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Vegas in Kellie

By: kellie_beth



I am a little afraid to put this story out there, as I feel like I come off as quite a slut...But, you guys on here have all been really nice to me and I hope you'll enjoy this little remembrance. It happened about 6 years ago, right around my birthday (I turned 28 that year).

Back then I looked similar to now, average height, long smooth legs, and nice round boobs. My hair was died a reddish blond rather than its natural blond. I had just broken up with my long time boyfriend, and I was living in a new city where I didn't have many friends. As I had no one to lean on me and the city just reminded me of him, I decided to take off to Vegas for a weekend so I could be wild and relax at the same time. 

To get ready, I went shopping and invested in short little dress for the clubs and the casinos, and some sexy g-strings and a bra. I'd like to think I wasn't planning on being a dirty girl, but thinking back to the clothes I bought, I must have been feeling especially "fun". I ended up with a great little red and black dress that barely covered my ass (and my ass was totally bare because the g-string covered nothing!) The bra really pushed up my boobs, and once I was in the dress my ass and tits were basically asking to be touched. 

The first day in Vegas was relaxing, and I spent most of the time at the pool. Two guys were really watching me closely, both a lot older than me. One was kind of cute, with graying hair and a nice body, but his friend was fat and hairy. Not that that is a total turn off for me, but he was also a pig and I watched him checking out every girl who walked by and heard him say some pretty rude things to them. I knew my old bikini was a little loose on the bottom, and I had to adjust it a few time to keep my pussy covered. He must have been watching closely, because every time I adjusted, his eyes zeroed right in on my crotch. I am sure he must have seen my little pink lips at least once, and he was definitely able to tell I was totally shaved. 

I left the pool as the evening approached and decided to head out to the clubs. I showered and then outfitted myself in my little dress. As soon as I put it on I knew I was in trouble. I bent over in front of the mirror, and everything was on display. From the front, my nipples were almost visible, and knowing they were so near the top of the dress turned me on, which hardened them so that it was obvious what I was feeling. It was at that moment that I knew going to a club would lead to strange guys touching me. That thought was enough to make me head out immediately...I kept thinking of strangers' hands caressing me through my dress, and random fingers bravely reaching under my skirt to get inside me. I wasn't picturing sex, just being touched. 

I was bored in my room, so I left for the club earlier than most people, and when I walked in there were a lot of guys, and very few women. I decided to just have fun, so I walked out to the dance-floor and started dancing by myself. Within a few minutes, a young guy approached me and started dancing near me. He was about six feet tall, with a decent tan, but he had a dorky look to him that I liked. He caught my eye, and we were soon grinding together. I was having a fun and forgot how short my dress was, but all of a sudden I could feel cool air on my ass. He was behind me grinding into me, and he had slid my dress up so the bottom of may butt was touching him. I could feel his hands rubbing my cheeks, but instead of stopping him I grinded right up against him. Soon, other guys were near us and they were all watching as he slid my dress up further and turned me around. I felt like a piece of meat on display. This guy didn't even know me, and he was showing me off to a bunch of total strangers!

We continued to dance like that and he made a few attempts at kissing me, but I wouldn't let him...He tried to ask me my name, but even that I held back. All he could have was my body. He figured this out when I deflected his fourth or fifth kiss, and he pushed me towards a corner. The corner was off the main dance-floor, but it was right next to a couch and table, and there were four guys drinking on the couch. My boy didn't care, and backed me into the wall. He tried for one more kiss, but I shook my head. He grunted and then grabbed my ass tightly and then slapped it. He looked into my eyes expecting another "no" like when he tried to kiss me, but I just smiled.

He got the point, and as one hand fondled my ass, he slid his other hand to the front. He slid my panties to the side, and pushed his finger in and started fingering me right there. He got four fingers in easily (I was sopping wet!), and he began just jamming his fingers into my pussy and pinching my clit hard. I was loving it! 

