I'm Running on Empty Ch. 03

This is an adult sex story.

All the characters are of the age of consent or far over it!

Any children named or mentioned are not involved in anything sexual.

This story follows "I'm Running on Empty Chapter Two."

This is the story of how I spent my time starting that first week of the month of April and what my penis was doing too.

Enjoy and thanks for the views and votes.

****

I was singing to myself,

Gotta do what you can just to keep your love alive

Try not to confuse it with what you do to survive ...

... Running on, running on empty

Running on, running blind

Running on, running into the sun

But I'm running behind ...

****

I was headed out to the adult pool at my hotel in Las Vegas, where the pilot and co-pilot of my private jet had told me I could find them.

On my walk I was greeted with smiles and hellos from the employees of the hotel.

If you own a business, it's important to be visible to your staff. I was able to greet many by name and those that I did not know I stopped and introduced myself.

I did wonder how many of these people were stealing from the hotel.

It wasn't my intent to stay long at the pool; I wanted to see how the flight crew was doing and then I was going to meet a prospect for a quick drink.

I got distracted.

Any guy with a pulse would have been distracted.

The flight crew was being attended to by Dorrie (Dorrie was Ziba's daughter from the previous story).

Dorrie was taking care of these two ladies, which I appreciated.

I found out later that Dorrie had shared some personal information about me to the two of them.

I was genuinely surprised how interested the pilot and co-pilot were in me.

I really shouldn't have been; they had both been interviewed by Catherine my wife, and the co-pilot, Janey, had blown me on the flight over from Palm Springs a couple of hours previously.

I took in the view: my two aircrew members were working on their tans and they were being assisted by another topless MILF, Dorrie.

Catherine and I had gotten Dorrie out of an abusive marriage and moved her to Las Vegas where she was attending UNLV, earning a business degree.

Dorrie looked great; her large but firm young breasts moved slightly as she applied lotion to the bare skin of one of the ladies. I could see that Dorrie hadn't lost her interest in girls; her hands were rubbing a nice ass, maybe even massaging, one of the ladies. The bottle of lotion was there, but it looked more like foreplay to me than trying to get rid of a kink or prevent sunburn.

Dorrie noticed me first, and she broke out in a big grin. She announced to the two blondes that I had arrived and Dorrie stood up and greeted me with a kiss on the cheek and a hug.

She was careful not to get lotion on my expensive suit which I appreciated.

I'd seen Dorrie before, of course; but the last time I saw her was in Arizona in January and she had gotten into even better shape since.

She had an all over tan, including her breasts; she was slimmer and had some muscle tone. Not a body builder (thank God) but a very in shape MILF. Her hair looked like it had been recently done and her fingernails and toenails matched.

This was the first time I had seen my aircrew members in anything less than their uniforms and they were both impressive.

The pilot, Pamela, was a bit shy. She was smiled at me but did not get up from her face down position on a chaise lounge in the cabana.

Janey, the co-pilot, was less shy; she lifted both her head and upper torso off the chaise lounge giving me a nice view of her ample chest.

I noticed her nipples were at attention, so whatever carnal plans Dorrie had were working.

Janey asked me, slyly, if I was feeling better and I said that I was; "Thanks to you."

Dorrie asked if I had met with her mother and I replied "It's all good."

That was a white lie.

Ziba was good, she'd just been fucked in the ass for the first time in years, but she had shared with me disturbing news about employee theft taking place at the hotel, to the tune of $30,000 or more each month.

A cocktail waitress came by and took an order for me and refills for the ladies.

We had some quick chit chat and then Pamela, who turned out not to be as shy as she initially came across, asked me if I could massage her back.

I smiled and said that I would.

Out in the fresh air, I took a deep breath and decided that I liked what I saw. I liked it a lot.

Dorrie was still very desirable.

The two blondes were too. For being in their early forties and having been in war zones, they had flawless skin, nice hair, slender figures, and at least one of them had a flat belly.

I looked all over, as discretely as I could and I was relieved to find them all without ink.

I don't care if other ladies have ink on them; I just didn't want it on my employees and I don't give a shit what the employment attorneys tell me about discrimination and free speech.

