Strip Poker Quotes

Watch, hell,' Walt said. 'This is strip poker. What kind of homo wants to sit around and watch four guys get naked?

If little else, the brain is an educational toy. The problem with possessing such an engaging toy is that other people want to play with it, too. Sometime they'd rather play with yours than theirs. Or they object if you play with yours in a different manner from the way they play with theirs. The result is, a few games out of a toy department of possibilities are universally and endlessly repeated. If you don't play some people's game, they say that you have "lost your marbles," not recognizing that, while Chinese checkers is indeed a fine pastime, a person may also play dominoes, chess, strip poker, tiddlywinks, drop-the-soap or Russian roulette with his brain.

Hiking is sort of like strip poker: by the end, all the participants are hot, sweaty, and nearly naked, and the winner is the person who wore the most layers.

But weren't done, not by a long shot. his great hands lifted me under my ass and my thighs, urging me to get on the table and lie on my side. His arm hooked under my leg right under the kneecap, and now everyone had a spectacular view of my dripping for him.

Every now and then, during the commercials Dad will say something like, 'How was school today, Sophie Dophie?' Once I said, 'We played strip poker during third period and I lost.' Dad just said, 'That's nice,' without even looking up from his meatloaf.

She pulled a deck from a drawer and sat across from Tyler. "What would you like to play?" She looked at Tyler. "Strip poker?" Carlie started to rise, her mouth drawn in annoyance, but Tyler stopped her. He was laughing. "Okay, okay. Bad jest. Sorry." She nodded grudgingly. "So. What should we play?" With a twinkle in his eyes, he asked innocently, "Old maid?" She threw the cards at him, then sat there glaring. "Well, I suppose that decides it." He grinned wryly, a card sitting on top of his head, the rest scattered in his lap and on the floor. "Fifty-two pickup it is." -Carlie and Tyler

Just do what he says!" the youngest guy said. Quickly they all started to undress until the five men were standing there, naked. They were being held at bay by an old guy and a kid, neither of whom was wearing a shirt. It was a pretty ridiculous scene, lika a game of strip poker that was going horribly wrong.

One of my dinner companions invited me on a strip-club excursion. I demurred, spoiled by the erotic revues of Anhedonia, where the performers remain fully clothed but get emotionally naked, delivering monologues about their top-shelf disappointments, and times when they were almost happy. Hard to enjoy American-style strip clubs after that. Once you go bleak, you never go back.

After one and a half cocktails, finding the appropriate response is a bit of a challenge. I finally say, 'Thank you for inviting me,' and leave the less desirable 'Want to play strip poker?' in the unscrupulous part of my brain where it belongs.

He was… blindingly beautiful, and wealthy, and my boss; all really good reasons why we were not suitable. But, I really, really liked him. He was damn sexy and interesting and crazy smart and annoyingly insightful. I had to trust that there was something about me that he saw and liked enough to abandon his slamps and his Wendell lifestyle. I didn’t like trusting, I didn’t like setting greater than mild expectations, but I wanted to have faith in him. Call it wine, call it Quinn-sniff induced obscurity but I was too warm and fuzzy feeling to dwell on the scary side of strip poker.

She was licking something off the end of a wooden spoon. Red froze. His body reacted as if he'd walked in on her twirling half-naked on a pole.... Frankie was intriguing. Unsettling. Challenging He wanted to figure her out. He wanted to play strip poker with her. He wanted to throw her on the couch and --- "A touch more oregano, I think." Frankie pointed the spoon at him.

I can’t- we can’t do that.” “But you’ll play strip poker with strangers?” He seemed to be studying me very closely. “Well, yeah-” this was a strange conversation to be having as I was speaking both in the theoretical and the literal. Theoretically, I’d play strip poker with strangers, depending on the circumstances and the strangers, but I had no literal intention of doing so. Quinn quickly countered, “And if I happened to be playing poker- strip poker- at the only table in the casino, would you still play?” I hesitated, feeling like I was being led into a trap that involved Quinn getting naked... which actually sounded really nice. I reluctantly said, “No.” “Why?” “Because… I- you’re you.” I congratulated myself for not slurring the words even as sweat was beading on my chest and upper back.

