It's Saturday, wintertime, cold and dark, and I’m looking forward to a night out with my girlfriends.

My boyfriend is having a guys-night-in with his buddies at our place tonight. Frankly, the notion of talking hockey over several rounds of beer and dozens of hands of poker doesn’t sound that exciting to me, but he seems to love it.

It's been a long-standing monthly tradition that the four guys take turns hosting. This month just happens to be Adam’s turn, and it seems easier all around to just clear out for the night and let them have the run of the place.

He spent the afternoon getting ready. I lent a hand with the cleanup, got chips and nuts into bowls, loaded up the mini fridge downstairs with beer. Sometimes, if they’ve had a bit too much to drink, one or more of them will end up nodding off on the couch and staying over the night rather than driving home – better safe than sorry, right? So I pulled out a few spare blankets, just in case, and made sure the cab company’s business card was still taped to the fridge door.

I head out before the guys arrive and meet my friends for dinner, which turns into a movie, followed by a few drinks at a pub near my place. By 10 pm, I’m nearly ready to head home.

I text Adam from the pub: “How’s the game?”

He replies: “Good, think we’ll be wrapping up soon. I’ve lost too much money already!”

“LOL, ok I’ll stay out with the gals for a while yet and let everyone clear out.”

“OK, babe … xoxo.”

I relay the details to my girlfriends, and tell them I’m in for one more round of bellinis and a bit more girl chat.

Before I know it, it’s almost midnight. Surely they’re done by now, I think, and agree to a ride home from my best friend when she announces it’s time for her to get going.

The whole way home, I’m thinking about jumping Adam as soon as I get there – he’s always worked up after a poker game.

I don’t know if it’s the beer or the non-stop sexual innuendo that accompanies these card games that gets him wound up and more horny than normal – which is already pretty excessive – but I enjoy being on the receiving end of it. After last month’s poker game, he came home, crawled into bed and spent half an hour licking my pussy.

I could definitely go for that right now.

When my friend drops me off, I make a beeline for the door, unlock the bolt and step in quietly. The landing is dark. I wonder if Adam’s already gone ahead to bed, feeling disappointed. No sex after poker night? This’ll be a first.

“Hello? Is that you, babe?” I suddenly hear Adam shout from downstairs.

“Yes, it’s me!”

Hearing his voice, I feel a rush of arousal. He’s awake after all – probably still cleaning up.

“I didn’t expect you yet,” he shouts up.

I laugh.

“Well, it’s not that early,” I say. “It’s midnight.”

I pull off my jacket and hang it on the hook by the door, then yank off my heels and drop them to the carpeted floor as I head towards the stairs to the basement.

“Anyway, I missed you,” I continue. “And we always have so much fun after poker night, so I thought I’d just come ahead home and, you know, get naked.”

No response?

What the hell?

As I head down the stairs, I start to pull open my wrap dress, letting the sides come apart so that my breasts are out, my pink and black bra – one of his favorites – now revealed. As I descend, I open the front clasp of the bra and let it come apart an inch.

I’m looking down, partly at my fingers working the clasp but mostly at my feet so I don’t stumble. When I get almost to the bottom, a voice finally breaks the silence.

Not Adam’s voice, though.

“Uhhhhh,” says John, obviously uncertain.

My head whips up, eyes wide, and I freeze. When my head lifts, my hair that was covering my chest comes up over my shoulders, and there’s no hiding the fact that my breasts are out - bra dangling, top of the dress pushed open.

“Oh. Shit. Oh. Oh my gosh,” I stammer.

On any other occasion I might have made a joke and hastily retreated. Instead – thanks to those earlier drinks at the pub, no doubt – it takes me a second to get my bearings.

“Everyone … is … still … here. Oh. Ok. Wow.”

I can imagine exactly what I look like: somewhere between utter innocence and wanton as fuck, surprised as a doe in headlights, breasts on display, nipples hard, and no debate whatsoever as to what my intent was.

