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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 is story number sixty (61).
This is continuing story of how I spent my summer vacation in Las Vegas, Nevada, USA.
While many did not like my previous story, number 60, titled “Justice is Delivered,” that background would be helpful before you read this story.
Enjoy and thanks for the views and votes
Flying by alone is a drag.
I want to make it clear I was not lonely.
And, I wasn’t technically alone; there were two very capable and highly qualified men flying the plane and a female flight attendant on board for my safety and comfort.
This flight I was on, and we had just taken off, was close to six hours long.
I used to use this quiet time to plan, read, and think.
I had even conducted interviews and received business briefings while flying.
But as I hired better and better people and put them in leadership positions in my various corporations (hotels, auto dealerships, clothing, consumer products, consulting), I now spend less time working on my flights and spent more time trying to amuse myself so I wouldn’t go nuts with boredom.
Sometimes I would nap, sometimes I would read, sometimes I would make calls and sometimes I would watch a movie or two, or see what was on TV.
Not on this ride. I was bored and my mind went from being blank to drifting elsewhere.
I was flying back to Los Angeles from Mexico having approved the design and all the various plans for Casa Pacifica, an ocean view gated compound.
I had a vision for the place. I was going to house, and treat, my mentally ill so called mother in law, Isabella, and her stripper friend Domino, formerly the owner of the consumer products company I bought for a song.
The facility was going to be beautiful, on a bluff overlooking the blue ocean, with plenty of rooms for residents and plenty of room for medical treatments of all sorts.
Like everything else I did, I was interested in making the location, the business unit, profitable.
I was pleased that I was doing this but not happy about the money I was spending to do it.
I guess I felt guilty about Isabella and Domino picking up trash on the chain gang (see my previous story about Justice being delivered) and then having them dancing in a strip club for pesos.
Reality was they both needed mental healthcare treatment to become better and I was the only one looking out for them.
In the meantime, while the place was being built, I had the two ladies continue to work on trash patrol (the chain gang) and dance at the club.
You don’t have to ask but just so you know, yes, I was still fucking them, regularly, on each visit to Mexico.
I rather enjoyed sticking it to them (yes, it was payback) and then having each of them clean my cock off between holes.
I played at least six holes each visit (mouth, pussy, ass) and sometimes I came back to play another six the next day.
Once I stayed for four days and three nights and got in 24 holes.
Isabella particularly enjoyed cleaning my cock after I’d fucked her ass.
God bless Isabella, she had a gift for giving head.
That tongue of hers brought me incredible pleasure and she enjoyed me holding her head in place as her tongue did its magic.
She loved the taste and texture of my semen.
I always gave her one salty snack when I visited and she begged for more of my man juice.
She didn’t talk too much while I was laying pipe but she did ask when I had her clean my cock “Sir, please fuck me again in the ass.”
Who was I turndown this kindly given request?
Isabella hadn’t been this civil to me in months, so of course I did as she asked.
Domino was initially more than reluctant to do ass to mouth but a few well placed alligator clips on the tips of her nipples made her change her mind.
But when it didn’t, if her resistance continued I replaced the first set of clamps with clamps that were larger and had sharper teeth.
Only these clamps were long enough to cover her nipple from base to tip, so you can image the force and the sharpness of pain.
I only had to do that once before she came around. And it only took one clamp on one nipple before she was begging, screaming, and crying to have it removed.
I’d removed the nipple piercings that Domino had earned as a result of bad behavior early on as a prisoner, and had my lab people working to find a cream or lotion to make a woman’s nipples more sensitive and Domino was my main guinea pig.
Oh, and Domino, she loved getting her pussy fucked; I just had to be careful not to get her knocked up. Initially not into sex for some reason, my repeated episodes turned her reluctance into anticipation.
I made sure I was the only guy fucking these two and they were very grateful for my cock.
Neither one knew who the guy was that was sticking a dick Escort bayan in their ass, pussy and mouth.
Each time I plowed them they had on the full leather headgear leaving only their noses and mouths uncovered and we continued to stick noise cancelling inserts into their ears.
