“Hey! Glad you two could make it!” Maurice said, opening the door. An older man in his early fifties, he was the geezer of the poker group, and the man who organized it. Jared and Trevor stepped inside, and found the rest of the group already seated around the card tables in the living room. Maurice was well known as being everyone’s friend, and so the group was a bit of an odd assortment. There was Carter, who was everyone’s boss. Next to him was Ryan–a young, shy coder who knew his way around a keyboard much better than a social circle. Maurice had been trying to mentor him, and the kid took to poker like water. Opposite Carter was Dustin–a young, assistant manager sort who everyone knew was gunning for Carter’s position. The two men hated each other, and had completely opposite styles of leadership. For the record, almost everyone liked Carter better. Also at the table was Kirk, a longtime friend of Maurice , and also getting on in years at the company. “Come on in and have a seat. Laura’s out for the night with the girls, so it’s just us guys tonight.”
“Sounds perfect,” Trevor said, and took a seat, Jared next to him, “My dad’s said so much about all of you, but it’s great to finally meet face to face.”
Introductions were passed, and then Maurice sat down and started dealing. All of the men around the table, however, were more focused on Trevor–or more accurately, on the ring around his finger, glinting in the dim light of the room. So focused, in fact, that Maurice set the deck to the side, but forgot to deal the cards for about fifteen minutes, the men all chatting…though none of them could really recall what was said–if anything, it seemed like Trevor had done most of the talking.
“Oh! I forgot. I brought something we can all share,” Trevor finally said, snapping the men out of their state, while he reached down and grabbed something, “What’s poker night without cigars, right?” he said, and started passing the thick cigars he’d bought on the way there. None of the men there were smokers, but all of them picked the cigars up and lit them without a second thought, Trevor passing around a couple of lighters. Each man coughed a bit–especially Ryan–but they all made do. After all, you had to smoke during poker…right?
They played a few rounds of Texas Hold’em. Eventually, chatter turned to Jared and Trevor, and how things were doing between them. Jared hadn’t said a word all evening, and everyone was a bit curious why, but Trevor piped up anyway. “Oh, well, it was a bit rough, right dad? Still, everything got easier once you came to terms with the fact that you’re a cocksucking faggot pig, right?”
“That’s…That’s right. I’m a cocksucking faggot pig, and I especially love sucking my son’s cock,” Jared said–his first words of the night. The rest of the men just stared, Trevor undid the fly of his pants.
“You want to show all your friends?”
Jared nodded, got off his chair and started slurping at his son’s cock. The rest of them men–they knew it was crazy…and yet it did make sense. All of them had, at times, harbored suspicions that Jared was, indeed, a faggot cocksucking pig. At least he was happy, right?
“Now, how about we make this game more interesting,” Trevor said, “How about we go ahead and make this a game a strip poker, eh guys? But let’s not bet money–after all, you’re all going to happily give me everything on the table right now, right?”
The men all nodded, as Trevor pulled the pile of loose cash over to him.
“Good. No, instead, I think the losers–the guys who have to strip completely naked–they’ll all have to be punished. But the winner who lasts to the end? He’s going to get something good, I think.”
“I…I don’t think we really–” Maurice started to say, but a glint from the ring cut the words in his throat.
“You’re right–you don’t think, Maurice. You don’t think at all. I do the thinking around this table. Now–deal the damn cards. I’m not playing, I’m going to be referee. My faggot dad is out too–hear that pig? That means you’d better strip. So that means the game is between you four–now let’s see who wins, eh?”
None of the men wanted to play, but none of them could stop themselves. They switched over to five card draw, and the clothes started peeling away. Still, none of them knew what kind of stakes they were playing for, until poor Maurice lost his underwear. Ever since Trevor told the older man he didn’t think, he’d been having a hard time figuring out what to do, and had to keep asking Trevor for advice–and Trevor was more than happy to help him out by throwing away pairs for him whenever he got them. He sat in his chair, naked, looking from man to man, Trevor getting up and placing the ring in front of his face. “Sorry Maurice–you’re the first loser. You don’t seem to be very good at poker, but I know something you are good at.”
“W-What?”
“Drinking piss. It’s you’re favorite thing, right? Just an old urinal, that’s who you are.”
“No…No! I’m not–”
“What did I tell you about thinking Maurice? Do you want me to empty out that head of yours even more?”
“No, but I don’t, I mean, I’ve never drank piss in my life? How can I be good at it?”
“Well, have you ever tried?” Trevor said, and put his cock to Maurice’s lips. Open up and have a taste. I guarantee you’ll love it, and drink down every drop.”
The rest of them men watched in horror as their colleague drank all of Trevor’s piss, and then, delighted with his new hobby, filled his empty beer glass, pissed in it, and drank that down too. But after that, it didn’t really seem so strange at all. Maurice was well known as the office urinal–the guy would do anything for the stuff. Maurice got down under the table, where Jared was still nursing his son’s cock, and started drinking piss as the men needed it–after all, they needed to get back to the game, and no one could afford a bathroom break.
Bracken's Corner 