by

Nathan

*

Yeah....it's true. All of it. I was in the Poker Club, and during the weeks I played with them I was good and made a name for myself. But that's skipping ahead a little too far. I am about to graduate from college now, and have earned my degree, and so that time in my life is just one of those things that I just don't like to think about anymore. Still, it was a hell of a club. Now that I've left them I've gone on to other things, and cards don't even interest me anymore. Still, it was a hell of a time too; a good time even, and without any question those poker games were the best I ever played. Now don't look at me like I was someone evil, or did something that another man wouldn't have done. I'm not that different, and I really haven’t done anything that was that radical. But poker fucked up my life, and I guess the story is worth telling.

Yeah, yeah...the questions are always the same. My name is Jared, and I was a jock. I can say that without bragging, because it’s true and all of my friends would agree. And yes, it happened to me. But still, the questions linger, and I’m sure you are curious. I know, why would a guy ever bet his balls in a game of cards? And how could a man castrate someone and get away with it once it was done? Well, I know too that you're thinking that if I cut your nuts off then you'd go straight to the police. Perhaps you would. Perhaps you wouldn't. The only way to really know what you would do for sure would leave you with an empty space beneath a soft cock hanging lifeless between your legs. So, well, don't judge me. You have no idea.

It all happened two years ago, during the fall semester of my sophomore year at the university. I was twenty, and cocky as hell, a college stud who was into fucking the girls and I was having the time of my life. I've got bright red hair and vivid blue eyes that sparkle, with freckles on my face, and I was built and had that perfect body that all the girls crave. I liked to lift weights, and while I wasn't big or really muscled, I was well-toned, with a firm body and a flat stomach that was laced with horizontal lines. Being a red head, I didn’t have much body hair, except for the thick red patch above my cock and two small circles under my pits. That, and a very slight dusting that covered my legs. My chest was smooth, and I could get by shaving every other day. I liked my body, and I was proud of it and I liked to show it off and use it to get the girls.

The poker games all started out innocently enough. They were just Friday night poker games in the dorms. We bet little stuff really....a few coins and crap like that. Once we bet our baseball caps, and another time we bet swats with a paddle. All normal, college stuff, except well, that as I played these games I got addicted, and kept wanting to up the stakes and play for something more. I just felt this tremendous rush when I was holding the cards, keeping my expression solid when I held them in my hands. I knew when to hold, and when to fold. Soon I was winning a lot more than I was losing.

Now, it takes money to play the game, and while I never had a lot I did have some. I had managed to save a little money left from my summer job, and my father gave me pretty much anything I wanted. Not only did he pay for school and books and the dorm with a meal-plan too, but he also gave me a few hundred dollars of fun money each month. Now, it's not that my parents were rich, because the opposite is true. My dad was a fireman by trade, and we never had a lot of money because he didn't make shit. He was a good man though, and he taught me first aid and how to put out a fire. And he pushed me to college, so I could get ahead and "be somebody." He was generous with what little he made, even if it wasn’t much. Still, what he did make he spent on my mom and me. Without any question, I was the hope and the pride of my family.

All in all I had it pretty good. I drove a two-door Chevy pickup truck he had bought me when I was a senior in high school. It wasn’t new, but it ran, and it didn't eat the gas too bad. Like a lot of teenagers, I had put some real money into it though and I had fixed it up until it was a hot set of wheels. I had bought an LED light bar that was mounted above the windshield, and added a lift kit, along with four mag wheels and a set of very expensive off-road tires to match. I had put a winch on the front, and I had added chrome bumpers, with a chrome roll bar behind the cab, and I kept it waxed and it looked good. It also sported a two-thousand dollar sound system, complete with a sub woofer that barely fit behind the seat. I loved my truck, and it ran perfectly. It grabbed the girls’ attention, and that in turn translated into more women to fuck. As for money, I had enough dough to play poker, and I blew what I didn’t bet on poker chasing pussy. I was on top of the world, without a care in the world. I had everything going for me. I blew whatever cash my dad gave to me each month on chicks and parties and cards and I lived the college life. I really wasn’t in college for the studying, and my grades weren't the greatest. But I was having fun and so what-the-fuck? The girls were hot and there were lots of them and I fucked more than a few of them fairly regularly.

