Police, Poker, and Panties - Nude Male Strip Poker Stories

The following article was sent into us by Miss Barbara Stone.  Enjoy!


Just one of those days

I would say that this was destined to be one of those days which would wind up with me playing strip poker with my best friend's husband but the truth is I never did have a day like this before.

Maybe I had better start from the beginning.  My name is Barbara Stone and I am the Chief of Police in Rivetville, Alabama.  In fact, I am almost the entire police force in Rivetville.  It is a small town -- almost a village -- and the only other cop is a part timer named Mike.  When the mayor hired me, he was almost laughed out of town.  Six years earlier I had been Miss New York State and the locals couldn't believe that I could be an effective police officer. The mayor, however, figured that as I am a graduate of the John Jay College of Criminal Justice as well as a former New York City cop, I was better qualified than any of the other three people who applied for the job.

I figured I had to prove myself right away, so my first night on the job I walked into "My Big Bubba's Bar" and waited for somebody to give me a problem.  It didn't take too long.  As I neared the bar, Frank Keagan, the town lout, grabbed my ass.  I put him in a choke hold, placed the cuffs on him, and hauled him off for assaulting an officer.  After that, people treated me a lot differently.

Rivetville armed robberies

Rivetville was normally a quiet town but for the past month it had been plagued by a number of armed robberies.  The M.O. was always the same:  A man in a ski mask would go into a small business late at night (a convenience store, a bar, a gas station, or a fast food joint), hold it up, and run out.  All that anybody could tell me about him was his approximate height (6 feet) and that he had a New York accent.

That last part really threw me.  There aren't a lot of Yankees in Rivetville and of those who do live there, I am the only one from New York -- and I sure as hell knew that I wasn't either a man or the robber.

The only time the robber had run into any trouble at all was last night.  After coming out of a 7/11 he saw the manager starting to come after him and stopped long enough to yell at him not to move.  He proved that he was a yankee -- no real rural southerner would have been stupid enough to stand behind a mule and yell like that.  The mule gave him a kick in his rear which sent him flying, but he had been able to get up and escape.

I spent the day interviewing the manager, re-interviewing the the thief's former victims, and explaining to both the mayor and the editor of the town's newspaper why I haven't been able to catch him yet.

When the wife is away the husband will play

That evening I stopped off to see Madge, my best friend and closest neighbor, for some tea and sympathy.  As it turned out Madge wasn't home -- she was on a business trip out of state, but her husband Bill invited me in for a drink.  I took him up on it.

"You know", I mentioned over a scotch and soda, "you should be my prime suspect in these robberies.  You are a yankee and that puts you on the top of the list."

"I'm from Philadelphia, not New York," Bill said.

"You and I can tell the difference in accents," I told him, "but to most of the people down here we sound exactly the same."

"Then why haven't you put me in jail?" Bill asked with a laugh.

"Because you are a corporate attorney making megabucks and the robber is hitting stores up for a couple of hundred dollars each time.  I can't see you having any motive."

One drink led to another and when we were both pleasantly tipsy, Bill started putting his arm around me.  I told him that touching was off limits but, "if you want a good look I'll challenge you to a game of strip poker."

"Fair enough," Bill said, "but to make it even more interesting -- if I am naked first, I'll give you $1000.  I don't need your money, so you won't have to pay me anything if you are the loser."

"Why are you willing to shell out like that if you know we aren't going to end up in bed?" I asked him.

"Just for the kicks, Barbara, just for the kicks."

3's a crowd

Bill, Madge, and I have been friends since I moved into Rivetville, and he knows a lot about me but not everything.  One of the things he didn't know is that I was on the vice squad for a while in New York, working undercover, and had learned how to deal in a way which was not particularly honest but more or less guaranteed that I would win when I dealt.

About a half hour later, I was still in my bra and panties but Bill had only his underpants left on -- and it was my deal.  I gave him a pair of kings and took three 8's for myself.

"Do you really want me to take them off?" Bill asked with a smile.

"I sure do," I replied, "but do it with your back towards me.  I played to see that sweet behind you have and I don't want to be cheated out of it."

Bill did as I asked and as the underpants came off, the handcuffs went on.

"What is this?" he asked in shock.

"You're under arrest," I told him, "for armed robbery."

"You're nuts," he protested.  

"No," I said.  "When I came into the house I spotted a ski mask on the chair near the door. I had to wonder why somebody in Alabama would need one.  I had my suspicions but not real proof -- not, at least, until I saw your ass. That's why I suggested the strip poker. There is a very big and fresh bruise on it which is exactly the same shape as a mule's hoof.  I am certain that once I get a search warrant for your house I will find the clothes the robber was described as wearing as well as your gun."

"Don't bother," Bill said.  "I will give them to you."

"The one thing I don't understand is why you did it," I told him.  "You sure didn't need the money."

"Just for the kicks, Barbara, just for the kicks."