Let me start with the situation. My name is John Eltimon, and I'm the general manager of a small food products distribution company in Los Angeles.
This story happened during a trip I recently made to a vending trade show in Las Vegas. This show is where people who sell the foods sold in vending machines try and convince the thousands of small companies that service the machines to buy their food products. It is one of the nicer shows, because you can sample your way to an extra ten pounds in just a few days. Like most industrial trade shows, however, you are on your feet for eight hours, lugging a bag of literature, talking up sales reps, and lusting after the booth babes.
I flew into Las Vegas Tuesday evening, had an uneventful flight (except for those TSA assholes stealing an expensive set of headphones from my luggage), took a taxi to the Mandalay Bay hotel, and checked in. Quite a comfortable room: large king-size bed, granite bathroom with a glass-walled shower and a large jetted tub, big flat-screen TV. The only thing missing was my favorite beer in the minibar, but a quick call to room service for a six-pack and a burger fixed that.
While waiting for room service I stripped down to my skivvies and lay on the bed. One of the few enjoyable things about business travel is staying in a hotel alone – my wife treats me just fine, but sometimes I just want a burger, a beer, and nobody around but me and Big John. Most guys will understand this, although many women don't: it doesn't matter how good your sex life is, sometimes a guy just has to polish his own sword. No one knows better what feels good, and in a hotel room away from home, you don't have to worry about the wife or girlfriend or kids interrupting you.
Since dinner was on the way, I just reached into my skivvies and massaged the boys a bit – always feels good just to give them some breathing room. I turned on the tube to see what porn the hotel was offering. A few "couples" flicks (way too much dialog!), and a "Best of Asia Carrera" compilation. I love those dark-haired Asians, but $19.99 just to beat off?
Room service arrived, so I threw on some shorts and a T-shirt, then opened the door. A cute Latina brought in my dinner and beer. She had on tight black slacks – what a nice ass! I signed for dinner, tipped her well, and pretty much drooled as I watched her cute butt walk out the door.
Popped open a beer, slugged it down, opened another, and ate my burger and fries. Now, down to business. That cute Latina butt made me want some brown flesh, so I thought "what the hell, my employer can pay the $20 to get my rocks off." Besides, the hotel's system let you start and stop the movie for twelve hours from when you order it, so I figured I could get a couple of jollies out of it. I ordered the Asia Carrera flick, stripped down to nothing, and sat against the headboard of the bed – totally naked, a beer in one hand and Big John in the other – life could be worse!
Compilations don't waste time on plot or dialog, so Asia was soon sucking down a dude's cock that looked to be about ten inches long. I'm not going to lie about my size – I'm pretty average – so this guy looked to me like he had a salami hanging there. I started massaging my balls as I watched Asia give a great blowjob – first slowly licking around the head of his dick, then licking up and down the shaft.
She would abandon his penis every few minutes to run her cute and ample tits up and down his chest. Once she paused to pour some lotion on her tits so it was nice and slippery.
You could tell the guy was dying to be in her mouth, but she kept teasing him with the licking, and then by sucking his balls into her mouth. Man, I could have exploded just thinking about how good that must have felt. By now my tool was at full attention, but I teased myself by not touching my dick, just massaging my nuts. When Asia finally opened her mouth and went down over the head of his cock, I started lightly rubbing the underside of my shaft. By now a bead of precum was coming out of my dick.
Asia then started doing to this guy what I think is the best of all. Not the vacuum-cleaner suction that some women think feels good – it's a penis, not a cleaning tool! No, the slow, torturous, up-and-down of a woman's lips on my shaft, that's what feels good. Asia wasn't sucking, she just slowly moved her head up and down the guy's dick, occasionally taking her mouth off and licking at the head, or sometimes sucking on one of his balls.
Just like the guy getting the blowjob from Asia, I was getting pretty damned excited. I finally wrapped my hand around my dick and started pumping. Slowly, not too tightly, but all the way up and down, while my other hand massaged my balls. I was trying to drag this out as long as I could, but I was getting close to cumming, and it wasn't fifteen minutes into the movie that cost twenty bucks!
