A Chance at Passion

Brett watched her from behind as she stood outlined against the clear starry sky. Then, slowly, she crossed her arms, tugged the work polo free from her pants, and drew the garment over her head.

Brett's arousal spiked instantly. Now we're talking, he thought with a grin.

Ino turned around, youthful flesh turned pale by the radiance of the rising moon. Her natural dusky tone made her look like a tarnished doll hoping to return to its former luster. As she stepped back toward the car, her dark eyes burned into Brett's as she reached back to undo her bra. She tossed both garments onto the seat.

"Beautiful," Brett commented, voice cracked. He drank in the sight of the half-naked young woman before him. Her work shirt had done nothing to flatter the firm, full breasts she possessed. They were a bit larger than he had surmised, and sat high and proud upon the girl's slender torso. Stars had been tattooed above each one, just beneath her collarbones.

Ino leaned with one hand atop the windshield, still silent as she spoke volumes with her eyes. She shifted to step out of her shoes, then straightened and turned in profile. Unsnapping her stretch pants, she slid her hands between them and the firm skin of her hips, pushing both pants and panties down lean, strong legs.

She faced him once more, unabashedly nude. A small dark patch of pubic hair broke the uniformity of her alabaster skin, drawing his eyes to her sex. Even with the limited light, Brett could make out the slightly bulging labia between her thighs.

Brett could almost have been happy to stare at this young woman's brazen nude body and do nothing else. But Ino was not about to give him that option. She crawled across the passenger seat, bringing her face close to Brett's.

"No promises," she whispered.

"None given," he answered back, and no sooner had he done so then Ino was smothering his mouth with her own, needy whimper muffled as she sucked on his lips and tongue. She pressed herself to him, ardently pawing at Brett's shirt. She acted as if sex was something she only remembered from a distant feverish dream.

Her enthusiasm and energy were almost intimidating. Brett kissed her back, hands roaming over her slim naked form. Every touch of his fingertips only excited her more, until she was gasping and panting with need.

"God, I fucking want you," she muttered upon finally breaking the kiss. She fumbled with the buttons of his shirt, impatient to see his naked skin.

He cupped her face, making her stop and stare back into his eyes. "Good," he said back. "Because I wanna fuck you."

She grinned heatedly. "Off," she hissed. "Get your clothes off."

He smiled rakishly and shoved open the door, then stepped out. Ino stared at him like a feral vixen, naked form glowing as she propped herself upon all fours in the car. He loved the way the round cheeks of her ass swayed back and forth.

He teased her a bit at first, popping free one button, then another, revealing glimpses of his hairy chest. But her neediness became infectious, and Brett was soon tossing his shirt into the car.

Ino emitted a yearning, mewling sound as she watched his hands unbuckle his belt. She pushed upon onto her knees, cupping her breasts, pinching her nipples, licking her lips suggestively, all to entice him to strip fully nude.

It worked. By the time Ino's hand had drifted down her smooth belly to tickle the strands of wispy pubic hair above her pussy, Brett was fully nude . . . and fully erect.

Ino's lips parted amid a new rush of sexual heat as she gazed upon Brett's cock. It jutted out like a unicorn's horn, with barely a growth of hair around the base, hovering like a lance above smooth, heavy testicles. Never in her life had Ino found the sight of a man's stiff cock a turn-on, but she certainly did at that moment.

She fell back onto her hands and knees with a hungry growl, just as Brett stepped to the edge of the open driver-side door. They booth knew what was going to happen next. Ino licked her lips and parted them wide, and Brett took his head in her hands and guided her mouth down onto his cock.

He sighed as she sucked nearly half his length, bringing up one of her hands to fondle and squeeze his hanging balls. Her movements were a little rough and almost desperate, but that only added to the arousal of the moment. Brett pumped his cock back and forth, fucking her mouth, pushing a little deeper each time.

Ino gagged at one point, jerking back to cough and sputter, a long thick trail of saliva stretching from her lips to Brett's cock. It broke and splashed to the ground. But after a moment of catching her breath and stroking his hard shaft, she was back at it, pushing her mouth down his dick even as he eased it into her throat.