And like most twenty year olds, I loved fucking. Although it has been a while since I lost my balls, I remember the feeling of a super hot girl and a warm pussy, and who could ever forget that once you’ve filled one with a load of your spunk? The truth is since my first high school fuck I’ve fucked a lot of vaginas. I’ve fucked tight twats, and wet ones, and some that were bigger than others. I had my first fuck when I was barely sixteen, and from an older woman who spread her legs after I mowed her lawn, and after that I knew what my cock was for and I put it to use at every opportunity. I loved the freshmen girls and their tight little twats, and I know how to be gentle and make real love to a woman. I had never had a virgin, but hell, by the time I was in college there weren’t any virgins to fuck. I love the hot sweet twat of an incoming freshman, but older women are fun to fuck too and they sure love a young stud pounding them hard and going balls-deep with every thrust. I love big tits and small ones, and the petit cheerleader types are super hot too. But they are all good, and when my cock was sliding in and out and I was thrusting with my hips and banging a hot girl it always made me feel like a real man.

I didn’t have a steady girlfriend, because I didn’t see the point in limiting myself. It was not that unusual for me to fuck three or four different girls over a weekend, and sometimes I’d bang a chick on school nights too. I always used a rubber, unless they were on the pill, and in that case I’d do them bare. Looking back on that time of my life, it was a miracle I never caught anything. I was also into party fucking. One time I fucked three girls in the same bed at a party, and I’ve tag-teamed a few with some buddies too. My big nuts just seemed to keep me horny all of the time, and the truth was I could fuck a girl a couple of times in a row, and then an hour later do another one. And when I shot, I usually shot a big load and it came out under pressure. That’s especially true whenever I’d jack off. When I used to masturbate I could almost always shoot it out in front of me three or four feet, and five or six ropes of spunk was not unusual for me. Yeah, like a lot of college-aged men, I lived for pussy, and of course I also lived for the game and for the cards.

I don't know when I found out about the Poker Club....just not sure when really but I heard about it and I was curious as hell. It was rumored to be so secretive that you had to have an invitation, and the more I inquired around the less I could find out. Meanwhile, our own dorm games were getting bigger, with lots of students showing up for them. I got a reputation, and I deserved it. I was good. I could count the cards, know what was out and what wasn't, figure the odds in my head and make guesses that won me money. I also learned about the tricks of betting, where you can win a game even if you don't have the cards to do it. All you really have to do is to out bet your opponents, and if you can get them to throw their cards then you of course win anyway, even if your own hand is shit. You know, that’s the thrill and the secret to the game, and yet most of the guys that play have no idea what they are doing. They are so stupid that they think they have to have the cards to win.

But you don't have to have shit, not every time, and nobody does either. But if they THINK you do it’s the same thing, and so that's the trick of course. So, if you can figure them out, the guys you are playing against, read their expressions and figure out what they are holding, then you can even win when they otherwise would beat you. I was good at the bluff, and I got away with it more than I didn't. My favorite trick is to drive up the pot and then throw down a big bet they can't cover....and so they stare at you and fold....even though they are pretty sure they could beat you if they stayed. I never showed my cards when that happens, so they never knew for SURE, and I got good at keeping the expressions and making the faces that won me the games. As any true poker player knows, it's not the cards that are really important, at least, not as important as the bluff and the stare and the little grin you make before you make your bet.

Anyway, like I said, I was good and I slowly over time became the dorm champ. Then, after a particular hot game one weekend, where I sucked out some $500 bucks from my buddies, this man came up to me in the student union a few days later and said: "I hear you're a hell of a card player." He was almost twice my age, with grey hair on his temples, and I took him for a college professor. Well, it went from there, and then, almost before I knew it, I was invited into the Poker Club and that's when things changed.

The Club met on Saturday nights, once a week, in a rundown office in the back of an old abandoned warehouse on the edge of town, down near the industrial center. It was sort of creepy in a way, but I didn't care about the sleaziness and I just enjoyed the cards. The players were all a lot older than me, with the youngest in his late thirties. The oldest of the group was the guy that invited me to join, and he was probably sixty, and his name was Henry. He had grey hair, which was closely trimmed, and he looked to me like someone who might have once been in the military. He was in excellent shape for a guy his age, and he always was dressed in nice clothes and it was obvious from the way the other players treated him that he was also highly respected. For sure the other players looked up to him. Most of the time and for most of the games there were just three of them and me, but sometimes a new player would join or one of the regulars would be absent. That said, Henry was always there and he played in every game. The one thing that seemed obvious was that they were all powerful men, and yet they didn't talk about what they did or what they had done or who they were. Instead, they talked about poker, and how much they liked the game. I liked them in a way, because I liked the game, and they joked around and we shared stories. They seemed to be best friends, and were always asking about my last fuck and about the young college girls and their shaved pussies. Yeah, we had a lot of fun and I loved telling them what being a college stud was like. I think they were envious. They were pretty old, from my perspective as a twenty year old, and yet I could talk to them, and they always seemed interested in me.