I would like to say that I outlasted the guy on the screen – hell, it was just me and my hand, and he had this gorgeous babe sucking on his knob! But, I was getting close when the camera panned down between Asia's long, dark legs, and focused on her hand massaging her own goodies. Man, oh man! Nothing hotter than a woman doing herself, and seeing her slowly stroke her own slit sent me right over the edge. In a few seconds I was squirting guy goo all over, on my hand, my chest and the comforter. I'm old enough at 50 that I can't hit the ceiling anymore (ok, I only came close even as a teenager), but it was a helluva good orgasm.
Just after Big John finished making me feel good, the guy on the screen let loose. I hate this modern-day crap where, as a guy gets close to cumming, he jumps up and beats himself off onto the woman. That ain't real life – if a babe wants to make a lollipop out of Big John, I expect her to enjoy it to the creamy center! Fortunately, in this flick Asia just kept her head bobbing, and as he came she just let it run out the sides of her mouth. After another fifteen seconds or so, she pulls her head back and gives him this beautiful smile with cum dripping down her chin. Very, very nice!
I turned off the TV and cleaned up my mess with the top sheet. After a long day and a satisfying orgasm, I turned out the light and fell fast asleep.
****
I work up the next morning as usual – rested, refreshed, and with a hard-on. A quick trip to the bathroom did nothing to put my best friend at ease. So I just laid back down, started the porn flick again, figuring I had plenty of time for a repeat performance.
I won't bore you with all the details, other than this time Asia and some blond chick were going at it: Asia was on the edge of a couch, legs sprawled, and the blond was kneeling on the floor lapping away at Asia's twat. The blond had large, obviously fake tits, which is not a turn on for me, but watching her tongue move up and down Asia's cute little manicured cunt was. Asia was massaging her own breasts, pulling on and licking her nipples, and obviously enjoying herself. The blond was slowly licking up and down the full length of Asia's slit, stopping every few strokes to wiggle her tongue left and right across Asia's love button.
I was pretty much doing the same as last night, stroking my cock slowly, massaging my balls with my other hand, and letting the tension build. Two girls together is something most guys like, but it's more difficult for me to imagine I'm in the picture when there are two women going at it. Nonetheless, I was getting plenty of pleasure out of stroking my dick while watching some serious carpet munching. Within about ten minutes, I was getting quite excited, and then the girls switched positions: Asia on her knees licking some blond pussy.
A few minutes of this, and, again, the camera swung around behind Asia, and zoomed in on her frigging herself. She would run a finger up and down her slit, then slip it in, then pull it out and repeat, and it sure looked plenty wet to me! Only a few seconds of this and I was cumming again, making a mess on the sheets. What a great way to start the day!
I got up, did my morning ablutions, and headed off to the trade show.
****
It was a useful day at the show, although very long and tiring. I made some connections with a couple of companies that could help automate some of our operations, and tried a variety of new vending food products. I learned years ago to go easy on the food samples – as good as it sounds to have a nearly-unlimited supply of candies, chocolates, dessert cakes, and so on, if you eat everything they offer you, you will be sick by noon.
So I was picky about what I ate, called a couple of beef stick samples my lunch, and stayed on the floor for a solid eight hours, covering about half the show. Must have visited nearly two hundred booths, talked to as many people. By the time I left and took a shuttle back to the hotel, I was beat.
I got off the shuttle, and decided to pick up a skin magazine at a hotel shop. No sense in spending another $20 for a porn flick when $7 buys a magazine that doesn't expire in twelve hours. I skimmed the titles, and picked up a Club International – one of my favorites, as they frequently have hardcore pictures, plus the typical softcore stuff. Flipping through I got a glance of a gorgeous brunette shoving a toy up her back side – that's my kind of pictorial!
I took the magazine and picked up another six-pack (lots cheaper in the store than via room service), and walked up to the cashier. I was waiting for the guy in front of me to pay when it happened.
