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Walnut Street - The Queen of Hearts
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Walnut Street - The Queen of Hearts It was a late night poker game at the Big House on Walnut Street. We were at the big table in the kitchen drinking and pretending we were ass deep in Vegas playing high stakes with 4 full sets of poker chips divided among all the players. The actual buy in was $20 but we had over a million in chips to play with. Winner takes all… ($200). The night had gone well and we were down to only 5 players left with chips. "Card," I said to the dealer after tossing in my “hundred-dollar” ante. I took up the fresh card, adding the eight of hearts to the ten and Jack in the same suit in my hand. With the deuce, I had a straight flush. I silently thanked my good fortune, hoping I wasn't giving any tells to the other players around the table. I glanced to the others surreptitiously. There was Mike, the “owner” of the Big House, whom I knew pretty well. He was chewing his cigar thoughtfully, tilting it up slightly with his jaw. That told me he had a so-so hand. I figured I had him. Wild Bill – held a stoic expression behind his reflective sunglasses, although his left ear twitched: bad hand. Bill comes from the grand state of Arizona which was one of the reasons we called him “Wild” Bill. I had him, too. The third person at the table was only known as Mueller He doesn’t live in the Big House but comes buy for the occasional party or card game. I had only played with him once before, and didn't like him too much. He wore way too much cologne and was always fidgeting. I figure he had Tourette's Syndrome or something. Or maybe he only faked it to hide any tells. I couldn't read him all too well. Lastly was Robin. I had played with her a few times, enjoyed a few drinks with her. She was an attractive woman, exotic, even, with her milky, alabaster skin and short, dark hair. Her body was slender, with narrow shoulders and large breasts which were never encumbered by a bra. That much was obvious by the fact that her nipples were always erect, pushing through whichever top she wore. Mike and Robin were an item, not exactly “going together” but more like friends with lots of benefits. On that night, Robin wore a slinky V-neck that plunged almost all the way to her navel. The looseness of her blouse offered near-glimpses of what I was sure were very pink and impressive nipples. I had no doubt that Robin's exhibitionist wardrobe was intentional; anything that distracted the men gave her an edge. She was a good player, though. She had taken the first round, after all.  "Bet," Mike said gruffly, tossing in another hundred. Wild Bill paused a moment, then matched the bet. As did Mueller. Robin didn't hesitate, glancing to me briefly. The few times I had shared a drink with her here in the Big House, she had been flirtatious, but only to a point. After the hot reception I got from her and Mike when I moved into the Big House – I'd have let her know my sheets needed warming. But I was a gentleman, for the most part. After all, Mike could make me homeless again in a heartbeat if I overstepped my bounds. Still, I wondered. I took up a hundred, then another. "Raise," I said, meeting Robin's eyes. She smiled slyly. Mike bristled slightly. "Fine," he said, tossing in his chips. It went back to Wild Bill, who sighed, slapping down his cards. "Fold." I smirked. One down . . . . "I'm in," said Mueller, dropping a green chip. Robin followed suit. "Cards?" the dealer asked. Mike elected for another, as did I. Robin and Mueller kept their hands. My shit four of clubs had been replaced by a queen of hearts. I felt a moment's excitement as I arranged it, then took a sip of my beer. Mike grumbled and dropped his cards on the table, leaning back. "Fold," he growled. He glared at me for a moment, then chuckled. Mueller, stoic as he had been throughout the first two hands, picked up two green and tossed them casually on the table without a word. Robin started to reach, hesitating briefly, then added her two chips as well. I tried not to smile. No way her hand's as good as mine, I knew. I banked the bet. "Call," I said, and laid out my cards, the deuce acting as the nine of hearts. Immediately, Robin cursed, revealing her two pair. I looked to Mueller. He had given me a good run in the previous game – which I had won – so I wasn't sure if I was about to lose six “hundred bucks” or not. Mueller breathed in slowly, then laid out his low straight. Six, seven, eight, ten and jack of Diamonds. A good hand. But not good enough. He gave me a nod, stood from the table. "Good game, Mr. Bond," he said, then took up his