Once in awhile I used the pillory out behind the strip club to hold them captive but I graduated to having them tied up and fucking them on a bed in one of the private rooms in the strip club.
I did notice that there was something to the Pavlov’s Dog theory; when those leather head caps came out and they were put on Isabella and Domino, their pussies got very, very moist in anticipation of what they knew was coming: hours and hours of being fucked by a man with a very big cock who came a lot, both inside of them and all over them.
As for Domino, she had to be broken before she could be rehabbed. In her previous life she had been a spoiled bitch and she had a mean streak like I had never seen before.
Isabella was still my first choice to fuck in the ass without lube; I hate to sound like a sadist but I liked to hear her groans of pain turn to moans of pleasure as she fully accepted the entire length of my hard cock in that still tiny rosebud of hers.
Someday soon I’d have to stop taking trips to fuck them.
And, once they got into the new facility, Casa Pacifica, I might, maybe, perhaps, allow Catherine to contact Isabella.
As for Domino, I wanted her to apologize to her older brothers and the employees of the company for how she acted, but she wasn’t there yet.
Maybe with medication she’d come around.
The plane flew on, and with the issue of Isabella and Domino behind me, I thought about the past couple of months that I had spent in exile in Las Vegas.
I was still debating in my head if being married to Catherine was worth it.
I hadn’t spoken to anyone about this, not even my closest friends.
They’d met Catherine, they loved her, but they had no idea about how things were going in our marriage.
I wondered if we got married too soon; I thought about how she put Isabella before me; I wondered if this had been the cause of her first marriage breaking up.
On one hand, you love someone, but how much shit does a man have to take before you say to your spouse: “Fuck this. You better get a lawyer because we’re done.”
On the other hand, she was the mother of my newborn son and every child deserves, and needs, a father.
And, for all intensive purposes I was the only father Catherine’s two daughters, my step daughters Marie and Natalie had.
And, as for the other ladies that I had impregnated: Janet (The MILF), Julie and Missy, they were all having my children: those kids deserved a good life too.
Meaning a dad; one who was there for them every day.
I looked out the window and smiled, thinking “Fucking sure is fun but the rest is difficult, damn difficult.”
But I had brought this on myself.
With Catherine’s permission, and often with her help, I had more sex than any man had a right to have. I’d had sex with so many women I couldn’t remember their names or their faces.
I’d never worn a condom, even when I was having butt sex.
I never had a whiff of a disease either; surely someone above was surely looking out for me.
But, there was a high price to pay for the great sex.
I was having children with four women and who knew if there were others I’d made pregnant?
I shook my head, wondering where it would all end. How it would end.
I polished off my large glass of wine (was it my second or third?) and asked the flight attendant to open another bottle of Silver Oak Cabernet.
It was just the two of us in the cabin and my eyes followed her as she moved about.
She was a honey blonde, hair down to her shoulders, about five feet eight in heels, great legs, tight skirt and tighter blouse.
Her figure was smashing; whoever hired her knew my type.
She was lovely, smart, friendly.
And she was single and not dating anyone.
All this had been texted to me, down to her measurements, weight, college transcripts and a full background check, including her love life.
She wanted to be a model and pictures from her various portfolios (OneModelPlace and ModelMayhem) were sent to me too; she was a 9.5; even though her pictures were only implied nude. But she did have a great ass that she showcased in several pictures. And, her tits were something to behold — they were hidden behind some sheer tops but you could see everything through the thin cloth.
She was certainly very fuckworthy and the more of this fine wine I drank the better she looked to me.
Don’t worry friends, I only had sex with her in my mind, even though she had made it quite clear she was available if I ever needed any further personal attention.
You know, maybe a neck and shoulder massage, followed by a nice blow job or maybe just a quick fuck to get the edge off.
No condom, of course. But Bayan Escort she already knew that, I am sure and still, she was sending me those signals. Green lights, not red ones.
My mind wandered to the possibilities of being naked with her on the beach in Hawaii or the warm waters of the Bahamas, our hands all over each other … fucking, rutting like animals.