"Hey, John, looks like you're prepared for the evening!"
I whipped around . . . oh my gawd – one of the women who works at my office was standing behind me, checking out my beer and porn mag, and grinning ear to ear!
"Ginger . . . what the . . . what the hell are you doing here!?" I sputtered, trying to hide my purchases by holding my hands behind my back, as I could feel my face turn red. Ginger Pacer is a cute brunette gal who works as a warehouse supervisor at my company. I hadn't a clue what she was doing at the Mandalay Bay hotel in Las Vegas.
"Oh, John, don't be embarrassed – a six-pack and a girlie mag are typical for a guy away from home. I'm on vacation this week, and I'm flying to Cincinnati tomorrow to visit my mother. My friend Sally was coming with me, so we decided to play for a day in Las Vegas, but her son fell and broke several ribs last week, so she had to stay home. So I've had a day to myself in Sin City."
I guess it's not surprising she viewed my situation with a shit-eating grin. She works in a warehouse with a bunch of pretty crude delivery truck drivers, and takes their language and dirty jokes and occasional dirty magazine in stride. Not that she doesn't invite some of it, with her frequently wearing tight jeans and showing some mighty attractive cleavage. I've always figured she liked the attention, and I am sure she is perfectly capable of putting any guy who gets out of line back in his place.
"So, are you staying at this hotel?" I asked, as I inched my way back to the magazine rack.
"Yea, I got in this morning, went and visited the Bellagio just to see it, and just checked into my room here an hour ago."
By now I was close enough to put my magazine back. As she saw me reach up to return it, she grabbed my arm and said, "Now, John, I didn't mean to embarrass you. Buy your magazine, and then, if you buy me a drink in the bar, I won't tell anyone at work!"
"No, I can't now – I'd think of this every time I saw you at work," I said, also putting the beer back into the cooler. "Let's go to the bar and I'll buy you that drink."
"Oh, Christ, John, don't be such a wimp!" She reached up, grabbed the magazine off the rack, strode over to the cashier, opened her purse and paid for it. I pretty much played the idiot, mouth hanging open, watching her. She came back, handed the brown-paper bag to me, and said "All right, now you owe me a couple of drinks."
We walked out into the center of the casino. This hotel is so large (something like five thousand rooms) that there are numerous restaurants, bars, and night clubs inside, and you really never have to leave. We picked a bar that was not quite as loud as the others, found a table, and sat down. In moments a waitress wearing very skimpy clothing was there to take our order. I checked her out while Ginger ordered her Jack Daniels straight up. I ordered a Guinness Stout.
"Not many women drink hard liquor like that," I said, referring to her order.
"Well, I guess that means not many women have as good of taste as I do."
"Is that all you drink?"
"That's my favorite, but if it's not available I'll pretty much drink whatever there is. Any booze is better than no booze."
"A woman after my own heart. So, what are your plans for the evening? I'm here alone for the vending trade show, so maybe we could go have dinner at one of the restaurants here."
"Maybe later. I had a sandwich after I checked in, so I'm not really hungry. For food at least – let's check out your magazine!"
"Here? Right in the bar?"
"Oh, don't be silly. This is Vegas. There are free newspapers with pictures of naked women in newspaper racks all along the Strip. No one cares."
"I'll be embarrassed looking at this with someone who works for me."
"Well, this might surprise you, John, but I've seen naked women before! Now let's take a look!"
I was still a bit uneasy, but I took the magazine out of the paper sack, and Ginger scooted around to sit on my right instead of across from me. We started flipping the pages, and every few pages Ginger would make some comment, or ask what I thought.
The first full layout was a gorgeous blond babe beside a pool – big tits, long legs, and very common in girlie magazines. "That's a beautiful woman," Ginger exclaimed on the first spread.
"She is, but she is so flawless and airbrushed and perfect that it's not real. Even the setting, the pool, the trees, the blue sky, is so perfect it doesn't really exist."
