Cheeseburgers, Vegas Style

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One:

They say-whoever in Hell they are-if you can't say something positive, then shut the fuck up! OK, but I'm betting they've never been mired in the nightmare traffic that crawls along the fabulous Las Vegas Strip. Still-and I'm only grudgingly admitting it-but it's preferable to being trapped in the horrors of the Los Angeles Freeway system. Angelinos take note, in Vegas, just mentioning the word system is good for a derisive snicker, and sometimes even an outright guffaw!

Yesterday, our Hotel's airport shuttle had taken its turn, slogging its way through the snarl of L A's traffic. Fuming, when I wasn't busy praying we'd make our flight, I'd failed to come up with an appropriately derisive snicker. Guffawing had been totally out of the question! Tonight however, no worries! Our Las Vegas cabby had come right out and promised we'd get to our destination on time. Sure, he had!

Now, I'm not calling it coercion, but Leslie had leaned forward over the cab's front seat. After all, Leslie wouldn't deliberately snuggle her breasts, bare under clingy silk against our cabby's shoulder. Then again, sure she would! Whatever, huskily purring, "See that we do," in his ear, she slid a pair of twenties in to his shirt pocket.

While my beautiful, and extraordinarily sexy young wife secured our timely arrival, I leaned back, gazing appreciatively at the tautly stretched strip of jade silk nestled between her suddenly exposed ass's delectably curvy cheeks. That sight, and the allure of what lay hidden under that silky strip of fabric did more then loose a flicker of regret. With a stiffening cock making its presence known, I was almost sorry I'd insisted on Leslie's wearing panties. Reminding myself that those panties, and the wrap-around silk skirt that left them so enticingly exposed were a necessary part of my plan wasn't much comfort. No, and when the incorrigible tease flirting with our mustachioed cabby gave her hips a saucy waggle, all I could do was remember the plan, and sigh. Still, I had to wonder, were those hips rotating innocently, or was it an artfully delivered reminder? Because, Leslie's way, and there wouldn't have been green silk showing between the sleekly muscled tan of her thighs. It was Leslie, so I figured tease-and not a subtle one either! Why else would I have reached out, and given that nearly bare ass a sharp, but playful swat? Why, well because I like doing it; plus, it turns Leslie on! Besides, it was a delightful way to remind her that I was still calling the plays.

Half way through our vacation and so far, we'd been having a total ball! That's despite five long, sun-drenched days full of the usual touristy rigmarole. We did Hollywood, we did Disneyland, and we did beaches-beaches intoxicatingly decorated with bikini-clad beauties. We shopped; well Leslie shopped, and I let myself be dragged along. Then there were cool evenings, open-air dining, rowdy nightclubs, and hot sex, lots of hot and nasty sex!

One-never to be forgotten-evening got off to a rip-roaring start at Universal Studio's Amphitheater. Under the stars, we partied our way through the raucous, cannabis infused excitement of a Jimmy Buffett concert. Then later, Kicking things off in our hotel's bar, Leslie orchestrated a spontaneous little production number of her own. Sorry Jimmy, but Leslie's brazenly erotic performance earned an 'unforgettable' rating! A one-woman act, sure, but it most definitely wasn't a solo performance. Nope, there are a trio of USC frat boys who aren't ever going to forget their scintillating encounter with my shamelessly uninhibited wife.

That was then! Now, and before Leslie and I move on to sample the bawdy delights of that city on the bay, it's...yippee, three nights in the city that never sleeps. I happen to love Las Vegas; even though, some anal-retentive types have the audacity to refer to it as the sin capital of the world. I say, one can always hope! Yup, and I had good reason for hope too! Because, in L A, after countering my dare with an audacious move of her own, Leslie graciously submitted-OK, reluctantly agreed-that in Vegas I got to call the play. Silly me, I even believed it!

With my flirtatious wife whispering-who knew what-in to our cabby's ear, our cab continued it's slow crawl up the Strip. Fascinated, I watched rainbow hews of neon dance on Leslie's bared ass, listening as her throaty purr Coaxed, "would it be Ok, if I sparked up a little intoxicant?" It was Las Vegas after all, so maybe Leslie was only insuring her bet-so to speak! Because, she had the tip of her flicking tongue teasing his ear, and her right hand had slid out of sight-no doubt adding its own flirtatious encouragement. So, it wasn't a surprise when that cabby's questioning eyes found mine in the rear-view mirror. Playing my part, I gave the lucky guy a conspiratorial wink, while Leslie giggled coquettishly, and murmured, "Please...please, say yes!" I'm not sure, if the poor guy simply shrugged his shoulder, or if he was using it to cop-a-feel. Either way, Leslie had a pair of noticeably erect nipples poking hard against that shoulder, while she cooed hot breath in to his ear. Then, taking that shrug for a yes, she kissed his cheek, and told him, "Thank-you darling!"

