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The Marker

From the roulette table to a dark closet... Who knew this inanimate object could create such exquisite pleasure?

By Annika DevakiPublished 5 years ago 5 min read

“Ma'am you are going to have to wait until the marker is off the table before you take your money.” Willie the roulette table operator chastised me sufficiently and I snatched my hand back away from my pastel lavender chips. I felt my face go red and hot and I looked away until the clear, cylindrical shaped object, the marker, was removed from play.

I watched Willie as his strong, long fingers deftly moved the marker from side to front around to the back of the felt table, on top of the chips, off to the side. Sliding between his hairy fingers, he twirled the marker back and forth between his hands. It was his talisman.

I started having nasty thoughts about the marker. Its phallic shape lent itself to imagining it in places that it was designed for. I was so caught up in my fantasy that I didn’t realize that I hadn’t played the last few rounds and was getting looks from the pit boss.

“Well, that’s my time folks, best of luck to you.” And with that Willie grabbed his marker and took my future object of pleasure with him! I watched him tuck it in his front pocket and imagined it rubbing up against his cock as he made his way to the lounge. A brassy blonde woman took his place and placed her marker on the table. It was a plain old cylinder shaped one. I lose interest and track of time as I watch her move the chips around and take the money. I move on.

As I wander around the floor, I watch the people around me. Ladies with large hats and even bigger jewelry with their men nearby catering to their every whim, handing money over for their entertainment. I take in the cloying smell of a nearby pipe, the acrid notes of a cigarette. Someone walks by and I breathe in a mouth full of the scent of Chanel No.5. I open my eyes and look up and see a haze of smoke suspended over the gaming floor.

My feet feel clumsy as I make my way along the edge of the casino floor. The lights are too bright and the voices around me seem to mock me with their shrill tones. I am becoming paranoid and feel a panic attack coming on and I duck into the first door I see. I slip inside the dark room and ease it closed. My back is against the door as I slide down its length. My throat begins to feel choked and I feel the impending doom and racing thoughts. It is then that I realize that I am not alone in the room. I see the red glow of a cigarette across the room and smell the acrid smoke. I am not afraid, however, I'm very curious.

I sense a presence near my thigh and I hold my breath in anticipation. The hairs on my arms and legs stand at attention and I feel a ripple in my cunt. A warm soft hand runs along my leg from my ankle to my upper thigh, lifting my skirt and brushing against my mound. A thumb hooks under my panty crotch and exposes my vagina lips to the cool air and I reflexively spread my legs open to feel the intrusion. Two fingers, three fingers slip inside my cunt and plunge the length of my womb and I rock with the movement, hips thrusting automatically to feel the friction of fingers inside of me. Something wonderfully cool and smooth joins the fingers in the cavern of my pussy and I struggle to identify what is causing such pleasure. I leak juices around the phantom fingers and feel a hand pulling up my shirt to expose my breasts which are full and burning at this point. I giggle as I think about the books I have read that talk about heaving breasts! Now I know what that means!

Lips find my nipple and gather it into a mouth sour with alcohol and smoke. The smells excite me rather than repulse and I run my hands through slicked back hair in response to the stimulation.

In the dark, I reposition myself to remove my clothing and my mystery guest is quickly ridding clothes as well. Finally, skin meets skin. I feel rough hair and large leg muscles. Bulky forearms are tight by my side as my visitor balances on their hands and positions between my thighs. I open wide and I use my hands to gather a taut ass closer to me as his cock finds my home and we slide deeply together.

Rocking back and forth slick with sweat and juices, I cannot recognize the sounds that come out of my mouth as wave after wave of emotion and release flood my body. Male sounds of pleasure and anguish come from my visitor as we climb towards a final release. Without words we grip each other; cock entombed in my quivering pussy walls as his seed rushes forth to fill me with hot, sticky cum. His arms collapse from the exertion of supporting his body weight for some time and we cling to each other, still not exchanging any words. I feel myself fading away.

When I wake up I am alone and can tell that some time has passed. My head is fuzzy with the remnants of my hangover and migraine and I am naked but covered with a drop cloth of some kind. I sit up as the events of the night flood back. I look over to my side and there is a calling card from my visitor. It is the wonderful, cylindrical, marker resting on top of a pink chip. It is then that I knew that Willie and his talisman were my visitors last night. I smile and hold the gift in my hand and lay my head back down on the cold floor.


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