Vegas Week

Arrival

The flight was fine, Elle and I were able to upgrade to first class and so we had leg room, lunch, cocktails and no screaming children.

The reason for the trip to Las Vegas twofold: Elle had a business convention for her work, and we both decided that a second honeymoon was in order. It had been ten years of a great marriage and it seemed like a good time to celebrate that... and have some fun; to play "our game", the game we play at some of the local hotel bars and clubs back in our home town. Oh, my name is Henry Loring, Elle is my wife.

At the moment I was alone, Elle had walked back to coach in order to speak (and take some beers) to her three co-workers in the back of the plane. I loved how she said it was so I could flirt with the No. 1 Flight attendant (who just happened to have a dazzling smile and a rear end like one of those dancers in a hip hop video). I had chatted with her for about 15 minutes, in both a friendly and just a little flirty manner, but too soon she got busy collecting trays after the meal, so I pulled out my laptop and got back to writing.

Elle will be 35 this year, a five foot, three inch, Scottish-Irish, redhead with the kind of body that comic book artists draw for super heroines. She's lightly tanned with a gorgeous face; bluish-green eyes; her muscular and sexy arms and legs, along with her rock hard abdomen and a curvy, yet tight butt are sights to behold. Yoga and weightlifting DO go together.

Oh, I'm a 5'11" ex-high school and college wrestler, and Black. We are going to have some amazing looking children.

Anyway, for my last birthday, Elle had surprised the admitted tit man, by greeting me, naked and in high heels, as I walked in the door, directly from a three day golf trip with the boys, with a brand new pair of 34D breasts. I pounced on her in the doorway and didn't leave her alone, or those breasts, for a week. It's kind of funny, but as time went on I'm not really sure which of us the new breasts had more of an effect on. It almost seemed we were competing with each other to find different ways of teasing guys with them. Elle's collection of low tops; boy-sized white t-shirts; boy-sized button down shirts (usually worn with three or four buttons undone); halters tops grew large enough to warrant their own closet.

A couple of months later, on a cool autumn evening she came home, walked into the kitchen where I was feeding the dog and demanded I make her a martini. I said "Of course," I replied as I put the dog's bowl down on his mat. As I turned around I saw that she was dressed more for a Saturday night than a mid-week workday. For work, she usually preferred floral or patterned wrap dresses or tailored slacks with modest, business heels. Today she was wearing a fitted grey blouse; a tight, narrow, high-waisted black skirt that came just to her knees and black five inch high heel pumps.

Van Halen's "Hot for Teacher" ran through my head, I walked past her to get the vodka out of the freezer and three blue cheese olives for garnish. I asked her how her day went, assuming that someone had given her a hard time, thus requiring a cocktail as soon as she got home. Elle likes her martinis a little dirty...I poured the contents in to an oversized martini glass, plopped the stick with the olives inside and turned to her. She looked at me sternly and said: "I hope you're happy, now..." and reaching up with both hands, began to slowly unbutton her shirt and pulling it open so that I could see the slightly swollen nipple of her right breast which was now pierced by a small platinum ring. Wow....

After the piercing, things just started to get more intense, wilder. I'm sure it wasn't just the ring, but it was certainly one of the reasons. Elle's confidence regarding everything grew. She was more take charge at work, more outgoing and adventurous in learning new sports and activities and the frequency and quality of our sex grew exponentially. She felt sexier, and therefore she became sexier.

We started to go out more often, sometimes just meeting for a cocktail on the way home. The woman who worked out everyday even met up with me once in a while when I went out on a boys' night out. Even more fun was that where we had previously played our game once every few months, we were now playing it every month.

Well, I suppose I should explain what "our game" is... Our game is a kind of catch and release human fishing game and Elle is the bait. Elle and I enter a large bar separately (I usually enter first) and I find an inconspicuous place, but one from where I can see her enter, easily. Then she comes in and walks around. Her excuse, when she inevitably gets offered a drink by some guy or guys is that she's waiting for a friend.

