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From: nogarder@ix.netcom.com(*** )
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories
Subject: CONVICTS VISIT ME 1/2
Date: 17 Mar 1996 21:21:55 GMT
Organization: Netcom
Lines: 514
Message-ID: <4ihvpj$nc1@reader2.ix.netcom.com>
NNTP-Posting-Host: ix-dc7-26.ix.netcom.com
X-NETCOM-Date: Sun Mar 17  1:21:55 PM PST 1996
Xref: news.primenet.com alt.sex.stories:140044






My husband had left for a "weekend with the guys" before I made it home
from 
work on Friday.  I dress casually for work on Fridays and this day I
was 
wearing a low cut blouse and mini-skirt.  To make myself more
comfortable, I 
kicked off my high heels and removed my garter belt and hose.  I poured

myself a glass of pop and flipped through my mail.  All junk.  I went
into 
the kitchen and tackled the dirty dishes.  If I didn't do anything else

productive this weekend, at least the dishes were done.  

Just as I drained and rinsed the sink, I heard the back doorbell ring. 

Probably my mother or my mother-in-law.  I wasn't expecting anyone and 
salespeople don't come to the back door.  I went to the back and opened
the 
door.  I couldn't believe who was standing at the door smiling at me. 
It 
was Rod.

Rod's mother was an old friend of the family but the whole family had
always 
been on the "wrong side of the tracks" and Rod was worse than most.  We
had 
known each other as kids but hadn't seen each other in years when we
bumped 
into one another while I was in high school.  He had dropped out by
that 
time.  He was _very_ intelligent but hung out with the wrong crowd,
made 
trouble and I assume did drugs.  He was about three years older than I
so he 
probably would've been out of school anyway.  We saw each other for a
few 
days in a friendly way.  (His mother and mine made sure it was no more
than 
that!  Besides, I was a goody-two shoes so he wasn't my type.)  I
didn't 
hear from Rod again until I was out of college.  I got a letter from
him.  I 
thought letter writing was an unusual form of communication from
someone 
like him until I looked at the return address.  He was writing from
jail.  
He sounded like he really wanted to create a better life for himself so
I 
corresponded with him frequently for a long time and even sent him some

books.  I wrote motivational and educational things that would help him

(mentally) survive while in jail and improve himself when he got out. 
He 
wrote back letters of appreciation and fondness.  I was engaged so I 
downplayed his interest in me and attributed it to the lack of positive

attention in his life.  At some point, I lost touch with Rod.  I
vaguely 
heard he was in trouble again but this time not jail, but prison.  I
guess 
my inspiration wasn't so inspiring.  That was the last I knew until
now.  
Here he was, standing at my door.

"Hey, Michelle!  How are you?  Long time no see, eh?  Can I come in?" 
Rod 
asked.

"Sure," I said, too startled to say anything else.  We didn't hug or
touch 
or anything.  We didn't have that kind of friendship.  I think I was
always 
a little scared of him and after our letters I was always careful not
to 
lead him on or make him think I was interested when I wasn't.

"So, what's up?  How've you been doing?  I haven't heard much about you
in a 
long time.  You're looking good."  I said.

He told me about how he got out of prison awhile ago and had been
staying 
with some friends in the area but they were moving out of state.  He
had a 
buddy up north who found him a job and was going to let him move in
with 
him.  Things were looking up.  

"In fact, that's part of the reason I'm here.  I need a place to stay,
just 
for tonight."  Rod said.  His friends moved out of their house that day
and 
his buddy from up north couldn't come and get him until Saturday.  He
had no 
money and there were no hotels in our small town even if he had money. 
His 
family no longer lived in the area.  He had slept in a park once and
got in 
trouble for it with the police.  With his history, he didn't want to
take 
any chances on meeting up with the cops.  He really hated to
inconvenience 
my husband and I but didn't know where else to go.  

I wasn't sure what to do.  He didn't know it, but my husband wouldn't
be 
home all night.  I was sure Rod wasn't going to _do_ anything but it
still 
left me somewhat vulnerable and it also meant having a man (ex-con)
stay in 
my house with me while my husband was gone.  Not a situation many
people in 
my circle would approve of.  But, he was an old family friend and
needed 
help.  If I turned him away, what would happen?  Don't my own religious
and 
moral values insist that I allow him to stay?  What do I tell him about
my 
husband Darrell?  

