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This is a first attempt so please excuse the usual pratfalls one would expect of a newbie.
By Chronosfoe (chronosfoe@aol.com)

"A Pair of sixes."
"Three sevens."
"Full House. Queens over threes. Pay up, Andrea."
Agonizingly slow. Still, closer and closer. Both had lost (first their left, then their right) spike heeled sandals. Their deliberate card playing and movements made those losses seem like hours ago. Nevertheless, the sight of their shapely legs, lovingly caressed by their ultra sheer hose, anchored my attention. Their petite feet were expertly pedicured. Their fingers perfectly manicured. Very minimal make-up was expertly applied. The barest hints of their perfume fogged my brain, which swam with visions of things yet to come.
Now, Andrea had just lost her bet, and so, her left stocking. Slightly intoxicated, and with a shy smile, she reached under the hem of her slinky dress and teasingly peeled it off. Karen and I leered as the sheer black stocking was slowly replaced by a stunningly gorgeous, bare leg.
Despite knowing their nature, this game had come as a surprise to me.

I had met these ladies through a mutual friend at a cocktail party over a year ago. Both Andrea, a shorthaired blond, and Karen, with her shoulder length, raven hair, were then, as now, dressed to the nines. They were both "girl-next-door" beautiful. Each had her own arrestingly good-looking features. Certainly, even on their worst day, either could attract any man of their choosing in whatever room she happened to be. When together, the sight of these two friends naturally inspires lust filled fantasy.
Knowing they were out of my league kept me from trying too hard. Perhaps this allowed our conversation to flow naturally. I found them to be smart, funny, and altogether interesting. In a short while, I swear, I began to forget just how good looking they were. Friendly interest from both seemed to be returned my way. However, despite the "friendly" tone of our conversation, outrageous flirting and double entendres increasingly crept into their speech. They seemed to enjoy shocking me this way. Several times I was left stammering to their bemusement. I tried to keep up but confess I was no match for either and certainly not for both at once. Each cautioned me that the other was "zany... outrageous... willing to dare anything". Yet, each continued to act with the decorum our surroundings suggested.
We found I shared many of their varied interests. As the party ended, we agreed to meet for dinner later that week. As time passed, we continued to meet for tennis, movies, baseball games, plays, cocktails, lunch, "Happy Hours" and more. Whatever activity one of us suggested, the results were an uproariously good time. They even dragged me off to (God help me) a ballet. Astoundingly, another great time was had by all. We openly drooled over the dancers: I over the ballerinas, Andrea over the male dancers and Karen over both.
Yes, I learned that while Andrea was straight, Karen was bisexual. There apparently was an unspoken agreement between them that, through the years, had kept Karen from ever seducing Andrea, despite Karen's obvious (at least to me) attraction to her. Though never mentioned, this agreement apparently now extended to me. No matter how ribald the banter, a no two of us ever explored that obvious ground.
We all have other friends but enjoyed each other's company most. We all dated. So far, none of us had found regular, satisfying sex partners. In fact, for all their apparent sexual aggressiveness, amazingly they weren't all that sexually experienced. Andrea confessed to having had two prior lovers. Karen boasted five encounters (three men, two women, all enjoyable only for the moment). And so, our unusual relationship grew.
And they were thoroughly, wonderfully insane. Whenever together, invariably one of them would say or do something leaving us in hysterics. In truth though, Karen was the "zany, outrageous" one. Andrea tended to be somewhat more conservative. Both were, however, merciless cock teasers. Wherever we went, their daring outfits never failed to achieve the desired level of male attention (all of it). I was their favorite, but joyously receptive, target. They relished torturing me by making us exchange our favorite sexual fantasies while playing "footsie" with me. Suggestively dancing with them at clubs left me weak. Watching them torment other men did provide some relief and amusement. And, Andrea and I always had great fun observing Karen stalk another female (we provided the color commentary).
No sex occurred between we three unless you count kisses, hugs, occasional tickling and some playful pinches and gropes. They both frequently swore that the day would come when they would ravish my helpless body. But this was all in fun and in keeping with their screwball personalities. None of us thought to cross the line. Correction, I thought of it constantly, but I refused to allow myself to screw this up. Being with them was simply too much fun. We were enjoying things so much the way they were and, I guess, were fearful of going the next step. Until now...

