A Chance at Passion

But not in a man who treated his wife like a serving wench.

"Still gotta crack the whip on her sometimes, huh?" asked Joe of Ino's husband.

The man shook his head wryly. "She'll come around," he declared. "Or she's gonna get tossed out on the curb."

Brett listened to as much of the macho banter as he could. He sighed heavily. Why did this suddenly have to become complicated?

Signing the charge receipt, Brett left a generous tip, then turned the restaurant receipt over and quickly scribbled something upon it. Closing the check presenter, he stood and headed out of the diner.

* * * *

It was a little after nine o'clock when she called. Brett felt the buzzing of the phone in his brand-new slacks as he sat at a blackjack table in the casino. He snatched up the phone with a smile, even though he did not recognize the number. He knew it had to be her.

"Ino?"

He could almost hear the relieved smile on the other end. "My shift's done. They let me go early since it's so slow."

"Are you still at the diner?"

"Yeah. Do you think--?"

"I'll be there in about ten minutes."

* * * *

She simply could not keep her hands to herself. As soon as she was in the car and they were driving away from the Double J, Ino leaned across the seat to kiss and suckle Brett's neck. Her hands roamed, one of them pulling Brett's free hand to her upper thigh, the other groping for the rapidly-swelling bulge in his slacks. She had his cock free and was stroking it while stealing steamy kisses before they arrived at the decrepit old rest stop.

"I thought ahead this time," Brett said with a wink after cutting the engine.

Ino's eyes glittered naughtily. "Oh, yeah?"

With a knowing smirk, he stepped out of the car, not bothering to tuck his erection away as he came around to the trunk. Ino giggled at the sight of her well-dressed lover with his cock bobbing through the unzipped fly.

Brett popped the trunk and took out the flannel blanket he had purchased that afternoon. "I thought maybe it'd be nice if we stretched out a bit," he said, taking the blanket to an unbroken part of the parking lot.

Ino watched him, feeling more than just sexual arousal. The previous evening, she had not been certain if she wanted to give herself to this stranger. Now she was sure she did. More than that, she saw in Brett the kind of man she had always longed for, but never thought truly existed. At the young age of twenty, she had determined for herself that knights in shining armor didn't exist . . . so she had settled for the burly man-at-arms who, if not promising happily ever after, at least promised better than what she had.

Now, two years later, the man of her dreams -- or so it appeared -- had come serendipitously into her life, without promises, without lies, without anything other than reckless forthrightness.

"Ino?"

Brett's query brought her back to the moment. She saw that he had the blanket laid out upon the ground, and he lay reclining on one elbow, turned toward her. She smiled affectionately.

"Sorry," she said with a touch of embarrassment.

"Looks like your mind's a little occupied," Brett suggested.

"What? No," she said quickly, then repeated herself, more firmly. "No. I'm fine. I was just . . . thinking about something for a sec. Nothing worth talking about."

Brett pursed his lips with a slight nod. Don't want to talk about your husband and how he makes you feel, he thought. Wouldn't want to ruin the moment, right?

"So, uh, you want something to drink?" Brett asked. "I brought some water, sodas, even a bottle of Southern Comfort."

Ino smiled, but it faded as arousal took over. "No," she said, standing from the car and pulling her shirt over her head. "I just wanna get naked with you."

Brett grinned, then lay back and unbuckled his slacks.

* * * *

From one moment to the next, it was difficult to tell if they were making love torridly, or fucking with abandon. Ino was as voracious, aggressive, and needy as ever, and once their clothes were out of the way, and the moonlight washed their bodies in its almost purifying, pale radiance, there was nothing to keep them from satisfying any and every desire they had.

She settled atop him in a sixty-nine upon the blanket, murmuring with affection as she stroked the cock which had earlier that day relinquished such a surprisingly satisfying gift. She had never enjoyed the taste of semen before she had met Brett, and perhaps it had been the circumstances of that first taste that made her adore it so, but she now wanted to taste it again.

But her yearning stroking and sucking upon his cock was interrupted by the delicious diversions of Brett's tongue and fingers upon her aching pussy. Ino already knew her lover was skilled when it came to servicing a woman that way, but he was doing things to her she never imagined she would enjoy.