Now … maybe if she didn’t work for me … but she did so I smiled at her with all these carnal thoughts racing through my brain and she smiled back, knowing full well I had been eye fucking her since the moment I laid eyes on her.
And we both knew we’d be keeping our clothes on during our first flight together.
But, if things didn’t work out with Catherine, I’d set this gal up in her own company and start dating, I mean fucking, her.
As I sipped the Nectar of the Gods, watching the clouds drift below, my mind went back to those first few days in Las Vegas when Catherine kicked me out of the house for allegedly sleeping with my so called mother in law.
Men have gone to war over pussy.
But me, I’m a lover, not a fighter.
I’m Indiana Jones on a quest to find, fuck and fill as many welcoming willing, warm, wet pussies as possible.
I’m a lucky man, I know it. I don’t flaunt it.
A summer ago, I renewed my friendship with Catherine and we hit it off so well we were married within months and she was pregnant just two months after that.
(I’m a fast worker).
A year later, spending the summer in Las Vegas, I think I found my Holy Grail; the pussy I had been searching for my entire adult life.
Or was it a mirage?
Once I got to Las Vegas, a king in exile, so to speak, I realized after the first night that I needed a steady sleeping partner.
Don’t get me wrong: variety in bed is the best.
But a fuck buddy; not a girlfriend; I needed a friendship with benefits.
I wanted sex without strings or attachments.
A revolving door into my hotel suite was nice, after all, what man doesn’t desire or enjoy different pussy night after night or day after day?
I know I sound like a spoiled child but really, who wants to sleep by themselves when there is unlimited fine pussy on the planet?
I always slept the best next to a woman; a warm, hot babe with my hard cock in her crack, my hands on her warm orbs.
When I’m ready for bed, I want to go to sleep with a woman next to me.
It wasn’t an excuse to have sex; because even if I had sex that night, I slept better.
And even if I didn’t sleep as long as I wanted to because I was up half the night fucking that was okay!
So, once I got to Sin City I took inventory of what was available; what the Vegas “free agent” market looked like.
Sampling call girls or hiring a prostitute wasn’t in the cards.
And I couldn’t sleep with any of the women that worked for me.
(I used to, when I was younger and stupid, like about a month ago, but I then was cautioned by a wise employment attorney (a female) who explained with crystal clear clarity what kind of damage a sexual harassment and or a hostile work environment lawsuit could have on the company, and me personally).
Dipping my pen in the company ink well was no longer a possibility.
No fishing off the company pier.
No shitting where you eat.
I got it.
So, while I had some on and off again sexual partners after arriving in Sin City, I needed a steady, someone that could come over when I needed them, but wouldn’t be offended if I didn’t call them because I was otherwise occupied, with another woman or women, or if I was working late.
I gave it some thought and first made, and then went through, my rather long and interesting list of women I had met on my many visits to Las Vegas.
I started scratching names off for various reasons.
The list got pretty short pretty quickly and while I wasn’t unhappy with the four names left on the list, I knew, I just knew that there was a name missing.
Looking out over the beautiful women at the adult pool that day, my brain went into overdrive trying to match the face and the voice I remembered with a name.
In my mind I could see her face and I remembered where I met her. And what she said; how her voice sounded.
I even remembered the scent, the fragrance, of her perfume.
That she had touched my arm and squeezed it; kissed me on the cheek when we parted.
But for the life of me I could not remember her name.
I sent one of the bellmen up to my room and had him look in the clothes closets and go through all my clothes if necessary.
He brought me her business card; it had been tucked in one of my suit coat pockets.
You know how you put on a pair of pants and you find a fifty dollar bill you didn’t know you had? That was how I felt.
I smiled as I read her name, and I flipped the card over and read her handwritten note to me that said “Anytime. Anywhere.”
I wrote two stories (I’m Running Escort on Empty Chapter 4 and Chapter 5) where I enjoyed an amazing dinner with Lauren, The Blonde.
But the lady I was thinking of wasn’t Lauren; my target was younger, ripe, oh so ripe, firm, and willing to be fucked.
This girl had invited me to fuck her. Who was I to turn down her invitation?
