Chapter 4

My husband returned home from work for the first time in weeks, and it was good to have him home, even though it curtailed my dalliances with Dion.

Dion was going through final exams for the fall semester, so it was just as well that he focused on his studies. Nevertheless, my husband still worked during day, and Dion and I made time to fulfill our sexual needs as the opportunities presented themselves to us.

I knew my husband had to leave again in a week for another work trip, but he surprised me when he said, “Why don’t we take a vacation, you, me, and Dion?”

“What do you mean?” I asked, my husband’s question catching me by surprise.

“Well, I’ve got a conference in Las Vegas next week, but I’ve been thinking. Dion will be done with classes after this week, right? He’s been working hard on his studies and been a good student, so I think he might appreciate it if he was rewarded with a little vacation out of town. I’ll be working all week, but you guys would be free to explore the town during the day, and then I could join you two at night. What do you think?”

I felt a tinge of guilt. My suspected nothing of my true relationship with. He had taken on a father figure role for Dion, and he assumed I performed a similar function. I couldn’t help but marvel at my husband’s naivete, but I quickly worked past any guilt I harbored.

What did I think? I had to hide my enthusiasm at the possibilities. Sin City. All the glitz and the glamor fueled by gambling and sex. An adult playground. A hedonistic den of debauchery where one can indulge in one’s sins and vices. My husband was proposing to set me loose in Las Vegas with my young teenaged lover.

“I think it sounds perfect,” I replied.

When we invited Dion to come with us to Vegas, he was unusually quiet.

“What’s wrong?” I asked him. “I thought you might be more excited.”

Dion went on to explain he would be moving out at the end of the year. I was crestfallen, but Dion reassured us that we had been nothing but the most gracious of hosts and that he felt really conflicted and guilty for leaving. My husband was sad to be losing Dion when he had become almost like a son to him, but he was proud that Dion was learning to become independent and didn’t need us anymore.

Later on, when I pressed him about it, I learned that he was moving in with my neighbor, Emily. She basically offered him money to move in under the guise that he was responsible for upkeep on her house, and the money that Emily promised him was enough that he no longer had to work his part time job, so he’d have more time to focus on his studies.

I learned later on that Kathy had made a similar offer to Darius, and he was moving into her house at the same time. On the surface, both Kathy and Emily presented the change as their way of giving back to the community, although I vividly recalled their hushed tones as they inquired about and then began secret affairs with Dion’s friend, Darius. It seems that Kathy decided that sneaking over to Darius apartment for sex sessions was too inconvenient, so she figured out how to get her lover to move into her own house with her husband.

I suppose I can’t complain since I was guilty of the exact same thing, but who knew I’d started a neighborhood trend when I invited Dion to stay in my house. Emily was also having a secret affair with Darius, and after she realized that Darius was moving in with Kathy, she moved quickly to secure her own steady source of big black cock, and the only other young black man she knew was Dion, so she struck a similar deal with him. As far as their husbands knew, their new boarders job duties were to be a handyman around the house and take care of the yardwork and landscaping upgrades, but Dion admitted to me that their job duties were primarily comprised of sexually satisfying Emily and Kathy.

Dion clumsily fumbled and stumbled his way through the TSA airport security checkpoint. The routine of presenting his ID and the ever-changing rules around how to process bags and walk through the metal detectors clearly confused and flustered him.

“Is this your first time flying?” I asked him after we finally got past the security checkpoint.

Dion flashed an embarrassed smile. “Yeah,” he admitted. “We didn’t have money to fly anywhere like this. I was always in and out of foster homes, and they were always strapped for cash. A vacation was always just visiting some family an hour’s drive away.”

“Don’t worry; you’re past the worst of the security now. Just relax from here on out and enjoy the flight. We’ll be there before you know it,” I told him.

Dion was like a little kid on the plane. He had a window seat, and he spent the whole time peering out, fascinated as we sped down the runway and then took off. He looked on in awe and endless fascination at how the world looked so small below until we finally safely touched down again at our destination.

We got our rental car, and then Dion’s eyes grew wide as the lights of the Las Vegas strip came into view. He was silent the whole time, his face a look of wonder as we approached the Strip on the short drive from the airport.

