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The Gambler and the Others

Post #1

"Annabeth! Don't talk with your mouth full!" How many times does a girl hear that one growing up? Mothers. Little do they know...
Good thing she didn't say anything about thinking with my mouth full. Anyway, my poor mom. She saw just enough to drive me and herself crazy.
I had to admit though, at this very moment and confined as I was to the cramped space of his front seat, her words more than applied. But her admonishment, regardless of its obvious value, just wasn't the overriding issue on my mind.
I was too preoccupied with my plan to extract the Sicilian from the clutches of the others.
The problem stemmed from the fact that I had fallen for this one with my full emotional weight. As with any addiction it had struck in a single heartbeat, leaving me struggling to breathe through the passion which had wrapped itself tightly around me.
That was the first part of the problem anyway; a whole half, so to speak. The second was obsession; mine, with three women. Women he was having sex with -- three women in addition to me that is -- three that I knew of.
He made no secret of them so I had understood from the beginning who they were and when he saw them. The only surprising thing was that I allowed him to reveal it all to me; all the lurid details of his sexual encounters, thereby transforming myself into a ready-made spillway for his fantasies; someone available not only for sex, but to whom he could tell all while fucking me.
I know, I know; a woman shouldn't stand for it. Well, in truth, I used to think that but not anymore. I now firmly believe we'll sit by and take anything. Of course, I had allowed it all to happen, so I should know.
Want to know the deal? I'll tell you: I could have sex with him and with his approval, with anyone I wished; which I didn't take advantage of for lack of interest. In exchange, I took on an assignment of sorts, playing 'Keyhole Kate.' In other words, he permitted me to peek into his erotic world, where I could clearly see the others and what he was doing with them.
The fact that I was even permitting it frightened me. After all, why was I giving so much away? But the entire relationship was frightening because it - that is I - was so out of control. My God, I'd do anything for him. What was I thinking?
Voyeuristic to the core, I so willingly took the bait and transformed myself into a sounding board off which he could bounce his erotic experiences involving other women. It was as if I stood outside a transparent bubble, watching him have sex within. I was visible to him but not to the women he was with...or at least, that's what he said. Let's start with Marilyn, the divorcee with two young children. The boys slept in another room while their mother and Edmond did it in hers. That little fact didn't seem to bother him one way or another. Why would it? He was getting laid and had no responsibility for her kids. They meant nothing to him which I liked, because I didn't want them to.
The fact that I didn't like her is something I admitted to myself but never to him. I mean, I really didn't like her. She was a know-it-all par excellence from her bottom up, as they say. The worrisome thing was that like him, she was smart. His intellectual equal, and mine, for that matter - she would be trouble.
She was also a notorious man-eater and had gobbled up numerous boyfriends and two husbands amidst a litany of countless affairs. Everybody knew about her. She was a slut.
To complicate matters even more, she was beautiful. Flawless white skin, long legs and a more-than-available body that dripped sensuality; you know, things that attracted men who responded like lemmings, jumping to their deaths just because everyone else was. There was simply no one she hadn't fucked.
Always on the look-out for lucrative prey, she had locked her tractor beam onto him. They fucked often and I knew it because he told me. They had done it their second time out - outside of work that is. That's Marilyn -- the bitch.
Now, Diana. She was a biologist and a highly skilled academic, just like him. Her spectacular hour glass shape and perky boobs served her well. She was pretty too, with freckles. Can you stand it? I'm not saying I hate freckles as I have them too but I hated them on her. Fortunately, he despised science.
A wholesome-looking country girl, she lived in a small rural town nearby. With her shoulder length strawberry blonde hair, big blue eyes and perfect figure, she was madly in love with him. Who wouldn't be? He was beautiful, articulate, intelligent to a fault and learned.
Interestingly, I knew the taste of Diana's mouth because twice - twice - I had sucked his succulent cock only hours after she had and I'm sure he assumed I found comfort in the fact that it was 'just the three of us.' I wondered whether she had ever found herself in a similar position, following in my wake and perhaps sampling my body's flavor. So intimate, don't you think?
