Chapter 5

Jen shrieked, and threw her arms around me. "Are you kidding? Vegas? I've never been!"

I nodded. "Even more reason to go. I go a couple of times per year -- it's an easy flight from San Francisco. Not as much fun to drive it, but we'll survive."

Jen was bouncing up and down like a kid in a toy store, bombarding me with rapid-fire questions.

"How long will it take from here?"

"About nine hours."

"Where will we stay?"

"I got us a room at the Mirage." I wasn't a high-roller by any means, but I dropped a couple of grand each time I went to Vegas, and that was enough to get me some decent offers from the casinos.

"Do they have a nice pool?"

I nodded.

"But we don't have bathing suits."

"Don't worry, they have stores too. They sell swimsuits, even. And I'm going to buy you the teeniest, tiniest, sexiest bikini I can find."

Jen blushed bright red at that, but didn't argue with me!

The drive through the rest of New Mexico and into Arizona went pretty quickly that day. We ate breakfast and lunch in the car, and didn't stop for any "funny business" along the way, though we were certainly liberal with our hands, touching and caressing each other frequently.

After lunch, Jen asked me from the passenger seat, "Why didn't you want to tell Mike where we were really going? Why'd you tell him we were going to the Grand Canyon?"

I sighed, my brow furrowing as I watched the road ahead. Finally, I answered. "Two reasons. One, I thought it sounded a little funny to say 'Hey, I'm taking your wife to Vegas!' Not that every trip to Vegas has to be down and dirty, and not that I really think Mike would suspect anything --"

"He wouldn't," she interrupted. "Not in a million years."

I nodded. "Still, somehow, it seemed -- I don't know -- safer to say that we were side-tracking to the Canyon, and more reasonable to need two extra days on the road."

Jen nodded her head. "I can see that. What's the other reason?"

I sighed. "OK, this is the one that makes me sound like an asshole. I was afraid that if I told Mike the truth, he'd want to jump on a plane Friday night and join us -- really join YOU -- in Vegas for the weekend. And I know he's your husband, and what we're doing is weird and not fair to him. But I'm not ready to give you back, yet."

Jen hugged my arm tightly, pressing her face against my shoulder, and we rode in silence for a long while after that.

We made a quick stop at the Arizona/Nevada border, just to see Hoover Dam and the new bypass bridge around it. Less than an hour later, we were pulling into Vegas. It was still daylight, so the Strip wasn't as impressive as it is at night, with the neon blazing. But Jen was still impressed as we drove up from the south end, her head swiveling back and forth as we passed Luxor's pyramid, Paris' Eiffel Tower, and the Roman colossus of Caesars Palace.

We pulled in to the valet driveway at Mirage, and gave the bags we'd need to the bellman. I stretched as I stepped out of the car, glad to be away from the driver's seat for the next 36 hours or so.

As we walked through the doors to the front lobby, I reached over and took Jen's hand, the first time we'd done that. She smiled at me shyly, and squeezed my hand.

Check-in was pretty quick and painless, and the $20 I slipped the clerk got us a Strip view room on the 26th floor. We rode the elevators upstairs, and Jen gawked at the view while I called down for our luggage. Once the bellman had delivered our bags (and been tipped accordingly, Vegas requires a large amount of $1 bills!), I stepped up behind Jen, who was still gazing out the window.

"So, I thought we'd do sort of a more casual night tonight, see the Strip a bit, and then maybe a fancier dinner tomorrow night. What do you think?" I asked her, one hand slipping around her waist.

She leaned back into me, and nodded. "I need to give Mike a quick call."

"OK. I'm going to change into some khakis, let's get a light dinner, and then we have an appointment downstairs in two hours."

We grabbed a burger at one of the casino's casual restaurants, and then sat at the bar playing video poker for a while, downing a couple of drinks apiece. Jen had tried to get me to tell her about our "appointment," but I refused.

When it was time, and again walking hand-in-hand, we crossed the Mirage lobby back to the front entrance. I'd thrown on khakis and a polo shirt, and Jen was wearing that same deliciously translucent skirt and a casual tank.

We exited out the Mirage's front door into the evening twilight and I glanced at the parked limos and cabs until I saw what I was looking for. When she saw that one of the limo drivers was holding a sign with my last name on it, she jerked me to a stop.

"That's for us?" she asked.

"Yep. A sight-seeing tour of the Strip. A nice way for you to see a lot of Vegas, since we won't be here that long."

Jen squeezed my hand with glee as the driver introduced himself, and opened the door for us. I delighted in the view of Jen's legs as she slid into the car, and she winked at me when she saw me looking.

The Strip limo tour was 90 minutes, designed to allow for gawking at the various hotels. The driver would stop by the Bellagio fountains during a show, talk about the features of various casinos, and then basically drive up and down the Strip until time expired. The ride also included a bottle of champagne, and the driver opened it for us and poured our first glasses before we pulled away.

I'd seen all of Vegas before, of course, but Jen loved it. She got gigglier and gigglier as the bottle of champagne disappeared, but she kept her face pressed to the glass as the driver talked about the various properties on the Strip.

Her constant bouncing around in the backseat was a joy to watch, especially as that little skirt slid up and down her thighs, and I felt my hands constantly drawn to her legs. She giggled and pulled away at first; then, as the champagne bottle got emptier and emptier, she started returning some of my caresses.

When her hand found the front of my khakis and began stroking, I pressed the button to raise the divider between us and the driver. He nodded at me silently, in the rear view mirror, and I heard the "click" as he turned his microphone off. Experienced Vegas limo drivers must understand when the "tour guide" portion of the ride is no longer necessary!!!

As the limo made a few more round trips up and down the Strip, the darkened windows prevented anyone outside from seeing the activities within. In short order, my khakis and boxers were around my ankles, and I was on my back on the limo's bench seat. Jen's panties were on the floorboard, and she was straddling my head, that skirt covering me, my tongue delving up inside her, and my cock in her mouth.

We sucked and licked each other to strong climaxes, Jen swallowing nearly every drop as I blasted down her throat.

As the limo tour drew to a close, we redressed, though I tucked Jen's panties into my pocket and refused, over her protests, to return them.

We returned to the Mirage and spent the rest of the night drinking, gambling, and teasing each other. I taught Jen how to play craps, and had her stand in front of me at the table, so I could press my hard cock against her from behind, and also fondle her soft, smooth thighs without being overly noticed. By the time the clock struck midnight, we were both in a state of sexual overload; all I could think about was Jen's pussy underneath that tiny little skirt.

On Friday morning, the sun was streaming in through the curtains we'd neglected to close the night before. I groggily raised my head and took stock of the situation.

Both Jen and I were bare-assed naked, my hand resting on one of her hips. My cock was sticky, my pubes matted, and I could see a streak of dried semen across Jen's pubis and lower abdomen as well. The sheets and bedspread from the bed were haphazardly scattered across the floor, along with several of the pillows and much of our clothing.