Gambling Less Than Anonymously

"I need to penetrate you," I growled, as I gently lifted her head off my cock. I was expecting her to roll off to the side for me to mount her, but instead she virtually leapt on top of me and then carefully guided my sword into her tight pulsating scabbard.

Brenda was like a wild woman as she clamped her knees on either side of my torso, and bucked her pelvis like a bronco while simultaneously squeezing and releasing my cock with obviously powerful pc muscles. Despite the firmness of her tits they still bounced - that is until I latched onto them and thumbed her nipples - and her nipples seemed to be getting harder by the minute.

Needless to say I didn't last long. My ejaculation was more like a volcano than at any other time in my history. I'm sure I wasn't just imaging that because Brenda screamed and collapsed on top of me. I held onto her like a never wanted to let her go.

Between our mutual moans of satisfaction, I thought that I heard light sobs coming from Brenda. I was a little too out of it to investigate at that point, and by the time that I could investigate I didn't notice any tears. We both fell into a deep sleep.

I awoke in the middle of the night; at first I didn't connect the warm body next to me to last night's ultimate erotic experience, but after a few seconds it came back to me. I stimulated Brenda's pussy with one hand while simultaneously sucking a tit until I heard her moaning. By then my cock was rock hard even though she hadn't touched it. I mounted her, smoothly entered her moist tight heavenly gash on the second try, and proceeded to reciprocate at a leisurely pace, each stroke sending high volumes of endorphins through my brain. Brenda wasn't as active as during our first intercourse, but she did pulsate her powerful p c muscles, leading to another mutual crescendo which although not as energetic as the first one was just as satisfying.

As I snuggled up to Brenda post-coitus I felt as serene as I ever had in my life. "I could get used to this goddess really quickly," caromed through my mind.

******************

The next morning I was in a great mood - the best sex of your life can do that for you. Brenda was affectionate but appeared preoccupied. After we had breakfast I said "Brenda; you really are a special woman. I hope that we can go out again soon."

Then I got a thoroughly bizarre question; Brenda turned beet red as she asked it. "Uh...Blake; I'm embarrassed to ask, but was the sex with me last night your best ever?"

"Hell yes," I grinned, not needing to think for even a second.

"If Bridgett asks you...uh...uh...could you tell her that?" she sheepishly continued.

"I don't discuss my sex life with anyone else, Brenda," I patiently replied.

"Could you make an exception just this one time - I really can't explain why - please Blake?"

Since I would have to tell Bridgett anyway since $2,000 would be deducted from what she owed me instead of $1,000, I replied "Only if you agree to go out with me again - no expectation of sex, just companionship."

"OK," she smiled. "I have a busy schedule, though, and will have to work on a time. Can I call you - within the next week?"

"Sure," I said, and entered my cell phone number into the contacts on hers.

*****************

Of course Bridgett did ask so I did honestly tell her that the sex with Brenda was my best ever. "Down to $13,000 then," she cackled.

I had lots of activities the next week, including finding and purchasing a suitable house, but Brenda was never far from my mind. I was thrilled when she called me five days after our first meeting, and we arranged to go to dinner and a show the next night.

The dinner experience was almost identical to the previous one - including the phone call before dessert and her subdued demeanor afterward. However the show we went to was a comedy and that really seemed to perk her up. I was willing to take her home afterward but she begged off and asked if she could spend the night again. "I guess she wants the relationship on speed," I thought to myself even though I was willing to take it slowly - and after she gave me another of her patented erogenous kisses, my cock wouldn't have let me decline even if my brain wanted me to.

The second night with Brenda was - impossibly - even better than the first, but also included a time while I was trying to recover from an over-the-top orgasm when she may have been lightly sobbing.

As time progressed I bought a house, Brenda contacted me once a week, and each time the day after she contacted me we went out and then fucked up a storm that night. This went on for nine weeks before something changed. During that time I had definitely fallen head-over-heels in love with Brenda, but despite her passion on the nights we were together she deflected all attempts by me to commit to a real relationship. Then came the tenth time we were to meet.