But the poor thing escort şişli couldn't connect the dots; despite her storied education he could run cerebral rings around her. To compensate, she played trickster, a human fucking machine who screwed him like the proverbial Energizer Bunny, doing it all at his convenience, whenever and wherever he happened to be in the mood. She just kept going and going and...well, you understand.
I breathed a sigh of relief when I learned that she made mistakes; insisting on condoms for one thing, something men in general and he in particular detested. She also denied him, shall we say, full blown fellatio? We all make errors in judgment with men, but really, you've got to be kidding.
Big mistake, I thought, because condoms diminish affection's definitive realization; a man bequeathing his seed to his woman.
And as for fellatio to completion...well, need I go there? I don't think so, because men only recognize two kinds of women; those who do and those who don't. Everybody knows that - well, almost everybody, because Diana was an imbecile and missed it completely.
I mused at what a fool she was. But still it bothered me because he liked her enough to maintain the relationship since her physical reaction to having sex with him contained a remarkable and crucial component. She came as soon as he touched her down there.
She played showgirl, grinding her pelvis against him, meeting his every thrust with her own, all in the midst of a one sided screaming match that had nearly frightened him to death upon first encountering it. At least, that's what he said. She could have been acting, but then there was no way for me to be sure.
Awkwardly, Diana and I had met once, rather unexpectedly - at the hospital of all places. Having left work, I was still wearing my uniform from the restaurant where I waited tables. He had had a minor procedure done -- on that precious penis, of all things, and I had stopped by on my way home, thinking I could get a few minutes of alone time with him. Let's face it, alone time is hard to come by with a guy who's fucking a herd of women. Anyway, when I walked in she was sitting there. Shit.
What can I say? It was awkward. He introduced us of course and with two vying females in the little room, it wasn't hard to sense his discomfort -- not to mention our own. Giving her an artfully practiced cold shoulder, I ensured she didn't stay long and after she left, I lightened up.
It was a risky maneuver I know, because he immediately recognized what I was up to and gave me a look that said "I'm annoyed." But he didn't make it an issue which I thought was telling. He was fucking me too, remember and anyway, it worked because she left. What a wimp.
I didn't overly concern myself about this one because of the oral thing. In the end, a guy will almost always go with the girl who does 'all the way' blowjobs; the only ones that really "count", and let's not kid ourselves - men count.
She had failed to grasp the fact that just sucking cock carried little cash value so I knew she wouldn't last. Diana just didn't have enough to hold on to him, but she did divert his attentions away from me when his urges drifted in her direction. She was the weakest link in his sexual chain and I decided she would be the first to go -- and quickly. The trouble was, he liked variety.
Then there was that Sharon girl in Ohio. She was some hotshot manager for a sizable accounting firm and their broiling affair had begun at Kent State University. I had caught a glimpse of her recently when she unexpectedly visited him in New York. All right, so I was spying but a girl has to know these things, doesn't she?
He said he was surprised when she showed up. "I happened to be in the vicinity and figured I'd just drop by," she'd said jokily, conveniently disregarding the fact that she lived five hundred miles away!
Yeah right; "...just happened to be in the vicinity." I mean, come on. Even a man wouldn't fall for that one. But he was flattered by her effort. After all, he was the reason she'd done it; he knew that. Next life? I'm coming back as a man. I've already decided.
Sharon was also divorced but didn't have children. She was cute, with her waist-length brown hair, large boobs considering her petite size and the skin of Snow White. She would be trouble up the road because she had "I'm in love with this guy" written all over her beaming face. I didn't like her right off.
All of this left me with a predicament: How to be a rarity? Being one meant not being like most women. And most women were afraid to know the lurid details of a man's intimate relations with others. So I gambled, imagining that he, like most men, thought that I, like most women, at least most of the time, would respond like most women and wouldn't want to know about the others.
But this wasn't most of the time, now was it? I wanted this guy, so I needed information and used my time with him to find out about his steamy intimacies.
