Blood Wild - Sex Stories

Blood Wild

... hands never left his now fully engorged and erect cock. Looking up at Duke with a face that was at the same time partly embarrassed, partly curious and very much aroused, Vivian leaned forward and gently kissed the head of his cock. Duke smiled down at her and then his eyes closed as she opened those lips and drew the head into her hot wet mouth.

Inside the shed Hank had just finished counting his winnings and was taking another long draw off the beer he was drinking. Walter had drained the last of his scotch from the glass he held and after turning it up and looking at it crossly he drew back and hurled the empty glass across the room to shatter against the wall in the shadows. Hank looked over at his old friend with one eyebrow raised even as he drank from his bottle of beer.

“Aw come one Walt, don’t be sore, you’ll have better luck next time.” Hank said as he wiped his lips on the wrist of his hand holding the bottle before setting it down on the table.

“Bullshit! I never seem to win. I’m beginning to think that someone cheats. Maybe more than someone… like it’s a team thing.” Walt said sitting back in his chair with his arms crossed on his chest, his face dark with suspicion and anger, fire in his bleary eyes. Eyes that were nearly obscured by greasy long back bangs that fell across his forehead.

“Are you saying that I cheated Walt? You know that’s not true, come on! How long have we known each other? Damn man! How long have we all been playing poker for ...

... God’s sake?” Hank said with an edge in his voice as his temper was changing from happiness to being pissed off in a hurry.

“All I know is that you and Duke always seem to do pretty well when it comes to poker. Funny that, huh? He’d probably do better if he weren’t chasing pussy so much, wouldn’t he?” Walt spat out with almost a growl.

Hank had had just about enough of Walt’s insinuations. Friend or not, he wasn’t going to stand for being called a cheat after winning fair and square. He stood up gripping the empty beer bottle and for a brief moment considered hurling it at Walt, but he calmed himself and let it go to fall over and roll off the edge of the table to shatter on the floor. Instead, he picked up his pile of bills and folded them and slid them in his front pocket. This seemed to anger Walt even more as he too stood up and placed his hands flat on the table and leaned over it towards Hank leering.

“That’s right. Take the money and run.” Walt growled even as he stood unsteadily across the table from Hank.

“Walt, your drunk and a sore loser. Go home and go to bed. That’s where I’m going, home.” Hank said as he turned to move to the door.

Enraged beyond reason, Walt flipped the overflowing square glass ashtray that sat on the table beside his hand towards Hank’s back. The spent cigarette butts and ashes flew everywhere on its flight from the table to Hank’s back. It hit him on edge, a corner breaking the skin just below his right shoulder blade. It hurt. It ...