White Narcissus
Chapter 3 -- Joker Poker
It was after 9 p.m. when Phillip returned from his tourist trek around L.A. It had been great fun seeing Universal Studios, Disneyland in Anaheim and the grand tropical sprawl of this bustling city.
His tour guide was Bryan, a co-worker and good friend of Phillip's cousin Eric. Bryan was a pleasant and outgoing man, probably in his late 20s, Phillip estimated. And he was handsome with a self-assured masculinity. Tall, dark-haired, muscular and rugged-looking, he obviously visited the gym as often as Eric did.
"Now that was one of the best 50-cent tours of the City of Angels anyone is likely to get," laughed Bryan, as they reached the small cottage where Phillip was spending the next two weeks. His cousin had rented the place when he first arrived in L.A. from Virginia and this was Phillip's first visit to the Golden West.
"Oh, yeah," grinned Phillip, "that was a great tour. Thanks for making it a memorable one."
"Hey, that's okay. I had almost forgotten about some of the places we visited and you were a good partner for this little venture," Bryan responded. The lights were on in the cottage and the two men went right in without knocking.
"Hey, Eric, are you home?" Phillip yelled as they walked into the spacious living room.
"I'm in the bathroom. Be out in a minute," his cousin responded from down the hallway leading to the cottage's single bedroom. Phillip and Bryan headed for the small kitchen to retrieve beers, bringing an extra one for Eric. In a few moments, Eric emerged from the bathroom, his tanned, well-muscled body clad only in a towel wrapped around his waist.
"Well, did you have fun or what?" Eric questioned, taking the proffered beer from his cousin's hand. Phillip couldn't help but notice the prominent bulge in the front of the towel.
"Oh, yeah, fine, just great," Phillip responded. "We saw the entire city, I think. Bryan is a perfect tour guide -- and he's cheap." As Eric departed to get dressed, the other men settled down in the living room to review some of the scenes from their day on the town. Both were wearing 501 jeans. Bryan sported a colorful cotton shirt, open almost to his waist to reveal a smooth tanned chest. He wore his customary Nikes.
Phillip's shirt was another hand-tailored silk with a dark blue pattern on a white background.
"Hey, I know what we can do to kill some time while we drink these beers," said Bryan as he took a big swig of Budweiser. "How about a card game -- some poker?"
"That's good for me if Eric has some cards and chips," Phillip said. Eric returned from the bedroom wearing white cotton shorts that seemed a bit tight and a t-shirt which outlined his fine pectorals and was emblazoned with the words "LA GYM."
"What do you need?" he asked, standing next to Phillip.
"We'd like to play some poker. How about it? Got any cards and chips?"asked Bryan.
Phillip glanced at Eric, noting that the bulge visible between his legs earlier through his towel was just as prominent in the while shorts.
"I got cards, but no chips. I loaned them to a friend. Remember, Bry," >said Eric, grimacing at his friend.
"Oh, that's right, I have them at my apartment. I'll bring them back tomorrow," Bryan said with a guilty grin.
"Well, we can still play. I don't have any cash and the chips are far away in Beverly Hills. But maybe we can just play for the fun of it," Eric conceded. He went to a drawer and retrieved a deck of cards.
Several hands and many beers later, the three were becoming boisterous and alcohol-happy.
"Hell, I'm getting tired of this with no real bets involved," Bryan said finally. "Why don't we play strip poker?"
"What?" snorted Eric. "We don't have any women here! The only reason to play strip poker is to get a look at some tits and pussies. You don't have a pussy on you, do you, Bryan?"
"Shit, no, but sometimes I wish I did have one in my pocket so I wouldn't have to chase some fucking woman all over the place for a little piece of ass," the young man laughed. "What do you say, Phil? Are you up for a little strip poker and not afraid like Eric that you might have to show your little teeny wienie?"
"Um, I don't know," said Phillip. "Sounds a little weird to me. But, what the hell, I can beat the pants off of both of you in poker. No pun intended!"
"All right, all right," Eric finally agreed. "Deal me in. My wienie is a hell of a lot bigger than yours, I bet."
"Oh, I doubt that," laughed Bryan, taking a long swig off his beer and placing his hand on the crotch of his 501's.
"Deal the cards."
The game proceeded with much merriment and joking. Bryan had lost the most and was sitting now in his tight Calvin Klein jockeys, the outline of his cock and balls clearly visible to the other two men. From his vantage point, Phillip could tell this guy was fairly well-hung.
"Okay, you motherfuckers, it's your time to lose," Bryan slurred, the beer showing its effects. "This is seven-card stud with jokers wild."
With that, he promptly dealt himself both jokers and two aces. Conceding their loss, the others stood up and removed their pants, Eric showing off a major erection in his silky boxer shorts and Phillip displaying a crotch that was only slightly less prominent.>On the next hand, Phillip drew one of the wild jokers to create the winning meld.
"Okay, strip 'em off," he laughed
"Fuck, no," said Eric. "I'm going to bed. You two queers can play with each other!"
"Hey, wait a minute, asshole," grinned Bryan. "I get more pussy than you do. You agreed to play this game so you have to suffer the consequences."
He lunged toward his friend, gripping the waistband of his boxers. Eric stood and pushed Bryan's hands away, then playfully grabbed Bryan in the crotch.
"Ow, you fucker, that hurt. Now you're really gonna get it."