We had slid down the wall and were soon right next to the guys on the couch. They started cheering, and I looked over and realized that they were just staring at my exposed slit and the fingers going into it. This gave me an idea, so I pulled free and sat down in the middle of the couch. I felt kind of mean, but I was on autopilot by now (I had also had about six shots), and I just waved by to the first boy. He did not know what to do, but as soon as I turned to the guy sitting next to me and kissed him, he got the idea and headed back to the dance-floor alone. 

"Like what you saw?" I asked the group.

They just smiled and nodded, and I asked if they wanted to feel. In what seemed like no time, two of the guys were on their knees in front of me, and the two on either side of me had already pulled my panties to the side. It was like they were just showing my pussy off to the guys on the ground. I was too drunk to remember exactly who did what, but there was a lot of touching and some licking of my pussy, and at least two of the guys slid their beer bottles into me. I was really getting wet and having fun, but I was also really drunk, and it didn't take long for one of the bouncers to see what was going on. I saw him from a few feet away. I can clearly recall that there was a beer bottle being jammed into me and hands on my breasts when he caught us. He watched for a minute until the beer bottle was removed, and then he came over and shined his light on us (first he shined it right on my pussy and then my face). 

The bouncer could tell I was drunk, and he kicked the guys out and put me in a cab. I think he was the only guy who didn't try to get a free feel that night! Of course, he did carry me out, so I wouldn't be surprised if he did, indeed, stick a finger in me, seems like most guys will when they get a chance. 

I may have been drunk, but I was sober enough to recall my hotel, and before I knew it I was back in my room. It was still early, and my drunken mind told me I should go back out. I knew I was too drunk to go anywhere far, so I decided to head down to the casino. I decided not to change, even though my dress was a little too slutty for the casino.

As soon as I came downstairs, I knew I had made a mistake. The lights, sounds and crowd gave me an instant headache and I got wobbly on my feet. Luckily, before I fell over, two strong arms caught me from behind. As I turned I saw the two older guys from the pool that afternoon (the afternoon seemed like an eternity ago by then...). The cute guy was the one who caught me, and he introduced himself as Dave and his friend (the fat and hairy guy) as Chad. 

"You look like you need to sit down." Dave said. 

I nodded lazily and he put his arm around me while Chad headed towards the elevator. I suddenly realized that they were probably not bringing me to my room. 

"Are you stying here?" I asked Dave.

"Yes, we have a room on the 10th floor. You should see the view." He responded.

Again, I nodded lazily. My brain was remarkably clear despite the slowness of my body. I knew that they wanted to bring me to their room, and that they wanted to do things to me. 

"Just you." I whispered to Dave.

He smiled and said, "He'll be in the room you know."

"I don't mind what he sees, but I'm not interested in him." I said.

I was hoping that we'd go to their room, I'd end up hooking up with Dave and Chad would watch me get naked and leave before Dave and I got into it. 

We entered their room, and I immediately felt a little unsure. The view was of a parking lot, so I had no illusions that Dave was an honest guy. He sat down and patted the bed next to him. Chad sat across from us in a chair. Without saying a word, Dave cupped my breasts through the thin fabric of my dress. With just a gentle press he slid my dress down and displayed my bra. In one move he pulled it down and I sat there in these strange guys' room half naked. 

I hadn't said a word since we came into the room. Chad just sat across from us devouring my boobs with his eyes. I knew that I did not want him to touch me and I definitely did not want to touch him.

"Chad, will you give us some time alone if I show you something?" I asked.

He nodded, and I began rubbing my boobs together as my nipples hardened. He gestured towards my crotch, and I lifted my legs onto the bed so that he could look right up my skirt. The little g-string barley covered the slit of my freshly shaved pussy, and my pink lips were clearly visible to him. He licked his lips and and I knew he wanted to see more. Dave leaned over and started pulling on my dress. I let him pull it down, and I sat there in my little panties with my bra around my stomach. Dave reached over again and removed my bra. He pointed to my pussy and I obediently stood up and bent over to remove them. I bent over so that my ass and pussy were facing Dave, but he grabbed me and turned me towards Chad. "Oh well, as long as he just looks it is okay" I thought.