I have an idea,” Lia said in an overly innocent tone that I recognized immediately as trouble. “We could always take things to the next level.” She unknotted the white kerchief around her neck and tossed it to me. Her fingers played with the bottom of her tank top, raising it up just enough to make it crystal clear what the “next level” was. “It is my understanding that the rules of strip poker specify that only the loser is required to disrobe,” Sloane interjected. “No one has lost yet, ergo—” “Call it a show of solidarity,” Lia said, inching her shirt up farther. “Cassie’s almost out of chips. I’m just trying to even the playing field.” “Lia.” Dean was not amused. “Come on, Dean,” Lia said, her bottom lip jutting out in an exaggerated pout. “Loosen up. We’re all friends here.” With those words, Lia pulled off her tank top.

Like I said earlier, Jase was the only one of our four sons who stayed the course and never deviated to the right or left. He always looked straight ahead; he never drank, never cursed, and always lived his life the way God wanted him to live. I think one of the reasons Jase and Willie never strayed too far is because they were so involved in the youth group at White’s Ferry Road Church. Willie’s only problem was that he believed he was a ladie’s man until he met Korie. He was always jumping from one girl to the next until he settled down. It really made an impact on both of them. Jase was always looking out for his brothers. Even though Jase and Willie were very competitive growing up, Jase always had Willie’s best interest at heart. One time, Willie and Jase were at a friend’s house in high school. Jase walked into the basement and found Willie playing strip poker with some other kids. “What are you doing?” Jase asked him. “Playing strip poker,” Willie replied. “You’ve stripped enough,” Jase told him. “Let’s go.

The Fuck It List shines in all its laminated glory. I smile at the twenty items I boldly, yet semi drunkenly, chose. Go skinny-dipping. Buy a vibrator. Try foreplay with ice. Kiss a foreigner. Do karaoke while drinking.  Try new food. Go skydiving. Watch porn. Play strip poker. Get tied up. Be blindfolded. Come from oral sex. Try mirror sex. Have sex in public. Have sex against a wall.  Get high. Have a quickie. Have outdoor sex. Kiss someone in front of the Eiffel Tower. Experience multiple orgasms in one night.

Kamilah closed her eyes and shook her head. It was a variation on what she’d said right before giving the Devious Duo a monthlong suspension from bingo for starting an illicit gambling ring; before that, there was a security-enforced curfew after the strip-poker fiasco.

Integrating the military and diplomatic track is essential for success. . . . Nixon and Kissinger encountered this problem, and were defeated by it; when they began negotiating with Hanoi in 1969 there were 550,000 American troops in Vietnam, but under domestic pressure, Nixon unilaterally drew down to about 135,000 while Kissinger negotiated for almost five years. By the time they cut the final deal in later 1973, the two men were like the losers in a strip poker game, naked. They had no chips—or clothes—left with which to bargain; the result was a communist takeover of our South Vietnamese ally less than two years later. Roughly the same thing happened to the Soviets in Afghanistan, without even the negotiating.

A lot of girls think they're ready to have sex, but then change their mind, after the fact." It took Daniel a minute to find his voice. "Are you saying that my daughter's lying?" "No. But I want you to understand that even if Trixie is willing to testify, you might not get the outcome you're hoping for." "She's fourteen, for God's sake," Daniel said. "Kids younger than that are having sex. And according to the medical report, there wasn't significant internal trauma." "She wasn't hurt enough?" "I'm just saying that given the details-the alcohol, the strip poker, the former relationship with Jason-rape could be a hard sell to a jury. The boy's going to say it was consensual." Daniel clenched his jaw. "If a murder suspect told you he was innocent, would you just let him walk away?" "It's not quite the same-" "No, it's not. Because the murder victim's dead and can't give you any information about what really happened. As opposed to my daughter, the one who's inside there telling you exactly how she was raped, while you aren't fucking listening to her.

I remember, one week, we all started playing strip poker. This is more like it, I thought. It wasn’t really even poker, but was more like: pick an ace and lose an item of clothing. I tried one night to rig the cards so that I could end up naked with Stephie, this girl I really fancied. I carefully counted out the cards and the aces, and rather unsubtly made sure I was sitting next to her, when we started playing. Annoyingly, she then swapped places when someone else came to join us and I ended naked next to Mick, embarrassed and self-conscious. (That will teach me to cheat.) Most of the time my attempts to get a girl fell pretty flat. In fact, whenever I really liked a girl I would always end up losing her to someone else, mainly because I found it so hard to make my feelings known and to pluck up the courage just to ask her out. I remember a friend coming down to the island to stay at the end of one summer, and within twenty-four hours he was in bed with the girl I had been chasing all holidays! I couldn’t believe it. What the hell did he have that I didn’t? I noticed that he wore these brown suede cowboy boots, so I went out and bought a secondhand pair, but I just looked stupid in them. To make matters worse, this friend then went on to describe to me in great detail what they had got up to in that bed. Aarrgh. It kind of summed up my attempts at womanizing.