"So she doesn't turn you on?"
"Yea, some, but I guess I tend toward the ‘girl next door' sections of the magazines, or the amateur pages on the Web. It's kind of like I can more easily imagine myself with those women than with these perfect models."
"You mean, like when you're beating off?"
Geezus . . . I'm sitting in a bar with a woman who works for me, and she's asking me about beating off! I just sat there, looking at her, my mouth hanging open.
"John! Get a grip! We all do it, and it's nothing to be ashamed of! You weren't buying that magazine so you could read the articles, you were buying it because you are horny, and you wanted to look at naked women and jerk off. I know it, you know it, even the cashier knows it – now stop being embarrassed!"
"Ginger, I'm a happily married man and you work for me. We shouldn't be having this conversation."
"You're right, John. Let's just look at the pictures." At this point I thought I had won the battle – but she was just thinking farther ahead than me.
The next pictorial was the beautiful dark-haired woman I glimpsed when I was flipping through the magazine in the store. She was slender, had small breasts with tight, dark nipples, and a neatly manicured "V" of pubic hair. The first page was a fairly modest photo.
"She's another of the too-fake-to-be-real models, isn't she," Ginger asked.
"Well, yea, but I much prefer brunettes, so I think she is quite beautiful. Besides, her boobs aren't large, but they are real." I reached over and flipped the page. Several more photos, some showing a bit of her slit, and one beaver shot.
I said, "She may be fake but I wouldn't kick her out of bed for eating crackers. What do you think?"
"Oh, she's a very beautiful woman. Problem is, beautiful women often have big egos and are high maintenance. They want you to take care of them, and don't worry about taking care of you, because they have a string of guys willing to do anything to get in their pants. So, I'll bet I'm a better sex partner than she is."
"Well, it's not like half the drivers you work with wouldn't like to get into your pants!" I was finally catching up to her banter. We had finished our first round by now, so I signaled the waitress for another round.
"Yea, and they'd all drop me in a heartbeat for either of these models. You can't get around the fact that men are very shallow creatures." She reached over and flipped the page.
"Ummmmmmmh," I involuntarily groaned. It was the picture of this gorgeous brunette shoving a thin vibrator up her butt.
"Ah, you like that, huh?" Ginger said with a grin. "Is it her doing herself, or the anal thing?"
"Some of both, I guess, but it's a major turn on." I should not have let this conversation get this far, but I have to admit that the real turn-on was talking with this attractive woman who works for me about such intimate things.
Ginger leaned over to whisper to me while slipping her hand onto my leg and towards my crotch. I froze.
"I can be a major turn on, too." Very lightly she brushed her hand across the bulge in my pants. "So, is that from the pictures or from our little chat?"
"Ginger," I said, pushing her hand back, "I enjoy having a sexy conversation with you, and looking at these pictures, but I'm a married man, and this has gone far enough. You are young, attractive, sexy, and all that, and if I don't put a stop to this now, then I may well regret it later."
"Oh, John," she said, leaning back, "relax." Our second round of drinks showed up. The waitress noticed the brunette in the magazine pictures, and, grinning, simply said, "Very nice!" She set the drinks down, and sashayed away, letting me get a good look at her cute ass.
Ginger continued, "In the first place, I hardly qualify as young. I'm forty-two, and you're all of fifty, right?" I nodded.
"In the second place, I'm single and haven't been laid in over a year, and so I'm going to hit on just about anything that wears pants. As it happens, I already know you're a nice guy, you don't beat women around, and I know you are horny," she said, pointing to the magazine. "Since this is an entirely unexpected encounter, what's wrong with us both getting some jollies, then going on our way?"
"Ginger, if I were single you'd be on your back in my room right now, and my tongue would be exploring your goodies. But I'm married, and it would not be right. Besides, even if that didn't matter, how would we look at each other next week at work?"