It was already nightfall, but the sidewalks were still full of people. It’s funny how spending a few hours just sitting in an airport and then a plane can take so much out of you, but it does, and we all decided to just rest up for the night so we could start fresh in the morning. We parked our car, checked into the hotel, and then found our way to our room. My husband’s company paid for the room since he was in town for a conference, and we had two king sized beds, so Dion just stayed in our room with us. We clicked off the lights, and soon I heard my husband’s snoring next to me and Dion’s deep drawn heavy breaths from across the room while I sat awake, my mind racing in excitement over all the plans for Dion and myself I had concocted for the upcoming week.

Monday

In the morning, my husband headed to his work conference, which left Dion and myself alone in the hotel room. Knowing that Dion would be moving out soon left me feeling melancholy and bittersweet, but I resolved to make this trip as memorable as I could for him.

As Dion sat watching tv, I went through my luggage searching for clothes to wear for the day. I noticed a TSA tag indicating that my bag had been inspected. I chuckled at the idea of the TSA inspectors stumbling upon the assortment of sexy clothing and toys that I had packed for the week. If this week was going to be my last week with Dion, then I intended to end our relationship with a bang.

“You know, my husband is going to be at his conference all day. What ever are we going to do with ourselves?” I asked Dion, feigning a horrible southern belle accent.

Dion looked at me questioningly. “If we go having sex in this room, you don’t think your husband will know what’s up?”

I slowly sauntered across the room to him. I was dressed in nothing but a cotton nightie as I pulled the covers down on Dion’s bed. He smiled up at me as he was lay there in a wife beater and short pants.

“Just keep watching tv. Don’t mind me,” I told him.

I proceeded to give him a wet sloppy blowjob as ESPN blared from the tv behind me. After a bit, Dion was so worked up, he pulled me off his cock and threw me down on the bed.

“God damn it, Diana,” he glowered. “How am I supposed to just keep watching tv when you’re doing all that to me.” His tone sounded serious, but his face was all smiles and playful.

“Oh heavens, are you going to punish me?” For some reason, I continued on in my absurd attempt at a southern belle accent.

The bottom of my nightie rose up, revealing my pussy, and Dion’s eyes wandered down to my nether regions. His hands spread my legs and lifted my nightie up past my waist, leaving me completely bottomless and exposed.

“Punishment? I think you’ve been practically begging for this,” Dion said as he lowered his pants and unsheathed his cock.

He raised my legs into the air as he entered me. For the next few hours, he fucked me with reckless abandon. I screamed in pleasure as his cock relentlessly pounded me into submission until I repeatedly climaxed in joyous cries of ecstasy. I knew my husband had many friends and colleagues at his work conference that would occupy him, so Dion and I had the hotel room to ourselves and all the time in the world to kill. I can only imagine what anyone passing down the hall past our room must have thought as they heard me in the throes of passion. We must have forgotten to put the “Do not disturb” sign outside our door, so housekeeping briefly entered at one point, but they peered into the lewd sight of Dion fucking me doggy style on the bed and mumbled an apology as they beat a hasty retreat.

It’s funny to feel sentimental about a purely physical relationship, but we both knew our relationship would change as soon as he moved into Emily’s house, and it was as if all the lust, passion, and emotion just poured out of us and into our love making. I realized how much I’d miss the feel of his body against mine. The contrast of his chocolate-colored skin against my lily-white flesh. His rough, calloused hands against my soft touch. Ours was more than just a physical relationship or friends with benefits. I genuinely cared for him and would miss him after he moved out.

As the lunch hour approached, it was time to actually move beyond our room and start exploring the town. Having skipped breakfast, we were both hungry, and we got dressed to get some food.

“I don’t think I’ve hardly ever seen you wear panties before,” Dion remarked as he watched me get dressed.

“That’s because I’ve got a surprise for you,” I hinted. “We’ll walk around and see some sights this afternoon, and we’ll have some fun while doing it,” I said with a wink.

I went to the restroom to fix my hair and make-up, and I slipped a vibrating egg inside me while in there. When I came back out, Dion was dressed and ready to go. I handed the remote control for the egg to Dion.