I enjoy seeing guys fall all over themselves trying to attract her attention and keep it. It gets Elle's motor running as well. And over the last year she's come to enjoy showing of her hard earned body. The whole thing actually began accidentally one evening when she was out with her sisters who were in town visiting her but got tired after bar hopping a few places and decided to return to their hotel and husband and boyfriend.

Elle had this incredibly hot outfit on that she had bought while they were out shopping. (We call it the Tiger Outfit) It started with a short sleeved dark brown, top with long, narrow, horizontal cut outs, kind of like parallel knife slashes through the front center and back center, below this were low-rise, tight brown and beige jeans over platform heels. Perhaps it sounds weird describing it, but it looked great in reality.

I'm in a bar with some buddies as well as the husband and boyfriend of the sisters, playing pool and drinking beer. Elle calls me from this bar I've never been to and asks me to join her. I told all the guys they were on their own and jumped in a cab and shot across downtown. As I walked in the bar I didn't see her. It was a long, narrow bar filled with the beautiful people. I walked the length of the bar and passed her at least twice before I found her surrounded by four Asian guys.

She had seen me the whole time but stood there against the bar, inside their half circle, waiting to see how long it would take me to notice her. I ordered a beer from a passing waitress and stood against the opposite wall from Elle until the waitress returned. I stood and watched for a while as each of the guys was trying to impress her about some movie or gadget or something.

Elle listened, and nodded and smiled while looking at me every couple of minutes. Halfway through my beer I sauntered over to the group and said: "Hi, honey!" One of the guys standing directly next to her leaned in closer and said, protectively:

"Do you know this guy?"

Elle replied, "Oh the big Black guy? Yeah he's my husband; you should probably let him through..."

I stood at the outside of the circle; basically ignoring them, chatting casually with her while the six guys said nothing but kept refilling her martini glass. After the third martini, at least since I had been there, I suggested we call it a night. The funniest thing of the night was when the shortest and skinniest guy asked for her number as we were leaving.

I flagged a cab and as soon as we climbed in Elle started kissing my neck and her hand slid down and began rubbing my balls through my jeans. I tried to be cool but the ride took about a half an hour (even though it should have taken half that time) and by the time we pulled on to our street a few doors from our townhouse her top was up over her breasts and I was licking and biting one breast then the next while massaging Elle's crotch through her jeans. In the meantime my wife had gotten my jeans open and had been jacking off my cock.

As the cab stopped, Elle opened the door and got out. I struggled to get a rock hard penis back in my pants and zipped up. The happiest cab driver in the world got paid. Meanwhile my Elle was standing outside the cab staring at me, I suggested she might want to pull her shirt down which was still over up over her breasts. She reached up and instead of pulling it down; she whipped it off over her head and threw it at me.

She turned casually and walked up to the door and pulled her door key out of a pocket in those skin tight pants. She turned around in the doorway and started unzipping the jeans. I followed her into the house. Elle walked into the family room and removed the rest of her clothes and sat down on the couch. I knelt between her legs and licked at her navel. She groaned and pushed my head lower; I happily complied and licked her shaven pussy.

I flicked my tongue at her swollen clit and she growled. I slid my tongue inside of her. I pushed two fingers inside of her and went back to playing with her clit with my mouth. Elle twisted her nipples and talked dirty to me. "Take your dick out, I want to see it..." she whispered. I took my dick out with one hand as I continued with the other hand and my mouth between her legs. She pushed my head away and put her own hands between her legs. "I want to watch you jack yourself off..." she said. I smiled, sat back and started stroking myself.

Elle was playing with herself, eyes half open but staring at my cock. "Spit on it. Spit on my dick...." I spit on the head of my cock and spread it over the crown. I spit on my hand and continued stroking. Elle was watching intently and I was so worked up from the cab and watching her flirt at the bar that I was very close to cumming. I felt it building...and then Elle had a huge orgasm. She continued to look at me stroke myself while she came...as her shuddering calmed down and she slid off the couch on to the rug, never taking her eyes off of me.