Her gag reflex threatened to kick in, but she forced it down, making herself swallow instead. She felt the entirely new sensation of a stiff, thick cock entering her throat, and was alternately, chaotically, both marveled and alarmed by the tight, penetrating feeling. She could not breathe, but at the same time, she wanted to keep his cock there, so deep within her mouth, feeling the soft hairs of his lower belly against the tip of her nose, his fleshy balls against her chin . . . .

But then she jerked back once again, gasping for air even as she coughed out a mouthful of thick spit that splattered upon the ground. Her eyes drifted up to his. "Never did that before," she said between desperate pants for breath.

Brett smiled and smoothed back her hair. "Let's try something else," he suggested, reaching down to slip his hands beneath her arms. He hoisted her up as he set his left foot upon the floorboard, and settled her small but impressively round ass on upon the closed convertible hatch just between and behind the two seats.

"You tasted me," he said as he lifted and spread Ino's legs, forcing her to roll back onto her elbows. "Now I want to taste you."

"Oh, God, it's been so long since anyone's done that to me," she murmured, willingly parting her thighs even wider.

Guess her husband doesn't do this for her, Brett thought as he lowered his face between the girl's thighs. What a moron . . . .

Given that she had suffered through a full shift at the diner, Ino's sex was rather strong in aroma, a scent that mingled her natural essence of arousal with the more mundane properties of sweat. But though strong at first, the smell of Ino's pussy was not off-putting to Brett. She yet possessed that natural sweet aroma that reflected her youth.

Brett smiled as he delicately parted the girl's pussy lips with his fingers. He had gone down on women with rather meaty vaginas before, but they had all possessed dark, almost unappetizing lips. Not so with Ino, whose deliciously fleshy young cunt glowed a brilliant pink in the light of the moon overhead. The fresh hue of her sex was even more accentuated by the light growth of dark hair that surrounded it.

He licked first along the outer edges of her lips, tasting her sweat, then, as Ino's breathing became ragged, dragged the flat of his tongue up and down her swollen labia, making them glisten even more than they already did. Each swipe of his tongue was like the caressing rain upon the petals of an orchid, making the lips part more and more.

She writhed and gasped, her face pained. Hands came up to clutch her breasts, squeezing them roughly. She gazed down upon Brett's face between her thighs, giving him a pleading look.

He could not deny her. With a knowing smirk, he maneuvered so that he straddled the center console of the car, his knees pushed into the seats. His cock jutted out over Ino's seething, glowing pussy. Pushing it down, he rubbed the head against the pale coral nub of her clitoris, making the girl spasm slightly and suck in a breath. Then he pushed it down even more, feeling the heat of her body as it escaped from the snug opening of her tunnel. It flowed across the head of his cock before he pushed firmly within.

They both gasped at the union. Ino's pussy trembled around the shaft of Brett's cock, stretching to accommodate him. The girl squeezed her eyes shut, mouth agape. She looked almost like a virgin being deflowered, wincing and moaning at the same time. Brett gave her a little more, then a little more still, until his loins were pressed to hers. His hips lay against the headrests of the seats.

Ino squirmed slightly to adjust, pawing absently until she found Brett's hands at her sides. She gripped his forearms. "F-f-fuck me," she whispered.

He managed a chuckle, even as he admired the luscious body before him. "As you wish," he quipped. He slipped back until the crown of his cock was just visible, surrounded by the glistening pink lips of Ino's pussy, then shoved back in. His lover responded with a sharp yelp, then a grin and a groan.

"Oh, Dios mi, Dios mi, fuck me . . . ."

He pumped into her again and again, relishing the squeezing, sucking, pulling motions of Ino's pussy. Never had he enjoyed a lover so snug and eager. He gripped her hips even as she held onto his wrists. Her sweaty back squeaked now and then as her body shifted with each forceful thrust. Brett could tell Ino liked it hard, but even after several minutes of such delicious fucking, she still had not come.

He slowed his pace until he was only gently, languidly, easing in and out of her. They were both shimmering with a thin layer of sweat. Brett allowed his hands to wander up and down Ino's body, caressing her from loins to breasts as if giving a massage. She smiled and nibbled her lips, moaning softly.

"You're not even close, are you?" he asked.

Ino opened her eyes and cocked her head, giving Brett an apologetic look. "I'm sorry," she said.

He smiled, then leaned over and cupped his mouth over a stiff pink nipple, sucking it for a moment. Ino hissed with pleasure. "Don't apologize," he said as he lifted his head. His smile remained. "What gets you off?"

