Dealer, I Am All In by cmsix

Chapter 1

Yeh, I guess you could call me a freak, a weirdo, or whatever you want. I'm just another guy born too late, well, too late to suit my wanter. I've got a hellacious wanter.

I've been able to satisfy it sometimes, most of the time in fact, but not now. Right now, I want to be a cowboy, but it's too late.

Luckily enough for me, my dad had money and a good business. We lived in a small north-east Texas town and when I was just dying for a horse, he bought me one. Bought both my brothers their own too, when they pissed and moaned after seeing mine.

Oh sure, he made me do a little work to get it. Mow the yard, clean up my own room, wash his car, crap like that. It wasn't really much, but just enough to make me responsible for things. Schoolwork came first too, let me slip up and get a B on a report card and my wanter was starved until the next card came out.

Still life was a breeze, we lived in town so no real chores to do. My brothers were fighting now for their turn to do the mowing. They had wanters too.

The maid washed and ironed our clothes and a different one was there to cook the meals, unless mother decided she wanted a little practice. All I really had to do was my studying and then entertain myself. And feed my horse of course, he lived three blocks away on some empty lots.

My dad was planning on putting in a small subdivision there in a few years, but for now it made a great place to keep my horse. I could hop on my bicycle and be there in five minutes, saddle up and take a ride.

Summer time was even bigger fun. That's when mother would pack my trunk and they'd send me off to Camp LaJunta. I was ten the first year I went and I loved it. Not another soul there knew me and it was starting off fresh with new boys to play with.

I had it made too. I had my own horse at home, so there was no problem learning to ride. I even got to laugh at the others that couldn't even catch a horse in a pen and saddle it up. I got into trouble once for laughing at a kid that got turned around trying to get the saddle on his horse and put it on backwards.

It was the same with riflery practice. I had a 22 at home and I already knew how to shoot. The practice on a real range with genuine paper targets was fun though.

Archery? No problem either. I had a bow at home too, and after getting used to the ones they had at Camp LaJunta it was a snap. I couldn't wait to go to camp every summer, until I was too old after I turned thirteen.

That didn't matter much either, because by then I wanted to do something with girls. I wasn't sure what exactly, but I knew I wanted a girlfriend to kiss on, at least.

At fourteen I could get a driver's license, if I took driver's Ed, and I did. My first car was a hand me down from my dad of course. Someone talked him into buying a Vauxhall. It was a piece of shit little compact four door.

He hated it and I think he was actually glad when he could give it to me and make me take my brothers to school. He went out and bought himself another Oldsmobile the next day.

With a car of my own and since I wanted to go on dates, I got tired of feeding my horse every day, so my dad sold her. Hell, I think he even made fifty bucks on the deal, if you don't count all the feed she ate in three years.

I wasn't a big hit with the ladies and I wasn't sure exactly why. I don't think I was homely or anything like that. Still, none of the girls in my class wanted to go out with me, even though I was practically the only guy in our grade with my own car. Maybe they didn't think any more of my Vauxhall than I did.

Nope, none of the girls my age would go out on a date with me, and I didn't have the balls to ask any of the high school girls out. Damn, I didn't really even know any of them anyway.

That summer would have been a miserable one for me if I hadn't gone to summer school at San Marcos Baptist Academy. Don't get me wrong, it wasn't as much fun as Camp LaJunta had been, but it was somewhere to go during the summer and there were new and different kids to meet.

Heck, getting there and back was even a kind of miniature adventure. Dad thought I was old enough to go by myself. Not in my car of course, but he let me ride the train by myself. They sent someone out from the school to pick up me and my steamer trunk, and after it was over they took me back to the train station.

It was all right, and I had a credit and a half for high school already finished. I didn't find out until later what a rip off it had been. They charged a thousand bucks and change for summer school. Hell, Camp LaJunta was only around three-fifty and it was a bunch more fun. Wasn't really any skin off my ass though, cause daddy could afford it.

That was my last summer of going off somewhere. When I started as a freshman in high school, I tumbled to the reason I couldn't get a date when I was in the eighth grade. Damn, none of the girls I asked out could get their parents to let them go. They all said they were too young, but do you think even one of those bitches would tell me that? Not hardly.

I didn't have much trouble getting dates that year, even if I was too stupid to try taking any of them parking until after the Christmas break, when I built up my nerve. Oh, they'd still turn me down and brag about already having a date with someone else if they did, but if they didn't they'd usually say yes quick enough. Except for Lee Ellen.

Sometimes Lee Ellen would go and sometimes she wouldn't, and it wasn't necessarily that she already had a date. I never found out what the deal was.

We had fun when we did go out, or at least I did, and after I tumbled to the notion, she didn't mind going parking, most of the time. She was even the first girl that let me get her bra undone so I could kiss her titties, and she acted like she liked it at the time

She wasn't about to let me tickle her fuzz though and none of the others would either. I didn't really expect them to; girls back then didn't give up pussy very often, not for freshmen anyway.

