Chapter 1

Caution: This Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, Consensual, Romantic, BiSexual, Gang Bang, Interracial, Black Male, White Male, White Female, Anal Sex, Slow,

Desc: Sex Story: Chapter 1 - Maria, a widow, is forced to choose between a young, sensual paramour and an aging, lonesome widower.

He hurried along the busy street as night took hold of the city, stopping in every familiar storefront and building entrance to ask about her, if anyone had seen her, knew where she was. Jimmy Martinez, dark and handsome, cursed himself time and again for allowing the one good thing in his life to get away. He knew why, but even now he felt the urge, always present, beginning to rise so that, despite his urgent mission, he stopped at the corner tavern, walked to the deserted end of the bar and motioned for the bartender.

"Hey, Jimmy, where you been? Haven't seen you in almost a week."

"I been busy Manny. Uh, what's the spread on the Blazers?"

"Six and a half."

The dark haired young man rubbed his chin. "Okay, two bills on the Blazers."

"Sure you want to do that? I mean, the last time..."

"And I paid up didn't I?" he responded painfully.

"Well, yeah, but..."

"Just place the bet okay."

"Okay, Jimmy, but you know I'll have to clear it with Mr. Alverez."

The young man winced. Alverez, his bookie -- then that damned poker game. The start of all his problems.

That wasn't exactly true. In fact it wasn't true at all. Jimmy had become obsessed with gambling when but a young boy, running numbers for the local syndicate. Impressed with the easy money, he began shooting craps with the other kids at school, laying down bets on sporting events and eventually weaseled his way into some weekend poker games where he had his clock cleaned on more than one occasion. But he never lost the fascination, in fact as he grew older the obsession had tightened its hold on him. He was constantly gambling away his rent money and often going hungry to pay off his wagering debts.

"Okay, okay," he replied, "just do it, all right Manny?"

"Sure kid just as soon as Mr. Alverez gives me the go ahead," said the balding bartender reaching for the phone.

Jimmy glanced around the bar as Manny punched in the number. The usual riffraff, for Manny's was not exactly an upscale establishment. He noted the two men in the back, a white and a black, keeping their voices low and their eyes on the door, obviously a drug buy going on, he thought. There was a couple, young punks, both with lips and eyebrows pierced, dark makeup and spiked hair watching everyone derisively, totally unaware they were the oddballs, even in a place like this. And finally, the hooker. It had started to rain so she had, no doubt, stepped in for temporary shelter. It was almost as if they wore uniforms, he thought, shiny leather boots almost to the knees, fishnet stockings torn down one thigh, the inevitable micro mini skirt, this one a second skin stretch material, bright yellow. The top had at one time been a pretty peasant blouse, but wear and tear had taken their toll and it now hung formlessly, a button missing from both front and sleeve.

"Yeah, he's here Mr. Alverez, standing right beside me," he heard Manny say. Jimmy's attention briefly went back to the streetwalker as the rain began to slacken, she rose wearily, and exited to begin plying her trade once again.

"Well?" he asked as Manny hung up the phone.

"He says that unless you've got something as good as Maria to put up for collateral, your credit's no good."

"Son of a..."

"Hey, don't blame me, I'm just the messenger here. Besides, can you blame him? You ran up one hell of a tab..."

"After I gave up the best thing I ever had," Jimmy rued.

"Anyway, it's probably for the best. The guy's actually doing you a favor. You need to forget throwing your money away and concentrate on getting your life back together."

"How do I do that without Maria?"

"Well, you found her and you lost her. Maybe you can find her again."

"What do you think I've been trying to do for the last few weeks?"

"Any idea where she might have gone?"

"None. She's just disappeared."

"Can you blame her?"

Jimmy almost cringed. "No, I guess not -- but I didn't have a choice, I had to cover the bet."

"Oh, you did that all right. But now you not only lost the bet, you lost your woman."

"You sure you haven't seen her?"

"Oh, I'd know if I had seen Maria. She's not something a guy would tend to miss."

With another pained expression, Jimmy turned to wander back onto the street in search of a woman, a woman who had given him everything, a woman he had betrayed, a woman named Maria.

He stopped in at Gino's and Wes's and Mavis's, bought quick drinks and then tried to place bets, but none would honor his wager, for the word was out that Jimmy couldn't pay his debts.

At last he visited a grocery and spent his last three dollars on instant lottery tickets, none of which was a winner. Tearing them into pieces in frustration, he asked each person behind the counter about the woman, but only one knew her and none had seen the object of his quest.

He rounded the corner of 17th where the ladies of the evening were out in force, several coming on to him until he uttered the dreaded words "tapped out" after which they shunned him as if he was a pariah.

It started to drizzle once again and his tired, bloodshot eyes searched the streets in vain as he pulled the collar of the dirty jacket, already drenched, about his neck and trudged on.

"Maria," he breathed, his heart aching for the sight, smell and feel of the tiny woman who he now knew had done so much for him, and could again. Passersby gave him a wide berth, his three day old stubble and worn and soiled clothing signaling how far Jimmy Martinez had fallen.

Frustration mounting, the young man pushed on, barely aware of his surroundings as his mind found refuge in a happier time.

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