The pilot and co-pilot could have been twins, or sisters a couple of years apart. They were very pretty with sparking eyes, great teeth, and they loved to laugh. I noticed that Janey had a habit of sticking her tongue out a bit, which I found erotic. (She blew me on the plane ride from Palm Springs. She gave great tongue; I knew I would want it again soon on my dick).

Pamela was lying on a couple of fluffy white beach size towels and I sat by her on the chaise lounge chair, massaging her upper back.

It was 5pm; still warm out. But the crowd was thinning out because it was a Monday.

Grabbing some lotion, I started in on her neck and shoulders.

I glance over at Janey, who was getting massaged by Dorrie out in the sun, and I could sense that she was jealous. I smiled at her and mouthed "you're next" which got a smile and a nod from her.

I also noticed an absolutely gorgeous, stunning creature on a nearby chaise lounge; more on her in a minute.

My goal was to drop by and see how things were going. I ended up staying a bit longer than I wanted but it turned out okay.

Once I got going on Pamela I didn't want to take my hands of her because I had so much more to touch, I mean fondle, no I mean, massage.

Her skin was flawless.

Okay, a few freckles and a couple of tiny moles but that was it.

No tan lines.

That got my attention.

The combination of the touching and the visual got the result every woman wants to get from a man: an erection.

And she responded positively to what my hands were doing.

Besides an occasional grimace or tensing as I worked on the knots beneath her shoulder blades, she was purring as I rubbed.

She would comment every few minutes with "That feels nice Jack" or "I like that" or just a simple "Thank you this is great."

I didn't want Janey, who gave me such a heart stopping blowjob on the ride from Palm Springs to get too jealous; Dorrie was preemptively massaging her with the goal to tease the shit out of her so that she would need some sexual relief soon.

A topless Dorrie with those heavenly heavy tits swaying as she moved around had a lot of eyes on her. Men's eyes, wishing they were the one being massaged. Specifically I am sure they wanted to be on their backs as Dorrie brought them to a climax with her oiled hands fondling their cocks and balls. And maybe putting her beautiful mouth on their hard cock so they could erupt into her warm, wet mouth; swallowing their load.

That Dorrie was massaging a hot blonde didn't hurt one bit.

At one point I took a quick look over to see Dorrie's hands under Janey's thong, rubbing her ass cheeks. Janey had a very contented look on her face.

I was sure there were a few eyes on me too; most of them from the women around the pool who wished I was massaging them.

I was careful not to reach for Pamela's side boob but I was dying to see how she stacked up (pun fully intended).

Based on the amount of tit flesh that was squeezed and coming out, I could see she was well endowed.

Pamela was modest, much more so than her two companions.

Sometimes those types of ladies, the modest ones, give a man the best time; we'd see if my experience played out with this theory.

Dorrie, of course, was wearing only the tiniest of strings in her ass and had something not much larger than a postage stamp covering her shaved pussy.

I had shaved both Dorrie and her mother, Ziba, and they both had instructions to stay that way.

I glanced down and could see no hair coming from Pamela's nether region so I assumed she was shaved or waxed. I was hoping to find out at some point on the trip.

She had on, from what I could tell, a larger piece of fabric over her pussy. So maybe there was some hair up front.

That tiny piece of fabric she had separating her taut ass cheeks only served to peak my desire to get to know her better, and soon.

I rejected the primal urge to pull the string out of her ass and lick her rosebud.

As I finished her neck, shoulders and upper back and moved down her body, I drew an imaginary "red line" that I wouldn't cross across the top of her ass.

I was trying to be a good boy, stay focused on ... what?

Trying to stay good?

I did the best I could massage-wise given the short period of time I could spend and so as I finished I violated my own rule and rubbed her bare butt for just a few quick seconds letting her know I was done and I followed that with "I have to get to an appointment."

She lifted her head up to look at me and to preserve her modesty she pulled the towel up to cover her breasts from prying eyes.

My eyes included.

She whispered to me "Can we finish this later tonight, after dinner? Just the two of us?"

I smiled and said in a soft voice "Sure."

I rubbed her ass again, doubling down on my message that she was going to get fucked.

She smiled back and still in a low voice said "I'll be waiting for you in your suite. Minus this swimsuit."