She knelt in front of me, breathing heavily as I continued stroking. She leaned over and spit on my cock. "I want you to come for me." She said so softly. I came, cum pouring out of me rolling over my hand. Elle leaned over and kissed me softly and whispered, "You might want to clean up before you take the dog out...." She then stood up and padded out of the room.

So I tried it again, a couple of weeks later. Different bar: bigger, darker and one where no one knew us. At the entrance I stopped her, told her she had 45 minutes, she had to get a guy to buy her a drink and give her his phone number. She looked at me and said she can get that in five minutes. I told her I knew that, but I wanted her to flirt, have fun. She looked at me, not saying anything for a few moments, and then she half smiled, rolled her eyes at me, said "If it makes you happy," and with a toss of her red hair, she walked away from me.

I watched her walk away wearing that tight, blue dress from BeBe that just barely covered her ass and was cut low enough that most of the top of her tanned breasts were on display, not to mention that it looked like it was painted on her. It was the first time she had worn it, since she bought it, and neither the material, nor the length allowed underwear. She wore the blue five inch pumps, just for me.

The bar, Egypt, had three floors; the street level entrance had live jazz, and a very talented quartet was playing some smooth music, so I found a space near the band, leaning against a column, it was crowded and I wondered if I'd find a waitress or waiter. Almost immediately, on my left appeared a tall, model-thin, raven haired, very hot looking waitress with a thick Eastern European accent who asked me if I needed anything.

I ordered a bottle of American beer and asked her about the place and she told me that upstairs was a lounge with low volume music that people could sit and talk to each other in big comfy leather seats and chairs; while the basement was very different, it was called the catacombs...a dark maze of passageways and semi-private rooms with a large dance floor in the middle. People could dance, hang out in the little rooms and alcoves, wander the passageways or hang out at the bar.

I like jazz, so I hung out on the first floor for a while, and after the first round, I ordered a shot of tequila and asked the waitress, Camilla, if she wanted to join me. She winked at me, said maybe later and walked away; the outfit was cute, black cowboy boots, and a black little school girl skirt so short on legs that long that it was a sin. I assumed that the sunglasses on the top of her head were a style choice.

Every man in the place probably wondered how she could wear any panties under it. A black vest displayed just enough cleavage of her decent-sized breasts.

After about 20 minutes I got concerned that Elle might be standing in one of the other rooms, fuming because she thought this was a stupid game. I tipped Camilla and told her I might be back and went upstairs. A long, narrow staircase led into wide hallway flanked by bathrooms that opened up into a gorgeous room that could probably hold maybe two hundred but right now only about forty or so people were here, sitting in little clusters talking, laughing and drinking. No Elle.

I turned to walk back to the stairs and Camilla, in that little skirt and vest was standing behind me with a fresh beer. "She probably went downstairs," she whispered. She took a sip from my bottle and said. "Come with me!" I took a swig of beer and followed her...Camilla was growing on me.

She showed me an elevator back behind the stairwell that I hadn't noticed when I first came upstairs and we took it down to the basement area. If the first floor was a dim, smoky, live music place; and the top floor was a well-lit, if cozy, quiet living room, the Catacombs were an assault to the senses. Since the room was pitch-dark, after stepping off the elevator with the bright harsh single light bulb in it, you couldn't see anything. Then the dance music was playing at an ear blasting level.

I couldn't see anything or hear anything at first, but I could feel bodies bumping into me from every angle. Lips pressed against my ear spoke to me in that sexy Romanian (I found out later she was from Romania and was here in college and doing some modeling) accent that I should hold her hand until I could see. All of a sudden I understood why she and all the waitresses had sunglasses on their forehead, as soon as we got in the elevator; she had pulled hers down, over her eyes.

When we got off, her eyes adjusted to the darkness faster than mine and from the bumping I was receiving, a lot of other people as well. Fortunately, by the time we made it past the initial crowd at the bathroom doors I could begin to see, somewhat. Camilla took me on basically a tour around the entire place. Except for the DJ's booth, the two bars and the EXIT signs, there was no other light.