I slowly slid my panties down and stepped out of them with my pussy just a foot from Chad. He was a gentleman though, and did not try to touch, but I could feel his breath on my pussy. While I was watching Chad from between my legs, I heard Dave stand up and I heard his zipper come down. As I turned towards him he grabbed my hair and directed my mouth to his already hard cock. Afraid, I just opened wide and took his head between my lips. He was circumcised and had a bigger than average cock, and I could taste the chlorine from the pool mixed with sweat and precum. He seemed to like my lips on his head and he just kept the head in my mouth while I licked it.

Soon, he began pushing it deeper into my mouth. I think he could tell I was afraid that Chad might sneak up on me, as my eyes kept trying to look to the side to make sure Chad was still sitting. Dave got the idea and let Chad watch for a few minutes before asking him to step out for a while. Chad got up and walked to the door.

"I'm next." He said.

Chad laughed as he walked out and I figured he was joking. I didn't have much time to think after that. While Chad was leaving, Dave had poured me a big shot of jack Daniels, and I took it in one drink. As the warmth of more alcohol flowed through me, Dave became very gentle and put me on the bed on my belly. He lay behind me and stated licking my pussy from behind. He even let his tongue trace my asshole as he licked the length of my slit. It felt wonderful and I started to get really wet. I needed his cock in me right then and started to beg for it. 

I was too drunk to pay much attention, but I was glad to see he had a condom on. Without any more foreplay, he mounted me from behind and shoved his hard cock into my tight little pussy. He began fucking me hard and fast, and I knew already that he was going to cum before me. In less than five minutes, he had shot his load. Unsatisfied, I lay there. The whole night hit me at that moment. I thought back on what a slut I'd been, and I almost cried when I realized how many men's fingers had been in my pussy that night. The fact that made me the saddest was that I didn't even get to come. 

I was still drunk and tired, and laying in Dave's bed, I drifted off to sleep. He crawled in next to me and I held back my tears as I passed out into a drunken slumber.

I awoke in the middle of the night alone in the bed. I was uncovered and laying there totally naked. Dave was not there and Chad had not returned. Just then, Dave walked back into the bedroom with a digital camera. Even half-asleep, I knew that he had already taken pictures of me, and I had only caught him after the fact. I was too tired to do anything at that point and rolled over and passed back out. I still don't know how many pictures he took or what he did to me in the pictures. 

I woke up the next morning and the clock by the bed said 6:30, so it was still dark outside. I could feel Dave beside me and his fingers touching me, and even though I had a feeling I should be pissed at him, it just felt good to be in bed with someone after my breakup. I was still naked, and Dave's fingers were exploring my pussy. I didn't let on that I was awake, wondering how far he would go. I was hoping that if he tried again, he'd at least make me cum.

He continued to explore and pretty soon my pussy was very moist. This was apparently all he was waiting for. His hands grabbed by shoulders and he pulled me close. As our bodies touched, he slid into me. Right then, I knew something was wrong.

His body felt different, and his cock felt really different. In fact, it felt a lot bigger and it felt uncircumcised. I realized that he was not wearing a condom and I though this is what made him feel so different. But then he grunted and began fucking me harder and harder and I begged him to pull out and not cum in me. Instead of complying, he just laughed, and I knew that it was not Dave inside me, it was Chad. He continued to laugh as he started cumming. Big spurts kept erupting in my pussy, and his load was so big that it overflowed out my pussy and all over his cock. I was completely full of cum. Completely filled with a fat, rude, hairy asshole's cum. Knowing that and feeling his cock soften in me while the last spurts shot out, I finally began to feel my orgasm building. Not caring who he was anymore, I began grinding my clit over his rapidly deflating cock, rubbing his dirty cum all over my pussy while doing so. This was just enough to put me over the edge and I began to throb with my mounting orgasm.

Right then, Chad pulled back and said "Time to go slut. I have to be somewhere."