Andrea's cousin's bridal shower "sucked to a nuclear degree" according to Andrea. They had managed to sneak out early, called me, and invited themselves to my apartment. I greeted each with a peck, a grope and a freshly made Margarita.
"They're goddamned born again druids or something," Andrea loudly complained. "No male strippers. No sex toys. And, (I'm sure this must be illegal, she noted), NO BOOZE!"
Karen breezily agreed with Andrea's evaluation. Then she was off on a new, but related, tangent. "Where's your porn?" she asked while striding towards my TV.
"How do you know...?" began Andrea until she was cut off by an "Oh, c'mon!" look from Karen. She replied with "I surrender" gestures.
"First drawer to the left of the VCR," I answered, unwittingly confirming my pervert status. Well, it's not as if that issue was ever in doubt...
They poured over my modest collection and made a joint selection. We settled in to talk and drink. In time we leisurely drifted into our second pitcher of Mexico's gift to the world. The movie required our frequent critique of the on-screen action. Everything, including some of the sex scenes, were, naturally, ridiculously funny. But, when a strip poker scene in the movie came on, a subtle change in atmosphere occurred. They exchanged a look that was ragged when they were finished with it. Wordlessly they had come to an agreement.
"Why are strip poker scenes always so poorly done?" asked Andrea. Ahh, the opening gambit...
"Pure realism," I replied with a smirk. "In real life, without fail, four losing hands into the game, females declare the game over."
"Ooohh, let's get 'em, Kar. Dems fightin' woids," Andrea laughed.
"Yeah, get a deck and prepare to be very embarrassed," Karen dared. Her grin was part playful and part panthress.
Continuing the gag, I produced a new deck of cards. When they sat down at the table looking ready for the first deal, I froze for an instant realizing they were serious.

"...And don't forget how thirsty losing makes you," giggled Karen, referring to the mandatory shot of tequila a losing hand always brought. Andrea balled up and discarded her stocking and accepted the proffered drink. We'd all been drunk in each other's presence at one time or another and never to a bad result. But I began to worry that, should one of us get sloppy drunk now, it would divert this little lust train from the depot.
"Maybe we could skip the loser's shot," I began. Thinking I was suggesting a total liquor ban, both immediately began to protest. A compromise was reached and the bottle remained on the table for whoever desired more. We all liberally continued to partake but only as needed.
Eventually, we all reached the critical state. Andrea was clad only in a very thin black bra and panty set. Earlier, when losing continuously, she showed delightful flashes of embarrassment. Now, as we had "caught up", she grinned seductively and looked determined not to lose again. Karen wore a thong (a really, really nice ass peeked out of it) and a matching red camisole. Having lost the last hand, I was reduced to my underwear.
"I'm sooo disappointed in those boxers," teased Karen. "They are, you understand, boring beyond any standard."
"Sorry, ladies. I wasn't expecting company and my Spiderman Underoos are still in the wash."
Karen's moment of truth came first. I assumed this is where we'd come to our senses. Wrong again. Although she mumbled an "Oh, shit!", there was no hesitation at all. She rose and smiled. She crossed her arms in front of her, grasping the hem of the camisole. She then slowly lifted it over her head. My brain screamed a trite, but eloquent, "WOW!". The next deal found Andrea with a Queen high losing hand. Despite Karen having pushed the envelope, she faltered and flustered. Fortunately, only minimal coaxing from us was required and Andrea, too, was happily topless.
Somehow I managed a shaky "Your deal..." and pushed the deck to Karen. For the first time I saw a tremble in her hands as she slid out the cards to us. Good. At least I wasn't alone. God dammit to hell! Jack high was the best I could manage and I wondered just how difficult this would get. Andrea, though, busted an inside baby straight.
"Well... Well..." Andrea said with a weak, trembling smile and a hopeless look. "I'll need another shot right now, thank you. Another, please. Thanks.Well..." she said again.