That summer I finally started to figure things out. I'm not sure that I ever would have if it hadn't been for Jenna Gray. She wasn't from my hometown. She was in town visiting her cousin, Hillary, for the summer.

Hillary wasn't such a much even though she was nice. She was a year younger than me, but her parents let her date, kind of, with a guy my age. Of course they were going to get married after school. Yeh, of course they were.

Anyway, Harold, Hillary's boyfriend, asked me to take her cousin out on a double date with Hillary and him. I wasn't doing anything anyway so I was up for it, even though I had never seen Jenna. Harold said she looked good and that was good enough.

Since it was a double date, I knew that my Vauxhall would be a pain, and so I tore it up a little and my mom let me use her Oldsmobile 98 in the emergency. So far so good.

I got Harold first and we picked up Hillary and Jenna and was I surprised. Jenna looked great. I mean she was as cute as she could be and nice too.

When we were in the car she scooted over right up against me and laid her little hand on my thigh like we were the best of friends. When we got to the drive in, after the movie started I figured what the hell and turned to kiss her. She was all for it and kissed back like a champ.

Later, when I tried to feel her titty, it was fine with her. She gave a little moan down in her throat and the next thing I knew she'd moved into my lap and unbuttoned her own blouse about halfway down. My dick was harder than times in '29.

I don't have any idea what movie was playing because I spent the whole thing playing with Jenna. I don't think Harold and Hillary were watching it either, in fact I'm sure they weren't because I could see in the rearview mirror that they were below the level of the seat.

When the movie was over we headed for home, but I pulled off at the lake and drove to a nice secluded parking spot, so the fun could continue. I don't think Jenna had even bothered to hook her bra back together.

We were back at it in seconds and when I put my head down to suck on one of her nipples, she sighed and hugged my head to her tighter. My big surprise came when I tried to slip my hand up between her legs, under her skirt. She spread her legs a little wider to give me room.

Man, I was in heaven. She had a girdle on, like almost all the girls wore back then, but it wasn't real tight. Hell, she didn't really need one anyway. When I got my fingers in there all the tips found was hair and some slick flesh. I could hardly believe it, but I didn't dare hope for too much.

I went for broke then, pulling my hand out and reaching both of them up under her dress to the waistband of the girdle. I was floored when she raised her hips enough for me to get the girdle completely off. From there it was only seconds for me to get my pants undone and when my dick sprang up, Jenna wrapped her hand around it and gave it a few quick pumps.

I was going for the gold though, or I was going to try. Jenna was all for it, and when I raised her skirt to her waist and eased her to her back on the seat, she spread her legs wide as I climbed between them.

She guided my dick right into her wet warm pussy when I pushed it toward her and she put her legs around my waist as I pumped for all I was worth. I know it must have been longer but it seemed like only seconds before I shot my wad right up in her.

Hell, she acted like it was a grand idea and kept hugging me and kissing around on my face and neck, she even sucked on my ear lobe. That was another wonderful move on her part. It was so surprising and such a turn on that my deflating dick did an about face and inflated again.

Jenna, must have known what was going to happen after I blew come up her and she must have been surprised when I came back to life. It didn't slow her down though, because when I started pumping it up her again she seemed thrilled.

She humped her hips under me as I fucked and she sucked on my neck til I had a hickey the next day. Looking back on it, I don't know how it could have possibly happened, but Jenna was building up to a come of her own.

Soon enough her nails were digging into my back and she was making these little squealing noises and getting higher and louder with them. I remember Hillary, in the back, whispering to Harold.

"But they just met, we've never done it and we're going to get married."

Well they didn't ever get married, but I did get my first pussy and Jenna finally got a good come of her own. I'll say this for Jenna, she was grateful for it. She must have kissed and nibbled on me for the next hour.

We got our clothes back on and went to Hillary's house. In the living room we split up to different couches for some more grubbing. My dick was hard and I was planning on getting some more pussy, and when we got started Jenna was right with me.

I would have been scared shitless to try anything like that in any other girl's house, but Jasper Kirkland dated Hillary's older sister, Jane, and he'd told me that he never even took her parking because the parents made it a point to never come back downstairs if one of the girls brought a date home. So if Jenna was willing, who was I to chicken out.

It wasn't to be though, I guess Hillary thought Jenna and I were having too much fun. After a few minutes she went over and turned on the lights and said that she and Jenna had to go to bed.

They walked Harold and I to the door and he nearly beat me to death on the way to the car, he was patting me on the back so hard.

Along with the mother of all hickies on my neck, good old Jenna had let me in on the reason I couldn't get any off my classmates though. Girls want the boy fucking them to be older than they are. I'm not even sure if they're conscious of it, but that's the way it's always worked out for me.

