Strip Hearts 3: Cards go Gross

By Emily

   The trouble with boys is ... one of the troubles with boys is ... when

they lose, they have to keep on playing until they win.  It doesn't matter

how bloody the Pyrrhic the victory, as long as it's a victory.

   So Jack dragooned Anthony and me to play with him again.  We were spared

having to do it as soon as I got home, as Laura refused to play: "I'm busy"

she huffed, and went to her room for no obvious reason, if teenagers need a

reason to get huffy, which made Jack cross.

   I offered to ring Cheryl and see if Ellis could come and play, but Jack

said she "won too much".  So I rang Robert instead, but he and Kate had

gone up to mum's for tea.  Jack suggested his friend from down the road.  I

gave him one of my looks.  "Oh yeah" he said, the unsuitability of an

uninitiated boy suddenly occurring to him.  Anthony suggested one of his

gay mates ... he was taking the piss.  But then trying to be more helpful

he suggested Cheryl herself.

   Most women - and I know this is a generalisation - so most women in

Anglo Saxon cultures don't enjoy playing games.  I understand it's

different in Germany and Holland.  But here girls are a bit snobby about

games.  Games are silly.  Games are for boys.  Games don't make you look

sophisticated and grown up.  So to get someone like Cheryl, who is quite

conventional in many ways, interested in playing games, even dirty games,

you have to approach them when the moment is right.  With Cheryl, that's

half way through the third bottle of peach Schnapps.

   It was a struggle to teach her the rules (see Strip Hearts 1) - good

Lord, how hard can Hearts be?  - and I was explaining so much I completely

didn't notice getting the first penalty, a double one.

   And she wasn't completely clear why she and Jack had to take both my

socks and my fleece off straight away - though she liked my black mesh

see-thru bra.  But she was happy enough to help me take Jack's socks off

next, and watch Jack and me do Anthony's socks afterwards, and then me take

off Anthony's tee-shirt.

   But I could tell she didn't quite get why Anthony had to have clothes

pegs attached to his nipples, ear lobes and tongue (I let him take that one

off after a minute, as he couldn't speak with it on - and it hurt a lot!).

Still she slipped her drink and seemed happy to play along.

   Anthony took her socks off without a fuss.  And then she and Jack

wiggled me out of my pencil skirt.  It dawned on me that she was actually a

bit pissed.  You know how often people seem fine one minute, and then just

flip into drunk mode.  So she watched with semi-glazed eyes as Jack pulled

his father's trousers down and off.  And then when we told her she had to

take my bra off she complied.  But when she sat down, she suddenly said,

"oh Emily, you've got your tits out!"

   "Yes Cheryl darling, it's Strip Hearts, we take our clothes off"

   "Oh" she said, and looked down at herself, "so am I winning?"

   "Yes Cheryl"

   She was sitting in the lucky Ellis spot, as Anthony and I took Jack's

tee-shirt off.  But at least she didn't complain when Jack and I unbuttoned

and un-tucked her sensible white blouse to reveal a much less sensible lace

camisole.  And she thought it was huge fun taking down Jack's trousers,

"and who have we here then" she said, prodding a finger at the plump

sausage in Jack's underpants.

   It was like playing a game with two sets: us, who knew; and Cheryl, who

was partially away with the tipsy fairies.  But I think watching Jack peel

the strip of lyrca of my gee-string out of my crack and pull them down

completely sobered her up a bit.  "Do you like what our Laura's done to my

pubes?" I asked, stranding right in front of her.

   "Neat" was all she could struggle to say.

   "Here, have another"

   She took the bottle and drank sullenly, confused if she was happy with

being with a nude mother, and a boy and his father both in their undies.  I

guessed if she was wondering whether the games she used to play were mainly

her husbands doing, or whether she really liked them.

   Then I lost again, to Jack.

   I'm not sure what Cheryl was staring at more, the length of Jack's cock,

or the amount that disappeared into my mouth.  Deep throating even a thin

six inches isn't easy.  I'm not laying claim to any Olympic record, I'm

just saying it's not easy.  I had to work at it, sucking Jack off hard,

taking it deep, rubbing and massaging his balls, stoking his cock, slapping

it against the side of my face.  I must have worked nearly ten minutes to

blow-off my son, and in all that time, Cheryl didn't seem to blink.  When

you don't have a son, the transformation from boy to man can seem very

sudden.  The last time Cheryl had seen Jack's cock, it was a sporty four

incher with room to grow and no finale at the end of a performance.  Now

she watched him perform a grand finale all over my face: over my nose and

round my mouth mainly.

   "Wow" was all she said when a smiling Jack sat down.

   "No mum, don't wipe it off, I like to look at you with it on" was all

Jack said when I reached for the tissues.

   Jack lost next, and Cheryl and I shared the honours of pulling his

panties off, even though it was a big academic until he got his second

wind. Anthony lost next and lost his undies to a pretty drunken Cheryl. 

Now we were all naked except for the only one who hadn't really understood

what was happening!

   So it was with great pleasure that I unzipped and Jack pulled down the

tottering bitch's skirt.  And then see Anthony help her off with her

camisole.  Unfortunately, I lost the next game to Cheryl, and she seemed

very up for it now.