Glass-Steagall was an act of the US Congress, but it worked more like an act of God. It cleaved mankind in two. With it, in 1934, American lawmakers had stripped investment banking out from commercial banking. Investment bankers now underwrote securities, such as stocks and bonds. Commercial bankers, like Citibank, took deposits and made loans. The act, in effect, created the investment banking profession, the single most important event in the history of the world, or so I was led to believe.

Hello, Isla…You there?” Colby waved his hand in front of my face. I blinked rapidly then leaned back. “Sorry. Spaced out.” “Yeah, this game’s getting lame. You know me too well.” And that was a bad thing? “Let’s play something else.” “Like?” I asked. “Strip poker?” he teased, because we both knew he’d never actually play that. I laughed. “You wanna see me naked, Colby?” And holy shit, if his gaze didn’t drift. And I don’t mean away to check his phone, or to the fridge for another drink, no—it went down. As in, roaming over my body. His head popped back up and his cheeks pinked just the tiniest bit. And it wasn’t a beer flush either, because I was pretty confident that color hadn’t been there thirty seconds ago. He laughed it off as he stood and walked to the fridge. “Who wouldn’t?” “You,” I muttered. With his head down as he stared into the fridge, he mumbled something. I didn’t quite hear, but could have sworn he said, “That’s what you think.” Had he said that? Or was my brain inserting the words I wanted to hear? Was it possible we were really having a semipassive-aggressive argument about my nakedness? It was probably all the drinking, but no way would I let this opportunity slip by. “All you need to do is ask.” He turned, beer in hand, and leaned against the fridge. “Maybe I’m waiting for you to offer.” “I’m right here.” “So you are.

Fun & Games Mario was the first to initiate a game of strip poker. As the losers discarded pieces of clothing, the gathering began a rapid transformation from suggestive sensuality to active sexual magnetism. A few games later, some of us were down to our skivvies. Through the thin cotton fabrics, our erections were veritably obvious. The Count, standing next to his adolescent friend, Tino, began massaging the boy’s shoulders, stimulating his excitement to full attention. Ugo, the boy’s companion, was forthwith turned on watching his friend’s hardness peeking out of his underwear. The sexual instigator had moved to kiss Tino’s neck as he continued rubbing the boy’s penile wetness, stirring him to tilt his bottom towards his aggressor. As we continued our poker game, we were glancing sideways to observe the unfolding erotica, all the while pretending nothing unusual was happening. Through the corners of our permissive eyes we witnessed The Count’s hand sensually caressing the boy’s scrotum. As with many experienced playboys, Mario was no exception to the art of sensuality and sexuality. He was now rubbing his skimpily covered erection against Tino’s willing buttocks. The two items of clothing separating the man’s hardness and the boy’s slit were their moist underwear. Although the adolescent pretended to focus on his cards, his thoughts betrayed his actions as his body lovingly leaned against the Count’s muscular physique. His hands were intimately gripping Tino’s slender waist.

Bums playing strip poker with a robot. Unsettling. Thanks for showing me.

Blind tasting as such is hardly a skill that will be put to use in a wine career, unless you plan to make a living playing parlor games with wine. Importer and author Kermit Lynch said it best 'blind tastings are to wine what strip poker is to love.

Eddie Grace's buick Got four bullet holes in the side Charley Delisle is sittin' at the top Of an avocado tree Mrs Storm will stab you with a steak knife If you step on her lawn I got a half a pack of lucky strikes man So come along with me Let's fill our pockets With macadamia nuts And go over to Bobby Goodmanson's And jump off the roof Hilda plays strip poker When her mama's across the street Joey Navinsky says she put Her tongue in his mouth Dicky Faulkner's got a switchblade And some gooseneck risers That eucalyptus is a hunchback There's a wind down from the south So let me tie you up with kite string I'll show you the scabs on my knee Watch out for the broken glass Put your shoes and socks on And come along with me Let's follow that fire truck I think your house is burning down Then go down to the hobo jungle And kill some rattlesnakes with a trowel And we'll break all the windows In the old Anderson place We'll steal a bunch of boysenberrys And smear 'em on your face I'll get a dollar from my mama's purse Buy that skull and crossbones ring And you can wear it round your neck On an old piece of string Then we'll spit on Ronnie Arnold And flip him the bird Slash the tires on the school bus Now don't say a word I'll take a rusty nail Scratch your initials in my arm I'll show you how to sneak up on the roof Of the drugstore I'll take the spokes from your wheelchair And a magpie's wings And I'll tie 'em to your shoulders And your feet I'll steal a hacksaw from my dad Cut the braces off your legs And we'll bury them tonight Out in the cornfield Just put a church key in your pocket We'll hop that freight train in the hall We'll slide all the way down the drain To New Orleans in the fall