I froze. I had not cum, his disgusting body was now in front of me, and the sun was rising, bathing me in a cloud of desperation and dejection. 

"Please." I begged. 

He grabbed me around the shoulders and turned me towards him.

"Lick it clean and I might." He said.

I had to cum and my mind was barely functioning, so I slid my face down to his big uncircumcised cock. I stuck my tongue out and licked the length of his shaft and I could feel the foreskin sliding under my tongue. I could taste his salty and bitter cum, mixed with my pussy juices. After a few licks I looked up, but he just shook his head and pushed me back down. I took his soft cock in my mouth and started bathing it with my tongue. I sucked and swallowed all that dirty cum off his shaft and licked inside and outside his foreskin. It tasted disgusting. 

His cock began to harden in my mouth and right when I thought I was done, he grabbed my hair and began force-fucking my mouth. I couldn't breathe and couldn't stop him, and he soon blasted a new hot and sticky load into my throat. I almost choked because he jammed his cock deep into my throat as he came. It was dripping out my onto my chin and he put his hand over my lips which made me swallow the whole mess. I was crying tears of pain and humiliation as his seed slid down into my belly.

Thinking he'd finally let me cum, I rolled onto my back and started touching my pussy while pulling his hand towards my slit. Instead of helping me, he laughed and pushed me off the bed.

"Get out you dirty slut. I don't want to be seen with a whore like you." That was the last thing he said to me.

I pulled on my beat up dress and left my bra and panties in the room. I could feel the eyes of the entire casino on me as I trudged across it to the other bank of elevators. I finally got to my room and laid on my clean bed. I slept for at least twelve hours, and I took the next flight home that evening. 

After getting myself tested for STDs at home, I tried to forget the whole incident. Posting my previous stories on Literotica brought this one back, and for some reason, the memory of this night turns me on more than most, so I thought I'd put it down on paper to share.

Vegas in Kellie



The hard metal wheel with the red plastic covering spun in circles. The shopping cart was unbalanced on three wheels. A light turn would push the wheel down. It would immediately lock up and spin in circles. I hated that. Normally, I would have made Jeff push the rebelling shopping cart. He had been a strong guy. The only thing left to do for me was to push on over the worn out white linoleum floor with the black spots. The scarce lighting of the cheap super market reflected on the ground.

Tomato sauce, easy pasta dinner here we go, was the first stop. There were easily 20 different brands. Lots of other people were slouches during weekday evenings as well. All, except for two, disqualified themselves because of food additives, too many calories, or too much sugar. Jeff's favorite was Aunt Milano's Power Mower Sauce. My favorite was Sicilian Destiny. Obviously, there was no point in buying Aunt Milano anymore. Now that I could have Sicilian Destiny every day of the week, the thought of getting my way so easily without a battle churned my stomach. I couldn't eat my favorite that was denied to me for four happy months.

I pushed the empty shopping cart on. The display of food, aisle after aisle, made my stomach churn even more. A certain shakiness came over my body from low blood sugar. All the more easy was it for emotions to well up on me. I felt awkward, pretending to have caught something in my eye to sneak out liquid from my eyes onto my fingertips, before enough liquid could collect for a drop to form and run down my cheek. That would have been too embarrassing.

My eyes must have been red for sure. I struggled with the corner of my lips wanting to quiver. I had to get bottled water for sure. That craving of buying cigarettes, usually only once a year on a really bad day, had become day number two. That fucking asshole Jeff had slept with a blond bimbo. I threw a jar of Haagen-Dazs into the cart. Only the absolute sweetness would compel me to eat despite all of the nausea.

The checkout was the place, where I could not hide in the empty grocery store. I had to face the "Hello, how are you?" from the cashier. The cashier, neatly dressed in a cheap collard suit with all the buttons buttoned up and a cheap store colored tie, didn't even look up. I was biting on my lip to generate a stimulation that was stronger than the jerk on my tear. Every sharp stab of the corner teeth pulled me away from the quivering that wanted to roll over me each time I inhaled.