“This is for you to use this afternoon. You’re in control. Of me,” I stated flatly.

Dion looked perplexed as he stared at the small handheld remote.

“What is this?” he asked.

“Press one of the buttons to turn it on,” I told him as I raised my eyes.

He pressed the button for the low setting, and a small hum filled the silence as the egg started vibrating inside my pussy.

Dion’s eyes widened as he realized what he was actually controlling.

I smiled and bit my lip as the egg vibrated away inside me.

“It’s like a little game we can play,” I said with a knowing smirk. “We’ll go for a walk and tour some of the nearby casinos. Meanwhile, you are free to activate the vibrator inside me whenever you please. It’ll be our sexy little secret while we’re out and about in public. Do you want to play?”

Dion eagerly agreed, and we were off. It was almost perfect temperatures, about 70 degrees outside. I wore a short dress, although Dion had turned off the vibrator since we left, and I wondered how long it would be until he resumed teasing me. The anticipation kept me on edge and in a state of arousal.

I caught Dion’s gaze landing on the Vegas showgirls who routinely paraded up and down the strip wearing thong bottoms and pasties covering their nipples. I can’t blame him for having a wandering eye when there’s a half-naked woman in plain sight, although I couldn’t help but feel a pang of jealousy. I knew my time with Dion was running short, and I wanted him all to myself.

We were walking through the majestic architecture of Caesar’s Palace when the egg stirred for the first time. I glared at Dion, and he gave me a gleeful smile. I stopped mid-stride and collected myself as all the other tourists passed around me. I took a deep breath and then we carried on. Dion delighted in my obvious squirming as I struggled to control myself in public. He quickly learned how to toy with my arousal. He’d turn it on, gradually increasing the strength until I was edging hard, and then he’d cruelly shut it off without actually letting me climax. He’d let a few minutes pass before he’d repeat the cycle.

We continued on like that as we walked through the shops at Caesar’s Palace. Then we made our way to the Venetian and followed the canals through the shops there, as well. All the while, Dion continued teasing me, somehow knowing exactly when I was on the cusp of an orgasm, and then he’d turn it down again when I was seconds away from taking the plunge over the edge. At one point, I was so overcome with my arousal, I stopped and took a seat on a bench. I sat there with my legs splayed open, allowing every passer by an easy look up my dress while I let the egg work its magic on me. I almost cried in frustration as Dion turned it off right before I would have climaxed. I stared daggers at him, my eyes pleading to let me finish, but he just shook his head and looked away.

People looked oddly at Dion and me as we toured around the casinos. We were out of town and didn’t know anyone in the city, so we were free to openly show our affection for one another, and we took advantage of that opportunity. We’d hold hands, or he’d have his arm around me, his hand often cupping my breast as we walked. I have worked hard to maintain my figure, but I still look more than old enough to be his mother, and I felt some strangers stab me with piercing stares, as if to say I was robbing the cradle. I suppose they weren’t necessarily wrong. I am over 30 years older than Dion, so they weren’t entirely off base. Still, who are they to judge if we’re both adults in a consensual relationship?

We were standing in front of the Bellagio fountains when Dion finally allowed me to orgasm. The music reached a crescendo as the fountains reached their zenith in a moment that coincided with my own orgasm, and I gasped and tried to contain my emotions while I was literally surrounded by dozens of people. Dion later admitted that he was so mesmerized by the fountain show that he simply forgot to turn off the egg. Even if it was unintentional, I was grateful to finally climax after being teased so hard the entire afternoon. As I descended from my orgasm, I sheepishly looked around at the throng of strangers surrounding me, wondering if any of them had any inkling as to the mind-blowing orgasm this 53-year-old woman just had in public right in front of them.

That night we went out to dinner after my husband returned from his conference. I was still wearing the egg, and Dion still had the remote control, and he continued to tease me unmercifully all through the meal right in front of my husband.

“Diana, are you alright,” my husband asked out of concern for my welfare after seeing me awkwardly squirm and wiggle in my chair.