Pinning my eyes to Adam’s, I can tell he’s torn between amusement, surprise and rock-hard – instant, utter, and total arousal.

“Yes, baby,” he says grinning. “Everyone is still here.”

I grab the sides of my dress, and close it over me like a robe.

“Oh shit, I'm so sorry, oh god.”

I turn and head back up the stairs at a jog.

I hear one of the guys exhale, hard, and under his breath say, “Jesus, you lucky bastard” at Adam.

I know it's not that he thinks I'm some supermodel. Simply that I’m prancing downstairs, getting naked, seeking out sex – no sweet-talking required.

Adam’s told me what the conversation around this table involves: hockey gossip, work talk and complaining about lack of sex. For the guys at this table, a half-naked woman offering herself up for a late-night romp is probably fantasy number one.

Adam finally pipes up just as I nearly reach the top of the stairs.

"Don't go, baby," he says, laughing a little. "It's ok, come back, you haven't offended anyone."

John, always the peacemaker and the clown, throws in: "No, just the opposite - I think you just made one man very, very happy and the other three happy and a little jealous. It's not every night I get to see a woman undressing with the lights on."

I stop, and bite my lip.

"I didn't know you guys were here," I say, and I can hear in my own voice a mix of embarrassment and now, slowly dawning humour. "I don't make a habit of undressing for crowds, unless they want me to."

The joke is lost on the other three, but Adam barks out a sudden laugh.

I know what he’s thinking, and I’m willing to bet it’s making him hard as hell.

We recently discussed what it would be like to have someone else join us for “playtime” and, loosened up by a few glasses of wine, I’d confessed to Adam that in the right setting, with the right men, I'd do whatever he wanted me to - starting with getting undressed “for the crowd.”

He’d stared at me like I had spoken a foreign language.

“Men? As in multiple men?” he had asked. “I was sort of assuming one man. You mean… several? For real?”

I’d smiled and chuckled.

“It’s just a fantasy I have sometimes. Whatever. It’s not a big deal.”

“Really?” he’d said. “You think about doing this?”

I nodded yes and he’d spent twenty minutes asking me every related question he could think of, ending with “would you actually go through with something like that” and me answering, shyly, in the affirmative.

My accidental flashing incident has most certainly brought that conversation straight to mind.

"Seriously, babe, come back down. The poker was getting dull anyway," he says.

I turn, and hesitantly head back down the stairs till I'm at the bottom, maybe twenty feet from the poker table. I know my face is red and I’m having a hard time making eye contact, but admittedly the humour of the situation is making me feel more comical than embarrassed now.

When I look up at Adam, I can tell he’s having no problem with awkwardness at all. He looks a little bit tipsy, he’s got a huge grin, and when he leans back in his chair, I can see he’s got a huge erection pushing against his pants.

He beckons to me. "Come here, love," he says.

I approach the table with the dress still closed over my front, held in place with my hands like a bathrobe. He leans back, and motions for me to come down into his lap.

"Tell us, how was girl’s night out?”

"It was great. The usual. We went out for dinner, and then a movie – then up to the pub for some drinks. You know, girl chat. It was fun.”

"How did you get home?"

"Oh, Jen offered me a ride. She had to get home to sleep since she’s working in the morning, and the rest of the girls were staying.”

"So you left everyone else behind to come home?”

"Yes, but... well, I figured poker would be over and…”

“And?” he asks, still grinning.

I motion towards the stairs, and then look down.

“Well, you know… one track mind, I guess.”

The guys chuckle and I join in, laughing at myself, and shrug.

"Sorry! What can I say, he makes me crazy! I can't stay away."

I say it like a joke, laughing, but with the way I'm looking at Adam, they know it's not really a joke, and had no one been down here, I’d already be naked and fucking him.

No one says a word, and I see at least two of them shift uncomfortably.

"Anyway, it's boys-only poker! I know the rules! I'll go, I'll go!"

