Chapter 7

Author’s Note: My usual reminder that there is cheating and drug use here. Thanks for all the wonderful feedback and for reading. Enjoy the trip!

The interminable wait was over. Kat and I were Vegas-bound. That Thursday evening, her boyfriend had left for drinks, dinner, and more drinks in New Orleans, so Kat had done her goodnight call just before I arrived for a quickie while we waited for the Uber.

“I want you to feel the cum flowing out of you the whole flight,” I had told her as I bent her over the kitchen counter, shoved aside her thong, and thrust inside. I finished fast, but we still kept the driver waiting a few minutes. We looked guilty as he loaded up our bags and took us to IAH.

We were handsy in the car. I dressed up a bit to travel. Jeans, a button down, and a blazer. Kat wore a surprisingly lightweight dress, but temperatures in both Houston and Vegas were warm. We also wanted to see if we could play on the airplane. Kat nestled up to me.

“I want to hear more of your wild Vegas shit,” she said. It wasn’t accusatory. Just her normal tone. She wanted storytime.

“You sure you want to know?” I asked.

“Of course,” she said.

“I’m not even sure where to begin!” I said.

“Tell me about your last trip,” she said. “Right before I made you an honest man.”

I laughed heartily. “Well, okay,” I said. “So I have a friend out there, a showgirl who’s in Jubilee! at the Flamingo.” Kat’s ears perked up.

“We have lunch or dinner and hang out. This last time, she brought a showgirl friend of hers along. We had drinks. Dinner. Played some craps.”

Kat moved closer to me. “This is boring,” she said.

“Okay, juicy bits only,” I said. “After dinner we ended up in my suite. They danced for me--not the showgirl kind--and I had a spanking contest. Whoever took my spanking the best, got fucked.”

“That’s devilish,” she said. “So who won?”

“Well, her friend won the spanking contest, but they both got fucked!” I cracked up.

We kissed, and she said, “I don’t know why, but I love hearing about your adventures. It makes me so turned on. Who got your cum?”

“If you must know,” I said, “I made them get on their knees so they could both take it. And then had them share it.”

“That’s so dirty and sexy,” she said. “I love cum so much. You should make me more of a cumslut.”

“I will definitely keep that in mind,” I said. “Your turn. You promised me your dirtiest Vegas story. You’ve heard all of mine. You’re holding out on me!”

“So I’ve almost always been to Vegas with Kelly,” she said, referring to her LA friend and TV mentor. “And usually it was just so easy to have fun. Blow and boys would just flow from our fingertips. But one spring trip we took, there just wasn’t any attractive action.”

I listened intently.

“I was pent up,” she said. “And after a night and half a day with no prospects,” she lowered her voice, “I put an ad on Craigslist.”

“Wow,” I said.

“I know, it sounds crazy!” she said. “But I got like two dozen responses in an hour. This was when Craigslist was at its peak. I got phone numbers from a couple guys after verifying their pictures, and picked one to meet up with. He was from San Diego, and I met him at the MGM for a drink.”

“Where was Kelly?” I asked.

“Watching,” she said. “Making sure I was safe. He was gorgeous. I mean, just such a pretty boy. I knew right there I was going to fuck him. I had two drinks, texted Kelly I was okay, and told him I wanted to fuck if he would like to join me.”

I squirmed in my seat. This was an incredible turn on.

“So like an hour after meeting, I was bent over the desk in my room at the Bellagio with this gorgeous hunk with a perfect cock just railing me,” she said. I could feel her hot breath on my cheek as she whispered the story. She was turned on recounting it. “He did whatever he wanted. He was such an arrogant prick, but so pretty, and his dick just stayed so nice and hard.”

My mouth was dry. My pants strained.

Kat continued, “We went three rounds before he left, and it wasn’t until after he did that I realized I never even thought about using a condom.”

I groaned. “You are such a bad girl,” I said, nearly panting. “You know how much I hate condoms.”