I just played it off, but I leaned forward on the table and smiled brightly to show that I was okay, even though I was anything but. I bit my lip even though I wanted to scream. As I leaned over the edge of the table, it gave cover as my husband sat across from me so he couldn’t see my hand fall to my side and surreptitiously hike up my dress and rub my wet mound. Dion sat to the side, and his face belied an amused smile as he reveled in my desperation.

By this point, I’m not sure if it was mercy or cruelty, but Dion increased the egg to its max setting, and it sent me to the moon. I tried to exhale slowly and control myself even as my pussy felt like it was throbbing, ready to explode.

“Excuse me, ma’am. Would you like more water?” the waiter asked politely.

Our waiter, a handsome young man was standing right next to me with a clear view of my dress hiked up and my hand in my panties, rubbing at my pussy. His eyes darted down briefly, leaving no doubt he saw what I was up to. I could’ve died, but I tried to act nonchalant, so my husband would not think anything was amiss.

The waiter held forth the water pitcher, and I mumbled some response that prompted him to refill my glass.

“Actually, could I get a glass of wine?” I asked after I regained my voice.

“Of course, madam. Do you know which selection from our wine menu you would like?”

“It doesn’t matter. Surprise me with whatever you would recommend. And, actually, bring the whole bottle, please,” I asked, desperate for a strong wine to ease my nerves.

“That’s an excellent idea ordering the wine,” my husband complimented me. “Even though Dion technically can’t drink, still, we can raise a toast to his accomplishments this year. We are here to celebrate, after all. This should be a memorable week.”

I took a deep breath and fixed my dress, discreetly wiping away my juices off my fingers and onto my napkin as I resumed eating our dinner. I could smell the aroma of my wetness and hoped that no one else could notice it.

“It certainly is shaping up to be a most memorable week,” I agreed as Dion tried to stifle a laugh.

Tuesday My head was pounding with a headache, and I was bleary eyed as I awoke in the morning. It was almost 10 AM, so I knew my husband was off at his work conference. Dion lay languidly on the bed next to mine, watching tv.

“Oh God, how much did I drink last night?” I moaned.

“Well, your husband just had a small glass. You finished the rest of the bottle.”

“So, I practically drank the whole bottle myself?” I said in disbelief.

“Then you ordered a second bottle and finished that off, too,” Dion laughed.

“You didn’t have any?” I asked in exasperation.

“I’m underage,” Dion reminded me.

All I could do was laugh at my own indiscretion.

I showered and cleaned myself up, and then I spent the rest of the morning naked with Dion’s cock in my mouth as he watched tv. He just sat up in bed while I was strewn across the bed with my head buried in his lap and my slobber dripping off his cock.

“Just relax and enjoy your show,” I told him. “I want this week to be special for you, something, you’ll never forget.”

Dion chuckled. “I think you’re spoiling me. I don’t reckon I’ll get this kind of service on any other vacation the rest of my life.”

I marveled at how his cock fit so nicely in my mouth. I savored how the tip of his cock felt as it parted my lips. As he hardened, the veins in his cock became visible, and his pre cum leaked out onto my tongue.

“You teased me yesterday, so now I’ll tease you,” I told him as I repeatedly brought him to the edge of orgasm, only to back off at the last possible moment.

Eventually, Dion had enough of me teasing him, and his hands grabbed my hair and forced me to finish him off. I gagged as his cum shot to the back of my throat, the salty sweet concoction of his cum essentially serving as my breakfast.

“We’re in Vegas. We should go do things,” I told him. “You can watch tv at home any old time.”

“What should we do today?” he asked.

“Let’s get dressed. I’ve got some ideas.”

Getting dressed was a relative term for me. I put on an impossibly short dress, and this time I didn’t put on any panties. The top of the dress was a little tight, but I decided not to wear a bra, either. I was wearing a cocktail dress. It was sparkly and looked classy, although it’s short hem and low strapless top left a lot of me revealed. I knew I’d have to be careful not to have my tits pop out of my top. Dion looked me over curiously.

“You know what they say about Vegas, right?” I cautioned him.

Dion looked bewildered.

“What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas,” I informed him.

Dion laughed. “Okay, okay. I’m down with that.”