"Of course you can stay," I told him.  I teasingly told him he'd have
to be 
a "good boy" since my husband was away but what's a friend for but to
help a 
friend out, blah blah blah.  I showed him upstairs to the spare
bedroom.  I 
asked if he was hungry and he was but he said he felt dirty too.  I
gave him 
clean towels and showed him the bathroom.  (What I didn't know is that 
before he showered, he made a phone call.)  

While he was showering, I went downstairs and fixed a quick spaghetti, 
garlic bread and tossed salad dinner.  If my husband were home, I
probably 
would've served wine but didn't think that was a very good idea this
time.

We ate dinner and talked about what little "old times" we shared.  We
talked 
about my job and about his new  job.  We talked about "doing time".  He

dropped some hints about his feelings for me, similar to his old
letters, 
but I changed the subject.  I asked about his family and he asked about

mine.  

I cleared the table and suggested we watch TV or something.  He asked
if I 
had playing cards and said he'd like to show me a few things.  He had 
learned some great card tricks while in prison which he entertained me
with 
until it was dark outside.  Seems like darkness came early.  Perhaps we
were 
going to get a storm.  The front doorbell rang.  Again, I wasn't
expecting 
anyone and wasn't sure how I would explain Rod's visit.  I opened the
front 
door and there were two men standing on the steps.  One was a big burly
man 
with brown hair and a beard.  The other was a nervous looking black guy
of 
medium build.

"May I help you?" I asked.  Salesmen or religious group?  I was having 
trouble deciding.  They didn't look like either one.  They looked
behind me 
and saw Rod and fairly pushed their way past me, into the house.

"Rod, man--hey, how ya doing?"    "Good to see you!"  "Hear you're
leaving?" 
  They were saying these and other exclamations.  

Rod said, "Hey, guys, let me introduce you to my good friend Michelle. 

Michelle, this big guy here is Bruce and this one is Tom.  You don't
mind if 
they hang out with us tonight do you?"

What could I say?  The next thing I knew, we were all sitting around my

dining room table playing poker and drinking beer.  I don't normally
drink 
but they teased me until I gave in and decided to have "one".  I also
don't 
know much about playing poker but they needed a fourth and I was there.
 No 
one had any money (except me but I wasn't saying anything) so I pulled
out 
some poker chips that I had from a game.  They were pretty easy on me
and 
helped me figure out which was worth more - a flush or a full house and
what 
each of those were.  We played for awhile and things were pretty even.

I asked if anyone would like another beer.  These good-hostess actions
were 
natural on my part.  I didn't want them drunk and it wasn't my beer but
this 
is what I'm "supposed" to do so I didn't really think about it. 
Everyone 
needed beers all around.  As I was getting up to get them, Tom
commented 
that the game was kinda dull since we weren't playing for money.  Rod
agreed 
but reminded him that we didn't have any money or anything to play for.
 Tom 
suggested we play for clothes - good old-fashioned strip poker.  

I was in the kitchen at this point with Bruce right behind me (to help
with 
the beer?).  I laughed and said, "I don't think so."  The guys in the
dining 
room laughed and teased and tried to cajole me into saying yes even
though 
they knew it was a futile effort.  I opened the 'fridge and bent down
to 
pull beer off the bottom shelf.  As I turned and stood with the beer in
my 
hand, Bruce was facing me very close.  Quietly he said, "C'mon
Michelle.  I 
think you should play."  He was standing kind of stiff and my eyes 
instinctively lowered and came to rest on a gun.  Ripples of fear ran
up and 
down me!  "Really, Michell.  I think you should do whatever we want you
to do.
  I think you should be a good girl and tell them you want to play." 
He 
moved the cold metal barrel of the revolver against my bare thigh and
slid it 
up my skirt.  

I laughed nervously with my eyes locked on Bruce's eyes.  "Okay, guys. 
You 
talked me into it.  But you guys gotta swear you won't tell anyone I
did 
this."  My knees felt weak and I felt almost like a cold seat of fear. 
I 
grabbed another beer, deciding I wanted to drink another to help me
relax.  
Bruce looked at the beer and smiled.  He pulled his gun away and hid it

again.  I looked at Bruce and hissed, "You can't -" but before I even
got 
the words out he interrupted, "Oh yes, I can.  Don't worry.  If you 
cooperate, you won't get hurt.  In fact, we just want to play and have
fun.  
Let's go play."