Sliding on to my lap, Leslie reached for her handbag. After handing me a slim silver lighter, she extracted a joint from a matching, and equally slim cigarette case. I lit it for her. Then remembering those hard jutting nipples, I reached up under soft silk, and corralled a pair of firm, perkily upturned breasts. By Las Vegas standards anyway, there not big, but they perfectly fit her svelte bodies fluid curves. Then, there's a hint of Eurasian in Leslie's exotic eyes, but it's likely to be her slyly seductive smile that grabs your attention. That is, once you've managed to tear your eyes away from what is definitely a truly world-class ass. Styled to fit her personality, and a shimmering glossy black, her hair brings to mind a sprightly and delightfully oversexed imp. An erotic temptation, packed in to a curvaceous five foot six inches, Leslie isn't just a spectacular bit of eye-candy, she's an unforgettable eye magnet. Still, it's the confident; devil may care love of life flashing in her bright-eyed smile that truly animates her. Well OK, take that, and then add in intelligence, creativity, a matching sense of humor, plus a big dose of the unashamedly hedonistic...and you have Leslie. Well actually, I have Leslie; but then, I'm willing to share-and I can prove it!

Long sleekly muscled legs demurely crossed, Leslie took several lung-swelling hits. Pursed lips, painted the same shade of glittery copper as her nails, held in her last hit. Those lips managed a smirk, as I twisted the tautly swollen nipples pinched between my fingers. Languidly, Leslie blew-out a thin stream of smoke. Her back arched a silent plea for more. The laughing tart pushed the joint between my lips. Then, While I sucked down a fragrant lungful of the heady smoke, she lifted her top, exposing my handiwork. After making sure our cabby was paying attention, the hussy brazenly declared, "Just look Jose...he's a beast I say!" Maybe it was his big grin, or maybe the slow shake of his head, whatever, I don't think he agreed.

Her artfully arched eyebrow asked, more! A shake of my head answered, no! The remains of the joint went in to the case, and then case and lighter disappeared in to her handbag. That was after the snickering imp slapped my hands away. Then, with her top still hiked-up, she tested our cabby's ability to multitask. It turned out-no surprise-that he could drive, and ogle bare tits at the same time. Because, leaning forward over the front seat, my giggling wife made real sure Jose got a nice close-up look too. When he didn't drive us in to oncoming traffic, she planted another lip-smacking kiss on his cheek. Unfortunately, when she sat down, her top was back in place. Worse, she chose leather upholstery over my lap, crossed her arms, and leaned back against the door.

Blasting me with an accusatory glower, a pouty lip in place, Leslie complained, I'm bored!" now, where Leslie's concerned, that's one dangerous state of affairs! Seeing as how for the evening, she was mine to command-or so I thought-I figured I could come up with a cure for her boredom. Only, she followed that boredom crack, with a snappish, "And, I want to know just what's on your evil mind!"

Boredom I could handle, that other was going to be a little trickier. Back in our Mandalay Bay suite, remembering the delightfully wicked way she'd turned the tables on me in L A, I reminded her she'd agreed to let me play cock of the walk in Las Vegas. Predictably, my chortling wife thought it was pretty funny, when I told her, "Tonight, I'm boss bastard...and you're my Genie, my every wish your command!"

Displaying a set of big brass balls, she readily agreed, snorting a derisive, "Sure darling...but if it's going to be anything goes...then buster, you better make it good!"

It was, and I already had an idea in mind for round one of our night's bawdy adventure. Honestly, when I told Leslie I'd be picking out her evening's attire, she'd certainly seemed amused. She was still laughing, clapping ands spinning in circles, when I held up a two-piece silk number. Hey, I thought the jade green cami top and matching short wrap-around skirt brought out the flecks of green in her hazel eyes. Somewhere in L A, in some trendy-and that means expensive-boutique, she'd modeled that skirt for me. I knew it barely covered her ass, and it didn't even do that unless she was standing still. Still it was Leslie after all. So, when I tossed that silk thong on to the bed, why was I surprised to hear her pitching a bitch?