She let her hand brush across my crotch. “I hate them, too,” she said. “I haven’t really told you how often I would just let guys fuck me raw. I would get so turned on, and if a guy was super hot? I just let him. Especially if I was high, which was a lot.”

I pulled her close to me. I felt like I was going to explode. “Spoken like a true slut,” I said. “I love it.”

“I saw him again briefly the next day,” she said, her lips glistening with saliva. “We bumped into each other at the pool, and I let him fuck me in a bathroom. He didn’t even acknowledge me again at the pool. I felt like such a whore. Except I didn’t even get paid.”

I kissed her, my hungry tongue invading her mouth. I didn’t care about the driver. Kat was the perfect slut. We had arrived at the airport, and I took a moment to get out of the Uber. I felt like the barest touch against my cock, even of my pants against it, would make me explode. I recovered enough to get our luggage inside, and off we went. The weekend had barely started, and it was off to an electric beginning.

The flight was uneventful. The flight attendants were attentive, which was annoying only because I had wanted to play with Kat’s cum-filled pussy. We had to resort to dirty talk, which made the three hours go quickly.

When we arrived, a Wynn Resorts Rolls Royce waited for us outside baggage claim. The driver was familiar, and I tipped him up front. The Strip buzzed with neon and energy as we drove up the back route to the Wynn, its curved tower inviting and promising adventure. My host met us with our room keys. By 10 p.m., we were in our suite. By 10:05, Kat’s tits were pressed against a floor-to-ceiling window overlooking the Strip. I awkwardly drove my cock inside her because of the odd standing-up position we had to use, but the glory of the view was too good not to be inside her while we enjoyed it. I pulled her head back by her hair, licked her ear, and said, “This is my favorite city, and it has never looked better.”

She slipped out from under me and turned around, mashing her ass against the window this time. She kissed me and said, “I hope someone out there can see us.”

My cock was achingly hard, and she grabbed it and guided it between her thighs. She moved it back and forth between her slippery pussy lips, teasing.

“You know,” she said. “I hate to say it, but I’m a little tired.”

I took the hint and decided to toy with her a bit. “Me, too,” I said. “I actually was going to suggest that we go get something to eat and hit the tables. We can go to the coffee shop on the way.” I also liked the idea of edging our desire a bit. Otherwise, we’d never leave the room all weekend.

Her eyebrows furrowed at me. “I’m not sure coffee is going to cut it. I’ve been up for 21 hours!”

“You’ll see.”

We dressed. I kept on a blazer. Kat wore a tight, short cocktail dress in green--the color she could never wear at work because of the green screen. I instructed her not to wear panties or a bra. She looked exquisite, her legs inviting with four-inch heels. We went down to the coffee shop, which was closed.

“Now what?” Kat said.

I put my arm around her back and patted her butt. “Give me a second,” I said. “Wait here.”

My connection was discreet. He waited in a corner, out of the bustle of passing casino-goers. The exchange wouldn’t have been noticeable even if security walked by. Just two white guys dressed up for a night in the casino. We split in opposite directions, and I returned to Kat.

“I’m such an idiot,” I said. “I forgot my wallet upstairs. Let’s go get it really quick.”

She clutched my arm and walked close to me toward the elevator. “You got some, didn’t you?” she said excitedly.

I grinned. “I don’t like to sleep when I’m in Vegas. And there’s nothing wrong with being a little bit of a party girl, is there?”

In the room, I produced a swollen baggie of cocaine and handed it to Kat. “I’ll let you do the honors,” I said.

“Holy shit, babe,” she said. “How much is this?”

“Um, it should be 10 grams,” I said. “Two of us, 48 hours ... figured that would be enough.”

Kat already was crushing and chopping four generous lines. She took a tiny bit on her finger nail and took a test sniff. “Oh fuck,” she said. “It’s good.” She offered me a nailful. I obliged. It was good quality.

“I’ve known this guy for several years,” I said. “Discreet and high purity. Expensive, but that’s what you’ve got to do in Vegas if you don’t want baking soda.”

“Do you have a bill, babe?” Kat asked. “I didn’t bring my kit to the airport.”