I'm not saying that everytime you date a younger girl she'll give up the sweet meat, but I never got a bit from any girl my age, and I got a lot of pussy in high school and college. Of course, I didn't bother with girls my age or older.

That was then and this is now. I got good grades in high school and good grades in college. Of course I had to go to college or end up shooting people I wasn't even mad at in Vietnam. I even stayed around for a masters to make sure they had that all wrapped up.

When I graduated I went right back home and advised my dad about his business. For the size town it was he had a giant retail business, a lumberyard, a grocery store, feed store, hardware, dry goods, ready to wear, shoe store, furniture, and appliances. He even had three other lumberyards in other towns.

He had paid for my education and he thought I should take a little time to study his business and tell him how to improve his profits. I did and I was almost sure of the answer before I checked his books. After going over them for three weeks, I told him the same thing his longtime, in house, accountant had been telling him for years.

Sell it. Sell everything you can and give away the rest. The town was too small to support the kind of inventory he was carrying, and bigger things were coming. Wal-Mart was just being born and one of its forerunners, in our part of the state anyway, Howard's, already had a store in our town.

I was pretty sure he wasn't going to listen to me or his own accountant. He thought he was bullet proof because he was getting around 250k a year in cash from the sale of a giant tract of land down by Houston.

It was land his father and his father's brother had accumulated when they'd had sawmills down there in the thirties. The people that bought it put a planned city there. Maybe you've heard of Woodlands Texas. But the note was going to be paid off in the next year, and the cash he'd had available to waste keeping his little kingdom alive was about to dry up.

I won't say it could ever be called beneficial for someone to have a heart attack, but it damned sure didn't hurt my dad, much. While he was in the hospital, his sisters and brothers - they were all on his board of directors for IRS purposes - held a board meeting and sold his little empire, lock stock and barrel.

When my dad came home from the hospital - people could actually stay in the hospital until they were nearly well back then - all he had left was a little over a million bucks in cash. That was still a hell of a lot of money in 1971 though.

He bought a used bank building for an office and started studying for a Real Estate Broker's License. What the hell, he needed something to do.

Another little quirk of fate hit me about then. Before I even needed to start looking for a job with my Marketing degree, one of my dad's cousins died. It wasn't a shattering loss for our family, but I'd known the guy all my life and most of us went down to Conroe for the funeral.

Of couse us kids called him Uncle Jake, even though he was dad's cousin. It just isn't right to call someone that much older than you cous.

He didn't have any wife or kids and he hadn't pissed away his part of the land deal trying to keep up a small town retail empire, so when his will split up the money and royalties, I wound up with seventy-five thousand bucks. Luckily I was just old enough to miss out on the trust fund deal that my two younger brothers got caught up in.

When I got my check, I looked around and found a 1963 Corvette Split Window Coupe. It was really the only model Corvette I ever liked, before or since.

I had the engine redone, the paint too, bought a new set of tires, filled up the thirty-six gallon tank, packed a grip, and hauled my ass for Las Vegas. I'd played enough cards in college to know that there isn't much to poker; if you can figure out what people are thinking when they really don't want you to.

Sure there's math and odds and probabilities, but that's really small time in the scheme of a poker game. In the first place, you don't get enough information to make a real calculated estimation of your chances. The math helps you a little, with the simple part, but it isn't critical.

Probabilities are all well and good, but every hand of poker is an individual trial. It isn't even like blackjack where you can remember past hands to boost your chances on the next one. They shuffle the deck after every hand of poker.

I got a room at Binyon's as soon as I hit town and spent the first night mainly just looking around. I played a few slots, a little blackjack, rolled some dice and even threw away a few bucks on roulette. I only wanted to get into the mood though.

The next night I played some poker.

I know, I know, Binions is the home of the World Series of Poker and it's famous now, it's even on TV. It wasn't back then and I didn't want to be famous anyway. Even if I didn't get rich at it, I wanted to see if I could make a living playing cards. I could, hell, it was a cinch.

I won money the first night. It wasn't a lot of money but it was a couple of thousands bucks. It already paid more than an entry level job in Marketing. Plus, it was mostly tax free.

I wasn't interested in poker tournaments, I was interested in cash. It is a little funny after you get known as someone who wins most of the time. Other people that are trying to make a living playing poker will stop, or at least slow way down on playing with you.

The good thing is the rich people who think they know how to play poker want to play you if you're good. It's almost comical really. They want to try their hand against the pros, and they pay out the ass to do it.

Early on, I let a rich arab take a ten thousand dollar pot. He was so happy about it that he spent a hundred thousand trying to do it again, and was happy to. Not two months later another one showed up looking for me and after I let him win twelve thousand he dropped over two hundred k on me.