He licked from her swollen clit, along her pink, bulging lips, and even beyond, to the firm ridge of her perineum and the tight, virgin anus beyond. At the first touch of his questing tongue against the surprisingly sensitive opening, Ino faltered, whimpering, taking her mouth from Brett's cock.

Oh, God, that feels good! she marveled. Automatically, she tilted her hips down, giving Brett easier access to her rear opening. She pushed up with her hands and down with her pelvis, gasping when Brett's tongue actually pushed just past the tight sphincter of her anus.

She rolled her hips in tight circles for several moments, giving in to the sublime naughtiness of having a man tonguing her asshole. It was such a deviant, dirty, delicious sensation.

But then she descended upon him again, submerging his cock in her mouth with a hungry growl, inspired by her lover's ministrations upon her backside. So hungry and eager was she to work Brett to orgasm that she did not realize he had moistened two of his fingers until he was pushing one against the entrance of her vagina, the other against her anus. Incredibly, she felt both her holes invaded at the same time.

She snapped her head up, Brett's cock popping from her mouth. The rumbling stirrings of her orgasm surprised her.

"Madre de Dios," she whimpered, grinding back.

And then he latched his mouth to her clit, sucking fiercely, swirling his tongue about in firm, insistent motions. His fingers penetrated deeper into her depths. She could feel them touching between the thin wall of muscle dividing the two heated tunnels.

Ino shuddered, slack-faced, panting. Never in her life had she ever experienced an orgasm unless she was astride a man, or laying back and fingering herself. But now, even in such a position that rubbed her knees raw, she could feel the near-volcanic eruption building.

She started bucking. "D-don't stop," she begged, grinding against Brett's mouth, his fingers. "Oh, fucking God don't stop!"

Brett had no intention of doing so. He kept sliding his fingers in and out at the same steady, rhythmic pace, never ceasing his oral worship of Ino's stiff, needy clit. She rocked and bucked and trembled atop him.

She came with a howl that frightened coyotes for miles, throwing her head back and shoving down against Brett's mouth. Both her tunnels clenched tightly around the digits invading them. The explosive force of her orgasm was unlike anything she had ever known before, and she huffed, sighed, panted, and giggled her way through it.

She did not even know that Brett had rolled her over, onto her back upon the blanket, and shifted positions. As she lay quaking with aftershocks, he spread her legs apart and insinuated his cock against her seething, glowing pink pussy. She was still spasming as he pushed inside her. The contractions of her inner walls nearly made it impossible for him to enter her fully.

Nearly.

She came to amid the realization that he was inside her, and fluttered her eyes open with effort. Brett was leaning over her, gazing down upon his lover with the satisfied smile of a hunter having taken his prey. But Ino was a prey who very much wanted to be taken.

In a state of drunken satisfaction, Ino passed her hands over Brett's strong arms, his chest, his abdomen. She loved the way he felt atop her, within her. She tilted her head to look down at the amazing union of cock and pussy. Never had that sight seemed so beautiful to her. Her gaze drifted back to Brett's.

"Don't ever stop fucking me," she whispered.

He grinned, then leaned down for a kiss that was ardently returned. He kissed and licked her neck, making the girl purr, then made his way down to her breasts, sucking each nipple in turn. Ino writhed beneath him, insistently grinding her hips against his. She seemed to be trying to get every last inch of him inside her, and then some.

Brett had been holding back long enough, and knowing that he had the time, decided he could let loose the flood of his own passion. Pushing her lean thighs back so her knees practically touched her armpits, he drove into her hard and fast, making Ino yelp and gasp and growl. As hard as he gave it to her, the harder she seemed to want it.

Finally, with a long, loud groan, Brett slipped his cock from Ino's slippery tunnel and pushed out over her abdomen. Thick milky streams of cum lanced from his cock. The first jet splattered squarely upon Ino's chin and lips. Subsequent spurts spattered her neck, breasts, and belly. Ino gasped and giggled, watching gape-mouthed as Brett inundated her body with his seed.

But he was not done. Even as the last dribbles of pearly fluid leaked from his cock, he shoved it back inside her, to let her inner muscles milk him dry. Ino stared in amazement at her lover's virility, but offered no protest.

After a few more thrusts, Brett pulled out and reached for her. "Turn around," he ordered.

Ino did so eagerly, slipping over onto her hands and knees. She arched her back, looking over her shoulder at Brett, offering up her cunt in the most lewdly arousing way. Breath poured out between clenched teeth. Shimmering semen dripped from her chin and lower lip. "Keep going, baby," she demanded.

