table, re-robed�only to lose it all again. The only apparent reason a game of strip poker was played was for my new crush to torment my heart & soul as the newest representative in her social circle. While I admire her for using her physical beauty and superior brain power to coax, con and bully men to do her bidding, I am a bit disappointed at myself for easily identifying this scheme and then falling pray to it anyway. In my defense, I had already seen her lower half unclothed, so it seemed logical to get the entire picture. This was easily obtained when I had a small streak of luck taking three hands in a row forcing her to strip down to her thong. While she temporarily maintained a certain amount of modesty covering her chest with arms and hands, she could have easily voided having to show off the goods by winning the next two deals, there-by ending the game. Thankfully for yours truly, our third player was quite the savvy poker fiend and managed to hold her winning at bay long enough to force her to deal one last hand. For reference purposes, depending on the size of ones breasts, it can be quite easy to cover both of them from view using one hand, especially if you have large hands and long arms as she does. What is not possible to do is shuffle and deal a hand of poker, using only one hand. Yes, I have pictures; no I won�t share.
Somewhere along the course of the night, my keys were removed from my person to prevent driving, by the time sleep was scheduled, dawn was closing in and my crush of all crushes had disappeared to the confines of a bedroom I was not in. In the predawn dark, my alcohol soaked brain finally made the connection that had been brewing for weeks. The moment of clarify brought panic and foreboding thoughts careening into my consciousness and before I knew it, I found myself procuring keys and racing away into the cool morning before I had time to focus.
Eyes wide with fear, I stumbled through my dark apartment and tore into my hard copy picture collection with reckless abandon. Once the picture I had been seeking was in my hand, I fumbled with my digital device until I keyed in an appropriate picture and my heart finally fell the last hundred feet to the rocky outcrops below; side-by-side and my Stony girl reincarnate stared back at me. With crestfallen fore longing and undeniable proof at my fingertips, I fell into a restless sleep. So complete was my mental delinquency that I didn�t even realize until Sunday afternoon that the Med Student who had come up for the weekend had never even bothered to call.
Saturday was a nice respite, even if it was slightly drama filled. Not a big fan of having people I don�t know en mass over to my living space when I reside in an apartment. By ones and twos is fine, but gaggles of folks made me uneasy; specifically when they are drunk at 3 in the morning. Prior to this, I had been chilling with the few close friends that make up my crew at the most favorite dive bar style watering hole. A couple that frequent this establishment has befriended me previously and we sat until nearly last call discussing the Simpsons, Toga parties and finally the staff at our bar among other things. Because I was not operating heavy machinery, my inebriation had reached a peek and before I knew what had occurred phone numbers were exchanged and promises of Toga party directions were claimed on my part and my new friends advised they would set me up with the super hot bartender. While comprehension and cohesion was beyond me, I did manage and attempted to protest, advising that I couldn�t possibly show romantic interests for my favorite bartender at my favorite bar. This idea was slapped down and I was simply advised that dating the bartender had certain perks, such as free alcohol, free alcohol and�well�free alcohol. This stopped the posturing and protesting before it could form on my lips and besides, she really is fucking hot.
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