Ricky had sworn off gambling, scores of times though no resolution had ever stuck. With a marriage and a mortgage already in the wind because of his addiction to slot machines, you’d think this young man would have learned his lesson already. But he’d be the first to ‘fess up' that, next to sex, nothing got him off like a long, smoking run on the tables down at the Vegas strip, or the video poker machines you could find literally everywhere you looked in his home town of Reno/Tahoe.
After a long but particularly profitable day in the Bay Area selling printed circuit boards for a Play Station affiliate, Ricky stopped off at a 7 Eleven to pick up a half rack of Amstel and some Camels before heading home.
He was almost out the double doors and into the cool breeze of the early evening when he halted, at the little alcove behind the ATM and magazine rack, where the slot machines were set up, just like coin booths in a fuck shop with reclining vinyl chairs and semi privacy for every player. He stood there for a second; five or six c-notes burning a man-size hole in his 501 pockets.
“Fuck it, he said suddenly, and stepped through with an exhalation of purpose, to find himself a free screen.
He saw her almost immediately, sitting at the second-to-last machine on his right, a young green-eyed honey-blonde, pretty lip corners twisted with the intent she focused on her game. This was a look Ricky knew by heart-- the mercurial intensity no inveterate gambler could ever hope to disguise.
And did this bode well, or ill? Superstition spinning off the sweet close smell of point-blank snatch?
Impossible to tell, thought Rick, only certain of the fact that she was simply a stone hottie, who certainly seemed to share his disease-- her young hands with the topaz and turquoise adornments on deft fingers lightly tapping the slot buttons... enough to make his dick hard just staring at those hands, as he took an empty seat at the machine directly across from her.
It quickly became clear to Ricky that this sweet young thing was going to be a serious distraction indeed, albeit a pleasant one. She tapped black leather pumps impatiently on the linoleum, and insolently chewed a piece of bubble gum, occasionally making it pop, blowing bubbles like erect nipples rising through clenched white teeth.
Her black lace pullover, unbuttoned down to tan midriff, pulled and tugged against her slim muscular torso and gorgeous tits. The gray skirt that rode right up to her ass crease, showed off long legs that kept crossing and recrossing themselves.
He groaned, breathed through his nose and tried not to stare. He was already down $270, and really needed to focus.
He just couldn’t keep from looking her over, though, at one point doing a double take as she blew wisps of flaxen locks from her forehead, chewed on her lower lip and muttered little endearments alternating with obscenities at the machine that was clearly vexing her.
Ricky’s sidelong glance turned to a full on slack jawed stare, which she quickly busted him on, then glared right back.
“Catchin’ flies?” she hissed , putting those beautiful hands on her scant-clad hips: “Take a fuckin’ picture why dontcha, it’ll last longer…. Jerk“”
Rick looked away, properly chastised, mumbling “Sorry” as he shoved another c note in the video poker machine’s greedy-tongue-like bill sucker.
“Hmmmm’, he hummed softly to himself, pretty sure that, although dissed, he’d detected the vaguest hint of a smirk on that beautiful face, through veiled mini-tantrum and feigned scorn. Hadn’t he? Seen that look? Yes, he was sure of it.
“Luck,” he whispered. “Oh luck be a fucking slut tonight!!” He shifted his prickling sweaty ass in the seat, sighed softly, and pushed the button to deal another hand.
Ricky swallowed hard, switching games on his machine-- from Deuces Wild, back to Jacks or Better, Aces Bonus, Joker Poker. If he lost this last hundred, he’d have no choice but to belly up to the ATM in the corner, like the degenerate gambler he was; but he wasn’t going there.
No way-- he’d lose face with this beautiful blonde across the aisle and that would hurt more than losing money.
His pulse quickened as he caught another glimpse of her out the corner of his eye. She dragged on a Dunhill, her mouth locked in a perfect jaw pumping “OH’ to blow a succession of smoke rings across the aisle that settled on him like her scent when he’d first seen her.
“Damn,” he muttered, raising his bet to the maximum the machine could take-- $25 a hand. “God DAMN, man…..”
Seconds later it happened, so fast that it took a triple-take from a low-whistling Rick for the reality to even register. He gaped at the screen. It had dealt him a natural Royal Flush, in the suit of hearts.