The gamble was simple enough: in the end, theoretically anyway, I'd know the three contenders and they wouldn't know me. They'd be overly confident in themselves and wouldn't bother with one another...with the part about them not knowing me being a tad tricky, of course.
Yes, he had promised that if I listened he'd keep our sexual relationship secret, which I liked, but you just never knew with these things because if he had an urge, he might just tell them about me. Anyway, as you can see, it was a tangled web.
It didn't take long before he revealed the details of his relationship with Sharon. I learned they had lived together in Kent and he characterized her as the absolute superlative fellatio queen.
"Do you want to know what she's like? Sexually?" he had asked one evening, with a twinkle in his brilliant eyes.
With my instincts saying 'fuck no,' I answered assuredly, "Yes, tell me...tell me what Sharon does to you."
It was a gently demanding response and he seemed a little surprised by it - but only a little, since at that particular moment his cock was buried deep in my pussy so, well you know how it is, he thought he had a certain control over things. Sex can be so powerful, I reflected, all the while wondering whether he was pulling the same act with the others.
We did it twice that night. And the second time - God, how he adored the slurpy smooth sensation of the second time, when his own semen starred in the lead role of nature's ultimate slippery stuff - I presented my question just as he began sliding his beautiful erection in and out of my inviting sex.
Second times are sloppy. He liked things sloppy and I always saw that he got it. Guess I'll never be accused of being Miss Goody Two Shoes.
He paused a moment and didn't answer immediately, so I ceased moving under him. In fact, everything paused, all sex, all thought.
"What? You expect me to answer that right now?" he asked with a hint of incredulity and just a touch of humor in his deep voice.
"Yes, now!" I gasped. "Tell me Edmond, what does she do to you? I want to know -- now -- the details." Honestly, how men enjoy our reactions to their conquests, especially amidst the influence of passion.
From that moment I found myself almost always asking him questions during sex, when his emotions peaked, momentarily cornering the measured intellect men picture themselves in such control of. Anyway, he was usually off balance then so although the circumstances may have been a shade awkward, my timing was perfect.
Of course, men lie at times about what women do, but not always and if I'm in one of my more discerning moods I can still ferret out the truth. Anyway, I searched hard for it because I wanted him more than they did. That should be obvious enough.
He plunged deeply into me as I presented my demand and I locked my legs around his little butt to keep him there until I got an answer.
"She's my cum queen," he blurted breathlessly, sweat pouring from his luscious body. "She... lights candles all round the bed, plays music in the background and sucks me to the rhythm of the sound."
"Really?" I asked, acting marginally startled. "So, silly boy, she plays you like a flute?"
He looked at me curiously, but half-laughed anyway.
"Do you come in her mouth?" I continued as he pounded my womb, knowing he loved that little act - at least he did with me.
Groaning into my swollen lips he answered, "Yes, I do -- I come in her mouth. Why, are you surprised?"
"No darling, I'm not surprised. Sharon, or whoever she is" - I lied and acted like I'd never seen her -- "knows, like I do, that you cherish having your cock sucked. Tell me more."
"And she's relentless," he breathed, "sucks me like she's a machine that can't get enough."
"Does she swallow?"
"Yeah, she swallows. She's done me twice in one night. Swallowed both times..."
"You like that. I know you like that," I answered, nursing his earlobe with my mouth.
In the weeks that followed, I probed about the others. It was like piecing together a sexual riddle and I learned how an especially astute man resolved what might otherwise have been little more than a prurient bewilderment as he sought each of us out on differing erotic grounds, finding a dissimilar intimate act that each was either good at or was at least willing to perform without complaint.
My goal in all this was to draw the others into myself, to replace them one by one by embracing -- no, by stealing - their special talents. After that, well, we'd just have to see...
In the past, guys had always been so disposable. I had never come across someone this complex; a man I craved to have entirely for myself. I mean, this was serious and even though I really didn't give a good shit about what kinds of kinky things other women did with him, I obsessed in two-part harmony; infiltrating his relationships and breaking the bonds he had developed with the others.