“Good, let’s go.”

As we went down the hotel elevator, I told Dion, “Technically, you’re supposed to be 21 to gamble since they serve alcohol, but I think you can pass for 21. Besides, you’ll be with me. Just act confident, and you’ll be fine.”

As we sauntered onto the casino floor, an endless sea of card tables, roulette wheels, and slot machines lay before us. Music blared overhead, and an assortment of every culture, age, and race filled the floor. The old senior citizens who spent their retirement savings all day on the penny slots, rarely even leaving their seat in a joyless pursuit of some elusive jackpot. The regular folks who came to Vegas to live it up in a fantasy world where they dressed and acted like high rollers for a few days. The families just taking in the sites. The Europeans taking in the uniquely American Vegas experience of excess and decadence. The Asian tourists here to revel in the mecca for gambling.

And then there was Dion and myself. We were mismatched, the 53-year-old white woman on the arm of an 18-year-old young black man. In Sin City, however, we somehow seemed to fit right in with the teeming variety of other oddballs and cultural mainstream outcasts.

I sat for a while at one of the poker slots while Dion sat next to me. We played for a bit, but my mind was hardly on the machine. I was more focused on turning on Dion, flashing him clear shots of my shaved pussy. Dion took eager notice and kept a wide smile on his face the whole time as he played on his own machine. For a while I rested my legs on Dion’s lap as I continued to play mindlessly on my machine, the hem of my dress rising so high, it was obvious to anyone close by I was not wearing panties.

A group of other young black men took notice of the show I was giving Dion, and they congregated in our area, taking seats at nearby slots. There was 4 of them, and they all looked to be in their early 20’s. I caught them continuously looking my way, and I was feeling frisky and daring, so I found excuses to occasionally swing my stool in a full circle. As I’d circle around, I made sure they got a good look at me. They whispered amongst themselves, and eventually they approached us.

“You’re a lucky man,” one of the young black men told Dion, and he blushed. “Is she your woman?”

“Something like that,” Dion replied.

“She likes the young black cock, don’t she?” another one added.

I looked hungrily at the 4 young black men surrounding me. Truth be told, I wanted to invite them back to our hotel room, but I was reminded that this week was for Dion, so I held my tongue.

“She can’t get enough,” Dion boasted.

“Respect,” he said as he gave Dion a fist bump. Then he turned to me. “You’re a real fine woman. Aged like a fine wine. We appreciate what you’re doing out here. If you ever want to party with us, you just let us know. I bet you’re all kinds of fun. We hope to see you again.”

Now it was my turn to blush as they turned and walked away.

After a while, Dion and I moved to one of the blackjack tables. I was still shaken by our encounter with the other young black men. I shuddered at the thought of my body being ravaged by them, letting them all take turns on me, and I couldn’t erase the idea from my mind.

To my surprise, two of the young black men we were talking to sat down at open seats at our table. Dion stood behind me as I played blackjack. I was on a lucky run, getting a lot of face cards and aces, and the dealer seemed to be on a run of bad luck, and I quickly was playing with house money.

Two older men at the table decided they were done and should quit while they were ahead. The other two young black men from earlier joined the action right away, so now it was me playing at the table with the 4 young black men who had approached us earlier. I continued my run of luck, and with each winning hand, my breasts inched closer and closer from bursting free. I knew what was happening, but I intentionally let my fleshy mounds become more and more exposed. The dealer was an older gentleman, and he definitely took in more than an eyeful.

After another winning hand, I bounced in my chair, and it finally happened. The tops of my areolas were exposed, and I saw the eyebrows raise on the young black men seated at our table.

“Can you believe my luck?” I asked Dion excitedly as I turned around and made sure he got to enjoy my show as well. Dion just shook his head in disbelief.

On the next hand, I got blackjack, and I jumped so hard in celebration that my tits fully popped free from my top and bounced in open sight of the entire casino floor. I pretended to be frozen in shocked embarrassment for a few seconds, but I really just wanted to see everyone else’s reaction and make sure that they all had a good look before I feigned embarrassment and stuffed my titties back into my dress.

