A Chance Talent

My name, or at least the name you're going to get, is Chance.

Some men worship money. Some of them, liars that they are, claim to worship women. Most really worship some twisted mythos passed down from ages ago and simply use that to get the money or the women they claim to desire so.

Me, and honestly again, I worship luck. Chance. And it was something I found out early on in my life, that it is chance, rather than a set destiny, that makes or breaks you. Some men (and women) are born on the easier, better, richer side of chance, all because, in theory, the stars aligned just right and they were born to the wealthy rather than desperate family.

So it was early on that I realized too that the words destiny and fate only mean someone who has had a bad roll of the dice and is content to not roll again, for risk of snake eyes.

My initial rolls weren't the best. My parents and family weren't well off, high school was a painful reminder on a daily basis that I was, ahem, a loser, and there was no college scholarships lined up for me, only days of backbreaking labor for the rest of my miserable life.

But snake eyes. I took the dice, I took my chance with destiny, and rolled again.

This isn't about my first time realizing this power. But it's one that, despite the years, despite the many many women I've had, that still keeps a good memory to me. After a while the faces blur, after a while I forget which house I was at, but some memories are gold.

And if there was one lesson from high school that I remembered, from the education given by the teachers rather than my peers, it was that life, for most males, across nearly all species, life is a bitch. Nature is cold-hearted and cruel. For every female in season, there are dozens of males, and usually only one lucky bastard gets her.

But nature depends more on those rolls of luck than Vegas odds. I remember distinctly reading about camouflage. Not just about blending in to the trees with striped fur or spotted wings, but disguising yourself as the fairer sex, to be ignored by the large males, in order to sneak in and get with the females.

Humans aren't nearly as, ahaha, lucky.

But I am.

Though to be sure it would be intense to be taken as a female, a full woman, escort a fellow female home, and then reveal the disguise.

But that isn't quite my talent.

I remember her still, this girl named Blanca. I have no idea what her parents were smoking when they named her, but she lucked out nicely, if not in name, in looks. Not white skin as her name proclaimed, but a soft bronze that looked the world like a Photoshop skin. Dark raven hair, and eyes that came from her mother rather than her Hispanic father, a deep dark blue. Almost purple really. And she was one of those beautiful women who knows how beautiful they are.

In high school she was always with the captain of the football or basketball team, but she was a smart one too, scholarships ahoy, to far away colleges, and so when I cracked open the window and slipped inside, I was shocked to see who it was.

Don't get me wrong, I knew a smoking hot woman lived in this house, and that she lived alone; chance and running risks doesn't mean you go in blindfolded. I had watched a routine for a few weeks, but never fully caught her face, and, like I said, memories sometimes play with me. If slight amnesia for a girl I had seen fitfully years ago was the price I paid, it was well worth it.

And luck was further on my side, because the night I found her window unlocked and indeed wide open, it was because it was high summer, and with the rolling monsoon storms, the power was out. Which explained why she was stretched on the couch, in a vast living room, rather than in a private and likely stuffy bedroom.

And nude. Chance and luck almighty, she was there, one long leg draping off the side of the couch, her arms outstretched, and I didn't need the flashlight that swung from my belt. There were tons of candles around the place, starting to dim out.

Lucky lady, she was, that nothing had turned over and started a fire.

I can't say she was the most gorgeous woman I'd ever seen, but many nights, before I discovered my ace, I had spent countless hours jerking it to the memory of her face, those long lashes and her light laugh, and how dark her tan lines were when we started school again. She always wore the tightest skimpiest bikini...

I have to admit, in hindsight, I was stupid. It was simply a shock; I had moved from my hometown years ago, and despite my travels had only met with one or two of my previous classmates. Finding Blanca here, realizing how stupid I had been not to check the mailbox for a proper name, was, however, just a slight of hand, a twist of fate.

Time hadn't slowed her though. Her long bronze body, no bikini lines this time, and her hair was nearly down to her waist. I love long hair on a woman, I really do. Those purple eyes were closed, her breathing was easy and soft, and one touch on that flat stomach, feeling how slick she was from sweat, and I was nearly undone right there.

Or close enough to.

But time to check again, just to be sure. I had never seen anyone else come or go in this house, and a quick check around the room indicated no other roommates, no family, and no man. A check in the kitchen showed a nearly empty dishwasher and the fridge was stocked for a single woman. No need to check the rest of the house, really, but ace in the hole aside, I wasn't keen on getting killed by some violent one-night stand.