Brenda came over to my house - as was her custom once I purchased it - I never picked her up or brought her home - at the appointed time. However, she looked sad despite a fake smile, and when I innocently touched her left arm she grimaced in pain.

"What's the matter?" I asked.

"Oh...nothing...I just banged into something and hurt myself," she unconvincingly replied.

I rolled up her sleeve, ignoring her protests and attempts to stop me. There was an enormous black and blue bruise. "This isn't from just bumping into something - someone hit you," I sternly said.

She tried to disclaim any abuse for about a minute more as I inspected her bruise carefully - from my experience probably made by a hard punch with a fist - until suddenly she just broke down and started crying.

I led her over to the new couch in my living room, sat her down, and said "There is something really weird going on, Brenda. I want you to tell me all about it."

Between her tears and sobs she mumbled "I can't...people will get hurt...I'm afraid...I don't know what to believe..." among many other statements that were so garbled by her tears that I didn't really understand them.

I comforted her as best I could continuously reassuring her that no matter what she said I would help her; that I wouldn't abandon her; and that I only had her best interests at heart, but that I was totally clueless about what was going on.

She finally calmed down. I got her a Scotch, called and cancelled our dinner reservations, and sat with her, holding her hands when she wasn't sipping her drink.

After her second drink, and constant reassurance from me - including me telling her that I loved her, which caused the tears to return for another five minutes - she finally opened up.

"Please don't interrupt me, and promise that you won't get mad at me - because now I truly realize for the first time that you don't have any clue as to what's going on. If you do love me like you say, promise me - now!" she said, squeezing my hands and finally seeming to regain her composure.

"I promise," I replied.

"I've got a gambling addiction that has gotten way worse over the last year. Bridgett and her boyfriend are my bookies."

"Bridgett has a boyfriend?" I interrupted.

"You promised not to interrupt...but yes she does; a really big mean dude named Curt Ballston."

"Sorry; I won't interrupt again," I blushingly responded.

"I got into them way over my head because gambling became more important to me even than my relationship with my husband."

I wanted to scream "You're fucking married?" but controlled myself; Brenda avoided eye contact.

"Yes, I'm married," she confirmed almost like she was answering my imaginary question. "I have been deceiving my husband about both the gambling and the sex with you. Things finally came to a head today, when I felt so lost that I couldn't take it anymore," she said as she started lightly sobbing again. She regained her composure after a minute and then continued.

"I was having sex with you to pay off my debt to Bridgett and Curt; they said that unless I immediately paid off the entire $40,000 that I owed or had sexual encounters with you they would beat up or kill my husband. I thought that you knew what was going on but were just pretending not to for a reason I couldn't understand. However over the last few weeks I started to be sure that you didn't know, and when you just told me that you loved me..." another minute long breakdown before she continued. "I finally was sure that you didn't."

While I understood what she was saying, I wasn't processing it well.

After a deep sigh she continued. "Today Bridgett and Curt told me that I would now have to fuck another guy to pay off my debt - which unfortunately has grown since I can't stop gambling or losing, and when I refused to agree and started crying Curt punched me hard in my arm. He told me that he would have rearranged my face but he didn't want visible marks on me 'at this time.' Then he told me that if I didn't go along not only would they kill my husband, but me. I told them that I would."

Again she broke down.

Again I comforted her.

After about ten minutes she was all cried out, and also had either passed out or fallen asleep she was so emotionally drained.

I laid her out on the couch, covered her with an afghan, and despite the fact that I almost never drink chugged my own glass of Scotch.

I sat down in a chair across from Brenda trying to wrap my brain around what was going on. I felt humiliated, betrayed, angry, hurt, and compassionate, all at the same time, the level of each emotion seeming to change by the minute. I finally came to grips with the fact that I really did love Brenda even though there obviously was little chance for a real relationship - I certainly wasn't going to have a sexual relationship with a married woman since that was against everything that I believed in - but that I had promised that I would help her no matter what.