beer. I nodded back, then leaned forward and raked in the “two thousand dollars'” worth of chips. Not a bad return for a six-buck investment and five minutes of my time. Mike congratulated me, then added, with a wink, that he would be in the in the den knocking back a beer. I chuckled. Sure, I'll buy you a drink, I thought. "See you guys around," Wild Bill said with a self-deprecating look. "I'm going back to my room to study since I’m all out of chips like Mike." My eyes drifted to the big cleavage as I stacked my chips. Thanks to winning the second round as well, I had over half of the chips in front of me. "You done for the night, as well?" I asked. “That makes me the owner of the buy in you know.” Robin's eyes smoldered slightly, her narrow yet lush lips curled at the corners. She had to be the most gracious loser I had ever met, which was most likely due to the fact that it did not happen often. "You know, I have a hard time reading you," she admitted. "The only tell I've picked up is that your left eyebrow twitches when you're borderline." I smiled, sipped my beer. "I'll have to watch that." Robin leaned with her arms folded on the table, her back straight. She sure knew how to use what she had. Robin was a confidently sexy woman, very sure of herself. I imagined that Mike was a man easily controlled by her. I let myself graze over the exposed portions of her body with my eyes, noting the faint spattering of freckles on her porcelain skin. Her arms from the shoulders to her hands were practically brown with the sexy patina, making for a contrast that I found erotic. "How about one more game, Jimmy?" she suggested. "Just you and me. Five-buck ante, no limit. For all the money in the pot. Mike can be the dealer." I arched an interested eyebrow. "Why the steep stakes?" I asked. Her eyes twinkled. "Nervous?" I shook my head with a small laugh. "Just curious." Robin shrugged. "I'm feeling lucky," she said. But I noticed her temples moving as she worked her jaw. There was a note of desperation about Robin's actions I had never seen before. I decided not to think about it; a good poker player did not let personal feelings influence his decisions. It was not my obligation to deduce Robin's financial situation and her attendant motives for gambling. I picked up a stack of green chips and let them clack-clack-clack back onto the table. "Sure." Robin grinned and eased back, giving a nod to the dealer. Blue-backed cards slid across the table toward us. I took them up as Robin did the same. My cards were a random mix; three of clubs, seven of spades, nine of diamonds, ten of spades, and a sharp deuce. I took that last card as a positive sign. "Ante up," Robin said, tossing five hundred on the table. Her face was blank, expressionless. I followed her lead, slapped down the three and the seven. "Cards," I said to Mike, the dealer. He shot them to me, as well as two to Robin. I tossed in another five. "Bet." Robin's nostrils flared slightly, but she did not hesitate to match the bet. "Raise," she said, flashing her green eyes to me while dropping one large on the pot. I smiled slowly. A reckless feeling rolled through me. "Oh, you are feeling lucky, aren't you?" I said, matching the bet. "I see your “thousand”, and raise you another." I felt pretty confidant, despite the fact that all I had was a pair of tens. Robin watched me drop the chips, and swallowed nervously. Or perhaps it was just for show; I had seen Robin fake nervousness before, to encourage her opponents to overextend themselves. She glanced briefly to her cards, then matched the bet. The chips danced on the pile already made. She pulled her hand back, then took up another stack of green chips. She let them fall slowly, deliberately. "And I raise you another grand." I met her eyes, not sure what I saw there. Confidence? Desperation? This time, it was I who hesitated, and Robin smiled slowly. I considered what I held: a simple pair of tens. Not the best hand, but not the worst, either. If Robin was bluffing, if my instincts about her were correct, I stood a good chance of winning all the chips. "Sure," I said at last. "What the hell." I tossed in another “thousand”. Robin watched the chips dance in the middle of the table. I got the immediate impression she had not expected to see that. Robin breathed in slowly, then lay down her cards. "Pair of nines," she said, not looking to me. I let mine drop with a grin. "Tens." Robin cursed under her breath and sagged back. " of a bitch," she muttered. She looked absolutely crestfallen, and for a moment, I took pity on her. But just for a moment. This was the nature of the beast, after all. Sometimes you win, sometimes you lose. I could feel