The Key to Las Vegas Ch. 08

~

Donna, as it turned out, was the investment specialist that had been referred to at our very first Dinky Daters night. Having the back of the bus to ourselves, both on the way to the dam and the way back, we had a lot more time to get to know each other than on a typical Dinky Daters date night. "So, what made you two decide to take the plunge and accept the invitation?"

"For swinging?" she asked, clarifying what I was asking about.

"Yeah, I guess that's what it is. I hadn't really thought of it in those terms." And I really hadn't thought that we were going to be swingers, just that we'd agreed to open our marriage to include sex with like-minded friends.

"You first."

"Angie and I had just sort of gotten into a rut. Maybe just that we weren't appreciating each other as much as we used to? But ever since we joined Dinky Daters, it's been... our relationship has been... more exciting? Less of us taking each other for granted? At the same time, we've both felt the dynamic of the group changing. I think everyone is getting... friendlier? Do you think that is the term? More doing things that a real dating couple would do?" I knew I was using euphemisms, but really just didn't want to say it outright.

"You mean making out and petting and becoming at least a bit sexually active?"

"Exactly." I shook my head to myself, thinking back on the evolution of our group dating. "Hmph," I snorted to myself.

"What's that?"

"Just thinking back. Angie was the one who told me that some couples are a bit more... open... than others. She got invited to the girl's Wednesday breakfast meetings. Do you go to those?"

"No. I have, I've made arrangements to be away from work a couple of times and gone. They've invited me, but work gets so out of control when that happens."

"It was after one of those where she clued me in that we were probably being a little over-conservative for our dates. You've heard that Angie and I had sex on our first date?"

"A lot of us have," she said with a swallowed giggle. She didn't hold back on that response.

"You?"

"No, not the first. Second." I laughed.

"What's so funny?"

"Angie and I have always 'play argued' about whether it was our first or second date. I met her at a college-age church group beach party, and we pretty much ended up hanging together the entire evening. I asked her out specifically the next night. Now, if I tell her that "next night" was our first date -- she says, no, it was our second, and if I tell her the group party was our first date, she'll tell me no, that second night was our first date. Depending on which date she claims, we went skinny dipping and made out in the dunes and had at least oral sex on our first "solo" date."

"She gave you a blow job."

"Well, yeah, but not until after I went down on her first."

"Really? Wow!"

"Wow, what?" I asked, wondering what made her say "Wow."

"No wonder she married you. Any man that will go down on his lady before she sucks his cock is a keeper in my book." She got a bit of a faraway look and said, "I don't think I've ever met any woman whose man went down on her first."

"Until now," I corrected.

"So, this weekend? Did you talk her into it, did she talk you into it?" I thought about it before I answered.

"Neither. We were surprised at the invitation, but we were both intrigued. Initially, neither of us wanted to admit we liked the idea, but when we both did, it was a mutual decision. What about you two?"

"Hmm. I think I'd have to say it's my call. Dave is a great husband and a decent lover, but anything like this he always goes along with what I say."

"So, you said you wanted to do this, and he just said OK?"

"Well, not quite that easy. At first, he thought I was telling him that he wasn't a great lover and I didn't want him anymore. But over time I convinced him that we just needed more excitement in our lives. Truthfully, just between you and me, at times Dave is just flat a bore to be around."

"So, you convinced him?"

"More that he convinced himself. We started talking about all the great dates that he'd been on and how so many times he'd come home hot and horny and said he'd wished he'd kissed her or made out a little bit, and I asked him if there were any of them, that if I'd given him a complete, get-out-of-jail-free hall pass, would he have liked to take to bed. That was it, I didn't even have to say that I was doing that, but just the thought that I wouldn't be jealous, and I wouldn't hold it against him -- and he was suddenly all in. I think getting Angie was his ultimate fantasy."

"Oh? Why's that?"

"Because she's so small, and he's so big." I nodded at the comparison, recognizing that David was one big boy. He was a little over 6 and a half feet tall, had played college football and basketball, and easily outweighed me by a hundred pounds. He didn't come across as a jock; more like a big, exceptionally muscular, and fit, teddy bear of a man.

"He likes small women?"

"He thinks he does. He says he's never been with a really small woman." The bus slowed and when I looked up, I realized we were about to turn into the parking lot for the dam.

The dam tour and hearing the history of the dam construction was excellent. Hearing things that in today's age seem so obvious -- such as the almost daily deaths among the workers that were finally diagnosed as caused by dehydration by a doctor being solved by just requiring the contractor to provide water for the workers, in the bottom of the canyon, where the temperatures were sometimes over 130 F/54 C, seems so obvious in today's era of workplace protections. But it was the depression era and, for every man who died there were a dozen more waiting to take his place.