I came to a decision.

***************

I woke Brenda up after she was out about ninety minutes. I made us omelets and toast and poured her a glass of orange juice. I told her that I had a plan but mostly talked about inane things until she finished eating. Obviously she hadn't eaten the entire day given that she wolfed down everything that I put in front of her like a starving truck driver despite her emotional train wreck.

Once we cleared the dishes and loaded the dish washer, I sat her down.

"Brenda, I can't tell you how hurt I am because I really have fallen in love with you. However, I realize that your gambling addiction is not something that you have been able to control, and that Bridgett is a miserable person, and undoubtedly this Curt guy is too. Therefore, I'm going to help you out; but you have to be strong and do as I say."

"I'm too low to refuse any help - and you're such a wonderful guy, Blake, I trust you," she sniffled.

"The first thing is that tomorrow I'll take you to Gamblers Anonymous and you'll start treatment. If you need something more extreme then I'll enroll you in an out-of-state treatment program. In any event, you start tomorrow."

"OK, Blake," she mumbled.

"Next, we'll get the goods on Curt and Bridgett by recording their intimidation of and threats to you, and go to the cops."

"I...I...don't know if I can do that," she replied, wringing her hands.

"You can and will," I forcefully responded. "Hopefully, you can patch things up with your husband, including by having an addiction counselor talk to him; we'll have to play that by ear."

We talked for a while longer, going over some details, and I had her call Curt that night and arrange to meet him on a local secluded wharf about 10 p. m. the next night. After everything was agreed upon I said "You should probably go home to your husband now."

"I...I...can't," she stuttered. "He thinks that I'm out of town on business, and it will call into question all of my other fake business trips when I was spending the night with you. Can we have a last night together?"

"You can stay here, but in the guestroom," I quietly replied, although what I really wanted to do was take her in my arms, kiss her all over, and then fuck her brains out.

*************

Of course things didn't go as planned; well the meeting with the addiction counselor was worthwhile, but the rendezvous with Curt was bad.

The addiction counselor proposed nightly meetings every other day for about ten sessions to assess the situation, then an out-of-town full time rehab program if there was no good progress. Brenda agreed, and even signed papers to that effect.

For the meeting with Curt, I set Brenda up with a small tape recorder and camera, and I hid close by. Of course I carried my P-35.

Curt got there on time, and at first complained about the meeting place.

"I had to go where my husband would never look," Brenda nervously responded.

Curt was big and mean - it was unlikely that I could have beaten him in a fair fight, but I had no reason to engage him in a fair fight. He acted like a complete asshole, and though fairly stupid, seemed to catch on when Brenda asked him more about him requiring her to fuck two other guys and threats of death. He finally said "You're wearing a wire, aren't you bitch."

As Brenda protested he slapped her so hard that she fell on the wharf, maybe even unconscious. He started toward her to obviously pull her clothes apart in a search for a wire when I stepped out from behind a transport container. I felt just like a P. I. in a movie when I barked "Freeze motherfucker!"

Curt didn't freeze. He reached for what I was sure was a gun in a shoulder holster. I fired once. The bullet hit him in the forehead, even though I was aiming for his chest but apparently my hand was shaking. He was dead before he hit the deck.

I went over to Brenda. She was unconscious but not in a life-threatening situation. This was the perfect opportunity to dispose of Curt without her even knowing about it. I scavenged the materials I needed from the wharf, borrowed a dingy, rowed out into the harbor a couple hundred yards, and dumped Curt's body - without identification - wrapped in a tarp and weighted down into the drink.

Brenda was coming to when I returned. I took her to the Emergency Room at the closest hospital. She had a concussion and a facial bruise but would be fine within two weeks. I hoped that her injuries would be a reminder to her to keep her focus on recovering from her gambling addiction.