Guys would have normally stared at me. However, today I was wearing gray sweatpants and sneakers. I had even forgotten to put on low ankle socks first. I usually find bare feet in shoes so disgusting, because all the bacteria grow that way, and they smell funky quickly. My round, cosmetically enhanced breast were hidden beneath a fluffy, big shoulder strap t-shirt. I had gotten the good stuff, silicon beneath the chest muscle and inflated through the nipples to avoid leaving scars. I had diligently, daily massaged my boobs to avoid any cohesion from forming. Now, they were fluidly moving around with motion of my arms and torso.

I don't want to brag. However, my skin is really clear. I take great care of it with creams, exfoliation, and most importantly eating well. My hair is long, silky, and following. God thanks, we have modern shampoos, conditioners, and hair products to make hair everyday hair look better than special effects doctored hair commercials from twenty years ago. I take great pride in how my hair flows, when I lift it or flick my head. It's that jerk Jeff's loss. I should count myself lucky to have found out about his cheating way sooner than later.

My little silver Civic winked at me upbeat with his orange indicators and a chirp. I always loved the little welcome. I had to smile a little. I called that little guy Roger. He's taken me to so many places, into the mountains, into the desert, and onto far road trips. I snuggled myself into the bucket seats. Sure, it was only a Civic. That's all my Veterans Administration salary will pay for reviewing applications all day. However, Roger was mine. I threw the plastic bag with the groceries on the passenger seat.

From habit, my finger flicked above the center dashboard. This time, it hit empty air. There was only the oval glue outline left over from the bobble-head doll of an upbeat dog with its tail wagging. I had ripped it out in anger and thrown it out of the window somewhere on the freeway. Jeff had given it to me on our third date. He had admitted in tears to me that he was allergic to dogs. Because I had fantasized on and on about having a cute, smooth haired little doggie on our second date, he had feared that it wouldn't work out between us. He had bought me this bobble-head dog to make up. His voice was quivering, when he was saying what was up. Of course, I had to hug him and call him silly. He burried his face so deeply into my shoulder like a little boy that I was so touched that I made him my boyfriend.

Now it was me who was bawling. My eyes were watery. I could not drive even if I wanted to. The windows quickly fogged up. At least nobody could see me. The only thing warming me up in this lonely world was the seat belt, which held onto me snuggly. When I realized that the only thing in this world that loved me and cared about me was my seat belt, another wave of sobs rolled over me.

In the fog of emotion at some point, I had a clear thought. I needed to get away. I needed a change of scenery. Coming home to an empty apartment day after day with nothing to do would keep me endlessly in this loathing state. I pulled out my little iPhone and opened the last minute deals by Southwest. Las Vegas came up. A party city with lots of singles was way better than a romantic Hawaii with couples hand in hand wearing matching t-shirts. Perhaps, I would teach that jerk Jeff how much he lost by driving the men in sharp suits and shiny shoes crazy.

My fingers typed through the checkout procedure. The focus on the rational activity of entering my address and so on cleared my head. I rolled down the fogged up windows and turned the windshield wiper on. Oh boy, had I caused a lot of steam on the window. I had to chuckle a little bit. I better get home, before the next emotional downpour arrives and the ice cream melts.

When Friday arrived, I made my way to the airport. There are two horrible things about travelling alone. Number one, without a female crew, I felt vulnerable. I had to watch out on my own for creepy guys and little kids running with red lollipops to mess up my clothes. Number two, there is nobody to talk to. There are only endless awkward minutes of starring around, looking at people, hoping that people don't stare at me, avoiding eye contact with people that equally awkwardly scan the line ahead at the check-in counter and security line.

I had been dressed efficiently for the security check: Flip flops with pedicured, delicate feet and radiantly blue toe nails. I had a little dress on to get into the mood for a flirty Vegas. A little stringy thong was underneath the dress and a black push up bra for a nice juicy cleavage. I was going to rule as a queen in the city of sin, I silently laughed to myself. To be a little racy, I had put a necklace on with a Playboy pendant. Do it right or don't do it at all is my motto.