So up the carpeted stairs I went, and in the master bedroom, nothing. In the spare bedroom and the office room, nothing at all. Perfect. Perfect.

Still it pays to be careful. I was sweating by the time I got back downstairs to see her still asleep, and it wasn't just from the heat in the house.

Blanca. Of all girls, it was her.

And knowing who it was, what I was about to do to her, I was harder than a rock. It was almost painful really; every guy has felt blueballs, and this felt like a week of them. A week of aching nuts and a cock that is so close to erupting, and your hands are tied down while naked women dance just out of reach.

Time now.

If I had had more time, if it wasn't so damn hot in the house, I would have stripped. Nothing I like more than my body on a woman's, but the anticipation was getting harder to control.

I should have kissed her first. A nice, long, I'm going to fuck you raw kiss with my tongue seizing hers, and I knelt at the side of the couch, one large hand on her hot knee. So slick and sleek, and I lightly squeezed her leg, trailing my fingers up to her thigh.

And her eyes opened.

For a moment I didn't notice, simply staring at that darkness at the crux of her legs; I had always thought she would have shaved herself bare, but there was a small black thicket of hair there. Not a ton, she did trim, and if only I had had the time to make her...

It was pure chance that I heard that intake of breath, that start of a scream; it's a sound nearly as good to me as the scream of an orgasming woman, as my own panting after I've cum. Almost as good.

I looked quickly, and yes, oh yes, her eyes were wide and gleaming in terror, and so dark blue that they were purple.

It's hard to say who moved first, but the hand on her thigh lunged up to cover her mouth as she started to scream, and she was rising up when I shoved her back down, my weight fully on her, her legs thrashing desperately, and her hands, those long slender fingers frantically digging into my arms.

Another reason to keep clothing on, if you must.

"Shut up, shut your fucking mouth!" I growled, and her eyes met mine, so wide, so terrified, brimming with tears...and without recognition. She didn't remember me, didn't know me...but what she did know had her screaming again, my legs forcing between hers, and then my body pinning her firmer to the couch.

Already my cock was tenting my pants, and I know she could feel that, pushing hard against her naked body, and I almost came right there as she bucked under me. Really I could have kissed her at any time, and part of the real fun, the balls-dropping fun was if I could ram into a woman and have her fight so hard I could feel her heart close to bursting, and then lay out my ace in the hole.

And I would have too, when she sank her teeth into the flesh of my palm, twisting hard under me, and when I yanked my hand back with a sound of pain, then she started really screaming, banshee cries, and her bucking doubled, trying so desperately to throw me off.

For a second pure rage flashed through me, but not at her, at myself! Stupid, so stupid, so fucking stupid! Got caught in the identity of the woman and now....

Enough was enough. I grabbed her wrists in my hand, my bitten palm aching and bleeding as I forced her back down, my eyes locked onto hers.

She was sobbing weakly, her lips bloody. "Please, don't, please, please!"

There was no time, again, and in part it was because of the stifling heat, and now in part because of my goddamn hand, but I wasn't leaving without what I came for. No time for me to really enjoy myself, but there was the idea that I could always come back. Later, of course. When she was wet from me alone and not the near ninety degrees in the house.

A sob broke into a high cry. "Please please, please don't do this, don't hurt me, don't-"

Time.

And before she could cry again, before she could scream again, my mouth was on hers; I swallowed another sob as my tongue forced into her mouth, wrapping around hers even as she cried, her legs kicking weakly against the couch and my legs.

One kiss, one deep deep kiss, and when I pressed my weight more on her, she arched up with a choked whimper, and I had to pull back to catch my breath. A quick look into her eyes, and I saw she wasn't there yet, not yet.

Before she could cry again, my tongue rammed into her mouth, and I kissed her deeper, feeling her desperation, her crying, her sobs and that coppery taste of blood, and as my tongue stroked hers again, and again, and again, her body went limp under me, and I rested my weight fully on her, and this time there was no fight back.

I leaned back, out of the kiss, catching my breath, and this time her eyes were glazed over, and she was gasping, her legs no longer kicking, but lying docilely on the couch.