Between the effects of the first beer (I don't drink much and I'm sort
of 
small so one beer does effect me) and the fear, I wasn't able to think 
straight.  Even if I wanted to play, I should've thought about the 
practicalities of fairness.  I was wearing only my blouse, bra,
mini-skirt 
and panties.  They were each wearing two shoes, two socks, pants, 
undershorts, shirts and undershirts.  They had 8 articles of clothing
to my 
four!  But, like I said, I didn't think about that.

Needless to say, the first hand went quick and I lost.  I had a pair of

two's but Bruce had a full house.  I started to lose my nerve.  I
couldn't 
take off my clothes in front of these guys.  Bruce stood up and pulled
me 
up.  He turned me so I my back was to Rod and Tom.  He reached for the
first 
button of my blouse.  

"I can do it," I protested.  Bad enough that I had to strip but I
didn't 
have to have this guy touch me.

Tom laughed.  "You haven't played strip poker very much, Michelle. 
Bruce won 
that round so he gets to remove the article of clothing of his choice. 
He 
won so he's gotta win something, see?"

I was tipsy and scared.  I knew I couldn't physically fight this guy
and he 
had a gun besides.  He promised I wouldn't get hurt if I cooperated.  I

stood stiffly while he unbuttoned my blouse.  As he unbuttoned the
buttons 
at breast level, his fingers lightly trailed along my cleavage but he
didn't 
pause in his duty.  His eyes opened wide when they saw my chest.  I'm
only 
a "B" cup so that surprised me and I looked down.  I had worn my jade
green 
and black lace bra.  It _is_ sexy.  He slid the blouse off my back and
arms 
and let it drop to the floor.  Grinning at me, he turned me around for 
everyone to see and held my chair out for me.  I sat down, my face red
as a 
beet.

Our dining table is high, but not high enough to hide my lingerie
display.  
Tom stopped shuffling and Rod stopped drinking and stared at me when I
first 
sat down.  Maybe they didn't think I'd really strip.  (Maybe they
didn't 
know about Bruce's gun?)

Tom quickly dealt another hand.  I groaned.  (So much for a poker
face.)  
Another pair of twos!  What was the problem?  I exchanged three cards
and 
was treated to another two.  Good.  That'll be a little better.

No luck.  Tom had a glittering handful of diamonds.  He got up and
walked 
over to me excitedly.  I was a little excited but very scared and not
about 
to let on my excitement.  Before he got to me, Rod spoke up.  (I think
he 
felt sorry for me.)

"Man, Shelly.  You need to relax.  We're just playing a game here. 
Taking 
off your clothes never hurt anyone.  I mean, it's okay to look.  I've
got 
something to help you relax and have fun."  Rod said.

With that, he pulls out a marijuana joint.  I hadn't done pot since I
was an 
undergrad.

Bruce cracked up.  "You think little Miss Goody-two Shoes does pot?"

I had to defend myself.  I may be pretty straight but it's not like I
haven't
 had my moments.  I'm not totally square.

"I've smoked pot before.  Although I have to admit, I haven't done it
since 
I was in college."  I said.

Tom, Bruce and Rod all cracked up.  I, of course, didn't get it.

"Haven't smoked pot since college, huh?  Yeah, me neither." Tom said.

"Nope," Bruce joined in.  "Not since college.  Man, Rod, you did find a
live 
one here, didn't you?  This is great."

While they were having laughs at my expense, I thought back to the last
time 
I'd done pot.  The last time I could remember was the only time my
fiancee 
(now husband) and I had ever smoked it together.  We were in his
apartment 
with his roommates and all smoked together.  No sooner were we done
then I 
was pulling Darrel into the bedroom.  We had some incredible sex that
night.  
Drinking makes me horny but pot makes me even hornier!  