But he hadn't been waiting for her compliance. Gripping the firm cheeks of her ass, he lined up his cock with her saturated pussy and pushed back in, all the way to the hilt. Ino emitted a loud cry as he filled her, but still, she shoved back, wanting everything he could give and more.

The still, humid air was silent save for the wet, feverish smacking of sweaty flesh against sweaty flesh as Brett pounded into the young vixen over and over. He gave in to the moment, becoming nothing more than an animal, and Ino responded in kind, grunting and grinding back.

Yet again, she felt herself beginning to come in a way in which she never had before. Feeling Brett's cock forging deeper and deeper within her, the hot rush of release coursed over her body like a flash fire of the most intimate and pleasurable sort. As she came, pussy clenching hard upon the cock inside her, she reared back, hands off the ground, head to the sky, and announced her carnal joy to the stars overhead.

At the edge of bliss himself, Brett snatched her arms in his own, pulling her against him. He wrapped one arm about her torso, the other just beneath her chin, and exhaled a long, deep, satisfied sigh as he poured forth his passion deep within Ino's womb.

For long moments, they shuddered together, neither of them aware of anything other than the fact that they were alive. Their bodies trembled and shook, sweat and other fluids trickling down their bodies and limbs.

Finally exhausted, they fell to the blanket upon their sides, holding one another close.

* * * *

Brett awakened first, with a start, lifting his head above Ino's shoulder. He looked about, having expected, for a moment, to be in his motel room. But the cooling night air, the buzz of insects in the trees, and the uncomfortable ground beneath reminded him of where he was.

He looked to Ino, cradled tightly against him in his arms. She seemed so sweet, perhaps even innocent, despite the dried fluid upon her chin. He kissed her forehead, making her murmur. He kissed her nose, making her smile.

"Ino."

She shifted, pushing against him, and cuddled his arms more tightly.

Brett chuckled, then pulled his arms away from her amorous clutches. He swept strands of hair away from his lover's face. "Ino. Wake up."

"Hmmm . . . ."

He rolled his eyes. "Ino!"

Her eyes snapped open with an accompanying expression of alarm upon her face. "Que pasa!"

Brett cupped her chin, tilting her face toward him. "Hello, beautiful," he said.

Her features relaxed. She smiled sanguinely. "I was having a dream," she said. "We were having sex on a beach in Mexico."

He gave her an affectionate look. "Sounds good," he said. "But we gotta go."

Ino pouted for a moment, but then she seemed to remember the circumstances of the coupling. She shot up, looking anxious. "What time is it?"

"Time for us to get going."

* * * *

Brett had thought ahead on a number of fronts, one of them being a means to cleanse themselves of the tell-tale residuals of sex. A thick package of medicinal wipes did the trick. He and Ino both used several of the fragrant cloths to wipe their bodies of the residues of sex. Ino seemed a bit distraught when she needed more than one of the thick tissues to clean the fluid from her vagina.

"You came inside me?" she asked as she sat upon the open edge of the passenger door, legs splayed wide.

"I didn't plan on it," Brett said from behind her, cleaning his own genitals. "Hey, I'm clean; I promise."

Ino looked at the streak of milky fluid upon the sanitary towel in her hand. "It's not that," she said. "I just . . . ."

"Just what?" Brett asked.

She cocked her head back with a disarming smile. "Nothing," she said, then offered a kiss.

* * * *

The room appeared much smaller to Brett as he entered. Partitions had been pulled in, so there was just enough room for the six round tables and the small stage at one end.

He was glad to have arrived a little earlier than the previous evening. The stakes where higher tonight -- double the ante -- and he wanted a bit more time to assess the other six gamblers at his table. As with the evening before, the majority were men, with only one woman. She was, Brett realized, quite attractive and probably in her early thirties. She wore a low-cut top that accentuated the size of her undoubtedly fake breasts. Brett's immediate assumption was that the woman relied on her sex appeal to help her game.

But fresh from Ino's passionate embrace, he could not help but compare the woman across the table to Ino's simple beauty, to find the fake-breasted woman lacking.

