Page 3 of Ours
Cory narrowed his eyes at Derek. “Let’s go.”
By the end of the third match, Cory was halfway through his can while Nic and Derek had barely started on their first. By the end of theeighthmatch, Cory had started on his third beer, and Nic and Derek had only just opened theirsecond.
“You guys suuuuuuuuuck,” Cory jeered, the alcohol causing him to draw out his words just a little too much. Then he stood suddenly. “Dammit,I have to pee again.”
Nic waited until the door closed before turning to Derek. “I don’t think we should let him drink much more. He’s gonna get sick.”
“Yeah, I know. Don’t worry. This is going better than I hoped. Time to cinch this,” Derek reassured him once more before Cory rejoined them.
After losing the next round in a rather spectacular display of inebriated coordination, Derek put forward the next step of his plan. “Alright, wow. I think we can say the playing field has been sufficiently leveled.” Cory narrowed his eyes as he took a non-mandated sip of his beer. “No more drinking game for you. Let’s switch to something else.”
“Like what?”
“Strip poker. Or Strip Smash Bros., I guess.” Nic spat out his drink at hearing Derek’s suggestion. After giving his choking friend a strange look, Derek continued, “Since you’re sufficiently drunk now, ‘normal’ rules: You lose a match, you lose a piece of clothing.”
Nic had moved to the kitchen to finish his beer induced coughing fit, though it wasn’t him that Derek was worried about accepting. He watched as Cory pondered the suggestion for a moment, the alcohol-lubricated gears turning in his head.
“I’m in.” As Derek suspected, it didn’t take much.
“You finished choking so we can get back to playing? Are you scared of someone seeing your dick?” Derek shouted toward the kitchen, Nic shooting him a glare as he walked back to the sofa, tossing the beer-soaked shirt at his face. “Well crap. If you were gonna take it off for free, I wouldn’t have gotten the beer.”
“Just shut up and play,” Nic grumbled as he grabbed his controller.
As the night wore on and the beer cans were emptied, the clothing started coming off. A few rounds in and Cory was only in his jeans and underwear while Derek had only lost his socks, and Nic was still only missing his shirt.
“Nooooo, not again,” Cory groaned as he lost his 4th match in a row. “Guys, come on. You don’t want to see me in my underwear, do you?”
“Drop ’em, bud,” Derek ordered, arms crossed over his chest. Nic looked at him expectedly.
With a dramatic sigh, Cory undid the fly on his jeans. Shoving them down to his ankles, he stood in front of his best friends, arms stretched out in classic, sarcastic “ta-da!” fashion.
“Happy? Weird-ooohhhshit!” Cory tripped over the jeans bunched up at his ankles, toppling unceremoniously to the floor. He angrily kicked off his jeans from around his feet as Nic and Derek laughed from the couch.
“You doing okay there, Cor?” Nic asked.
“Just shut up and play,” Cory grumbled.
Luck was still not with Cory as he proceeded to lose yet another match, this time to Nic. Derek removed his shirt and looked at Cory for his turn.
“But I’ll be naked,” he protested.
“Yeah. That’s what the ‘strip’ stands for. Lose ’em!” Derek ordered.
Cory stood still for a moment, clearly considering whether to grab his jeans and make a run for it. Then he remembered he was currently only in a pair of white briefs, stuck in the middle of the forest. Eventually and reluctantly, Cory quickly shucked off his underwear, dropping to sit on the floor and cover his cock and balls with his hands.
“There. You win. Can I put my clothes back on now?” he asked.
Derek smiled and took another swig of beer. “Who said we were done?”
“But I don’t have anything else to take off,” Cory reasoned.
“Guess me and Derek will have to think of something for you to do when you lose again,” Nic chimed in, finally catching on to the plan.
“Like what?”
“I dunno. What about some of the things those leather daddies you like watching so much have their boys do?” Derek deadpanned, looking Cory right in the face.
Cory was sure he didn’t hear that correctly. “Wha-What are you talking about, dude?”Fuck. How did they find out? They didn’t find out. Did they? Fuck.