for Robin, but fair was fair. The game was what it was. I gathered my chips and saw that the few left in Robin’s stack wasn’t nearly enough to be a challenge. Robin stared at her small mound of chips – just over a “thousand”, She took up her half-finished glass of beer and downed it. "Good game," I said. Robin licked her lips, then forced a smile. Finally, her eyes settled on mine. "Yes it was, Jimmy," she said, and left the table and moved out to the den. I watched her go, admiring that tight, round little ass beneath the loose black skirt she wore. But more than the base and brief sexual thoughts I entertained about Robin, I wondered as to her conduct. Robin had never given me the impression that she took gambling any more seriously than I. Yet, in the space of a single game, I had gained the idea that there was something troubling her. Something for which she needed money to resolve. Mike made a comment something like “To the winner goes the spoils.” as he handed me the $200 by in pot. I sputtered with laughter, shaking my head ruefully. "Good one, Mike," I said. He laughed as well, showing cigar-stained teeth. "Thought you might like that one, Jimmy." I raised my glass, still chuckling. "To good humor," I said. "Good humor," echoed Mike. A small purse fell to the table, just before Robin pulled out a chair and took a seat. "I hope this isn't a private party, gentlemen," she said. "If it is, I'm crashing." The smile never left my lips as I looked Robin over. "And I'm buying," I said. She pursed her lips a moment, looking to me. "Damn right you are," she said. I laughed softly, as I went to the fridge and returned with three cold beers. I turned back to Robin. "Least I can do for taking your money." "Oh, hey, careful, Jimmy," Mike warned me. "The game stays at the table." I glanced to him with mild admonishment. "You're right," I said. "I—" "How did you know I was bluffing?" Robin asked quickly. I looked back to her, noting the fierce glow in her green colored eyes. "I guessed," I said. She looked surprised. "You guessed?" I nodded, indicated the cocktail waitress as she stood over Robin's shoulder. "I guessed," I repeated. "Did I have any tells?" I chuckled, "Why are you so worried? Everyone has tells. Is that what this is about?" Robin sat back, sighing heavily. Her eyes roamed over me. "I want another game. Just you and me. No ante, no bets, just $200 on the line." I arched an eyebrow in interest, then chuckled. I glanced to Mike, who gave me an interested look, then back to Robin. "The Big House is the wrong place for desperation." Robin frowned, insulted. "I'm not—" she began, then stopped, casting her gaze down. She worked her jaw a moment, those sexy red lips parting softly. "I can take you." I sipped my beer. "Maybe," I said. "But I've had a good night. I think I'll stop while I'm ahead." Robin glared at me, her green eyes strong, bright, almost intimidating. "What's'a'matter? Don't you have the balls?" "Whoa, whoa," cautioned Mike. ”Sweetheart, we’re all friends here. Let’s not get ahead of ourselves OK?” I ignored his words and stared back at Robin. "Actually, I do. Two of them. Big and full and ready to burst. Why? You willing to do something about that?" Alcohol and my gambling high were making me feel reckless. Robin didn't hesitate as she shot back. "Maybe. Maybe I want some entertainment." "Huh?" muttered Mike. “OK… fine with me.” He smiled a wicked little grin and winked at me. “I think our dear Robin wants to role play Jimmy. This is her “I’m in trouble and I need help” fantasy.” Mike had told me about this situation before. Robin was a big fan of role play and her code word for it was “entertainment”. Looks like we were going to step into the Twilight Zone right here and right now. I grinned at Robin. "You can't play me, baby," I said, and eased back and getting into character. Robin ground her teeth a moment, then took up the glass beer bottle and tilted it back. Half of the BUD was gone when she set it back down. "What is it, Robin?" I asked her. "You've never been serious about gambling before. You played your hands, took your losses well. Why is this different?" Robin tapped her fingers along the stem of the beer bottle, breathing in and out. "I need the money," she said. "I need it tonight." I frowned. "Why?" She sighed heavily. "I owe money," she said. "I've almost got it all, but I'm $200 short. I have to have it tomorrow, or . . . ." Mike leaned forward. "Or?" he asked. Robin shot him a look. The fear and anxiety was suddenly obvious on her face. She didn't say a thing. "Who do you owe?" I asked. Robin's lips quivered as she took a breath. "Andre Navokov," she said in a heavy voice. Mike and I exchanged a quick