Before Adam can answer one way or the other, the other three chime in, each with with some variation of "No! No! It's ok, stay!"

David volunteers to deal me in, but I say no, I'll just watch.

So he deals, and I watch. Adam shows me his cards, and stage-whispers, "Ok, baby, tell me what to get rid of.” I play along, pointing to cards, and when the hand finishes, and he wins, I give a goofy cheer.

“Yay! I’m your lucky charm!”

When I put my arms up, the dress falls open a little. I had re-clasped the front hook on the bra when I’d gone back up the stairs, but the dress is still open wide, and when my arms go up, I feel it open, baring my breasts once more.

For a split second, I’m tempted to close it up again, but in the back of my head a voice says, “Fuck it, let’s just see what happens.” So I pretend not to notice, and just carry on as though nothing whatsoever is amiss.

I watch Jordan, sitting across from us, look from his hands – which are shuffling the deck for the next deal - up to my breasts, and back to his hands again, over and over. I notice that David has glanced over, and John too. Everyone has noticed that my dress is open – and everyone seems to think I haven’t realized it at all.

David clears his throat and says he's going for another beer, and asks if anyone else wants one. Everyone says yes, including me, and he heads off.

John makes conversation while the shuffling continues, asking me about the movie we’d been to earlier. We make small talk, and in the middle of the conversation, Adam shifts his hips just slightly so that his hard cock pushes up against me. I instantly push back, without missing a beat, still talking to John, moving as though I'm readjusting my position on Adam’s lap. Adam’s hand squeezes my hip as I grind harder on him. My panties are wet, and I wonder if I’ll be damp through the dress soon.

David returns, just as Jordan has finished the next deal, and the conversation dies off as everyone looks at their cards. I take a long pull from the beer, and turn to look at Adam’s cards again.

As my head turns, Adam leans up and kisses me.

"Jesus," he says. "Your face is cold as hell - how cold is it out there?"

"Oh, it's freezing... I think it might go down below zero tonight. Here, feel my hands."

I reach over and take his hand so he can feel how frigid I am.

His other hand moves inside my dress and squeezes one breast, thumb rubbing hard against the nipple.

"No wonder your nipples are so hard," he says, smiling, keeping it light, just a tease.

"Very funny," I reply.

"No seriously, rock hard," he says, and pinches one.

I moan – the tiniest, quietest moan in the back of my throat. Not loud enough for anyone else to hear, but enough for Adam to catch it, and to understand what it means: I liked it.

I liked that you did that. I liked that you did it in front of your friends.

David pipes up, laughing: "Fuck, man, stop talking about her nipples dude. You're going to make us all look like 13-year old-boys at their first dance, hiding hard-ons under the god damn table."

I smile.

"Well, don't bother hiding them then," I say, quietly, shyly.

The table goes very still, the hand of poker frozen in mid-play.

"No hiding?" Adam says with a wink. "You first then."

He pushes the dress open a little wider, undoes the clasp between my breasts, pulling the bra away and to the sides, letting it hang on either side of my bare tits.

"See," he says to the other guys, his eyes pinned on mine. "Rock hard nipples."

And he takes one nipple between his fingers and pinches it again.

This time, my moan is a little louder, more obvious.

I know exactly what Adam is thinking: after years of hanging out with these buddies, making jokes about sexual fantasies, listening to them complain about their boring sex lives, he knows this moment is the sort of thing they’ve all imagined at least once.

There’s no turning back now. The door is open – they’ll either walk through it with him or freak out.

He dips his head down, and takes my other nipple between his lips, and sucks.

My head falls back, and though I'm focused on the sensation of my nipple in his mouth, his tongue sliding back and forth over it, his lips sucking it in, I am still aware enough of my surroundings to hear the other three shift, clear throats, move in their seats.

"John, don't you want to see how hard her nipples are?" Adam says, his lips still at my breast, his hand moving away from the other one to allow John to touch. "It's ok, isn't it baby?”