Back in our suite, I'd made a point out of not telling Leslie why, when I'd insisted she wear panties. I had my reasons, and in the cab, I still couldn't, which is why I told her, "Can't tell you what's up or where we're headed...sorry baby!" Then, motioning, I added, "But...I just might have a cure for that boredom thing!" She scooted closer, and it was my turn to whisper. Only, my whisper was an ordered, "Ask your friend if he'd mind if you gave your boyfriend a blowjob!"

She did too-and without hesitating! Leaning over the front seat, one hand out of sight-no doubt adding a little inducement- she cooed a plea for permission. I'm sure she thought she was being cute when she told him, "Yeah, he's paying for it, so..."

Who knew then; but later, that smartass crack was going to help launch round two. It wasn't as if Leslie would have taken "No," for an answer anyway! I'm not sure the darling girl even knows what the word means! It didn't matter, because Jose came through, his broken English excitedly exclaiming, "That what you want...is OK with me!"

With a whooped, "Yippee," Leslie landed sideways on the seat. On hands and knees, in all it's bare glory, her spectacular ass was framed in our cab's side window. Presented for their approval, that full moon was in view to the adjacent lane of traffic, and to a sidewalk crowded with pedestrians. If I'd only known, those panties would have been waiting in my pocket-ah well...c'est la vie! I scooted forward a bit, leaned back, and waited. With practiced ease, Leslie got me unbuckled, unbuttoned, and unzipped. A tug on the waistband of my briefs, and presto, she'd produced eight inches of magnificently hard-not to mention, happy to be freed cock. Looking like she might just swallow it whole, she swooped in. Well those soft, copper colored lips closed around that cock's head, and...! She stopped her mouth's fiery wet heat exquisite torture. Then, with an audible pop, her lips released their hold. A growled, "Yummy," and her head slammed down, stopping with the fat head of my cock lodged deep in her throat.

Boss bastard or not, we were out on the town, and I knew better then to grab a double handful of Leslie's hair-but oh god, I wanted too! It wasn't really necessary anyway. Nope, because Leslie already had her head bobbing away, cheeks hollowing as she sucked, soft lips flying up and down the full rigid length of me. Quick to admit it, she's almost as quick to demonstrate just how much she loves filling her mouth with some lucky guy's hard cock. Creative and utterly uninhibited, she's got a bag full of wickedly erotic cock pleasing tricks. I think she's got a separate bag for the tricks she uses to delight the ladies-I'll have to ask! Anyway, I've watched her perform on cocks plenty bigger then mine; and Hell, that wildly pistoning lips to throat trick isn't even her favorite.

It was a shame, but I figured all poor Jose could see in his rear-view mirror was her rapidly bobbing head. Worse, we were still snarled in that nightmare traffic. So sure, there were plenty of opportunities for him to turn his head and catch a much more panoramic view. If he did, I missed it-so maybe the poor guy was shy! Whatever he saw, it was enough to earn my praise worthy wife's performance an ululating, "I-eeee," and an equally loud, "damn chica!"

Playing to her audience, she let my cock slip out of her mouth, knelt upright, and ordered, "Well now darling...first, I want to see those pants down around your ankles! Uh-huh, and then I want your hands behind your back...and buckaroo...they better just stay there too!"

Yeah I know, cock of the walk and all; but honestly, it didn't seem like a good time to quibble over mere details! Only mildly chagrined-but still grinning,-what else, I did as ordered. Then, I aimed a wink and a shrug at the rear-view mirror. I caught a flash of Jose's toothy grin. He reached out, adjusting the mirror. My eager wife reached out too, and roughly wedged my knees apart. Then, scooping up a handful of balls with one hand, Leslie slapped the other one around a still spit slicked shaft. Like a tigress on the prowl, rumbling growls issued from her throat. Slow and teasing, oh no, her fist was a pistoning blur. Eyes narrowed in concentration, still the stalking tigress, her, "Bastard," came out as a breathy snarl.

If I hadn't seen the sudden flare of heat in my overly amorous wife's eyes, and caught her lip-licking grin, I might have been worried-as if! I was still thinking, "Yippee," when her fist started pumping in short savage jabs. Turning it in to a perfect double play, her head began bobbing, popping a darkly engorged, and wetly glistening cock's head in and out past tightly pursed lips. Double play...damn straight, and I was afraid the inning might be about to come to a sudden, and explosive end! Well, she hadn't actually forbidden me to speak, so, I was all set to politely suggest, "Slow it the fuck down already!"