The two wrestled around, each trying to remove the other's shorts while Phillip sat back and watched the show. Bryan slipped on the hardwood floor, dragging his friend's boxers down over his hips and freeing a fully erect nine-inch cock to Phillip's view. Eric's balls dangled freely as he fell forward onto Bryan's prone form, his big hard dick pressing into his friend's back. His hands gripped the top of Bryan's jockeys and soon they were pulled away, uncovering the smooth, muscular buttocks.
The two continued to wrestle until both had struggled free of their underwear and were now rolling about on the floor, both sporting raging hardons. Phillip's cock began to rise at the vision of these two muscular studs, one with his legs spread wide and the other on top, their massive fuckpoles entangling as they struggled and cursed.
"You son of a bitch," yelled Eric. "Get off me, fuckhead. Get your fucking ass off me!!!">Phillip was now fully aroused, his 6.5-inch dick pressing against the tight fabric of his Tommy boxerbriefs. He stood and moved toward the writhing wrestlers.
"Okay, guys, that's enough. Don't kill each other over a little card game."
He tipped his beer can and poured an icy dribble down Bryan's asscrack, causing a sudden shout.
"God damn, you hairy fucker, why don't we get you as naked as we are?"
"Yeah," agreed Eric, panting heavily under Bryan, who now turned his attention to Phillip, grabbing one of his hairy muscular legs and sending him sprawling onto the floor, beer spilling in all directions.
"Ow, shit, fuck," screamed Phillip, as the other two men began to fumble with his shorts. While Eric held him down with his powerful arms, Bryan pulled his Tommys quickly to his ankles and off in a matter of seconds. Now all three men were sprawled on the beer-splattered floor, cocks erect.
"Shit, fire, men," Bryan said at last, sitting back on his haunches with his seven-incher gripped firmly in his hand. "It looks like we're all pretty horny. I need to jack off. How about a circle jerk, just like when we were kids?"
The others stared at him as he began a slow, rhythmic stroking of his stiff cut prick, the plum-like head oozing with precum.
"Oh, yeah, that feels so good," Bryan said. "Come on, guys, pump those rods of yours. Let's see who can shoot the biggest load!"
With great reluctance, Eric slid his fingers around his huge veiny cock, using his other hand to grip his hairy ballsac.
"Oh, yeah, this won't take long," he said, as his breathing grew even harsher and sweat trickled down his forehead. "Ummm. Ahhh. Hey, Phil, this feels great. Come on and get off with us."
Soon all three men were jacking their cocks and staring at each other. Phillip found his cousin's body strangely arousing. Muscles rippled as his ministrations to the monster between his legs increased in speed and intensity.
"Ooooh, yeah, oooh, here it comes," Eric groaned, flailing in short rapid movements with his fingers gripped tightly under the huge and drooling mushroom topping the long shaft. Phillip watched in fascination as his load shot outward and upward, the juice joining the pool of beer on the floor. Bryan was next, stiffening his entire body as his somewhat smaller prick spurted thick, white cream up onto his flat belly and sweat-glistened abs.
"Uhhhh, argggh, oh, shit, oh, yeah," Bryan grunted, his orgasm seeming to last a full minute. Phillip had never felt so sexually aroused before, he stared briefly at Eric as he felt his balls tighten in pre-orgasmic spasms.
"Ohhhh, ummmmm, I'm gonna shoot. It's coming," he growled, his hairy muscular body straining backward, his cock throbbing with erotic excitement. Just then, he got the surprise of his life. Bryan leaned forward and put his mouth directly in front of Phillip's cock just as it erupted in a volcanic flow of hot jizm.
"Umm, yeah, let me have that sweet honey. Let me eat your cock." His mouth descended over Bryan's twitching pecker, making loud slurping noises as he swallowed all of Phillip's ejaculate. Slowly recovering from his ecstatic orgasm, Phillip realized that Eric had departed and was apparently in the bathroom cleaning himself up. Bryan hurried into the small kitchen, pausing to pick up his strewn clothing.
Finding his Tommys soaked in beer and cum, Phillip stood and looked around at the mess.
"Here's a towel," said Eric, returning from the bathroom wearing a new pair of shorts and a ragged tank top. Phillip grabbed the towel and began mopping up his body, turning away from the critical inspection of Eric's eyes.
"Hey, shitheads, I've got to be on my way. I'll call you tomorrow, Phil. Maybe we can take another tour," said Bryan nonchalantly as he headed out the door reattired in his 501s and cotton shirt. "Bye, boys."
As soon as he had left and Phillip had dressed, the two men began clearing away the mess, wiping up the spilled beer while trying to ignore the spots of white cum laced amid the yellow fluid.
"Oh, I forgot," said Eric as they finished their cleanup task. "A package came for you today. It's on the table beside the door."
Phillip found a small white box with the logo of Ralph Lauren. He slowly opened it and peered inside. A folded ivory calling card engraved "JDS" lay inside atop a fresh new linen handkerchief and a small white narcissus in a tiny vial of water. The card read: "Thanks so much for the use of your handkerchief. Perhaps I can repay you by taking you to lunch. Give me a call. Best personal regards, John Stewart."
A phone number was scrawled beneath the neat signature. Phillip held the small white flower in his hand and recalled his airplane encounter with the rich, intelligent and poised movie producer. "Maybe I will call," he thought, as he headed toward the bedroom and some blessed sleep.