glance and groaned in unison. "Who is that?" I muttered. "Are you fucking stupid?" Mike asked Robin bluntly. "You took a loan from the most psychotic Russian mobster—" Yeah, I could tell this was one of their favorites. I needed to catch up quickly. "Yes!" she cried, slapping her hand to the table. "I'm stupid, all right? I started doing well at the tables, then fell back, and I needed to replace the money I took from my husband's account so he wouldn't notice! Fucking sue me!" I sighed heavily, considering my options. "You being level with me?" I asked her. Robin lifted her head. Her eyes were swollen, red, glistening with tears that threatened to burst. "Yes." I thought to myself, (Damn, this girl can ACT!) I closed my eyes a moment, then reached into my jacket for my billfold. "Fine," I said, beginning to count through the money. "But you owe me, Robin. I won't be as bad as Navokov, but—" "No," she said firmly, grabbing my wrist. Her eyes burned into mine. "I won't get out of debt with one man just to be in debt with another." I stared back. "So you want a one-shot game?" I asked. "What if you lose? Then you'll be in the hole and even more fucked. Don't put this on me, Robin. I'm sorry you made a bad decision, but you made it." I could tell from Mike’s expression I was getting into the groove with this “mobster” act. "I know that," she hissed defensively. Her hard features relaxed slowly, and she slid back across the table, taking up her beer. "I'll sweeten the bet." I narrowed my eyes in suspicion. "How so?" She gulped down the rest of her BUD, took a breath to steady herself. "One round, five large," she said. "Mike deals. I win, I take your money and pay off Navokov and go home with my kneecaps intact." "And if you lose . . . ." I prompted. Robin stared at the top of the table, licking the edges of her teeth. Her pale cheeks colored slightly. "If I lose . . . I still get the five." I snorted. "And what the hell do I get?" She lifted her dazzling green eyes slowly. "Me." "Ooo," I heard Mike mutter in interest. He winked at me giving me the “go ahead and fuck her” nod. I blinked, wondering if I had heard Robin correctly. "What was that?" I asked. Robin closed her eyes, her narrow chest swelling as she filled her lungs. She gave me a brave look. "If you win, you can have me, Jimmy, all night. Any way you want, as much as you want. I won't say no, I won't have a headache. Anything you want, Jimmy. Anything." I felt my libido stirring, making my cock swell in my slacks. "And you still get your $200," I said. Robin nodded slowly. "Yes." I snickered. "Sounds like you can't lose," I said. She shrugged, then smiled in that confident way I had seen several times across the green felt of a poker table. "No, but you can." I fell quiet, contemplating the two hundred-plus sitting in my wallet. If I agreed to Robin's proposal, I would have to give her the $200 I won that night regardless . . . and, if I won, carnal knowledge of Robin. As a gambler, I could appreciate the intricacy of the bet. $200 on the line, versus Robin's charms and complete submission. I looked to Mike for his input, saw the encouraging grin there. If nothing else, I knew, Mike wanted the vicarious thrill of having been part of this deal, come what may. They do have a funny relationship. I met Robin's eyes once more. "I'm a fairly kinky guy," I said adding a mobster drawl to my voice. She nodded. "I know," she said with a sly smile. I laughed, downed my beer. "What the hell. You're on." Both Mike and I were pretty well 'in' with the whole fantasy poker sexcapade thing so we needed a private room and chose my bedroom with a fold up card table and chairs as props. Robin and I faced one another across the small table as Mike took the dealer's post. We did not use chips, nor cash. The stakes were clear. "Five card stud," Mike said, flipping the cards out fluidly. Robin and I stared at one another as we caught and gathered them up. Her bright green orbs glittered in the light of the room, fixated upon me. "No bets, no raises," Mike continued. "One round to exchange cards. It's put up, or, uh . . . put out." I smirked slightly at his words, only briefly taking my eyes off Robin to check my hand. I had crap. Only the queen of diamonds to sit high, if it came to that. Robin stared back. "Two cards," she said, sliding her discards across the table. Mike cast two fresh ones to her, and she took them up, her eyes blazing fiercely at me. Her doll-pale cheeks glowed with rouge. "Two," I said as well, and took up the new cards Mike gave me. I tried not to grin as I settled the queen of hearts next to her sister. A high pair. Tough to beat. For a long moment, Robin and I simply gazed