At the typical Southwest lineup at the gate, I saw a cute guy five numbers behind me. He had a broad jaw, blond crew cut, and clearly worked out. His chest had two meaty flabs. His biceps were so big that I couldn't have held onto them with my small girly hands. A black tribal tattoo ran down his forearm. He was wearing white pants and a tight white t-shirt. I know my girlfriends would have said that he looked like a gigolo. Though, I wasn't looking for a boyfriend. I was looking for attention. And he had this farm boy from Idaho look about him that made me dream about him taking me home to the farm to meet his parents in the farm house in the midst of a waving wheat field.

Smartly, I stepped five numbers farther back then I needed to with my boarding priority being B13. That way, I stood next to him. My heart was pounding. I feared equally that he had seen me move back, because that would be to embarrassing, and that he didn't notice me at all. He kept typing away on his cell phone.

Our boarding range started moving. We walked past the boarding pass check into the boarding aisle. He was still behind me and fully focused on his phone. I stealthily adjusted my hair and when my hand moved down, I lowered the dress farther down my boobs. 

Nothing! He still didn't notice.

"Hey, do you have some gum?" I asked him in a desperate approach.

The blue eyes looked up from the phone and at me. My heart froze for a moment. They were so deep. There was so much presence in his eyes. I think that I stopped breathing for a moment. He had these tight manly lips that didn't betray the slightest smirk. I couldn't help imagining his lips slowly crawling over my belly delivering a million soft kisses to my delicate skin working its way around my navel.

"No," he said and looked back down at his phone.

My heart dropped. I felt super awkward having to stand next to him after he had rejected me. It was like getting an F in math and having to walk around with it written on my forehead – F is for failure.

When I boarded the plane, it dawned on me what had happened. Sure, there were many tourists and grandmas travelling as well. However, in between were other young, attractive women like me. The shoes were amazing. They were these works of arts formed by complicated or intensely impactful straps. They tended to have high platforms beneath it. There were shiny leather boots. There were artisan cowboy boots.

And the dresses were something entirely else. They were so short that purses on their laps needed to cover their underwear from peeking out. There were asymmetric dresses with cutouts at the belly in all kinds of ways. There were fabrics so sheer that the underwear color showed through. I saw quite a few nipples poking into the dress. Simply what I had thought was sexy in my small town two years ago was utterly outdone by modern Vegas style. No wonder, the cute guy didn't think anything of me. He must have thought that I was a six.

That tattoos that these girls were having were amazing. I had gotten a Virgo sign on my ankle a few years ago. These girls had works of arts on their body. Delicate detailed drawn faces, patterns that were master pieces, and richly symbolic design. I couldn't help myself studying a girl's demon face coming out of a tree that was surrounded by a looming full moon, while a balding old man was struggling to push his roll-on into the overhead bin.

Arriving in Las Vegas was overwhelming. There was the constant ring-ding of the slot machines right in the terminal. The baggage conveyors were in a giant tall hall with big billboard advertising for magic shows, strip clubs, and famous DJs. The taxi line was an hour long, a crowded pen of out-of-towners streaming into the city for the weekend. I stayed at the Rio, a cheap hotel off the strip that gets you a suite for $50 a night. My mind was so tired that it stopped recording my path to my head drifting into the pillow.

The next morning started with merciless desert sunlight streaming into the room and lighting it up to glaring brightness, despite that only a one foot gap in the curtain let the sun in. Saving money, I had a food bar and an apple from my carry-on as breakfast, while I walked through the suite checking it out and hanging my clothes in the closet.

My first stop was of course the pool. I put on my bikini and bottoms then threw a dress over it. The knot in the side straps of my bottoms made the dress bump out. The colorful bikini was a little higher on my breasts than the cleavage of the dress. Definitely everyone knew that I was going to the pool. I kind of like the playful silhouette that a bikini underneath introduces to a dress. I slipped into my flip flops and cheekily slipped the room key card into my top. Hey, if you are in Vegas, act like the big girls, c'mon!