"Well," she says, as she set her hand on my thigh again, "we would look at each other and grin, and remember the good times we had here. As to your marriage, I know your wife Debra, and think she's a great woman. If she were here, she would no doubt be the one getting the tongue massage, and I'd be alone in my room frigging myself while watching the hunks on the BowFlex commercial."
Her warm hand moved up my thigh, but she stopped short of my now-throbbing bulge. I swallowed most of my second beer, and was torn between wanting that hand to continue, and willing it to stop.
"John," she continued, more quietly, "I have no interest in messing with your marriage, but I want to get laid, and you happen to be here, and I know you and like you, and you are available." She didn't move her hand on my thigh, but leaned forward a bit. Then, staring me in the eyes, reached up with her other hand and undid her top blouse button, pulling the fabric back a couple of inches. I couldn't stop myself from lowering my gaze to see what was just inches away. Her breasts were pulled together by her bra, forming some mouth-watering cleavage, and she clearly wanted me to see it.
"Geezus, Ginger, do you know what you are doing to me?"
"Well, actually," she said quietly, now moving her hand over to rest lightly on the bulge in my trousers, "I do."
She squeezed my cock through the fabric, ever so lightly, and I let out a soft moan. "What room are you in?" she asked.
"If I let this happen, Ginger, do you promise that it stays forever between the two of us? You can't even tell your girlfriends, because it might get back to my wife."
"John, I know that Debra is a pretty good trap shooter, and I really wouldn't want her gunning for me with a twelve-gauge. Nor do I want to lose my job. This stays between you and me forever."
She almost had me, but I still hesitated, battling the conflicting feelings in my head. She sensed that she still had not quite set the hook. Leaving her left hand resting lightly on my bulge, with her other hand she gently picked up my hand, pressed it to her breast, and then squeezed.
My cock was about ready to explode, my head was spinning, the booze was helping her break down my resistance, and I was in a public bar squeezing a woman's warm breast.
I gave in.
"I'm in room 2025 – it's really very nice. Has a separate tub and shower." Kind of a stupid thing to say, but I wasn't thinking too straight.
"I'll be at your door in 15 minutes." With that she got up and quickly walked out of the bar before I could change my mind. I, on the other hand, had to sit there for a few minutes so I didn't walk to the elevator with a bulge in my pants.
****
I got back to my room, went in, and sat on the edge of the bed. I'd slept with several women before getting married, and I know and liked Ginger, so I wasn't particularly nervous about the sex. But this was a new situation for me, and I wasn't sure what to do next. Go take a shower? Order up some dinner from room service?
Grabbing a beer from the fridge (always a good thing to do when you don't know what else to do), I wandered over to the window and looked out at the Las Vegas night. What a city – the electric bill for some of these casinos is probably more than what my company sells in a year.
I must have gotten lost in thought, because a bit later I looked over at the clock – it was nearly a half hour since Ginger had said she would show up in fifteen minutes. Was I being taken for a fool?
I hadn't asked what room she was in, or I would have just called. Fortunately, as I again wondered what the hell to do, there was a knock on the door. I opened it, and there was Ginger, looking exactly as I last saw her in the bar, but with a shopping bag in her hand.
"Sorry I took so long, had to run to the store, and it took a few minutes to find the right store." She handed me the bag. "This should help make the evening even more exciting!"
I opened it: a box of condoms and a bottle of sexual lubricant. "Unless you have some sexually-transmitted disease, we don't need these," I said, tossing the condoms onto the desk. "I had my nuts cut five years ago – I'm infertile as a eunuch, and I can assure you I am disease-free."
"Well," Ginger replied, "that's good to know, but I didn't want to take a chance on missing the fun. I'm disease-free too, so we can use these for water balloons. Except I got the kind with little rubber fingers, ‘for her pleasure,' and we might have to try one just so I can see what it feels like."
"What's the lube for?" I asked. "Do you think I'm not good enough to get you excited?"
"Geez, John, for a successful businessman, you sure can be dense! If I did not entirely misunderstand your reaction to the picture of that gorgeous brunette shoving a vibrator up her butt, you are into the anal thing. Right?"