"Good girl," I whispered, and released her hands; instantly her arms slid down and around my shoulders, and when I reached down, arching myself to undo my zipper, I was slightly amused to find the crotch wet, and it wasn't from me.

Goddamn that had worked fast.

"So good," I repeated, and she smiled vaguely; I had no idea exactly what it was in my kiss, my tongue, fuck, my body fluids at all, that did this, but my ace in the hole had never failed me.

My talent.

I've heard and read stories, fictional to be sure, about men who are so good at eating pussy that a woman turns into putty or passes out from it. I am the only man I know of whose kisses can do the same thing.

And her eyes barely focused when the head of my cock pressed to those wet lips of hers, and I slid myself around her clit and lips as I kissed, sucked, and bit those dark nipples, hearing her small gasps, her hands clinging to my upper arms now, letting me explore her pliant body.

So hot.

Still I had learned my lesson times before, and I kissed my way back up her neck and to her lips, sliding my tongue in and out of her as she arched against my sliding penis, and finally I reached down, taking hold of my shuddering length, guiding myself in, and I bit her lower lip sharply.

She was tight! So insanely tight I had to stop, gasping, and it hit me.

Blanca, beautiful sexy Blanca, Blanca who had dated the captain of the football and basketball team, who was the lead of the cheerleaders, pretty Blanca, was a virgin.

It was only chance and sheer force of will that I didn't cum on the spot.

Instead I locked eyes with her again, and they were still vaguely focused on me, her lips bruised, but she was smiling still.

Oh, to have had the time in the world for this!

"Blanca," I said softly, beginning to rub the head of my cock just inside her, "I'm going to take you, Blanca, I am going to fuck you raw, and you'll remember this, all of this, and the next time, I promise, I will use you so deeply and thoroughly you'll cum a dozen times."

"But right now, this is about me."

No time to experiment, this time, as I pushed into her, and her voice returned, a high, almost whimpered cry, and her body shook. I smiled, carefully withdrew...and slammed back into her, my mouth on hers, tongue lashed around hers, and she screamed as I pumped in and out, not able to take it any more. The heat, her wet body, my sweating form, and how tight she was, so goddamn tight, and the feel of her hot blood around my cock.

I can't lie. I broke the kiss, hoping this worked still, I had never had a virgin before, never like this! And a glance at her face proved that she was still out, despite her tears, her heavy gasps as I worked in and out of her, deep thrusts that echoed in the silent house. Every hard stroke she choked out a half whimper.

Thankfully, luckily for her, I was in poor form that night. Seeing her eyes leaking tears, feeling her body straining slightly against mine, her torn bloody tightness almost a vise, and best of all those whimpers, those protesting sounds from the pain, but that was all she could do. There was no sign on her when my dick tightened, starting to spasm, and when I came, I bit on her shoulder hard enough to draw blood.

Payback for my palm, after all.

One, two, three hard pumps and when I came, her body arched, and a half-sob of pain echoed in the room, in the house, the smell of our sex and sweat and her blood overwhelming.

I can't remember how long I stayed there, my long body pinning hers down still, her legs weakly around my hips, her hands stroking down my arms, and when I went to withdraw, she whimpered, her legs tightening.

This was new.

So I stayed. Just for a few minutes, licking the sweat off her neck, and a few deeper kisses, and finally the vise around my dick lessened. Her eyes were half asleep still as I took her legs and pushed them down, rising and withdrawing from that tight hole. And one more kiss to her forehead.

She lied there pliantly, weakly, her body covered in my smell and sex, and an idea, curious, struck me. With one hand I adjusted myself, zipping back up, and the other pressed slightly to her stomach.

The results were instant. Her eyes still vague, her breath coming in pained gasps, she pulled one of the couch pillows over, and slid it under her ass, tilting herself up. Keeping my cum inside her.

"Good girl," I said softly. "I'll be back."

And because I could, one more deep kiss, and this time when I pulled back, her eyes were fully closed. There. For particularly difficult women, I sometimes had to do that. But so far, I thought, as I slid back out the window, so far none of them had fought after I came just once in them.

Blanca was the first to do the pillow thing though. And this simply added to my task list for next time.

I still have that scar on my palm. Poor Blanca, beautiful Blanca who woke from her stupor knowing she had fucked and been fucked, and that I would return.

And I certainly did. But that would be another chance meeting, in a story later.