Shortly after, I decided that between my winnings and flashing fun I should probably quit while I was ahead, so I cashed out. I left the dealer an extra large tip and then left the table amidst the protests of my new four young black friends who clearly wanted to see even more of me, even though by this point, there was little of me, they hadn’t seen yet.

I turned around to Dion and said in front of the entire blackjack table, “What do you say we head back to our room and have some fun?”

By that point, there was hardly anything I could do anymore to shock Dion. He took my arm as the 4 other young black men hooted and hollered, and Dion and I headed back upstairs where we proceeded to make love for a few more hours until it was close to time for my husband to return from his conference. By then, I changed my dress so I could look more presentable like the classy, respectable lady I am supposed to be. After my husband returned, we all headed out to a nice dinner and evening stroll on the strip, my husband completely oblivious to my shenanigans while he was away.

Wednesday

My husband left early for his conference again while Dion and I slept in. I stripped off my clothes and crawled into Dion’s bed and let him wake up to my lips slobbering all over his cock. We spent the rest of the morning lazily lying about, casually having sex. Dion’s cock spent the whole time either in my mouth or pussy, and I remained as amazed as ever at how wide he stretched me out. I spent the whole time enjoying him inside me, although my mind kept thinking how I’d miss how he feels inside me once he moves out.

Having skipped breakfast to stay in, we both grew hungry as the lunch hour approached.

“So, what should we do today?” Dion wondered aloud.

“Don’t worry. I’ve made all the arrangements for today. Let’s grab a bite, and then we’ve got 1 pm appointments.”

“Appointments for what? What kind of trouble do you have on tap for today?” Dion asked, eyeing me suspiciously.

“All kinds of fun,” I replied. “Actually, it’ll be totally laid back and relaxing. Just get dressed, and let’s get going.”

After getting lunch in the food court, I led Dion back to the elevator while Dion begged me to tell him where we were going.

“Just trust me. This is your week, so you should relax. Don’t stress out,” I insisted.

I led him through our hotel casino to the on-site spa resort.

Dion’s face looked bewildered as we walked into the lobby of the spa resort. The relaxing music and over the top feng shui design must have been too much for him.

“Oh no, no, no, no. This ain’t for me,” Dion complained as he stepped back away from the spa entrance.

“Trust me,” I insisted, and he hesitantly relented as I dragged him inside and checked us in at the front desk.

“Hello, Diana, Dion,” a bright-faced concierge announced after we were checked in. “My name is Heather. Follow me. The salon is right this way.”

As we entered the salon area, she said, “Our associates are here to administer your mani–pedi. Please, have a seat.”

As soon as she left, Dion looked at me, his eyes pleading. “Diana, I’m out. I’ll just watch. This is all frilly and girly. I know you mean well, but I just can’t do this.”

“Listen up! This place isn’t cheap, and it’s already paid for,” I responded in a stern voice that clearly startled him. “You’ve trusted me this far. Not just in Vegas, but this whole school year. Have I ever led you wrong? Now you’re going to give up the tough guy act and try something new. If you hate it, fine, you don’t ever have to come back here again. But I’m willing to bet you’ll have more fun here than you ever imagined possible.”

Dion was clearly taken aback, and he meekly nodded his understanding.

A young Asian lady and man emerged from the shadows.

“Are you ready? My name is Vu, and I’ll be serving you today,” she announced as she faced and bowed to Dion.

“And I am Minh, I will be serving you,” the young Asian man standing next to her said as he did the same for me.

They motioned to the salon chairs and we each took a seat. Dion’s apprehension and awkwardness were palpable. This whole experience was obviously foreign to him.

Vu and Minh both looked to be in their early 20’s. Judging by their names, I guessed they were both Vietnamese. Vu was the perfect image of a young delicate Asian lotus flower. Minh was spry with a wiry build that belied the taut muscles on his arms.

“Please take off socks and shoes,” they told both of us.

They set our feet into separate tubs filled with small fishes.

“What the hell is this?” Dion complained.

“It is therapeutic,” Vu explained in a soothing tone. “It is called a fish pedicure. Just relax and let them eat the dead skin off your flesh. You will be left with fresh soft skin. It is good.”