I smiled. “And now for the first of my weekend surprises for you, darling,” I said.

I gave her a small box I had been holding. She unwrapped it. Inside were a snuff bullet, waterproof vial with a small spoon attached to the cap, and a glass straw.

“Your very own Vegas weekend coke kit,” I said.

“You really are more than just an amazing dick,” she teased me.

We took off the travel fatigue with two lines each, and Kat loaded up the vial and the bullet. She put the bullet in her purse and gave the vial to me.

“I think I’m tempted to say fuck dinner,” she said, kissing me.

“I am, too,” I said, “but if we don’t eat something now, we are going to seriously regret it in the morning. I have a lot planned for us.”

We stopped in at Sinatra, which was packed, but I knew the bartender and tipped him generously. We grabbed a couple drinks and appetizers, and I felt a great sense of contentment. It felt normal being with Kat. We wrapped up, and she excused herself to the restroom. I had another surprise for her next, bottle service at the XS nightclub. I knew she loved to dance. We could finally explore some of the things we loved. Together.

Kat put her arms around me from behind when she returned. “That bullet is perfect,” she said in a low voice. “So perfect.” The coked out look in her eyes was familiar to me now.

I smiled. “How many hits did you take?” I got up from the bar stool and left the bartender a $100 bill, made eye contact, and waved to him.

“Four,” she said sheepishly. “I wasn’t sure what you had planned for me next!”

I drank in Kat’s beauty in the green dress that clung to every curve. What I had at first judged as a girl-next-door look had become, to me, the epitome of beauty. I saw the slightest poke of nipples. I loved the hint of hip bone pressing against the fabric.

“Let’s hit a craps table,” I said, “and I’ll fill you in on the evening plan.”

I cashed in $2,000 each for us at a craps table with a $100 minimum. Craps was my game. I appreciated the social aspect of it. The energy at a good table was incomparable in a casino. We sidled up to the crowded table, the other players generously making plenty of space for Kat and her second-skin dress.

“Do you know the rules?” I asked.

“I’ve played craps before,” she smiled as she stacked her chips along the railing.

We stayed at the table for almost an hour. At first, the play was choppy, and I told her we had bottle service and a table at XS whenever we were ready to move on. When Kat got a chance with the dice, she had an impressive run. She hit four points, but she was making a long run on the numbers, especially 6 and 8, which were my favorite bets. With her short dress, she also made an exaggerated lean against the table as she rolled. The hem climbed tantalizingly close to revealing her naked, smooth cunt. I loved it. The other males at the table jockeyed for a chance to see behind her when she threw the dice. A couple women presumed she was a hooker. That turned me on.

We cashed out, up a combined $1,500. “I guess we can get some Champagne at XS,” I said. “Restroom break?”

“You read my mind,” she said.

The adrenaline rush of the craps table waned, so I hit a stall and took out the vial. A few bumps of coke, and I was ready to party. I met Kat outside, looking refreshed.

“That bullet is my new best friend,” she laughed.

We skipped the line at XS, and a gorgeous host escorted us to an upper level cabana outside, where the Encore Beach Club occurred during the day before giving way to an all-night bacchanalia. The cabana would give us plenty of privacy when we wanted it. A bubbly, college-aged waitress came over a short time later, and I waved off the explanation of the bottle service requirements. I peeled off two crisp hundred-dollar bills and told her to bring bottles of Dom Perignon until we said to stop. The music thundered, and even this far from the DJ stage, you could feel the bass pulse in your chest.

We took a break on the cushioned banquette in the cabana and sloppily kissed. My hand made its way naturally up Kat’s thigh, pushing the short dress higher. Maybe we should have finished our earlier fuck to dial back some of the tension we were now feeling. As my hand moved to her cheek, stroking it, our blonde bottle service girl returned with an exotic, tattooed brunette who was carrying an ice bucket sporting two bottles of Dom. The waitress put down two flutes, bending over with a gratuitous amount of cleavage directly in front of me, her thighs almost brushing Kat’s face.