When the older woman took a seat on the other side of the chessboard, I had a strange moment of dislocation. Part of it, naturally, was that she wasn’t the tournament opponent I’d been expecting. But it was also that the woman looked like a seasoned but still beautiful film star. She had to-die-for cheekbones, full, lovely lips, and eyes that made me believe wishes can come true. She possessed a gorgeous figure, which was complemented by the tasteful yet enticing ensemble she wore. She also moved with the kind of grace typically seen on fashion runways — but without any of the pouty pretense.

“Hi,” she said. Even her voice had a husky sexiness — as if she didn’t have enough attributes already. She looked at my name tag and added, “Barry.”

Hearing her say my name sent a kind of adolescent shiver shooting through me, even though I was a mature 20-something.

“H-hello,” I stammered. I peered at her tag, but the letters didn’t register in my brain because I was too distracted by her breasts pressing against her snug blouse.

“Clarice,” she said with a smile that further lit up her pretty face.

I tried to rein in my rampant horniness and said, “I thought I was playing someone else.”

“Yes, Tiffany. My daughter. But she got food poisoning, so she’s resting in her dorm. I happened to be in town, so here I am.”

I knew emergency substitutions were permissible in this chess tournament. But I wasn’t sure if I’d gotten lucky or screwed. Would I be able to concentrate on the game with a beauty like Clarice sitting across from me?

Drawing on my professional competitiveness, I decided I would play like I’d intended to when I initially sat down. These games had a cash payout for winners, and I wanted to be one. Chess had been my obsession for years.

The tournament was taking place in a hotel ballroom. For that weekend, the space was filled with tables, boards and players. Officials circulated, and games were underway all around us.

Clarice and I shook hands. Her touch jolted me like electricity, but I remained focused. We had our first game, and she proved herself a very able player. But so was I. The outcome was close, and I just edged her out.

We had another game scheduled in an hour. I wandered in the lobby, feeling a little dazed. Despite my efforts, I’d spent too much time during the first game furtively ogling Clarice. Even after we’d parted, I imagined her naked, my hands on her tits, my cock raging in her pussy. I’d never fooled around with a woman so much older than me. I hadn’t ever really fantasized about one either, but she’d clearly gotten under my skin.

When we sat for our second game, I noticed Clarice had unbuttoned her blouse just enough to give me a tempting view of the inner slopes of her ample breasts. She was also sensually staring at me with her little finger tracing the corner of her mouth and a lurid light shining in her eyes.

Plainly, Clarice knew the effect she was having on me. It was like playing against a sexy imp. Her game didn’t slip one bit, and all the sly, seductive moves she was making ate at my concentration. My cock stirred again and again, thinking something fun was brewing.

I didn’t know if any of that actually affected my playing, but she won the round. Our deciding game was scheduled for the following day.

When I wandered into the lobby after our second contest, I found Clarice having coffee. She waved me over. I sat at her table and offered my congratulations once again to prove I was a good sport.

We talked about chess in general for a while. I wasn’t surprised to learn she’d taught her daughter the game.

“You know,” she said in her irresistibly husky voice, “on a chessboard there are more potential moves than there are stars in the night sky.”

With the pressure of play off, I was studying her frankly. Finally, I bluntly said, “You’re a very beautiful woman.”

She absorbed that and added, “For my age, you mean.”

“No, you’re just straight-up hot,” I insisted.

Clarice eyed me, probably trying to figure out if I was messing with her head. Maybe I’d had that in mind, but my cock was swelling — and my desire was real.

She said, “Prove that’s what you think. Show me your move.”

With a giddy thrill, I leaned across the table and planted my lips on hers. My bold gesture briefly startled her, but she soon returned the kiss. Our lip-lock quickly grew salacious. As our tongues mingled, I felt lust increasingly swirling within me.

When we broke apart, her face was flushed. She grabbed my hand and said, “Come with me.”

Clarice took me to her room. Once we were inside, she kissed me again. Her tongue dueled with mine, and a moan rose in her throat. She felt good in my arms, and her plush tits crushed against my chest, giving me an extra thrill.

Barely breaking contact, we shuffled toward the bed and tugged off each other’s clothes along the way. I removed her blouse and bra, and she peeled off my shirt. I hooked a thumb into her skirt and yanked it down her legs; she tore at my belt buckle and stripped off my pants.