into one another's eyes. I relished the thought that I had a chance to bed her, and not only that, but in any way I wished. As much as I wished. I could see myself as a happy, content, and thoroughly satisfied man come the morning. "Call," I said, and set my queens upon the table. Robin stared at my cards for a long moment, her lips slowly parting. She looked to her hand, breathed slowly in and out . . . then folded her cards down. She pushed back from the table and regarded me with an inscrutable expression. "We doing it here?" she asked me. For a moment, I took pity upon her once more. "You don't—" "Are we doing it here?" Her voice was firm, determined. I sighed. "Yes," I said. She nodded, looking away. "Give me an hour," she said, then pushed up from the table and left the room. I looked to Mike. "You know, I'm not sure if I should be happy or not." He shrugged, and reached across the table to gather up the cards. "She set the stakes, Jimmy. She was ready to accept them. It's the gambler's rule: you never play if you can't handle the loss.” Again he winked and said, “Remember to stay in character. She gets pissed if you break character." I nodded. Sage advice, I thought. I stood. "Guess I'd better take a shower." Mike smiled. "Bed her well," he said. It was a little before eleven that night when the knock came. I was clad in only my robe, smoking a cigarette beside the open balcony door. The night air that wafted in was cool, but not cold. I could hear the traffic on Walnut Street and the faint beat of music coming up from the den downstairs. I opened the door to find an absolute vision before me. Robin wore a loose, shimmering silk gown of deepest red, looking like a professional escort. She smelled sweetly of roses and sported fresh, if minimal, makeup. Her eyes glowed like beacons as she stared up at me. "Good evening, Mr. Bond," she said in a soft, breathy, sultry voice. Whatever reservations I may have had regarding our tryst vanished instantly. I drank in the sight of my imminent lover, enjoying the contrast of the dark scarlet dress to her pure, pale skin. Arousal coursed through me, overriding all thoughts of reason or morality. I wanted Robin, and that was all that mattered. I said nothing, just stepped aside and let her in. Robin slinked her way into the room, swaying her hips slightly. The dress she wore had practically no back; it plunged all the way down, just past the base of her spine, revealing the swell of her firm, round buttocks. She turned her head slightly. "Got something to drink?" I closed the door, stepped up behind her. I felt her shudder slightly as my hands touched her shoulders. I breathed in her scent for a moment, then stepped away. "Beer or liquor?" She watched me with a small, nervous smile. "Beer." I nodded, took a bottle from the cooler and popped it open. I filled two glasses, brought one to her. We clinked, sipped. Her green eyes glowed. "So . . . what would you like?" she asked. I glanced to the broad balcony door. "Come on," I said, and took her free hand. Robin offered no protest as I lead her outside. The gentle breeze washed over us. Robin stepped to the railing of the balcony, looking out over the city. I sat upon one of the lounge chairs, watching her. Robin seemed to think for a moment, sipping her beer. Finally, she turned around to face me, and smiled. "Open your robe," she said softly. I set my glass aside. Keeping my gaze locked with hers, I untied the belt around my waist and separated the folds of terrycloth that kept me decent. My cock was already hard, laying upon my abdomen. I settled my feet to the ground on either side of the chair. Robin's gaze softened somewhat as she looked upon my nakedness. Her eyes were riveted to my dick, it seemed. She licked her lips, drained her glass. Recklessly, she tossed the empty vessel to the corner of the balcony, where it shattered, and stepped forward. Her face glowed as she slipped off her dress. "I'll do anything you want, Jimmy," she whispered. Her dress fell with the slightest flutter to her feet, leaving her in only her scarlet-colored heels. "Any fantasy . . . any kink." I breathed in, trembling with arousal. Robin was, simply put, gorgeous. Her breasts, large globes, floated high and firm, sporting thick, bright pink nipples. Her torso was narrow, with just a little softness to her stomach that I found endearing, sloping down and in toward a pubic mound topped with dark colored hair. I noticed that her pubic curls had been sculpted into a heart shape, with the lower point drawing the eye to a dusky pink clitoris framed by smooth, fleshy vulva. "Come here," I beckoned her. Dutifully, Robin approached, stopping at the foot of the lounge. "What