I laughed and she continued with her eyes sparkling "I'm going to fly you around the world tonight."

For those of you not familiar with the term, it means Pamela and I would be fucking tonight and I would be coming in her mouth, her pussy and her ass.

My hand hadn't left her ass and with this news I squeezed her ass and replied "I can't wait."

Pamela chuckled and looked at my crotch now supporting a redwood tree and said "Save it up, Jack, I want every drop."

Laughing, I wiped my hands on a towel and got up, carefully, cognizant of my erection, to put my suit coat on.

As I did I noticed Janey was sitting up on the lounge with Dorrie massaging her shoulders.

I knew that Janey did this because she wanted me to see her topless, and friends, I did.

Janey had a pair of grapefruits on her chest, white, untanned, capped by nipples that clearly indicated she was aroused.

I knew what she wanted ... my cock.

She'd given me an outstanding blowjob culminating in a swallow for a snack and she wanted some hard dick for dessert.

I'd get around to that pussy of hers but not as soon as she wanted it.

Tonight Janey would have to settle for Dorrie and her strap on. Or a night alone masturbating.

I was pretty sure that Dorrie would be able to convince Janey to spend the night; what she was doing now was foreplay.

Dorrie was just warming Janey up for a night of girl on girl sex.

I left the three of them out at the pool, letting Dorrie know she was to charge dinner to my suite. I also told her that I had arranged for each of them to have access to $500 worth of chips so they could gamble at the tables.

I also suggested that they invite Ziba if Dorrie could find a babysitter for her son.

My thinking was a little perverse; Janey would go ape shit with two female tongues on her even if Ziba and Dorrie were mother and daughter. I'd find out later if that happened.

I got near the pool bar on my way to the second floor cocktail lounge when I received a text message from Ziba who asked me if I was interested in interviewing one of her friends who was in the process of separating from the Big Four accounting firm where they had worked together.

I replied: Have her email me her resume and if she is as good as you say, have her meet me here at the hotel tomorrow at 3pm. Have her pack a bag because we'll be going to Santa Fe. She'll be out two nights with me. We'll get her back to LV on either Thursday or Friday.

Ziba replied: OK. I have other friends who might be looking. Do you want to see their resumes?

I responded: Yes. All of them. ASAP. How soon can they interview?

Ziba texted me: They are all available on April 16th once tax season is done.

I responded: Ask them to come up to Las Vegas on the 17th and spend a couple of days here at the hotel, all expenses paid, and I will meet with them one by one.

She responded with a happy face in reply.

As I walked by one of the bars by the pool on my way upstairs to my next appointment I heard an unfamiliar female voice call out my name. I detected a New York accent. Not am overly New Yorkish voice, but certainly from NYC.

It was a polished voice; professional.

"Mister Colton?"

I didn't recognize the voice.

I looked up from my cell phone to see a heavenly sight.

One of my three prayers from the afternoon had been answered.

It was the beautiful lady in the white bikini I had been checking out when I was massaging Pamela.

****

As I said above, while I was massaging Pamela, I looked around and my eyes fell on a knockout beauty nearby on a chaise lounge.

She hadn't engaged me in a stare down or anything but we exchanged smiles as we took in each other.

This was not someone you would soon forget.

In fact, you might never forget her.

As she lay on the chaise, I assessed the opportunity and did some rough calculations and estimations in my head:

Just under 40.

About five feet, seven inches plus or minus an inch.

120 pounds. More or less.

Lanky, but not super slim.

Healthy.

Meaning, she looked healthy and she had a healthy set of tits on her too.

Manicure and pedicure.

They matched.

Light blonde, with some dirty in it, falling around her shoulders.

She looked well tended; well taken care of.

Her eyebrows matched her hair.

That was a good sign.

I figured her pubic hair would match her head and eyebrows -- assuming, of course, she had pussy hair.

I wanted to find out. Oh how I wanted to find that out.

She had sunglasses on, dark ones, so I had no idea what her eyes looked like.

But she had a great smile.

I didn't see any tattoos.

She had a light tan; like someone who was out in the sun for a few days after a long winter when you avoided a tanning bed.

She was wearing an expensive white two piece bathing suit that fit.

It fit very well. Almost like a glove.