   She ordered me to lie down, and she straddled my head, and sat right on

my face, pushing her panty covered arse crack right on the bridge of my

nose.  I thought she was going to break it or suffocate me or both.  She

stayed like that for a minute, and told me to stop wriggling or she'd do it

longer.  So I lay still, and she sat still, and the boys watched and

waited. The quiet was broken by huge wet fart.  Anthony and Jack were in

fits of laughter and Cheryl blew off in my face a second time.

   She got up, and sat primly down.  Though I noticed that the seat of her

panties were wet with wiping off Jack's cum from my face.

   Jack lost and Anthony won next, leading to the usual.  Anthony got up

and sat in the armchair.  Jack followed his dad, kneeled between his

father's knees, took his dad's cock into his mouth, and began to suck him

off.  I knew it would take a few minutes, so I went off and got a couple of

things to get my revenge on Cheryl.  When I came back, Cheryl was kneeling

by the armchair, reaching over, and kissing my husband while Jack's small

head bobbed up and down.  Which was an unusual sight for me - the kissing

that is - I struggled to remember the last time Anthony kissed a woman. 

Maybe Kate or Laura, I couldn't remember.

   Jack, dizzy with cock sucking, reverted to giving his dad a hand job,

while fingering his dad's bottom with his other hand.  Anthony popped his

cum pretty quickly with that stimulus, leaving Jack to lick off the cum

from his father's tummy and cock.

   Then at last we nailed the lucky cow with a double punishment; she had

all the bad cards except for one that Jack had.  And then Jack pointed out

she had the Queen of Hearts twice too.  Excellent!  Anthony and I removed

her panties without ceremony, though Jack was quite interested to see her

dark reddish hairy muff.  We rolled her on to her tummy, and while Anthony

parted her arse cheeks, I inserted the white nozzle up into her tight arse.

I asked if Jack could pee into the measuring jug.  He managed a good

quarter of a litre, which I carefully poured into the bulb, fixed the bulb

on to the hose, and then started to pump Jack's still warm piss up Cheryl's

arse.  When the bulb was empty, I repeated it.

   I then asked Anthony to pee and he managed well over half a litre, which

made up three bulbs full.  By the fourth Cheryl was complaining of feeling

full.  By the fifth Anthony had to hold her down while I filled her up. 

She'd wet herself, which I guess made more space.  Though personally I

didn't think just under a litre was that big a deal.

   I positioned myself, leaning back on my knees, behind Cheryl, with Jack

standing behind me; one of my hands between my legs, the other one feeding

Jack's dangling cock into my mouth.  Anthony dragged the painfully inflated

Cheryl to her feet, stood her in front of me, pulled the nozzle out and

waited.

   For a moment, I enjoyed the sense of anticipation, waiting for the rush

to come, playing with myself, chewing on my son's hardening cock.  The

stream of shitty piss belched from Cheryl's arse in a mad torrent, blasting

over my tits, little pieces of shit flying out like pellets.  It was gross,

wonderfully gross.  When she'd emptied herself, Anthony forced her down

onto all fours, while I guided Jack's stiffy into the poor woman's

distended back passage.

   With Jack comfortably butt-fucking her, I crawled round to her front,

and pushed Cheryl's face into my shitty front, commanding her to clean me

up.  She began to lick my tummy and chest and up and over and round my

tits, licking and sucking and slurping, while I played with myself. 

Anthony would hand me small pieces of shit he found on the floor, and I

would feed them into her mouth.  She retched a couple of times, and I

thought she was going to throw up over my tits, which turned me on even

more.  Anthony took over from Jack, and Jack came and let me suck on his

shitty cock, while I jacked him off.  In all the shit and piss and dirt, he

came really easily, filling my mouth with his creamy cum.

   I showed him what he had done in my mouth, before swallowing.  He liked

that.  He went shit hunting for me, tasting a few bits himself, but giving

most of them to me for Cheryl to eat.

   Anthony pulled out of Cheryl sore arse, and stood beside me, wanking for

me, until he came over the top of my head and across my forehead.  Jack

found a really big piece of shit Cheryl had been kneeling on.  I pushed it

all into Cheryl's mouth in one go.  She tried to swallow, but it was too

much and she threw up over my tummy and over my hand rubbing my pussy.

   The stench of sick was overwhelming.  I knew I was cumming, I rubbed my

free hand in Cheryl's sick and then stuffed my fingers down my own throat.

I vomited over Cheryl immediately - in her face and down her plump tits -

and climaxed at the same time, the weirdest sickest climax I'd had in a

long time.  Cheryl, still reeling after having thrown-up herself,

automatically threw-up again at being vomited on.

   I stood up, covered in piss, shit and vomit, stepped over Cheryl, and

walked briskly to Laura's bathroom - the closest - turned on the shower to

full - and threw up in the toilet before stepping into the shower and

letting it wash the filth off me.  What a rush.

   Anthony helped Cheryl into the shower with me.  I made her sit on the

floor of the shower, so I could wash the top of her head and get the chunks

out of her hair.  Gross.  I was also pissing on her too, but she didn't

notice.  She was in a bit of a sorry state: half drunk, half hung-over,

totally grossed out.  I sat on the floor and got her to do the same for me.

   Jack arrived with two glasses of brandy his father had given him, "to

take the taste away".  While in the living room, I could hear the buzz of

the carpet clearer in action.  Anthony was being ever so sweet.

   I couldn't help feeling that Cheryl was a bit cross with me, and that

maybe this was one of the reasons girls don't like to play games.