do you want?" she asked. I took a deep breath to calm myself. "I want your mouth," I said. She smiled slightly, and looked to my crotch. "Do you want me to suck your cock?" she asked, with all the casual aplomb of a submissive. I shuddered. "Yes." Robin's smile broadened, just a little, as she settled to her knees. She leaned over my groin, running her hands up my thighs. She gazed upon my thick cock approvingly, inhaled my scent through her nostrils. She sighed softly, then lowered her head, opening her mouth, slipping her tongue out. I groaned as she licked my cock, dragging her wet tongue from base to tip over and over. My hands gripped the arm rests of the lounge, and I found myself pushing my hips toward her. Robin murmured softly, lapping up and down, breathing hotly on my shaft. Nothing in what she did gave me the impression that she was not enjoying herself. I even began believing that she wanted our union.  "Oh, God," I moaned, as Robin sucked my balls into her mouth, one at a time at first, moving back and forth, then both of them together. Her sucking lips, her massaging tongue . . . oh, sweet Nirvana . . . . She panted on my dick, releasing my balls, licking up along the shaft, tilting it up with her hands. I sighed loudly as her mouth slid down the length of me. I looked down, watching her engulf me, swallow me, devour me. She paused a moment as the head of my cock pressed against the back of her mouth. Then she pushed down, taking it all in. I grunted, feeling the sweet, caressing tightness of her throat. Her lips pulled at the very base of my manhood. "Robin . . . oh, Robin . . . ." She slipped up with a gentle swallow and soft gasp around my cock, but kept working her lips and tongue up and down the length. Her hands joined the action, pumping, stroking me and rolling my balls. "I wanna make you cum, Jimmy," she whispered, her lips fluttering around the sensitive head. "I wanna taste it" I groaned, writhing in pleasure. "Suck it, baby," I gasped. "Make me cum." She sighed heatedly, then dove down, sucking and pulling with her mouth and hands. Her movements seemed to be inspired by desperate urgency, matched only by my own. I languished in bliss, bucking beneath her. Robin moved her head back and forth, moaning as she sucked and pulled, massaging my cock from all sides. Her gorgeous green eyes flashed up to mine now and then, twinkling with mischief and desire. How sexy she looked with her lips wrapped wetly around my shaft . . . . "Oh, God!" I cried at last, bucking my hips up, shoving my cock into Robin's throat. She gurgled a moment, slid back quickly. Hands stroked me fervently, squeezing with the tightness of a vice, her mouth sucked hard on just the head. My body exploded with fire as I erupted in her mouth. Robin moaned as she felt the hot sluices of fluid jetting along her tongue. She stroked my spurting shaft frantically, swirling her tongue all around the head. The effect was mind-numbing, maddening, borderline agonizing. I clasped her head in my hands, unsure if I should push her down or pull her off. "Jesus, Robin," I muttered. "Mmm," she moaned, steadfastly sucking me. Robin wrapped her arms around my waist, taking my dick all the way into her throat. I shuddered, trying to endure the intensity of the pleasure she gave me. "Enough, baby, enough," I sputtered, pulling on her head. Robin lifted up, letting my cock slip from her mouth to fall heavily against my abdomen. She licked her lips, wiped away the bubbles at the corners of her mouth. Her face was shiny, glowing with pride at her accomplishment. "Not nearly enough, Jimmy," she whispered passionately, sliding her body up over me. Wet, warm lips crushed against mine. Her breath was fragrant with the aroma of my seed as she panted. I felt her hot, insistent wetness against my cock as she straddled my hips. She pushed up a moment, those dark green orbs blazing upon me. "My turn." I offered no protest as Robin stood and straddled my chest, bracing her hands on the back of the lounge chair. She smiled down upon me as her musky-sweet pussy was poised over my mouth. Her pink lips had flared out, shiny and slick, showcasing the darker, pursed opening within. For whatever reasons, Robin was obviously turned on. I grinned up at her, curling my arms around those slender, milky thighs. "Your turn," I whispered, licking along the insides of her thighs. Her sweet juice had trickled out, leaving little trails that I followed with my tongue. But just as I neared her lips, I would find another trail, then another. Robin began groaning in frustration, giving me a pleading look. "Don't tease me, baby," she pined. "Eat me . . . please." I chuckled, lightly licking along