Poker nights can be dangerous; Travis found this out the hard way. He was just another guy–overweight, well obese, sure. More or less happily married, aside from the occasional scream-out that could be heard throughout the trailer park. Poker night, for Travis, was more than just a way to get out of the house for a night, smoke a cigar or six, and drink a bit too much Fireball–it was a chance to be around a bunch of guys just being guys, and away from women. Mick, the host of poker night this week, just so happened to agree with him about being away from women–but his idea of quality men’s time was something else entirely.

See, Mick had a funny little figurine he’d picked up at a flea market the week before, and the little spirit within it loved games–and high stakes bets. It also happened, that this week, Mick decided to play with the deck stacked against everyone else, and once the rednecks around the table were a bit too drunk to second guess themselves, they were happily playing along with him, and it was only a few rounds later that they realized they’d been played, but by then it was too late.

Travis struggled awake, disentangling himself from the sleeping bodies of his friends, sore and hung over, his asshole raw, dick tender, and he tried to figure out where it had all gone wrong. Mick was going to win the pot, but he’d bet his sexuality? What the fuck did that even mean? Looking back over his shoulder at the pile of men, he figured that he wasn’t the only guy who’d been taken. And when he saw Mick’s ass propped up, he licked his lips and felt his cock rise a bit, figuring it was time to pay back the house what he’d lost.

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