In fact, the time before that when I'd smoked pot was kind of a funny 
experience.  Somehow I wound up playing cards in some guys room.  There
were 
4 or 5 guys, one other girl (who was kind of dike-ish) and me.  We
started 
to play a smoking game (kind of like a drinking game but with pot -
that may 
seem obvious to you but I'd never heard of such a thing.)  Anyhow,
whenever 
you lost a round you had to take a hit off a pot bong.  I was
pretending I 
was very experienced with smoking from a bong (I had once before).  The

first time I went to take a hit, I had to draw very hard to get
anything.  
The next time I went to take one, I drew hard again, knowing that it
would 
be obvious if I didn't take a good hit.  I thought I got plenty but the
guy 
beside me took the bong and said that we can't get anything out of it. 
He 
popped out a little screen and scrubbed it with something over an
ashtray.  
He put the screen back in and passed it to me saying I had to take
another 
hit since I didn't get much the last time.  I was already flying and
not 
thinking really clear.  I drew really hard, as I had before, but there
was 
no resistance and I filled up with the smoke.  My lungs burned briefly,
but 
then I floated around the room.  I fell back against the sofa, feeling
great 
and _very_ horny.  If anyone in that room had hit on me, the woman
included, 
I probably would've made love to them in front of everyone.  I
exaggerate 
but I think you get the point.  Unfortunately/fortunately, no one
seemed 
interested in me that night.

While I was day dreaming, they had lit the joint and were passing it
around.  
Rod was handing it to me. 

"No, thanks."  I said.

They all cracked up.  "Oh, yeah.  She's experienced at smoking pot. 
You can 
tell she's a wild one.  If you know how to smoke pot, Michelle, why
don't you 
prove it?  What's it gonna hurt?  'Fraid one of those college brain
cells 
will get killed?  Take a hit, baby."

I didn't even see who said it.  Rod had one arm resting on the back of
my 
chair and his other was holding the joint in front of my lips.  I
pressed my 
lips against it and blew very gently.

"She smokes like Clinton," Tom said.  "C'mon, 'Shel.  Quit wasting our 
dope.  Ya gotta inhale."

"It's okay, Michelle," Rod said.  "We're just playing around.  We're
just 
having a good time and want to make sure you do too."

I put the joint to my mouth and inhaled.  I held my breath, holding in
the 
intoxicating smoke for as long as I could.  One hit was more than I
needed 
but it was passed to me a few more times.  By the time we were done
smoking, 
we were all laughing but mellow.

Rod was about to deal another hand but waited.  We had almost forgot,
Tom 
was supposed to remove an article of my clothes.  Tom came over to me
and 
reached behind me for the hook.  He fumbled around as Bruce started to
tease 
him about his lack of experience.  Finally, Tom looks at my back.

"There's no fucking hook on this thing!" He says.  Everyone broke up 
laughing again.

"It's on the front you idiot!  Haven't you looked at her tits?"  Bruce
told 
him.

Tom was so embarrassed I almost felt sorry for him.  He took the hook
in one 
hand and deftly flipped it open then walked away while I slid the
straps 
down my arms and let the bra fall to the floor.  Everyone was laughing
so 
hard that they didn't think about my bare chest at first.  Rod passed
out 
the next hand.  I was intent on my cards so I didn't notice the looks
and 
the nudges the guys were giving to one another.

My tits are small but firm and well-rounded.  They stand upright and
are 
perky without a bra.  My nipples are small but darkly contrast with my 
untanned breast area.  My nipples are very responsive but only to touch
- 
not to erotic thoughts.  

I had two fives and 2 aces.  I traded one card.  I got an ace!  I swept
that 
hand, no problem.  I gleefully went around the table removing shirts. 
(This 
was after dismissing a feeble protest by Bruce that they should start
by 
removing their shoes.)  I wasn't excited about removing their shirts so
much 
as I was excited about winning a hand in such a hotly competitive game.
 I 
started with Rod, since he was to my left.  He was wearing a
sweatshirt.  He 
sat in his chair as I lifted his shirt up over his head and draped it
on the 
back of the chair.  He was grinning from ear to ear.  It was then that
I 
realized my breasts were right at eye level for him.  Next was Tom, who
was 
sitting across from me.  His shirt was a button up so it took me a few 
minutes to remove it.  He enjoyed both the attention and the close-up
view.  
Finally, I went to Bruce.  The end of the table had some stuff on it so
he 
was across from Tom and to my right.  I was glad he was wearing a
sweatshirt 
because I didn't want to spend much time that close to him.  He was the

gutsiest one of them all and I wasn't sure what he might try if I stood

with my breasts in front of his face for very long.  Once I sat down
and 
looked around, I was glad I had taken off their shirts.  I've always
loved 
men's chests so this gave me something to look at.