I texted Cindy, the server from my dinner with Lauren and she responded with “I thought you forgot about me!”
Within the hour she arrived at The Wynn.
Cindy was prettier than I remembered from that alcohol fueled night of sex, sex and more sex.
She found me out at the adult pool without having to search very hard.
She had a huge smile on her lips and gave me a tight hug, her breasts crushing into me.
My God she had hard nipples!
She kissed me lightly on the lips and then told me that she had followed up and taken advantage of my offer to get new bathing suits.
She had picked out and was fitted for five CYNSUITS.
Cindy smiled and said “If you’re a good boy I’ll model one of my new suits for you.”
I smiled back and said “I can be good in public but behind closed doors …” and we both laughed.
She kissed me again and said “I saw you when you were the bad Jack Colton and you were really, really good” and then she shuddered as if she were climaxing.
I knew what she was thinking.
Cindy was remembering when Lauren (The Blonde) had climaxed over and over as I pounded her from behind in the private room of the restaurant where Cindy was our server.
Cindy had watched us fuck. Before we left the restaurant she wasn’t shy about telling me that she wanted what I had given Lauren: orgasm after orgasm; a much needed fucking; a fucking to end all fuckings.
Cindy was a wholesome, very pretty looking auburn hottie with shoulder length hair, standing about 5’8″.
She had an amazing body. Petite but large, if you know what I mean.
I asked her what “Cindy” was short for and she replied “Cinnamon.”
I thought she was pulling my leg, but she was serious.
Her mother was a huge Jimmy Buffett fan and apparently she was conceived when the song “Son of a Son of a Sailor” was playing. (“Salt for your meat, and cinnamon sweet and the rum is for all your good vices …”
Born and raised in the Midwest, her dad was lawyer who had passed while she was in high school. Her mother was a teacher and had remarried; Cindy knew she needed to move on after high school graduation so her mom and stepdad could start a new life together.
She was fun, and funny, and of course, wanted to know what my relationship with Lauren was, so I told her that “I am partners with Lauren in her real estate business based here in Las Vegas. She’ll be ending her current partnership over the course of the next few months in New York and then we’ll get things going here by the end of the summer.”
I saw no reason to bring up any of the other ladies I had sex with and Cindy didn’t pursue the line of questioning. A rookie mistake for a would-be attorney!
Cindy nodded and asked “Was there any particular reason you wanted to meet with me?” and then, she just looked at me, using silence as a weapon.
I smiled at her, taking in that very pretty fresh face, those gorgeous eyes, that beautiful smile and those dainty earrings as I struggled not to look at what I knew was a freaking fantastic body under her hot weather clothes and replied “I wanted to get to know you better.”
Cindy smiled back at me and said, in a somewhat serious tone “In the Biblical sense?”
Before I answered her I remembered what Cindy had said to me as Lauren and I left that private dining room.
Smiling, I replied with “I wanted to give you what I gave to Lauren that night at the Four Seasons. Only on a more regular basis. Because that is what you said to me when I left the restaurant that night. Does that answer your question?”
A huge grin broke out on her face and she nodded and asked “What took you so long to call?” and then said “I went on the pill the day after I met you.”
Still smiling, she looked down at my crotch.
I was already hard.
Cindy blushed and whispered to me “I knew it was big but that looks even bigger than that night in the restaurant!”
Laughing, Cindy asked me to close the cabana drapes to allow her some privacy and when I finished doing that, she quickly, but too quickly, in front of me, took off her sandals, shorts and her blouse, leaving her standing in front of me in one of the smallest bathing suits I have ever seen on a woman.
Her body was flawless. She looked beyond amazing in that suit.
That bathing suit bottom couldn’t be any smaller, nor hugged her crack any tighter.
The top barely contained a set of knockers that were just begging to be set free from the restraining strips of cloth.
The suit was black, made out of mesh.
It was hard to discern but I was able to see a small patch of light red pussy hair just barely covering her pussy.
Her breasts were large, more than a handful, but strapped in nicely.
I could see her large areolas; pink, maybe two inches across capped by eraser sized nipples that were held down by the tight black fabric.
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