The card games we played were very intense. For one thing, there weren’t any limits in the games we played, and even though I didn't have much more than a few hundred bucks in the bank when I started the first game netted me some real money and by the second week I had almost five thousand dollars. For talking poker and in theory being professional players, the truth was they weren’t that good, and I found them easy to bluff. In the Poker Club you played these games with chips, and you could have as many as you wanted. It was five-card poker, with a max draw of 4, so it wasn’t a complicated game but it was intense. Of course, after the game was over, the rule was you needed to pay up whatever you had lost, and you had to pay in cash. Generally speaking the pot didn’t get that big. Generally speaking. But, I didn't lose, or at least I didn’t lose any big hands ever. Of course, the one rule, as in any poker game, is that you can never bet more than you have. That wasn't a problem for them it seemed, and it wasn’t a problem for me either. Once a game ended, everyone paid up before we went home, or, for the bigger pots, you had until Monday to come up with the cash. It was called the “Monday Rule” and it allowed the loser the time to go to the bank and pull out the cash. Everyone always paid up and the bets never got so high that I couldn’t cover them, so the system worked well enough and the games were all played with those colored chips which we cashed out once the night ended.

I was winning more and more, and so my account grew very quickly and in just a few weeks I was feeling rich. And of course, the more games I won the more I had I could bet. They seemed to like me even so, even though I was taking their money. They never got angry when they lost, and so they were a fun group to play with. We had some good games together. For the most part they were just having fun, it seemed, but the betting was serious and real money was won and lost. They liked me, and I think it was because I was good, and gave them a challenge. Or, at least I remember thinking that way. Now, looking back of course, I realize that I wasn’t as good as I thought I was. But I guess it doesn’t matter anyway at this point. Regardless of the reason, soon I had won quite a bit of money. Yeah, week after week I started winning, putting the money in my account and watching it grow. It wasn't long before I forgot the dorm games altogether, as they weren’t worth my time, and so instead I just lived for the Poker Club and soon I was a regular. Then, well, it just slowly got out of hand and that’s when it happened and the razor came out.

I'll never forget that final Saturday night when things just got out of hand. It was my fourth week in the Poker Club, and I hadn't started out doing that well which was very unusual for me. I wasn’t getting the cards, and they were playing better than normal. By the time the night was late, and the evening was almost over, I had lost about six thousand dollars. Still, I had twenty grand in the credit union at that point in time, so it wasn't that big of a deal. It was the last game, so we agreed to up the ante to make it interesting. The cards were going out, with the initial ante of a grand each on the table. I figured it was time for my luck to change. I wanted to win, bad. When they dealt out the hands almost from nowhere I got dealt three aces....along with a three card and a seven of spades, and my heart started pounding as I fought the smile. Wow.

I bet three thousand bucks, but acted cool, just sort of pretending that I was betting high because it was the end of the night and we'd all be leaving soon. That’s a lot of money, even for the Poker Club, but a five spot had been bet once before so it wasn't totally unheard of. I was hoping it wasn't too big. The trick in poker is to draw them in, to make them stay and pay and of course that's the key to winning big. So, well, three grand was a big bet, but not that big, especially for the end of the night. As luck would have it they all three stayed. They matched my bet, and with the ante's on the table that put sixteen thousand in the pot, and that’s nothing to sneeze about.

Well, I dropped the three spot and the seven and picked up two more cards. The guy on my left took two as well, and the third guy took one. Henry, the dealer, took four more, the most he could, so it was obvious he didn't have crap. When I looked at my own cards I almost shit my pants. They were both queens, and with the FULL HOUSE and the three-ace anchor I had the best hand of my life! God...I never cracked a smile, and instead, looked disappointed, just for a second. Then, after I let them catch that look, I looked up and gave them my poker face and made them think I was faking a smile. The ruse worked, I could tell. I was hoping they would think I had nothing, and was now trying to cover it up.

It was my turn again, to start off the bets, and so I dropped a five chip and laid it on the table. Five thousand dollars. The guy to my left called me, but not immediately. Everyone was looking at me. I knew what they were thinking....that I was trying to bluff them gone.....win the pot by scaring them off. The next guy threw in his cards and folded, but Henry stared and hesitated. Finally, slowly, very slowly, he looked at me...stared at me, and then he squinted his eyes. Then, almost like he was trying to figure me out, he called my five....and then, then he raised me, raised me another five thousand dollars!