her smooth, wet outer lips. Robin had enjoyed controlling my pleasure; now I did the same to her. Judging by her smile, she understood the game, and appreciated it. Her fingers ran through my hair, but she did not try to pull me into her sex. It was enough for the moment, I suppose, that she finally felt my tongue along that sensitive flesh. "Yes, baby, make me want it," she breathed, mouth hanging slack. She rolled her hips in slow, lazy circles, following some sexual rhythm in her head. I licked all around her swollen lips, dipped in for a fresher taste now and then. Each time my tongue licked at her hole, Robin would shudder slightly, catching her breath. Then she moaned gratefully as I licked and sucked with purpose, pulling her lips with my own, nipping at them, chewing them, even. I pulled her down atop me, pressing my mouth to her sweet, tangy pussy. My hunger could no longer be denied. The game was over; real play now began. I sucked and devoured her, loving the feel of those soft, wispy orange hairs beneath my nose, the firmness of her Venus mound, the slippery feel of her lips gliding around my own. I thrust into her treasure like a pirate seeking gold, feeling the massaging muscles of her tunnel. My fingers dug into her thighs, holding fast and firm as she rocked atop me. She made little noise beyond panting and soft, yearning moans. But like the chords of a violin, she vibrated and shook, her body tensing and quaking with the silent music of her imminent release. Gasps of pleasure escaped on hot breath once, twice, three times . . . then she stiffened, head thrown back, hands clutching my head close. I felt her pussy contract, then a literal burst of uncommonly sweet fluid upon my tongue. "Ahh!" Robin heaved for breath as she climaxed, grinding her orgasmic cunt into my mouth, humping back and forth. The lower half of my face became all but saturated with her juice, despite my fervent attempts to devour it all. I moved up a bit, covering her clit with my mouth and sucking on it. Robin all but screeched and jerked back, staring down at me. The porcelain tone of her skin had become a dark pink on her cheeks and neck. "No, baby—" I grinned, and pulled her back down. "Yes," I growled, and sucked her clit back into my mouth. "Ahh! Fuck!" she cried, arms flailing as if she was not sure where to put them. One finally slapped to the back of the lounge chair, the other to her pubic mound, tugging on her flesh, trying to pull her clitoris from my merciless mouth. But I was not about to let go. When she came again, Robin literally screamed in painful ecstasy. I heard her echoes flying between the buildings long after the moment ended. Her body swayed and she fell back, sagging atop me. I could feel the muscles of her thighs quivering as I slowly slid her down my body and pulled her up until she was in my lap. Robin wrapped her arms around me limply, her head on my shoulder. Her breathing was deep and ragged, her body sweaty. I settled tender kisses on her temple and cheek. She turned her head, meeting my lips, then kissed and licked all around my mouth, sucking for a moment on my chin. Clearly, Robin was not put off by her own flavor. Slowly, yet noticeably, as we kissed, Robin's passion became rekindled. She shifted on my lap, pushing up slightly and reaching between us. Deft, slender fingers found my erect cock, tilting it up. I winced at the heat of her flushed pussy. "Fuck me," she whispered. "Don't tell me twice," I responded, then thrust upward, nearly burying myself with the first plunge. Robin's eyes flashed open, green pools of fire staring at me. She looked shocked, even perturbed, for a long moment. I wondered if she was thinking of the husband she was betraying that very moment. Then her features relaxed, and she smiled with erotic, hedonistic pleasure. I felt her pussy sucking me in as she ground down, seating my shaft deep inside. "Oh, baby, I knew you'd feel good," she muttered. I kneaded her firm, pale cheeks in my hands, bracing my feet on the balcony floor. "I was about to say the same thing," I said, pushing her back and forth. Robin and I stared into one anothers eyes as we moved back and forth, my cock sliding within her tight sheath. She made soft, faint whimpering noises, her features shifting slightly; a twitch of a brow, a parting of her lips, a momentary glazed look in her eyes. I rolled forward, lifting us up, and turned about until Robin lay on her back on the chair. My cock never left the tight, rippling home it had quickly become accustomed to. Robin gave me dreamy, captivated looks as I held her legs wide, hands grasping fine-boned ankles, and sunk into her again and again. I would pull back until just