We were naked and seething with lust when we tumbled onto the bed. I ground my fiercely hard cock against her fit figure. There were no obvious hints of her age anywhere on her body, yet if I’d seen her and a nude 25-year-old side by side I probably could have told them apart.

Despite any subliminal signs of maturity Clarice carried, she was as limber as a co-ed. Her skin was like silk, and I felt her strength as we rolled on the blankets and smooched.

Her hands roamed over me, caressing my pecs and reaching around to squeeze my ass. She dipped between our bodies and caressed my junk, which made me shudder with pleasure.

At last, I brought my hands to her tits and grabbed her cans. She broke our kiss to hiss, “Squeeze harder! Pinch my nips! Hard as you like!”

I practically mauled her, and when I tweaked her nipples, she cried out for more. Distantly, I wondered if that came with having lived a certain number of years as an actively sexual being. She obviously wasn’t afraid of flirting with extremes and understood the joy of certain sensations.

I moved down to suck on her elongated nipples, and she loved it when I nipped them with my teeth. I pushed further down her body. She parted her thighs, and I slipped my face between them.

Her bare pussy gleamed, a shaven portal to her wonderland. I lapped up and down her slick groove, and she bucked, her ass bouncing on the bed. Her taste was intoxicating, and I felt drunk from her flavor. I tongued her clit, which seemed to throb with need. She grabbed a fistful of my hair and smashed her pussy against my face. She was wildly writhing on the mattress, making it challenging for me to keep my tongue on target — but I persevered.

Clarice came with an ecstatic howl that made me feel like a stud. Eventually, I raised my head. I was practically panting, and my face was wet with her orgasmic juices. She sat up in a flash, seized my jaw and kissed me ravenously, pushing her tongue forcefully into my mouth.

She broke our kiss and announced excitedly, “You taste like cunt!”

This woman clearly had none of the inhibitions often displayed by younger babes. Clarice knew what she wanted. Toward that end, she shoved me onto my back, cupped my balls and unceremoniously sucked my crown into her warm, wet mouth.

Muscles quivered in my thighs as her tongue teased my cockhead. She soon swallowed me to the root as a pleasurable moan rumbled in her throat. I clawed at the bed linens.

It was such a sudden overload of bliss. I thought I might shoot off, but she softly grasped my balls in such a way that kept me from going over the top. Her head went up and down, the circle of her lips staying locked around my rod.

When she finally lifted her head, she purred, “You’ve got stamina. I like that.”

Next, Clarice vaulted up onto me, fitted my swollen cockhead into her cunt and slammed herself onto me.

Again, it was such a rush of pleasure. I raced to keep up with my lover, gripping her hips and meeting her downward plunges with upward thrusts of my cock. Her reactions told me my rod was hitting the sweet spot. She thrashed about on top of me, bucking like she was the one with the cock.

A fresh climax rolled over her like storm clouds full of orgasmic rapture. Ecstasy rocked her, and she cried out once more.

Clarice climbed off my prick, but I was still craving my own release. She positioned herself on hands and knees, facing away from me. She thrust her beautiful ass into the air.

I moved in behind her and caressed the globes of her rear. When I set my cockhead to her pussy, she looked back over her shoulder and asked, “Doesn’t your generation like anal anymore?”

Her voice held a teasing lilt, but I sensed her question was serious — as was her craving.

My shaft was still slick with her pussy juices. I set my knob to the enticing pucker of her rear hole. I hadn’t fucked a woman’s ass in a while, but I was eager to accommodate her. When my cockhead nudged past her ring, she rocked back on her knees and took my full length inside her.

I gasped in shock and appreciation. The beauty of the act overwhelmed me. So did her straightforward attitude. Clarice knew what she wanted, and I was giving it to her.

Keeping a tight grip on her, I pumped my hips. As my rod rocketed in and out of her rear, she bucked and moaned. Her back passage clenched my cock tightly, and the feeling was exhilarating.

Soon I was pounding Clarice wildly, going balls-deep with every intense stroke. I didn’t have to wonder if she liked it because my insatiable partner kept up an obscene running commentary. As my orgasm approached, she wriggled and shouted, “Fill me with your cream!”

I did, and shortly afterward we collapsed together on the bed, nuzzling and snuggling. We were both deeply contented.

We had one more chess game to play, but I already felt like the victor.