Talk about "grinning and baring it". Andrea, now smiling coyly, looking embarrassed but yet lustfully enthusiastic (how did she do that?!), hooked her fingers in the waistband of her French cut panties and slowly slid them off. She had a neatly trimmed pussy. The sight of her, gloriously naked, caused the blood to pound in my head and my cock.
"A slow turn on the runway, if you please, Miss Andrea," quipped a beaming Karen. Andrea, blushing beyond all reason, complied and strutted her stuff. "Y-e-s-s-s, and now if you'd part your legs and bend over for us, please?"
"Backwards?" she asked full of innocence.
"Nobody loves a showoff, dear," Karen replied without missing a beat.
How she could be stark naked and move so demurely baffled me, but she did. Andrea, legs slightly parted, bent at the waist making me struggle for control. She peeked around her own nude form and seemed relieved at our open mouthed admiring stares.
"Yes, very nicely done," applauded Karen. Indeed, her well-rounded ass and her pussy, which looked to be gasping for cock, were breathtaking.
"Well, we should discuss new rules. I have nothing left to bet," said Andrea, fighting to regain some composure and control.
"Usually, after someone is nude and loses again, he or she, must do whatever the winner wants..." I ventured, hopefully. Andrea lowered her head and eyes, smiling bashfully.
"You know full well that we frown upon the usual," Karen quickly interrupted, hands defiantly on hips.Andrea shot her an alarmed look. "Perhaps now we can safely end this game..." she saw my immediate pout, and hastened to add, "...and, of course, begin a different one."
"Karen..." Andrea began worriedly.
"You obviously have something in mind..." I quickly interjected, heading off any possible protest from Andrea.
"Oh, how about Russian Roulette?" Karen deadpanned. Here, four long beats of silence ensued.
"You are soooo fucking insane! I'm outta here!" Andrea cried, reaching for her clothes. "But before I go, what the fuck's the matter with you?!"
"Way to spoil a mood, Kar!" I joined in. "What the fuck...?!"
"Wait! Sorry! Sorry! Hold a sec...! It's the booze! I didn't mean... C'mon guys, after all this time you know better than that," She began and then paused. "OOOH... Yeah... What I meant was: "French Roulette."Her demeanor flashed from frantic apologist to that of a smug, lust filled, evil genius. She waited, expecting instant comprehension. Instead silence and blank stares ensued.
Finally, Andrea waved her home, "OK, C'mon. Let's have it."
"First the stakes," she began. "High. But not as high, or as final, as the Russian version. The losers become the sex slaves of the winner for the rest of the night."
"Hmmm. OK. Let's say you've got my attention back", Andrea allowed. "Just don't freak me out any more."
I paused for dramatic effect while pretending, in exaggerated fashion, to consider the stakes. "Gee, I don't know... (followed without pause by)... well, if I must..." I said in my best Groucho. It definitely didn't deserve it, but they chuckled politely anyway.
"Please do continue," Andrea urged Karen onward.
"Look, we've been talking about sucking his cock for some time now," said Karen. Andrea glared at her and was again blushing furiously. Once more, I was rendered speechless. "Here's the bet," Karen quickly continued before Andrea could rally a defense, "We proceed in rounds. First round, we take turns of one draw on his cock. Round two, we each take two draws. And so on..."
"Take a draw?" I puzzled.
"Lips slide down the shaft. Lips are dragged back up the shaft while sucking. This is a draw," Karen exasperatedly explained. "Don't try to tell us you never had a blow job."
"No. No. I've never heard the mechanics of it referred to this way, that's all."
"May, I continue? Thank you. The rest should be obvious. The loser is the one who winds up with a mouthful of cum."
"And just how, pray tell, does he lose?" Andrea wondered, the conversation having raced her past her initial horror at Karen's disclosure.
"Point taken. Hold a sec...". Karen paused, though I'm sure she had this worked out in advance. "God, your gonna love this. He has to keep from cumming! If he lasts past round, lets say 30, he wins and we're his slaves. If not, he joins the other loser in submission." Hmmm, no downside to me. If I managed to hold out, I'd more than satisfy myself with them later.