She threaded her fingers through his hair, eyes roaming over his face. "Can I be on top?"

Brett grinned. "Whatever you want," he said.

He straightened, taking a moment to admire the vision of his shaft surrounded by the sublimely fleshy lips of Ino's pussy. Capturing that sight as if taking a snapshot in his mind, he gently eased out, then reached to help Ino up. They kissed torridly, sighing and moaning with passion, before Brett found himself laying back along the length of the trunk of his car. His head and shoulders hung over the end, making his neck strain with the effort of looking up.

Leaning over him, Ino grinned as she stroked Brett's slick cock, making conspicuous smacking sounds. She stared into his face as she licked the dark pink head of his penis, tasting her own essence. For a moment, she sucked as much of his length as she could, drawing off her own juices. Then she climbed up and straddled him, legs fanned wide. With hands supported upon the headrests of the car's seats, she lowered herself onto his shaft, sighing deeply as she was impaled.

The vision was intoxicating. In the stark moonlight, Brett could see the way her labia slid up and down his shaft, hugging him with each stroke. Ino's breasts bounced upon her chest. Her face was slack with passion, strands of hair streaked across her flushed, sweaty face.

She took one hand from the headrest and massaged her clit as she pumped up and down, all the while staring at Brett's face. He found that incredibly erotic. No woman he had ever known had been this wanton, this frenzied, this enthusiastic.

Her lips trembled. "Dios mi," she whimpered. "I-I'm gonna--"

Her words trailed off into a long, gasping howl that culminated in a shriek as she came. Her pussy rippled along his cock, burning intensely, and her entire body convulsed. She sank down all the way onto Brett's cock and sagged forward, slapping her hands to the trunk of the car. She panted hard, breasts heaving, nipples dragging back and forth upon her lover's chest. Her orgasm, it seemed, would never end.

Her energetic abandon inspired Brett's own release, and he only barely managed to utter something vaguely resembling a warning of his impending climax. With a gasp, Ino pushed back and lifted off his cock, grabbing it with one hand and jerking wildly. Brett grunted as he came, releasing a torrent of shimmering, milky fluid that showered Ino's abdomen and splattered onto his own. His lover gasped and grinned and giggled as she watched his eruption, and kept stroking until nothing more came out.

"S-stop!" he begged with a laugh, wincing at the feel of Ino's squeezing hand around the head of his sensitive cock. He slapped his hand to her wrist.

With sated sigh, Ino lay upon him, head upon his chest as she recovered her breath. Brett encircled her with his arms, feeling the tremors through her body.

Wearily, after several moments, Ino lifted her languid face, which yet glowed from her experience. She smiled as if drunk.

"That was pretty intense," Brett commented.

She moved up and kissed him deeply. "It's been a long time since I, uh, came like that," she said. "Or at all, really."

He stroked her hair from her face, trying to read her eyes. What kind of selfish dickhead is she married to? But he kept the question to himself. Now was not the time for journeys of personal discovery.

"Well, maybe I'll stop by for some pie tomorrow," he said.

Ino nibbled her lip. "My shift starts at three," she said.

* * * *

Ino's elated mood faded as the roadster rolled to a stop at the end of the long gravel drive. About a hundred feet or more from the road through the mobile home community lay a rather impressive double-wide, with whitewashed walls and solar panels on the roof. Not quite the trailer park ghetto in which Brett had assumed Ino lived in. There was a red Jeep on oversized tires parked beside the house, as well as white extended-cab pickup with some company logo upon it.

"Ah, mi casa," Ino said sourly, glaring through the window.

"Hey, uh, if you think you're going to get in trouble," Brett began. He faltered as Ino glanced to him, face drawn and dark. The bliss of their coupling seemed to have completely faded. "I mean, if he's abusive, you can stay--"

She laughed sharply. "He's not abusive," she said. "Well, not like that. Not yet. He's just . . . he's not . . . anything. He works all day, then comes home and drinks until he passes out. I think he wanted a wife just to keep his house clean and do his laundry."

Brett did not know what to say. He told himself not to involve himself emotionally. What they had enjoyed -- and probably would again, if he kept cool -- was just sex. He wanted it, she apparently needed it, and that's how it should remain.

