a deck of playing cards, we leaned forward to play on the coffee table. I dealt each of us seven and fanned my hand out to organize what I was holding.
"So, how do we play strip rummy?" I teased.
"We don’t."
"Come on. It's no fun if we don't wager something."
I could tell she was going over her options. "If I win, you have to take off an article of clothing."
"And if I win?" I questioned.
"I suppose it's only fair if I play by the same rules. I'll tell you right now, I don't plan on losing."
"I think I can sweeten the deal. If I win I'll give you a choice. You either have to remove something you're wearing, or kiss me with tongue. I don't want the kind you give to Grandma."
Her smile was one of the most attractive things I'd ever seen. Maybe it was her lips, drawing me in for another taste.
I didn’t think she’d take the bait. Cammie was determined to distance herself from any kind of new relationship. I’d even said I wouldn’t continue with the taunting, but I just couldn’t help myself when I was near her.
“Picture that centerfold you hang over your bed as a teen. You become a man. Things change in your life. Then, when you least expect it, that centerfold in the flesh walks in the room. What man with a brain and a dick wouldn’t pounce on the opportunity?
Cammie was my centerfold. She always had been.
Her answer was pleasing, to say the least. "Fine. Let's play."
Two hands later I was down to my boxers. Cammie was right. For a game that was nothing but dumb luck of the hand, she was kicking my ass. I suppose there was some kind of strategy I didn’t know about. Maybe it was possible she was counting the cards, narrowing down what I had in my hand, if that was at all possible. With her IQ I wouldn’t put it past her.
"I really don't want to sit here naked. This hand has to be better," I mentioned while dealing.
Cammie was confident as she looked at her cards, rearranging them in her hand. "You're going down."
"When you get me naked, do I have to sit here next to you with my junk out? I don't want to scare you away by its size."
"Why? Is it extra small?" She asked.
"Quite the opposite." I was pleasantly amused by the way her face retorted to being shocked and curious.
Cammie cackled loudly. "So you're not only rich, but you have a giant cock? Am I hearing this right?"
"It's true. I'm the perfect guy," I taunted.
"Whatever. Finish your turn so I can take you down."
I placed my card in the pile as I spoke. "You don't have to win this hand if you want to see it. I'll gladly give you a peek."
"I bet you would. It's too bad I'm not interested. I’ll tell you a little secret anyway. I haven't been with a man who was hung. Medically speaking, it's proven the larger the penis the more easy it is for a woman to orgasm. What do you think? In your experiences would you say it’s true?"
"Do you want to find out firsthand?"
She placed her palm on her chest and spoke in a sarcastic tone. "I wouldn't be able to handle something so big. It might kill me. I might be frightened."
"I don't think it's scientifically possible to kill someone because you have a huge cock. If a baby can fit, so can a dick, medically speaking of course," I teased.
Finally, she wasn’t crying, or sniffling, or breaking down. Her smile was genuine. She was amused, happy even. Without makeup Cammie was just as beautiful. She giggled at my comment. "Are you always this amusing?"
"Nope. I'm a total dick. Why do you think I'm still single?"
“Maybe your giant package scares the girls away,” she suggested.
“Nah, they always come back for more. It would seem I’m too picky. I don’t like the idea of wasting my time on a woman who I know I can’t get serious with.”
“When was the last time you were in a serious relationship?”
“It’s been a while.”
Her next question was a little unnerving. I could tell she was asking for her own benefit given her current situation. “Did you love her?”
“I don’t know, Cam. At the time maybe I had strong feelings for her. We had fun together, and quite a lot in common. She was a nice person, definitely marriage material, just not for me.”
“Did you