the head of my cock was within her, then lunge in to the hilt. Robin grunted time and again as I took her. And she gave herself willingly. I was sufficiently blessed with enough stamina to keep up the pace until Robin came again. I was quickly learning that, once she got started, Robin was an orgasmic machine. She came once, sighing and cooing, then again amid loud moans and groans, and finally, with a cacophonous eruption from her legs. That last one did the trick for me. Her cunt squeezing and pulling as urgently on my cock as her mouth and hands had, I could no longer hold back. I thrust deep inside her one last time, relishing the incredible rush of passion as I joined Robin in orgasm. Had I been some ancient warrior, my cry may have been heard as a battle roar, the guttural declaration of a conquering hero. *** Robin was not much for conversation. After regaining our breath on the balcony, we headed inside, to the more intimate trappings of a king-sized bed. What we did talk about, as we lay atop the sheets, caressing sweaty skin and sharing soft, impassioned kisses, was as mundane as what any two strangers might have discussed in a bar. Robin, it seemed to me, did not want to think about anything more pertinent than the moment. And the moment concerned sex. She went down on me again, despite the fact that we had not showered, and cleaned my cock of our sticky, mingled fluid. I pulled her atop me in a sixty-nine, finding Robin's pussy uncommonly wet and sweet. The depths of her womb had mixed our fluids together to form a thick, unique broth. I did not mind the unusual flavor in the least, even as I knew that perhaps half of what I licked from her was my own cum. I honestly do not remember how many times we fucked that night. It was not making love, it was not coupling. We fucked. Like animals in the jungle, like slaves in a pen, we fucked. I took Robin in every position, and she would suck my cock after each of her orgasms before we switched. The sun was finally rising by the time we fell asleep – or, rather, passed out – in the bed. Robin snuggled up beside me, kissing my chest before she drifted off. I followed soon after, wondering what the morning would bring. I stirred from a kaleidoscopic dream of passion and sighs, sliding my hand across rich linen sheets. It took my conscious mind a moment to deduce that I had expected to feel a warm, feminine body, and did not. I sat up quickly, looking around. The bed beside me was empty, the sheets tangled and hanging off the side. The pure, clean aroma of soap wafted to me from the bathroom. I glanced to the clock beside the bed; it read 1:30. PM. Her clothes were gone, of course; Robin would not have left naked, after all. In fact, there seemed to be no trace that she had ever been there, save for the shattered champagne flute in the corner of the balcony. I sat on the edge of the bed, smiling ruefully to myself. Of course, I thought. I showered and shaved, dressed casually. I went down stairs and went to the kitchen to fix myself breakfast. "And . . . how was your night?" I chuckled at the sound of Mike's voice. He pulled out the chair across from mine and eased into it. "It was . . . worth it," I said with a wink. Mike leaned back, smiling ear to ear, scratching his beard. "I remember when Wild Bill bluffed his way out of a flush with Brown-Eyed Bobby. Wild Bill didn't have more than a ten of spades as the high card, yet he got Bobby to fold. I thought that was the best bluff I'd ever seen. Until last night." Confusion deepened my frown. "What are you talking about?" Mike's older, wiser eyes met mine. "Three of a kind," he said. I said nothing. He leaned forward, grinning. "She played you, Jimmy," he said with a smile that was both smug and impressed. "She had three sevens. Three of a kind beats any pair. I saw them when I picked up the cards my boy." I was silent for a long moment, mulling over Mike's words. Robin could have taken my money and left, her 'honor' intact. Yet she did not. She chose to come to my room. What had happened, had happened because Robin wanted it to. She was playing out the fantasy to the hilt. I really wasn’t surprised. I smiled slowly. "Oh, she had three sevens, all right," I said, then lifted my cup of coffee. "But I had the Queen of Hearts." My blog JimmyB7474 is called Into The Woods (erotica) entertaining stories about a guy named Jimmy. Enjoy. |
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5/17/2017 10:14 am |
Here is another story from my days at the Big House. Enjoy everyone. Jimmy B. My blog JimmyB7474 is called Into The Woods (erotica) entertaining stories about a guy named Jimmy. Enjoy.
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