The machine began to shake, and noises came out of it like little air raid sirens in a blitzkrieg. Now, across the aisle, it was the knockout babe’s turn, to stare long and hard at him.
“You lucky fucker,” she said in a falsetto tennage phone sex kind of voice.
The 7 Eleven clerk, flanked by two burly security guards, brought Rick’s payout in a shiny black vinyl valise with a little zippered slit down the middle, half open for him to dig in there and count his winnings.
There was twenty-two grand in there, a fat progressive jackpot nobody at the store had hit for months. Rick had to run his tongue on trembling fingertips to properly flick through the thick stacks of crisp bills.
The girl continued to stare at him as he did this. Everybody in there, in fact, was watching him now.
Rick motioned for the clerk, whispered some instructions for him with a little handshake that held twelve hundred dollar bills for the kid to hustle up and do his bidding.
The clerk quickly spread some of this green all around the store, greasing palms to clear the place out; then he stuck the Back-in-a-Half-Hour clock sign on locked front double doors, and made himself scarce through the Employees Only back archway.
Rick had bought some spendy-but-worth-it quality time with this dick-magnet babe who took his breath away so badly he could barely stammer out his opening gambit-line:
L... Look I dunno maybe it’s like... just me but I… I like to, um, like reward people who bring me luck. You know? How would you, um, like feel about that?”
He held the massive wad, at least half of what was in the valise, out to her like a smitten schoolkid putting a shiny apple on the teacher’s desk. Ricky held his breath, and waited.
She rose slowly from her stool, swayed over in two steps, and was up in his face, the smell of her sex making Rick swoon.
One of her silky hands slipped between his jeans, fingernail flicking a zig zag pattern between his ass cheeks and inner thighs. Her other hand tugged at his baseball cap to bring his blushing ear down to her hot mouth.
“Don’t play games with me,” she whispered. “You better wise up quick, or I’ll take your money all right, and then leave you here to fuck your own fist... Or maybe that kid in the back who’s watching us right know on his little camera.”
She slapped Ricky’s ass roughly, then grabbed his nut sack through the bulging denim and squeezed.
“Is that what you want?” she demanded, her tongue dancing between his earlobe and nape of neck. “Huh? Is it?”
Ricky gulped, and shook his head like a damp, shivering dog, his blue eyes wide as saucers, heart tattooing a heavy metal riff in heaving chest.
This sweet little slut was making Ricky forget all about the money he’d won. She told him her name was Claire, and that if he made no more mention of money, his luck might just hold out with her.
She ripped his button fly open, and yanked his jeans and briefs down around his ankles.
Ricky’s eyes were closed, and he clutched at Claire’s luscious long hair as she leisurely licked the underside of his slender prick standing straight up at attention just for her.
One of her hands cupped his ass, while the other kneaded the sweaty tender area of his red pubic patch. Then her tongue worked down deeper, slithering and stabbing between his aching balls, on to the very base of his twitching nut sack, and down, just inches from his anus. She lingered there twirling the tongue-tip in furious little concentric circles.
Ricky groaned, and Claire answered him with a nasty shake of her head, as she lightly raked his prick with her fingernails, then fondled the entire shaft with a feather-light two hand grip. She came up for air long enough to lock sultry green eyes on his, hissing up at him:
“This is what you wanted, from the first second you saw me.” She began jacking off his shuddering shaft slowly. “Huh baby? Can you beg me for it now? C’mon. Ask your whore for what you want.”
Ricky’s voice spilled out, choked and husky. “Please. Please suck it. Suck that cock, please Claire!”
Suddenly she nodded an enthusiastic reply by swallowing the pulsing purple head in one swoop, sucking hard at the tip, moving down to the dancing hilt an agonizing half-inch at a time.
Ricky began to writhe and he clawed harder at Claire’s hair. He was making unintelligible yelping sounds, his cock buried at the very back of Claire’s throat-- her gag reflex sending a shiver of pre-cum electricity all up and down Rick’s spine.
He tried to catch his breath and stumbled back into the wall, Claire crab-stepping right with him, seeming to anticipate his every reflex.
He wondered how long he could hold back under her relentless cocksucking attack. Claire’s fingers drummed and rubbed on the underside of his dick just above the melded love nut. He bellowed:
"Ohhhhhhh you fucking little biiiiiitch Jeeeeesuuuus, So Goooood!” Ricky’s fevered brain sang thoughts to him, ‘oh she’s amazing, fucking amazing God… Damn!’