Before I could blurt it out though, good old Jose announced, "We almost there," uncertainty evident in his questioning, "You want, I can drive more?" "No," I said, almost choking on, "We're almost done," because Leslie had just reacquainted the throbbing head of my cock with her throat. Then, like Jose, who was bouncing in his excitement, I did a little bouncing of my own, adding impetus to Leslie's cock swallowing bounces. It was an even bet, whether or not she would need to swallow. Still, even if the odds were only fifty/fifty, I was hoping the first fountaining eruption would bypass her mouth entirely. After that, well sure, I was willing to go with fifty/fifty. Actually, what I really wanted was for that raven-haired cock tease to feel, at least half that upcoming flood pouring in to fill her mouth. Either way I love it; but with Leslie, it's either a look of wide-eyed wonder as she feels it surging straight in to her throat, or it's a look of hungry avarice as she gulps it down. Count on it...either way Leslie's going to love it! Sure, because whether it's seductively sensual, or wickedly erotic, there isn't anything sexual that woman doesn't love. Damn straight, and it's just one of the marvelous things I love about that extraordinary woman!

My cock hungry tigress was just a cream-licking kitten, when our cab pulled up under Club Lava's porte cochere. A Gentleman's Club within sight of Las Vegas's other volcanic landmark, I'd discovered it on a recent-boys only- trip. Earlier that night, I'd spotted an ad in one of the local throwaway papers; and voila, round one of tonight's festivities. Peering out the cab's window, Leslie couldn't have missed the neon colored lava spewing from the marquee, or the glowing words proclaiming...live...nude! With a gasped, "Oh fuck me," she made a dive for her handbag. Hey, she even had time to fix her makeup, before a pair of tuxedo clad valets swung open the cab's rear doors. I paid Jose, and thanked him with a generous tip. Then, and after a quick spritz of breath freshener, Leslie gave the lucky guy a somewhat more personal tip, smack, right on the surprised O of his mouth. Then with an exultant, "Woowoo," she took my arm, and...

Two:

In the foyer, I turned from paying our cover charge to find Leslie studying a poster boldly proclaiming, 'Amateur Night!' Chuckling nastily, she turned her patented wicked grin on me. Jabbing a finger at the poster, punctuating it with an impish snicker, she asked, "Oh Brian, this wouldn't by any chance be why you made me wear panties...would it?"

I was ready, suppressed a chuckle, and said, "Well Really sweetheart, you had so much fun dancing naked for those three college boys in L A, I figured you might just enjoy a slightly larger audience!"

Prepared to duck, instead I watched her wicked grin slide in to one of her big, beautiful smiles. Not that I hadn't expected it, but still, it was a relief to see the idea had sparked her curiosity. Even better, I figured it was rampaging through her exceedingly fertile imagination. Really, I hadn't actually ordered her, and I hadn't dared her either-which would have worked just as well.

Emphatic, her bold, "Darling...you're so on," didn't leave much room for doubt. If it had, her taunting, "Oh, and I'm going to have you creaming your jeans," would have erased them.

Ignoring her snickers, I offered Leslie my arm. Then, laughing together, we pushed through a pair of massive doors. Music blasted, and strobe lights flashed through a swirling fog streaked with bursts of neon color. An enormous stage that was really three connected but still separate venues, zigzagged through seeming acre's of split-level seating. A small forest of obligatory stripper-poles sprouted like glittering chrome trees. I guess I could have counted them, only three very blonde and very naked dancers had snagged my attention. Gyrating seductively, they strutted and danced, luscious Las Vegas sized tits barely even jiggling.

Distractions, distractions, distractions everywhere...but hey, I did manage not to walk us in to anything, and led Leslie through the wall of pounding music to a small booth. It didn't qualify as private, but it was well back from the stage.

Hips a gyrating marvel, a server approached, her filmy baby doll so sheer it was obvious she was a true redhead. While she took our drink orders, I hunted for freckles-and didn't find any! Tearing my eyes away from a very nice bit of retreating, saucily swaying ass, I followed Leslie's gaze. She seemed to be captivated, her focus on one dancer in particular. Who could blame her, surely not me-I mean...wow!

What caught my attention first though-so OK, it was the second thing-was, this dancer actually look like she was having fun up there. She wasn't tall, but had the traditional dancer's long legs, and a body that I might have called buff...that's if it hadn't been ripe with curves in all the right places. Closer to cute then beautiful, tan and blue eyed, her platinum blonde hair was cut short, in a style not so different from Leslie's. Bursting with sex appeal, and exuding a natural sensuality, she danced with wanton abandon. Of course-and I wasn't about to forget it-but, every one of those delectable traits held true for Leslie as well! Uh-huh, and my daring wife was going to prove it, and in front of a rip-roaring audience. I could hardly wait!