I did it because this Sicilian wasn't like other men I'd known. "Known." I like that word. Anyway, unlike the array of characters I had previously "known," I looked up to him and realized replacing the other three would entail becoming Wonder Woman, which frankly, I wasn't certain I could transform myself into but simply had to bet that I could.
To make matters worse, today was a time of agitation; the day I would return to campus, placing him out of reach for a week. I struggled with that quandary while at the same time attempting to assemble his complex puzzle, my mind racing through the cast of characters he was seeing:
Marilyn, the bitch, could orgasm through anal. I despised her for it. Naturally not all women can even accommodate a man anally, let alone orgasm back there. To complicate matters, with her there was an additional singularity because she could only climax through anal. He considered it special and I didn't like special that didn't involve me.
An ass backwards kind of girl, her willingness to play rough along the dirt road drew him back to her time and again. He always came in her ass and she never, ever wanted vaginal sex. What's with that, I wondered?
Since I didn't know whether I could ever orgasm that way, I knew fathoming her designs presented tortuous challenges. Anyway, there was only one way to find out whether I could do what she did.
Marilyn assumed the unthinkable; that he only did back door with her, something that was about to change. Foolish girl.
She was lanky and slender, her boobs were small, which he didn't like but I didn't make much of that since men will suck whatever they're presented with at any given moment. Though I didn't have the latter problem, I still had to learn anal which I hadn't yet done, at least not deeply.
From Ohio's Sharon he received some alien form of relentless, industrial strength, vacuum-style blowjob which she wouldn't allow to end until she'd not only gobbled him, but until he was completely spent, flaccid, with her having taken every drop of precum, cum and post cum! She was his swallower. You can only imagine my response to Sharon; I swallowed.
Diana, despite making the mistake of insisting he use condoms, fucked him unrelentingly and her orgasms arrived in lockstep time; a seamless wave of ecstasy during which she squealed like a triumphant pig.
Her behavior was something that pleased the Sicilian who frankly had a thing about seeing his women writhing in exaltation under him, and Diana squirmed like an Olympic gymnast, allowing him to feel her rectum contract around his penetrating finger as she came. Essentially, I learned if he was in her, she was climaxing. In addition, she was beautiful - fuck. Thank god for condoms.
I couldn't believe I was even having these thoughts at a moment like this. With only a short time remaining before having to drive back to college, I had met him in our usual spot; the parking lot behind the apartment complex.
We had arrived within minutes of one another, and he quickly spotted my car and pulled up next to me. Looking over, he smiled that warm smile that so captivated me.
Due to the security cameras we were awfully exposed in the big lot, and I shouldn't have been overly ambitious. But then, shit - I just didn't care who saw us and after slipping into his car we talked a little, lamenting our pending separation. I kissed him a little, just to get him hard and I worked his balls a little - only through his pants, which he always enjoyed. Oh, one other thing I neglected to mention about the others: they forget the balls. I never do.
Unfortunately, the three women would likely see him during my week away at school. I'd ruminate in my dorm as they sucked his cock, with each maintaining her fourth of him when it all ended. By the time I get back, a sexual eternity will have passed, I thought, and I didn't want to run the risk of being just another pretty face in his overly bountiful - by three - feline shuffle.
But by the time that little thought crossed my chaotic mind, I could feel him getting close and I wrapped my lips more tightly around the base of his cock, which was long and hard and which I had drawn deeply into my open throat. I loved its taste, its masculine strength and I sucked him harder than I had sucked any man -- ever! Fortunately, this time he tasted of a recent shower instead of Diana. Thank you Jesus.
With my mouth already awash in the yummiest precum, his body suddenly stiffened and I found myself hating the confining space of the car where I had competition not only from the streaming images of the very penis I was devouring withdrawing wet and glistening from one or more of the other women's orifices, but from the fucking gear shift of all things.
Oh shit, I could feel it as each precious spout of semen slammed the back of my throat and I swallowed each in turn - as quickly as it struck, allowing none to escape, knowing as Sharon did that their medicinal qualities would sustain me during the frustrating days to come.
03-19-2023, at 05:53 PM

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