"Well, uh--" he began, but Ino thankfully kept him from saying anything trite or embarrassing as she leaned across the seat and gave him a rather chaste kiss on the cheek.

"See you tomorrow," she said casually, pushing open the door. She smiled in admonishment. "You know, if you want to."

He nodded. "I do."

She stepped out, closed the door, then turned around and ducked her head through the passenger window of the car. "Good luck in the tournament."

He smiled. "Thanks," he said, then watched Ino as she trudged down the gravel drive to her home and husband.

* * * *

The screen door creaked loudly as she opened it, making Ino grimace. She only hoped her husband was drunk enough not to notice. Pushing open the door, she stepped into the home they shared as casually as could be. The sounds of a baseball game blared from the game room of the house.

"That you, babe?"

Ino gritted her teeth. "Yeah."

"Long night, huh?"

She sighed. "Yeah."

"Get me a beer since you're by the kitchen, okay?"

She rolled her eyes. "Sure."

* * * *

Panic gripped him once he was away from Ino. The initial plan had been to arrive at the casino early and ease into the tournament with a sense of calm confidence. That plan was now shot. Brett rushed to find his way back to the casino, eyes darting furtively to the clock on his stereo as it blasted out AC/DC's Highway to Hell. It was 11:39 when he got back to the state highway.

The aroma of sex was conspicuous about him, and he did not need that as a distraction. Thankfully, Brett found a corner drugstore that had not yet closed, and jogged in for a package of unscented baby wipes. Sitting in the idling roadster in the parking lot, he unbuttoned his shirt and unzipped his slacks to clean up . . . much to the chagrin of a middle-aged woman heading past to do some late-night shopping.

Without the aroma of bodily fluids adorning his body, Brett felt a little more ready for the tournament . . . if he made it in time. Chancing that Ino's assessment of the local police was correct, he broke half a dozen traffic laws getting to the casino, slowing down only once he spied the brilliant lights of the complex ahead.

The time was 11:53 when he found a parking spot, several rows out from the garishly-lit building. Cursing himself for compromising his entry to the tournament over some piece of ass -- never mind how delicious it had been -- Brett all but sprinted to the front doors. Thankfully, there signs aplenty to lead him past the whirling, twinkling lights of the banks of slot machines, roulette wheels, and junior tables toward a set of double doors at the far end of the casino's lobby.

A chubby bouncer in a tuxedo stood beside an attractive, middle-aged woman beside the doors.

"Texas Hold'em Tournament?" she asked professionally.

Brett smiled. "I hope I'm not too late," he said.

She checked the slim watch at her wrist. "Two minutes to go," she said with a thin smile. "Name?"

"Brett Walker. I've already registered."

She referred to the clipboard she held. Her smile became just a bit more real. She reached beneath the podium beside her and extracted a plastic-sheathed card with a metal clip atop it. "So you have," she said, handing the badge over.

Brett smiled and let himself relax as the bouncer stepped aside. "Thank you."

* * * *

An usher on the other side of the door helped Brett to his table. There were more than thirty round tables in the room, which also contained a small stage at one end upon which a rather portly older man stood, displaying an almost comical handlebar mustache of silver hue upon his upper lip.

Brett took his seat at the table, taking a brief moment to assess the other five players against which he would be playing. They ranged in age from early twenties to perhaps late sixties. Two of them were women, both older than Brett as far as he could tell. They gave him various looks, appraising him even as he did the same.

A steward approached, setting a tray loaded with chips before him. "What would you care to drink, sir?"

"Maker's Mark, double, on the rocks," he responded, shifting in the plush padded chair. The steward nodded and backed off to fulfill the order.

The pudgy man in his impressive suit tapped the microphone before him, resulting in a muffled thumping sound that echoed through the ceiling speakers. "Can you hear me?" he asked, which resulted in more than a few chuckles and one or two hollered responses from the room.

"Alright." The man smiled with a twitch of his mustache. "Good evening, ladies and gentlemen, and welcome to the first round of the Aguila Casino Poker tournament!"

His announcement resulted in applause and a few uproarious calls from the players.

"My name is Howard Preach, and I am the owner of this casino. It gives me great pride to host the first round of this auspicious tournament, and I wish all of you all the luck."

I'm sure you do, Brett thought with a smirk.

"Unfortunately, most of you won't be making it past tonight."