At this point, since I didn't want anyone to even know about any Curt-Brenda interface, I couldn't use the recordings of Curt against Bridgett. Since Bridgett had obviously wanted to screw me by setting me up with a married woman knowing my abhorrence of cheating, as well as screwing Brenda, I simply brought the arrest warrant I had from her theft in Jacksonville to the police, and they picked her up the next day. They added an unlicensed concealed weapon charge when they found the four barrel derringer in her purse.

I less than subtly advised the prosecutor in Bridgett's case of her multiple identities. She was denied bail. Her public defender alleged that she had satisfied the debt to me including by signing liens for her condo over to me, and that she had filed for a concealed carry permit. However, thanks to Sally's good work and the fact that only I was Sally's client, not Bridgett, there was no support for her allegations. The liens had never been filed, there was no record of the concealed carry permit request, and Sally refused to provide any information because she and I had an attorney-client relationship.

It didn't help Bridgett that her alias Constance Danner was wanted on another theft warrant, issuing from Broward County. There was no doubt that Bridgett/Constance/Julie would get significant jail time.

I didn't have further contact with Brenda after a passionate goodbye kiss because I didn't want to drag her into Bridgett's legal problems, or for her to know about Curt's death (I told Brenda that he just took off when I shot at him); and I wasn't about to continue a sexual relationship now that I knew that she was married no matter how much I cared for her.

****************

I was pretty proud of myself for getting rid of Curt and Bridgett and saving Brenda, although still reeling at the loss of the love of my life, when about a month after Bridgett pleaded guilty to several charges in exchange for only a four year sentence, and four months after I last saw Brenda, my doorbell rang. There stood Brenda, suitcase in hand, her car parked in my driveway.

"What are you doing here Brenda?" was my first super-intelligent and original question.

"Can I come in and talk with you Blake?" she shyly asked.

"Of course," I replied, ushering her into the living room. While I motioned for her to sit she remained standing.

"I'm going to succinctly and honestly answer your question about why I'm here, Blake. Bridgett retaliated against me by informing my husband of our relationship - the bitch even had some photos, which I have no idea how she got. My husband has filed for divorce and doesn't want me around." One small tear glistened in her eye. Then she took in a deep breath and stoically continued.

"Bridgett also advised my employer, who has a government contract, of my gambling problem and I lost my security clearance and was fired. I also have not made nearly enough progress in dealing with my gambling addiction as I expected and with my problems am scared to death of a disastrous relapse."

Then she looked down at the floor, took another deep breath and then looked me in the eye. "You loved me once, Blake. Can you take me in? I'm now in a position to love you as much as you once loved me."

I was dumbstruck. We stared at each other unblinking for at least five minutes - or so it seemed anyway. My mind was in turmoil; I finally realized, however, that despite her flaws that I did truly love this woman and if I could rescue her from her present predicament I could achieve the happiness that had heretofore eluded me.

"I'll take you in, and we'll see where it goes from there," I finally was able to articulate. We kissed, I picked her up and carried her into the bedroom, and except for some snacks, drinks, and a couple of communal showers, we didn't leave the bed for a good twenty four hours.

*****************

Epilogue:

Things were not all fairy tale rosy after our marathon sex session, but we were both determined to overcome everything together. A week after our marathon sex session I enrolled Brenda in an out-of-state rehab facility. She was there for two months, and I only got to be with her - and love her to the best of my ability - one day a week during that time.

We had a few other ups and downs while her divorce worked its way through the court system. When things got particularly acrimonious I convinced her to give her husband everything except her personal belongings, and got her a job with one of the non-profits that I bankrolled. We married a month after her divorce was final. It was only then that I told her what happened to Curt so as to alleviate the nervousness in the back of her mind about some future revenge.

I was still unsure about a relapse by Brenda, so I kept a tight rein on the finances. That is I was unsure until we had our first of three kids. Being a mother seemed to change her brain chemistry, because in the seven years since our first child was born there has been no indication whatsoever of her addiction, and I now trust her completely.

I now have the love and inner peace that eluded me for so long - thanks to a con artist and bookie.