I would have been completely lost; passageways intersected or sometimes just ended. One of the passageways was, in fact a ramp that led down to an even lower level that contained a smaller room with two pool tables and a small bar. I was beginning to wonder which corner Elle might be in and with whom. I had some interesting thoughts about what might be happening.

"Not here," Camilla loudly whispered, and I then asked her how she knew I had come with someone. She smiled and pressing her lips up against my ear again, said she had seen us come in; I just was the type of guy she liked: big, strong and dark. She said she noticed that I sent the woman I came in with, away and the woman did not go to the ladies room. She smiled and pulled me back up the ramp.

We searched the entire level and then went to the first floor where the jazz was playing. Camilla told me not to be worried about my lady, we would find her. I told her I wasn't worried; I didn't tell her that actually I was getting pretty interested in what might be going on.

We went back upstairs to the—I now call it the Living Room and there across the big room was Elle, leaning against the wall near the front window, flanked by two, tall, slim, pretty-boy types, not normally her types. They were both leaning in and talking to her closely, the blonde spiky haired one was gesturing and pointing to, and eventually touching her nipple ring that showed through the skintight dress and whispering to her something that she smiled at.

Once he got his fingers on the ring and her nipple, he didn't take it away. Elle was listening to whatever he was saying until she was distracted by the other pretty-boy who looked almost identical, but with black spiky hair, who said something in her other ear. He was now tracing his fingers over that perfectly flat stomach that felt rock hard to the touch (I know) from the hundreds of crunches a day Elle does religiously.

Camilla pulled me over to a spot diagonally opposite across the room from the three of them and leaning into me said she would be back. She took a non-direct route around the room and casually arrived at their side and took drink orders. I enjoyed watching her walk toward the bar like a supermodel on the catwalk...I wasn't the only one as several other men and women, stopped her to get orders as well. There was another waitress in the room, cute, but not in Camilla's league. All in all it took about 10 minutes for her to actually get to the bar.

In the meantime things were heating up across the room. Blonde spiky was still tracing his fingers around the nipple ring and continuing to do all of the talking. I couldn't hear from across the room, but Elle's eyes were closed, she had that smile on her lips that said she was enjoying the attention, but I could make out that she was softly, slowly shaking her head and it looked like she was mouthing the word no, over and over, but she continued to smile.

Meanwhile, dark haired Spiky was sliding his hand up and down Elle's arm and trying to get her attention...not succeeding he tried a different approach. He moved his hand and reached in and took what I knew to be the blue cheese olives out of my wife's martini. That got Elle's attention; she loves all things cheese. She tried to move her right arm to take the two olives on the little swizzle stick back but her arm was blocked by Blonde spiky's fingers that were playing with her nipple and ring.

Of course her left hand was holding the martini. She was trapped, and I was very interested in what she was going to do next. Dark haired Spiky had eaten one and was pulling the second into his mouth when Elle put her mouth against his and it looked as though she was trying to suck the second out.

She was across the room, but I could still tell that they were fighting for the olive. Blonde Spiky was forced to let go of Elle's breast as she turned and pushed her body against Dark Spiky. Most of the martini was spilled. Finally, their lips broke apart and I could see her chewing. She turned back to him and gave him that sexy "I won!" look of hers.

Dark Spiky slipped his arm around Elle's back and side and pulled her back into him and placed his mouth against hers, it was obvious that they were no longer fighting over olives, they were kissing. Blonde Spiky, like me, watched this passionate kissing between his buddy and my wife for a while and then leaned in and turned her chin from his lookalike's lips to his. Elle turned her head to him and paused for a moment then began kissing him as she had been kissing the other.

For several minutes the two of them took turns kissing her and she was pretty much hidden from me between their two bodies. I was surprised at how much I was enjoying the show. Fortunately only a couple of people in the room were at an angle to see what was going on over by the window and only one of them a lone guy standing near the window seemed to have noticed the threesome, but it wouldn't take long before the three of them were going to get noticed by everyone in the room...at that moment, the magical Camilla appeared, walking up to them along with a bar back.