1. Luck of the Irish


    Date: 4/3/2018, Categories: Trans, Author: Milik_the_Red, Source: LushStories

    ‘What the fuck just happened?’ The thought echoes through me like a shockwave, making my skin tingle as if lightning had just struck a nearby tree. The memories of this night have me feeling raw and exposed. I can sense her taste on my lips, and the subtle remains of her fragrance is lingering on my shirt. If not for these sensations, and the warm burn of her touch on my skin, I wouldn't believe any of it ever happened. Yet, I know it did. This is a new and exciting feeling. I want to remember it vividly, recorded in my own voice. Looking at my phone, I see the soft, red light glowing steadily, telling me it's recording every word I say. With a deep sigh, I try to capture this feeling, knowing full well that words alone could never truly express what it was to actually live it. *** I felt a rush in my veins when I woke this morning. There was an extra bounce in my step, as if I knew something special was about to happen. I didn't know what it would be, but I knew it would be big. I was newly, happily single, and ready for my life to take a turn for the better. 'You've got the luck of the Irish with you today,' I told myself. 'You better do something worthy of it tonight, boyo. Life doesn't give this gift often, especially if a man lets it slip between his fingers.' Of course, 'the luck of the Irish' is just a cliché, but as with most such phrases, there is a truth hiding behind the words. Another cliché', and one I'm particularly fond of is, 'lucky at cards, unlucky at love.' ...
    This one, especially, seems to define my life. So it was that after my last, failed relationship, I was again at the casino, ready to try my luck with ladies who have been far kinder to me than those of the flesh and blood variety. I was in no hurry though, so I stopped in the Kensington's lounge for a drink. Playing cards for high stakes takes nerves of steel, and a bit of liquid courage before taking a seat at the tables often lets me relax, despite the stress of the games. I was sitting peacefully at the bar, enjoying my tumbler of Hennessy, when I saw her saunter through the door. She was tall, with long legs and a figure that made my cock stir the moment I saw her. Her dark hair shimmered like black silk, flowing over her shoulders and perfectly matching the ebony coloring of her dress. There was an almost regal grace to the way she moved, a confidence that had me hooked the moment I saw her. By the time she made her way to the bar, I'd completely forgotten about my date with the two-dimensional ladies of the deck. Flagging the bar tender, I told him to bring her anything she desired. Perhaps it's another of those endless clichés, but buying a woman a drink is always a good way of breaking the ice. Sure enough, the magic worked, and her face lit up as I approached. "Thank you for the drink, darling," she said with a volume that matched her confidence. "I'm glad to see a lady can still find a gentleman in a place like this." "You're very welcome. I saw you come in, and I ...
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