I stared at the dealer. He stared back at me. The guy on my left tossed in his cards, and that left just the two of us, Henry and me, eye to eye, staring at each other and trying to figure out who had what. Then he said "You don't have shit." I swallowed, pretending to waiver. I had him. I had him, and if he was going to play big and try to win by making me run, he had picked the wrong hand to go against and the wrong guy to try that with. He had taken four cards, and I figured the best he had was a straight, or perhaps even a flush, but more probably three of a kind. It was my lucky day! I smiled.....then I slowly picked up a blue chip and slid it to the center...matching his 5 spot raise. I hesitated then, because I had 14 thousand of my money on the table at that point, which was most of my account. Of course, I still owed the six grand from the previous hands, but I knew I had it won, so I slid one more blue chip to the center, upping the pot again by another five grand. I was five over at that point, literally betting everything and more. I winked at him, and I saw his Adams apple bob as he swallowed. He’d have to put down another five just to see my cards. My heart was beating so fast I couldn't even think straight, yet I kept my poker face and never smiled. Instead, I slowly said: "Henry, you better have the money if you call my bet."

There was over forty-five thousand dollars on the table at that point, and it would cost him five thousand more to see my cards. I was in the game at this point for nineteen grand. He looked at me, and I saw him swallow. The edge of his lip quivered. He was scared, and the sweat on his face was visible. I had bet all my money at that point I had in the world....virtually my entire credit union account, and I still owed six grand from the previous games so I was way over where I should have been. Yet even so, I knew I was going to win and so it really didn't matter. Besides, I had won all of it from them in previous games, so the money was mine to wager. Still, it was intense, way out of hand, and yet I had it won and I waited for him to fold or to make the call.

He answered me then: "Well.....yeah....and so had you. If you don't have the money you are betting your balls. I’m not kidding. I’ll cut your balls off if you play with money you don’t have. I shouldn’t need to remind you, but the Club rule is you have to be able to cover what you bet, and pay it out in cash if you lose."

I said back to him: “I know the rules. I can cover my bet. That’s not the issue. Do you want to see my cards, or not?”

I expected him to toss in his cards and fold. But he didn’t.

Instead, for an answer he called my five thousand with a blue chip, and then, hard as it is to believe, he added three more blue chips to the pile! Three! The guy to my left said "FUCK!” and I gasped.

I couldn't believe it. God. Another fifteen thousand dollars! He had raised me fifteen grand! That was just way over the top. I knew the Poker Club was a no-limit club, but fuck, there had NEVER been a pot like this one before. Oh God I just never expected him to raise me, and now I'd have to match his bet to see his cards and win the game.

Of course, I didn’t have that kind of money, and he knew it. I figured he didn’t have shit and that’s why he was going to bluff the win by driving up the pot and force me from the game. Well, hell, I had a full house for God's sake and I knew he was bluffing. And there was no way in the world I was going to fold. Man....I was shaking though. I forced a smile then, the game all but over, and I said "Well Henry....that's a hell of a bet." I picked up three more blue chips out of the hopper....and my hand was shaking. Fuck! Slowly I said, as a kind of joking comeback, "I think you're the one that's gonna be paying......so like I said, you had damn well better have the money. I’d sure hate to have to take YOUR balls as payment."

I started to push the three chips to the center of the table, but he put his right hand on my wrist, stopping me. As he did he was staring right into my eyes, and then he said: “Jared, take my advice. Fold. Take the loss and go home. If you call me you are betting your balls. I’m not kidding here. I know you don’t have the money, and if you don’t, and you lose, then I’ll castrate you. It’s your decision, and your bet, and your balls. I suggest you fold, unless you want to be a eunuch.”

Then he took his hand off of my wrist, and stared at me to see what I would do.

He didn’t have shit. But, I was shaking. He was trying to scare me out of the money, and my heart was pounding. But I knew him, and I had been playing with him long enough to know he was bluffing. I wasn’t about to toss in the cards and walk away from that kind of money, not when I was sitting on a full house and he had taken a four-card draw. And besides, nobody was going to take anyone’s balls. That was ludicrous. I figured he was trying to scare me to win the game, and I wasn’t going to fall for his bullshit. So, I swallowed, and then with a determination I pushed the three blue chips to the center of the table, calling his bet, which ended the raises and brought the game to a conclusion. As I did I said: “I’m not tossing the game to you. That’s not going to happen. If you thought you could bluff me gone and scare me with a castration threat, you made an expensive mistake.”