The tequila, apparently, and her developing interest in the rules, pushed Andrea right along. "So, we're both trying to make him cum, although into each other's mouth," she considered. "And he's..."
"...And he's getting more and more desperate to cum but mustn't," Karen finished.
I know what you're thinking. And had I been a little more sober, the implications would've hit me sooner, too. I'll leave the task of double checking my math to you. For now, trust me. The arithmetic progression of one to thirty "draws" would equal 465 sucks on my cock. Now multiply by two sets of luscious lips. I sure as hell wouldn't be winning. Still, deck hopelessly stacked, I sure as hell wasn't going to protest. I knew of no one who would.
Hilariously enough (for them), strategies quickly began to evolve. "This is awesome! You're a genius! Let's say we're on round 15. You might consider five slow sensual sucks followed by ten fast, ardent sucks hoping he's left on the brink for your opponent," observed Andrea.
"Yes," replied Karen. "And whatever pattern you settle on, ideally, when his need is most urgent, the sensations briefly stop for a change of partners."
I began to instinctively point out the inherent cruelty involved. Andrea, eyes wide and sweetly innocent, quickly brought me to heel. "Does that mean you'd rather not play...?" Another brief silence. We began.
A coin flip gave the honors to Karen. She unashamedly climbed out of her thong. My, God, She was shaved bare. "For this to work, you'll have to lose those drawers, my love," she purred. I complied.
They took the precaution of tying me spread eagle to the bed to prevent me from "interfering". She began. I was transported. The first few rounds went quickly. By round four, both settled on slow, sucking motions. Neither of them considered these rounds important. Not so for me. My dick was steel almost from the moment they had entered my apartment. Their outfits... the porn... the poker game... They had no idea what agony they were inflicting. Bullshit. They knew.
By round seven, they were varying their strokes as their whim. On and on. Up and down their heads lovingly bobbed. It was Heaven. It was Hell. But Dante, that bastard, forgot to warn us about this particular circle. I recall at certain points, for God knows what reason, shots of tequila being pressed to my lips. I was beyond caring. In time, successfully completed rounds brought sorority-sister style giggles and speculations as to how much farther I could go. This, of course, was merely their clever, but transparent, way of increasing the intervals between actual sucking. If somehow I could manage revenge, it would indeed be sweet.
Round eleven saw a gag placed on me. I was babbling incoherently, and, it seems, disturbing their concentration. Yeah. Uh-huh. Right. Round 19 brought a slip by Andrea. In drawing her lips up my shaft, she briefly lost contact with it. "Foul! Foul!" screamed Karen, laughingly. They staged a mock argument over a possible penalty as I moaned and writhed. Eventually, they took pity and continued.
I held on, heroically, I might modestly add, until round 26. Karen looked confidently at Andrea. "You know that he's ready to pop, don't you?" Andrea gently took hold of my throbbing member as if it was live ordinance. In fact, it was.
"Come on, baby," she whispered huskily to it. "Hold out for me and splash pretty little Karen. I'll make sure you're treated right for the rest of the night." Counterproductively, she was rubbing it against her cheek.
"No fair trying to bribe him," Karen sniffed. "Totally useless, at this point," she further observed, "but unfair nonetheless."
Andrea fought the inevitable by lightening and slowing her strokes. I was desperate to lose at this point. My hips bucked wildly seeking sufficient friction for my poor tormented cock. Her light touch was maddening. Eighteen "draws" into Andrea's turn, the universe that was my scrotum imploded. It then rocketed up and out of my shaft drenching Andrea's mouth and throat. My spasms seemed to go on and on. She gamely tried to swallow it all. She did well allowing only some to escape to her cheeks, her chin, her tits. Karen was quick to her aid, lapping up the wayward sperm from Andrea's quivering body. She devoted more time than needed to clean Andrea's swelled and stiffened nipples. Neither Andrea, nor I, thought to quibble over this.
They untied me and we caught our collective breath. A fresh pitcher of Margaritas helped speed our recovery.
No, I won't pretend to know when or how, but I was not the only one who had enjoyed an orgasm. And yes, my lovely lunatics did naturally revive faster than me. And you, I suppose, could do better.