Mr. Howard Preach stepped onto the small stage, garish mustache twitching. "Welcome to the second round of the Aguilar Poker Tournament," he announced to much lighter applause than the previous evening. "Tonight will determine the final six players for tomorrow's game. That game, in turn, will determine who walks away with five hundred thousand dollars."

Brett's heart palpitated at the thought of winning such a prize. In his years of playing poker, the best night he'd enjoyed had earned him just over forty thousand dollars -- less than ten percent of what he could potentially walk away with from this tournament.

Easy there, tiger, he chided himself. Don't think about the prize. Think about the game. Don't get distracted. Don't even think about how damn good Ino tastes when she's squirming on your face . . . .

Brief arousal shot through his groin. Fuck, he thought, shifting in his seat.

"Ladies and gentlemen," Preach continued, raising his hands to the air. "Round Two will now begin!"

* * * *

The first round did not bode well for Brett. He was nearly called out on a bluff, but one of the other men at the table, a cocky kid younger than he, couldn't keep his eyes of Miss Fake Tits and ended up losing the round.

After a short break, Brett came back stronger, winning the hand soundly and raking in about three and a half thousand for his troubles. With that victory, his confidence remained high, winning through the rest of the hands until it was just he and Miss Fake Tits.

"You ready, hun?" she drawled in a distinctive -- but fake, Brett was certain -- southern accent. She adjusted her top, a move designed to bring Brett's attention to her breasts rather than his cards. But Brett could only be amused.

"Ready as a hound dog on a rabbit chase, ma'am," he shot back, effecting an even more exaggerated southern accent than hers. Brett noticed the smirk on the dealer's face. Miss Fake Tits narrowed her eyes and glared. Brett winked back.

If she had been affected by his barb, she did not show it. However, she did seem to take longer to decide on her cards than usual, and Brett noticed what he hoped was one of the woman's tells: she sucked in her bottom lip when she arranged her cards.

Brett kept his face stoic as he looked over what he held. He had a good chance at either a basic straight, or three of a kind. He had two nines already, and if he magically received a third, he would have more of a leg to stand on.

"Cards?"

"Two," said Miss Fake Tits.

Brett thought briefly, then made up his mind. Fuck it. Win or lose, I'm still thousands ahead. "One," he said.

He took up the new card after it had been passed to him. What the freakin' luck, he thought, setting the Nine of Hearts against those of clubs and diamonds.

"Mr. Walker?" the dealer prompted.

"Raise," he responded, dropping a thousand dollars worth of chips onto the already substantial pile. Then he shrugged and added another stack of like amount. "What the hell," he said with a cocky smile aimed at Miss Fake Tits.

"I see your raise," she said, placing the chips in the center. "And raise you again. Two thousand."

Brett flashed a wink. If you're gonna go, go with a smile. "Two thousand," he said, dropping the chips on the table. "Call."

The dealer cocked a brow. "Sir, Ma'am, cards, please."

Brett lay out the three of a kind, giving Miss Fake Tits a challenging smile.

She stared for a long moment, then sighed deeply, setting out a pair of queens.

"The round to Mr. Walker," the dealer announced.

Brett eased back with a disbelieving grin. "All of a sudden, I feel like lighting up a really expensive cigar."

Miss Fake Tits stared at him as a steward gathered and arranged Brett's chips in preparation for checking out. "So, uh, how about a friendly wager so I can get me some of my money back?"

Brett cocked a brow. He loved having the upper hand. "Such as . . .?"

She pouted her lips and effected a smoldering look. "Such as, something I'd rather propose in private."

Brett chuckled, which grew into a snicker, then became a laugh. He was still laughing when the woman stood and left the room in a huff.

"Nicely played, young man," came the voice of Howard Preach, appearing at the edge of the table. "Did well with the cards tonight, too."

Brett grinned, then took a breath to flush away the almost undeniable sense of invulnerability he felt. He pushed himself to his feet to accept Preach's outstretched hand. "Thank you, Mr. Preach. It's been a fun ride so far."

The short-statured man chuckled wryly. "It's going to get even more fun," he said ominously, taking a gold-colored card from inside his blazer. "This will get you into my private suite here at the casino tomorrow. Three o'clock. Don't be a moment late, son, or you forfeit."

Brett took the card and nodded. "I'll see you then."

"In the meantime," Preach said in a more cheerful tone. He raised his voice for the other five winners to hear. "Drinks are on me all night."

* * * *