It wasn't one of our suits (CYNSUITs) but she looked like she would enjoy wearing our designs.

My brain started thinking about how I could measure her, you know, personally.

And work with her to make sure that her suit fit perfectly.

You know, with my experienced hands and expertise in swimsuits, making sure that the tiny patches of cloth we tailored fit on her nude body and covered her properly.

I guesstimated her breasts to be 38D, give or take.

My guess was a SWAG (stupid wild ass guess).

Just so you know, I've never been good at estimating breast size.

People think I am pretty smart, but for the life of me I could never figure out inches and cups.

You'd think I'd be an expert at it but I'm not.

Every time I had the opportunity to guess and then check my work, I was always wrong.

Even with Catherine or my first wife.

So, I pretty much just stopped guessing.

To make things easy for me, I simply rate tits on a three point scale: Less than a handful; a handful; more than a handful.

This is the Jack Colton School of Breast Measurement.

This is a personal tool, based strictly on the size of my hands, of course. So, using my own instrumentation and estimation she had more than a handful.

Still rubbing Pamela, which I was enjoying, I was falling in lust, quickly. Unexpectedly.

If that top came off, I'd be in love.

I tried not to drool on Pamela as I eye fucked the latest object of my desire.

Was she a porn star?

Porn stars are often very good looking but most of them had something about them, a look or an edge perhaps, that give off a vibe that you just know what they do for a living.

(Don't get me wrong, I am in favor of everyone working and paying taxes. I am not going to criticize anyone who works).

But she didn't look like a porn star.

Too old for that game. Or was she?

There were lots of MILFs and matures in the business these days.

Including my MIL, who unbeknownst to her, was making her grandkids college fund bigger every day.

Maybe a former porn star?

Possible but doubtful.

My brain clicked into detective mode, trying to connect the dots, most of them non-existent, all the while I have a very hot almost nude Pamela under me as I fulfilled my initial goal of touching her bare skin.

I just massaging her back. Nothing more. For the moment.

I couldn't exactly fuck her out in public.

I did it as a prelude to sex. Hopefully to have sex. So this was not exactly foreplay, but something close to it.

I mean, if Pamela and I were up in the suite and I was massaging her like this, it would be foreplay. She'd already be naked and I'd have my hands all over her.

And my tongue on her pussy, her rosebud, on her nipples and sucking her toes.

But out here by the pool, with me fully dressed, I was what?

Doing a chore? Doing a favor? Exercising? Being a nice guy? Or a perv?

I shook my head to clear it.

Too many thoughts at once!

Focus, Focus! On Pamela! My brain said to my eyes, but they wandered back to The Blonde.

That's what I decided to call her.

The Blonde.

That was some unit.

Some rack.

She smiled at me again.

I smiled back.

I didn't blush but I should have.

I hate it when women catch me checking them out.

I'd never make it as a secret agent.

My first day on the job I'd be killed due to pure stupidity; I'd be dead in ten minutes or less.

Kicking myself again for getting caught, after a few hard rubs off Pamela's lower back I looked back up again at The Blonde.

Her white top held her breasts in nicely, but they wanted to be freed from confinement.

That isn't exactly a fact.

What is a fact is that I wanted them to be freed and every other guy out at the pool that afternoon wanted them freed too.

Maybe even some of the women.

Free the Nipple! Please!

Free both Nipples!

The meaner, nastier women out by the pool wanted to see those puppies droop.

The more empathetic ones wanted to know what she did to keep those puppies up; maybe even get the plastic surgeon's name and number.

Taking it a step further, I didn't just want her breasts freed, I wanted them to be lathered up with sun tan lotion, either by her with me watching, or someone else.

My first choice was to see her rubbing those things.

My second choice was to see another woman apply the lotion.

Hopefully the female would be topless too.

My third choice was to participate myself.

With all the looks we were exchanging, I am sure I was on the short list of volunteers for her to choose from.

I'd make sure those nipples didn't get sunburned. If I had to protect them with my mouth all day long.

The white bathing suit wasn't see through when dry, although my experience in the swimsuit business and my Eagle Eyes quickly determined that she had a small thin white lining that appeared to have been custom sized for her hiding her punta but there was no similar lining for her nipples.