Viet Cong, young men carelessly eating their breakfast, never suspecting the Americans would be out so early. They paid with their lives. Most of us were pretty excited whenever we actually, but rarely, saw the enemy, much less killed them. But Barnes was cool, so cool, no big displays ever. Having reported the incident, and stripping the dead men, he soon had us under way, no credit taken, looking for further action ahead; considering there had already been contact, the likelihood of more that day was in the air. Whereas some of us were not looking forward to such an encounter, the thought excited Barnes. He was a great soldier, probably on his second or third tour — but why? Why would he come back after a facial wound like he had? I never asked, and he never told. You hear things in the army, as in all society, and some kind of narrative emerges; in this case, the story was that he’d been literally shot or sustained shrapnel in the face, skull, head, requiring a major reconstruction job as the scar branched deeply around his eye, nose, and cheek; even his lips were affected. And as he had clearly once been a handsome man, the scars perversely heightened his visage into a Phantom of the Opera echo — a man distorted, perhaps, by anger or revenge, or really a question mark. What was he about? He never hinted in all the time I was around him. I watched him with both curiosity and trepidation; he’d get back to the rear after we’d been out in the field a week or more and relax with booze, poker, cigarettes, sometimes a cigar. It was said he’d been in Japan in the hospital about eight months, rehabbing from the wound. And there he’d “married a Japanese gal.” And now he was back. Sort of an Ahab looking for his White Whale. And here I was, like Ishmael, walking five or ten steps behind him, always expecting that something was going to break because, like a fly, he smelled the blood of war. As good a soldier as he was, I was relieved when he got rid of me as his radio operator.

Aric glanced at Jaxon, Jake and Kel. “So who wants to help me plan a wedding? Jaxon slapped his whiskey on the poker table. “How long is she withholding sex?” Jake laughed. “I don’t think it has anything to do with that.” “It must,” Jaxon said. “No man ever wants to plan a wedding. That’s the stuff horror movies are made of.” “Tell me about it,” Aric growled. “Jordan’s stressed. I’ve noticed her lack of sleep and I want to make it easier for her.” “So just go do what Nic and I did,” Jake grinned. “Minus her throwing herself at you drunk in front of the Elvis impersonator and trying to strip you naked so you could ‘hit that’.” Aric grinned. “Was it really that bad?” Jake leaned back in the cushion of his sofa chair. “It was great! She was all over me. Elvis asked if we wanted to say anything after our vows and she turned to the people waiting to use the chapel and mom and said ‘he’s really good in bed. He does this thing with his mouth’ but then got interrupted when mom cleared her throat and Elvis started coughing.” Jaxon chuckled. “Your wives are a handful, but they sure are

Do you play cards?” Her lips tingled from the light kiss, “In theory. Why? Do you have a hankering for Old Maid?” She teased, flashing him a smile. He placed his glass down and reached for an intricate metal crafted box. “Not even close. How about a little strip poker?

Marks was so self-contained and tenacious that it was often easy to forget she was still a young woman in her early twenties. When Leo had first met her, she had been the perfect embodiment of a dried-up spinster, with her spectacles and forbidding scowl and her stern hyphen of a mouth. Her spine was unbending as a fireplace poker, and her hair, the dull brown of apple moths, was always pinned back too tightly. The Grim Reaper, Leo had nicknamed her, despite the objections of the family. But the past year had wrought a remarkable change in Marks. She had filled out, her body slender but no longer matchstick thin, and her cheeks had gained color. A week and a half ago, when Leo had arrived from London, he had been absolutely astonished to see Marks with light golden locks. Apparently she had been dyeing her hair for years, but after an error on the part of the apothecary, she had been forced to abandon the disguise. And whereas the darker brown locks had been too severe for her delicate features and pale skin, her own natural blond was stunning. Which had left Leo to grapple with the fact that Catherine Marks, his mortal enemy, was a beauty. It wasn't really the altered hair color that made her look so different... it was more that Marks was so uncomfortable without it. She felt vulnerable, and it showed. As a result, Leo wanted to strip away more layers, literal and physical. He wanted to know her.