He leaned against the wall, chin on chest, hurry-up hips fucking Claire’s sweet mouth where all the filthy words came from. “God“, he gasped, “you’re amazing…..”
Claire continued to work her deep throat magic on Ricky’s swollen cock, making little gargling sounds as she watched him hump his hips hard into her face, fucking her beautiful mouth for all he was worth.
She felt him shudder, and the cum quickened like a pulse under her fingers holding down the jism-chute junction between the balls and the base of his dick; she choked off the flow with her tongue, thumb and forefinger, pushing her other palm into his pubis, shaking her head as she choked on his cock.
Suddenly she pulled her lips up and off his lovestick with a loud slurp and pop. From her knees she grinned up at him. “Not yet,” she murmured. Oh no, not yet baby.”
She stood, and then bent right back down again to pick up the pile of money that had fallen to the floor. She made sure a gasping Rick got a zoom shot of her glistening pussy as she did this, then she got up on his slot machine chair-- her legs spread wide, little feet up on the armrests.
Her forefinger curled and wiggled at Ricky in a beckoning gesture, as with her other hand she held the wad of bills down by her pussy like a Vegas dealer fanning a deck of cards.
“Time to come and get it,” Claire said, “or should I say get it, and come!”
Ricky proceeded to make the fastest muff-dive move of his life, creased tongue probing just inside her pussy lips, then widening and wiggling as he shoved the tongue right in, humming and enthusiastically nodding his head as he did so.
Claire started moving her hips and moaning, caressing her own breasts with jeweled fingers. Ricky raised his midnight blue eyes and made sure they locked on hers, as he took one of the crisp c note corners and flicked, lightly but insistently, at her hot thrumming clit.
He shoved the rest of the bill deep into her hole, finger fucking her Ben Franklin's bald bent head, until the bill became way too damp, and he pulled it out, only to replace it with another, and another.
Now Claire really got into fast motion on the fuck seat, and the pile of money scattered all over, bills sliding and fluttering under her furious hips and Ricky’s lips giving her soaking pussy no rest.
He felt her cunt clamp down on his three-finger fuck motion, in and out her box, and back again. He pinched her asshole with his other hand, and blew cool air against her clit.
He felt Claire start to cum. She made a sound like an emergency siren in the city starting from far away, and getting closer, closer.
That’s when he stood, and forced Claire by her hair forward on the seat, face toward the screen and knees on the armrests.
He quickly slid himself under, and into the seat, so the beautiful arch of her ass slapped at his lap. Claire gripped the top corners of the video screen, beside herself.
She couldn’t clamp her aching cunt down on Rick’s meat in the seat fast enough.
“OOOOOHHHHHh!” she cried, as she rode him like a brahma bull cowgirl, and shrieked at the screen. Suddenly she reached down, grabbed Ricky’s wrists, and pulled his hands forward on the slot button play surface. She shouted in mid-climax--
“I CAN FEEL ANOTHER JACKPOT COMING ON, NOW BABY!”
Her fingers interlocked in a desperate grip over his, moving them to the buttons that would again spin the slot reels. They pushed down together. Four Queens popped up, right off the bat.
Ricky couldn’t hold back any longer. He grabbed a fistful of her sun-colored hair, leaned forward and grated his chin beard stubble on her neck.
He groaned-- “Ohhhhhhhh that‘s it you fucking sweet slut biiiiiiitch!!!!” She answered his cries by clamping down with a loud smack of her ass on his hips, and Ricky released an electric torrent of love into Claire’s cunt with a great guttering gasp.
Claire’s face remained pressed up against the screen, and their fingers still locked together, squeezing.
Later, in his Allante with the top down taking her out to dinner, he glanced over with a shit-eating, pussy-whipped grin at her lovely profile in the passenger seat.
With a riding partner this fine all the time, he thought, one might just be moved to give up the gambling, for good. Stranger things happen, all the time, they're happening.
“You’re some major stroke of luck, girl,” he told her.
She turned to him and smiled, raising one eyebrow like Spock the Star Trek Vulcan.
“Bet on it, buster” she said. “You best bet on it.