Back to feeling like a total idiot, I stuttered, "Well, I like that, but would not expect it to be part of a one-night fling."
Laughing, Ginger looked at me and replied, "Well, then, maybe I intend to use it on you!"
I stood there staring, again unable to respond intelligently. After a few seconds, Ginger took pity on me. She came over, put her hands on my shoulders, looked me in the eyes and said "John, relax. I just wanted to be prepared. We'll let the evening take us where it takes us – no expectations, ok?"
"Ok."
And with that I regained enough of my senses to take her face in my hands, bring her close to me, and give her an almost-platonic kiss on the lips. Nothing too sensual, but more than a peck. "Ok, I'll relax and enjoy the evening. And, since we've both been on the run all day, I suggest a couple of drinks and a relaxing soak in that large jetted tub. Whaddaya think?"
"I knew you had a brain in there somewhere, John. Nothing dampens a girl's enthusiasm more than being self-conscious about being dirty."
****
With that, I pulled her close again, and this time slowly, very slowly, let my lips lightly touch hers. Before we were really in contact, I moved my head back and forth slightly, letting our lips slide over each other and feeling the friction and heat. I slowly increased the pressure, until our lips were no longer sliding. She had closed her eyes, but I continued to look at her, trying to read her reaction.
I had held this contact for a bit until I felt her body start to relax. I very slowly pursed my lips and withdrew, only so I could then gently kiss her mouth on the left, then the right, then the tip of her nose, then back to her mouth. I did this very slowly and gently, waiting after each kiss for her to absorb the feeling.
After several minutes, I drew back just a bit, and returned with my lips very slightly parted. With the tip of my tongue I traced her lips – above, below, between – but I didn't let my tongue enter her mouth, or even separate her lips. She finally started moaning a bit, and I could tell she was liking what I was doing.
Time to let the tension increase. I pulled my head back, she opened her eyes, and I said "I'll go pour the drinks, you go start the tub. And don't think of taking any of your clothes off – that's my job."
Without a word, but with a look of anticipation, she turned around and headed to the tub. I then realized I had a raging hard-on, and wondered if she had felt it.
****
I went to the minibar and poured us a couple of drinks – she got Jack straight up, and I had it on the rocks. I kicked off my shoes and walked to the bathroom. Ginger was sitting on the edge of the tub, checking the temperature of the water.
"Should I put some of this bubble bath in?" she asked, holding up the little bottle the hotel supplied.
"Sure, put some in." I kneeled on the floor and started untying her shoes. I slipped them off, then pulled off her stockings.
"Whew, good thing we're taking a bath," I teased her. "I'd rub some lotion on your feet, but I can't get close enough."
"I'll bet yours don't smell any better!" she retorted. "And you put lotion on after you bathe, you doofus. You're such a male."
"And damned proud of it. Now stand up." She stood up, and turned towards me. I put my arms around her, brought her close, and gave her a more intense, sensuous kiss. This time she kept her eyes open, and as we stared into each other's eyes, the sexual intensity grew even more. I let my tongue again graze across her lips, but still withheld anything more.
I stepped back and decided her jeans should come off first. They were tight, so I fumbled the button a bit, but after that was undone I slowly pulled down the zipper, then started pulling her jeans off.
The jeans fell to the floor. "Oh, gawd!" I exclaimed. "Did you know I love cotton panties on a woman?"
"Yea, doofus-brain, your wife told me last week, when I called her and told her I intended to jump your bones in Vegas!"
I grinned, and lowered my hand to her bottom, delightfully clad in light-blue, full-bottom cotton panties. With my fingers I slowly traced the edge of her panties down around her thigh, then where they went between her legs, being careful to touch her skin as I moved my finger. When I got to the seams for the little cotton crotch, I traced that too, pushing just a bit harder so she could tell what I was doing.
I then used my other hand to repeat this on her front, which means my fingers ran lightly across the fabric over her clitoris.