The only thing left was to see the cards. As I called his bet and said the last word I flipped over my cards, and showed him my full house. When he saw it, I grinned, staring at him, feeling on top of the world as I watched his face and looked for his eyes to pop out of his head.

Only he didn't change his expression. He didn't even frown. He didn't smile either. He didn't gasp. He didn't do anything. Instead, slowly, very slowly, he just turned over the first of his cards.

A six of spades.

I looked at it, staring at him and trying to sense his thoughts. But he never moved, and his expression never changed.

Then he turned over the second one.

A two. A duce. Also spades.

So, he had a straight or a flush. I smiled.

And the third one. Another two. A pair.

His straight was in the toilet and so was the flush.

I laughed then, grinning from ear to ear. So, he hadn't had shit.

He turned over the next card, and it was also a two. He smiled then for the first time.

I stared.

Suddenly, I felt warm...very fucking warm.

So, it was a two as well, three of a kind. He had one more card to go.

Time stood still, and my heart started to pound. He stared at me. I stared back...my mouth so dry I couldn't even swallow. Then, he turned over the last card, and suddenly I wanted to vomit. God. It was also a duce...a fucking duce! The fucker had a quad...four of a kind, and his fucking little shitty two's had wiped out my full house. While the odds of that hand were infinitesimally small, especially with his four card draw, nevertheless he had it and I had lost!

I stammered.

FUCK.

SHIT!

He was grinning from ear to ear now.

With the six I already owed, I now owed forty thousand dollars. FORTY THOUSAND! God. I had no idea what I was going to do. I was sick and I almost vomited.

Henry looked at me, and then he said, “I want my money by Monday. You had better have the cash Jared.”

I stammered, trying to figure out what to say. Finally I said, "Henry....shit.....I....I don't.....I mean....I'll get it. I'll get you the money. It's gonna be a while though...I....I only have twenty in my account."

The other two guys stared at me, and they weren’t smiling. Henry wasn't smiling either now and his face flushed in anger. I could tell he was pissed. He looked at me and said "Yeah....well Jared, twenty ain't gonna cut it. Nobody skips out in the Poker Club. Nobody. I suggest you call up daddy, sell your wheels and find the money somehow. You're gonna pay me dude, or I swear to God I'll have your balls. You bet em, so don’t think I won’t take them if you don’t come up with the cash. And I mean it!"

I tried to talk, and my voice cracked like a pubescent teenagers. Finally I blurted out: “I need more time! I…I can’t get forty grand by Monday. I can’t!”

He ignored me, and instead he slowly stood up, and then he started to turn from the table. But just before he walked out the door, he looked back at me and said "I’ll give you forty-eight hours.” Looking at his watch, he said: “I’ll see you Monday night, ten pm right here, and you better bring the money. And don’t you dare be late! No matter what! You know the rules. Find the cash. I'll be waiting right here for you.”

Then, he and his two friends were gone.

There was nothing I could do. I spent all day on Sunday calling friends and begging, and the truth was that my student friends didn’t have shit to loan me even if they would have. I finally called my dad.....told him, told him the story, or at least most of it, because I had no choice. Of course, I didn’t tell him I had bet my balls. And the truth was, I didn’t really think that part was real. But I knew I needed the money, but he didn't have it, or if he did he wouldn't give it to me. I needed twenty thousand and the deadline was ticking...but instead, I got a lecture. He told me I was blowing school, my grades were shit, and that I just took his money and played with it. He had zero sympathy for me. None. He said he had warned me many times not to gamble. And he emphasized that there was no way he was going to let me have the rest of my college money to pay off some stupid poker game. He said that it was all the money he had saved and he and mom had scraped it together to send me to school. He said I needed to work on my grades and stop playing cards. He said if I didn't think my education was important then I didn't deserve one. He then made it crystal clear to me that this was my problem and I had better solve it on my own.

I begged him. I even cried. But he wasn't changing his mind. He said I was twenty years old, and that I wasn't a kid anymore. Then he suggested that I go to the guy I had lost to and make a deal, to "work it out" as he had said. Finally, he ended the conversation with "I guess you can give him your wheels. Might do you good to walk for a while. And perhaps you should get a job while your at it. If you have time for poker games, you have time to work. Yeah...get a job and get your grades up. And stop screwing around and playing poker!"

God. I felt like shit.