Six months later the first one was back, he had to top his buddy's winnings - what winnings, I thought, but I knew what he meant and after he won his fifteen thousand dollar pot he paid the three hundred thousand out like a man, and left as happy as a lark.

While the rest of the world was straining under the load of outrageous oil prices, I was getting richer than Croesus off rich arabs that wanted to win some money gambling. It got so I had to make myself not break out laughing every time I bought gasoline.

And there were beautiful women everywhere. I'm not talking about hookers, they aren't even legal in Las Vegas, even though there are plenty of them around.

After a few weeks of tipping the waitresses twenty bucks every time they brought me a free drink, and talking to them, instead of talking at their titties, I was on a first name basis with them all, and it was their real first names too.

It didn't take long after that to find out which ones were married, had boyfriends or girlfriends, and which ones would go out on their night off. Just like any other woman, they liked flowers and presents and they let you know when they were ready to share some pussy with you.

Soon enough they clued in the showgirls they were friendly with and it wasn't long before I had a damed good chance of fucking any waitress or showgirl in town that liked boys and didn't have one of their own.

There was even one big tittied blonde, she was six feet tall and as athletic as any woman I've ever seen, that called me every time she broke up with a boyfriend. I'd always have to come over and console her for a couple of days and reassure her that she could, in fact, come from being fucked. Hell, I live to serve.

I know you've seen the guys on TV by now. The ones that say they just love to gamble. I hate to gamble and I never do it knowlingly. I'm a working stiff, it just so happens that my job is playing poker.

I spent ten years in Vegas, and the only time I ever put a coin in a slot machine was the first night. I did go down to Caesars' one night and took a hundred thousand from a blackjack dealer before the guys came over and told me I couldn't play anymore.

"Heck, Johnny, I was just fartin' around, I don't even want your money. Here, I'll take it over to the cage and give up the chips."

He didn't believe me and when I did it he finally figured out that it was all my idea of a big joke. Of course they took the money while they laughed. Still, a floor manager came over and told me that anytime I needed a room all I had to do was ask, it would be on the house. Company included if I wanted some.

For ten years I lived in Las Vegas and played poker at least five nights a week. I won over fifteen million dollars in that ten years and didn't pay taxes on any more than two hundred thousand a year.

Of course it isn't all gravy. When you have so much unreported cash you can't just invest it all in stocks or bonds, and you damned sure can't put it in the bank. I was able to invest some of it, but mostly it was for low rates and it was never legal.

I finally figured I had as much money as I'd ever need and after traveling around the country for a year, I moved back home to Texas.

My net worth on books wasn't so good, oh it was good enough but nothing spectacular. When I found a thousand acres that I wanted, I had to talk to an understanding banker and put half a million in a safety deposit box as collateral for him to make the loan bearable.

They were also happy to finance my truck, and the house I built on the land. I managed to fuck off about a year and a half getting the place like I wanted it, but by then I was out of something to do.

Lo and behold the big blonde from Vegas called me about then. Jerrilyn was devastated after her last breakup and needed me desparetly. And since I was at loose ends, I was able to console her for a month this time.

But, she met Mr Right again, and I went back home and was bored. At least I picked up two hundred thousand in my spare time in Neveda.

I needed some hobbies, so I took up shooting again and reloading this time, and I even messed with black powder some. I built an outdoor range and proceeded to get really good with my guns.

A year of that and then I wanted to breed Quarter Horses. I started off small with a stallion for fifty thousand and a couple of twenty thousand dollar mares.

I was determined to train them too, and I built an arena and a round pen and had a welder build me a giant horse walker. Of course the horses were already trained, but they put up with my foolishness even though I'm sure they laughed at me behind my back.

It came to me in a dream one night that I needed two big mules and some camping equipment. I could strike out on my horse, leading the mules that would be loaded down with food and camping gear and I'd have a high old time.

Damned if it didn't work. After three weeks of driving all over East Texas, looking for big mules, a guy finally told me that I should be looking in Missouri for the best mules.

"They don't call 'em Missouri Mules for nothing you know," he said.

So I hitched my horse trailer to my pickup and struck out for Missouri. It was a snap. I found two giant, well mannered - as well mannered as mules get anyway - mules just north of Springfield.

At home, with something to shop for, I spent days on the phone buying pack saddles, camping gear, a tent and hundreds of accessories. By the time it all came in I was afraid I'd have to buy two more mules.

But I packed, unpacked, repacked and on and on and on. For my first official camping trip, I loaded both mules with their packsaddles, and put the saddlebags on the stallion, and I'd managed to wedge in almost all of the crap I'd bought. Then I headed out for the back of my property to find a spot to camp.

I know it sounds stupid but it wasn't that trivial. My land was almost all wooded - one of the reasons it cost so much was because the timber hadn't been cut over for at least a hundred years - and there were no real trails or roads through from one side to the other. I could never have made it with even a big four wheel drive vehicle.