Andrea and I gushed our approval of Karen's devious game. She graciously acknowledged our kudos. Her nude curtsey was a sight to behold. We briefly attempted more conversation before Karen again seized control.
"Ahem," she cleared her throat and smiled wickedly. "I find it laughable that you both are hoping I'll forget and that you'll be spared the consequences." We maintained our silence and hoped we looked innocent. Karen would have none of it.
She sat up and lay back on the headboard, propping pillows behind her. Her arms eased expansively wide (her tits looked magnificent) and she beckoned Andrea towards her. "You, my lovely little slut-slave, will begin the rest of the evening by pleasuring me with your tongue. Start with a kiss and work your way slowly down," she said regally.
Andrea fumbled, hesitated and began to stammer, "I... but... Karen... I thought... wait..."
"Andrea," Karen purred, steadily locking eyes with her prey, "it's time for this. You know it is. When we started this game you knew this could happen. Part of you wanted this to happen. You needed it to happen. You lost. Come here now and pay up." She continued on with her patter, sweetly and hypnotically. Andrea's resistance melted with every inch of her approach. I felt I should applaud Karen's method and gradually increasing success but was fearful of breaking the spell. They gently kissed and caressed for a long time. Andrea shivered deliciously with each of Karen's strokes.
"You. Stand closer with your hands behind you. I want to watch your cock rise and swell as she works." Happily, I couldn't disappoint on this score if my life depended upon it.
Andrea worked sensuously and enthusiastically. All inhibitions had fully evaporated. She began to orchestrate Karen's orgasms with shocking expertise. She might never have done this before, but it was readily apparent she had thought of it often. Her tongue slashed at the nape of Karen's neck and tormented her rubbery erect nipples. En route to her clit, it paused for an eternity, fluttering on Karen's midsection and causing Karen's abs to ripple uncontrollably. Karen had been fighting to remain still, hoping to prolong the pleasure. But now she could not refrain from slowly pushing Andrea's head farther down. Gently, but forcefully, she guided Andrea's lips to her baby smooth pussy. Andrea's tongue began its slow, loving assault on Karen's clit.
Between sighs and gasps of pleasure, Karen motioned me to get behind Andrea. Andrea's ass was thrust proudly into the air as she continued her labors. Karen silently mouthed her next command to me, "Fuck her. Fuck her." The unexpected invasion by my cock made Andrea gasp for breath. Regaining her senses, she returned to her task. They both were groaning and panting now.
We all enjoyed the gentle rhythms. Time, I suppose, passed. Then Karen, toes pointed, and with the grace of a gymnast, raised her widely spread legs up, over and onto Andrea's shoulders. She allowed several seconds for Andrea to become comfortable with this position. Cunningly, she had pinned the unsuspecting Andrea in place. She again covertly caught my attention (no small feat) and mouthed her new command to me, "Her ass. Fuck her ass".
The exit of cock from cunt elicited a disappointed groan. The touch of the tip of my cock to her asshole was electric. She said nothing but violently swung her head "NO!" Her rear however strained ever backwards to aid my entry.
Whatever the hell those combined body movements signified, Karen had ensured that Andrea wasn't going anywhere. In I gently thrust. After several strokes, I convinced myself all was well. Had I wanted, I could have remained motionless. Andrea was now repeatedly impaling her ass onto my cock using steady backward thrusts. With laudable persistence, she also refused to quit her efforts to erase Karen's clit with her tongue. In time, like slowly toppling dominos, we serially came and collapsed.
"Any survivors?" I whispered into our heap.
"None," they hoarsely replied as one. We disentangled and started to collect ourselves again. Karen drowsily began to pour another round. Andrea stood and stretched leisurely. Yet again, I am blessed by such a vision. I reached for a pillow.
"Not yet, cowboy," Karen cautioned. "I haven't bounced on your dick yet." She ignored my whimpers magnificently. Turning to face Andrea, but continuing to address me, she added, "And I have further plans for her, too." Andrea suddenly became alert and apprehensive. She paused and appraised Andrea's nude body lovingly. Then she called over her shoulder to me, "You do have fresh film in your camera, don't you?"
Andrea's final blush was picture perfect.