After the tour through the dam, we took time to walk across the dam, stopping and taking an obligatory picture with one foot in Arizona and the other in Nevada, but with the sweltering heat we were dripping sweat and more than glad to get back into the airconditioned bus. 2 and 1/2 hours after we arrived, we were headed back to the hotel.

"Phew! It's hot out there," Donna said, pulling the front of her shirt open and pushing it back to allow the cooler air of the bus's air conditioning to caress her breasts.

"Phew! It's getting hot in here," I said, waiting for her eyes to come up to mine and purposely looking at her bosom where she was partially exposing it with her wafting.

I remember that I thought her bra was probably worn to partially or totally hide her nipples before I even knew what her bra looked like. With her flipping her shirt open, I could see that the bra was a very thin mesh material which in no way hid her nipples. Leaning slightly forward as she was, the bra didn't even cling to her breasts as it might have, giving me not only a look inside her shirt but inside her bra as well.

"Oh, you naughty boy," she laughed, although I knew full well she hadn't minded my looking.

"I'm not the one showing off my bra," I whispered, glancing up to see that everyone had pretty well taken the same seats they'd had when we came in.

"I had to," she whispered back and then turned her back to me. Sliding back against me. I turned a little in the seat, putting my back against the side of the bus and Donna relaxed and leaned back against me. "You haven't made any attempt to see my bra on your own."

"Bra's don't often do much for me," I said quietly, bending my mouth to her ear. "But I do like what's inside them."

"You sure haven't made any attempt to see them either," she responded.

With her leaning back against me, looking over her shoulder I could see the curve of her breasts through the neckline gap, but I now accented that by reaching around to the front of her shirt, pulling it away from her body, and taking over her wafting of cooler air for her. In and out several times and I stopped, holding her shirt away from her body and breasts. She knew I was looking. Her head turned toward the front of the bus, her hand coming up to push her shirt closed, taking my hand, and holding it. Turning to look where she was looking, I found an unknown couple stepping toward the back of the bus with us, although they weren't looking our way. But just as I looked, they turned and slid into a seat several rows ahead. "Thought we were going to be interrupted?" I whispered, and as she released my hand. I let it slide down her shirt and onto her breast.

"Did I say you could touch me?" she asked, her face turning to me where I could almost kiss her. I didn't move my hand, continuing to hold and gently squeeze her breast.

"You didn't stop me," I whispered, letting my lips caress her cheek. "Do you normally let your dates play with your tits on a first date?" I asked although the answer was moot.

"I guess it depends on how forward he is. I was kind of hoping he would." The sound of the door closing made me look forward, and I judged how high the seat backs were and how visible we were. With everyone sitting, all I could see was the back of other passengers' heads -- we were in virtual seclusion. The driver put the bus in gear, heading out of the parking lot and up the hill toward the new highway. Pulling my right hand away from Donna's breast I again reached for the notch at the front of the shirt, slipped my hand inside against her skin, and reached across to her left breast. Finding the edge of her bra I slipped my fingers inside and down until I found her erect nipple. "Is this too forward?" She didn't answer, just let out a little coo of pleasure, a shiver racking her body. A few minutes later I withdrew my right hand, slipped my left hand into her shirt and bra, and fondled her other breast.

Her nipples hadn't been hard to find, but had nicely erected more as I played with them. I could tell by her coos of pleasure that she was enjoying this - but didn't realize how much until she started to slip her hand into her shorts. I was surprised at first but, seconds later, she pulled her hand back out of her shorts, brought her other hand over to help, unbuttoned, and slid the zipper down. There was no surprise this time, with her pants open, she slipped a hand into her panties.

I didn't say anything, just continued to roll her nipple in my fingers, eliciting more shivers of pleasure in her body as she masturbated in my arms. I brought my other hand over the top, now fondling both breasts at the same time.

Donna's body twitched and writhed against me as my fingers caressed her breasts and nipples and hers caressed her clit. Her body was moving more and more; twisting, squirming and I could tell she was approaching orgasm, until silently, wordlessly, her body stiffened and convulsed. I could see her fingers quit moving inside her panties, but they didn't immediately withdraw. When she moved her finger against her clit a shudder went through her body, and then she did it again with a similar result before she withdrew her hand.

I left my hand inside her bra, her tiny breast filling my hand, her nipple pushing against my palm, but I was only slightly moving my hand around. I wasn't surprised when her arm twisted back and she slipped her hand between her bottom and my front, searching for and finding my cock.

It seemed just seconds from the time that her hand found me that I felt the bus shift, looked up, and found we were approaching the hotel. "Almost there," I whispered, pulling my hand from Donna's blouse. She reached down and pulled the zipper back up and buttoned her shorts, and in seconds she was nearly in the same state as she had been when we returned to the bus. Nearly, in that before her nipples had not been pronouncedly visible, but now they definitely were.