I walked down the long empty hallway with carpet from the eighties and no paint touch up ever since. The elevator had a couple buttons punched out by a late night drunk. One button was eternally stuck. That's what $50 gets you. Once outside the elevator, I found myself in a streaming mass of people, the tourists in horrible clothing, the cocktail waitresses walking around in stripper dress up, the young party girls, and the starring guys dressed from slob to over the top handlebar mustaches with top hats.

I found my way to the pool entrance, queasily feeling liberated without anything in my hands and queasily fearful without the safety that holding the purse brought. The pool boy gallantly opened the door for me. I already felt more like a lady. The outside sun was overpowering like shining a green laser into a pilot's eye. Luckily, I had my shades on. Yet, they didn't seem to help much. With squinted eyes I proceeded. The club house at the entrance checked my keycard and handed me two towels. I carefully eyed the guy, when I inserted the room card back into my bikini top. He didn't even blink.

The lounge chairs around the pool were already crowded. This was definitely a family pool. There were kids playing games in the water. There was a group of 50 year old men with two buckets of beer bottles. There was a fat grand ma. There was a mother with her teenage daughter. The only free lounge chair was opposite to two guys that looked like refrigerator sales guys.

As soon as I sat down, the fatter and hairier of the two hollered at me, "Hey, wanna have some fun? We've got fun copyrighted." I seized him up. He had a creepy smile. He was bald. There were two fat folds on his belly. He had a black swim trunk that went to his mid-thigh. The lower half of the mid-thigh had dark, curly, disgusting hair. He had solid black plastic sun glasses that were supposed to make him look like a biker, yet looked like from the gift shop in the hotel.

His friend had clean shaven face and carefully trimmed, slightly graying hair. He was also in better shape. He had a swiftness about his features and gaze, as if he would ride a lot of bicycle recreationally. Actually, his Oakley glasses with the strap behind his head were definitely for some kind of outdoor sport. There was a tattoo of Captain Morgan on his chest. The black ink had faded to suggest that he was a rocker before he had accepted a regular 9-5 life style.

"Sorry guys, I have a boyfriend," I said automatically. The moment I had finished, I realized with shock that Jeff was a jerk.

"Where is your boyfriend," said the fat chubby guy with annoying persistence.

"He is playing golf," I lied.

"We can give you company, while he is gone." I definitely hated that fat toad of a man.

"Oh, he wouldn't like that. He is very jealous," I finally finished them off with my lies. I started liking the idea of making up a fantasy life. Nobody would be able to call me on it. I could make my boyfriend a CEO of a small corporation. What would I like my boyfriend to run? Maybe, some kind of pharmaceutical wonder drug that is about to be released. Yet, I can't talk about it – company secret. I could maybe make him a little dominating like the mogul from "Fifty Shades of Gray."

While I spun my day fantasy in my head, I had to deal with an awkward reality. The bottoms of my bikini were a bit old. The stretch in them had gone out a little. I had to occasionally carefully shift them back into place to avoid an indecent exposure. One of my lips could have fallen out without noticing, because the stretch was barely palpable. It was so weak.

Whenever my fingers discretely went down there, I carefully looked around to avoid a little kid staring at me or worse. That chubby sales guy dude had his eyes always on me. He was eagerly anticipating my fingers down there like a cat watching a mouse hole. And surely, he must have got a glimpse of one of my pussy lips or at least the untamed beaver whose little hairs were trying to crawl out. The worst thing about him seeing that was knowing how crude his thoughts were.

Whenever a hot girl or actually any young girl passed him, he'd holler: "Those tits are a nine!" When a flat chested Asian girl passed him, he hollered: "Two fours don't make an eight," referring to her boobs individually only getting a four on his scale. When a girl had a little nipple slip accident on the kiddie slide into the pool, he told his buddy loud enough for me to hear, "look at that skanky bitch. She deserves to be fucked in the ass." His more attractive friend tried to softly and gentleman like keep him in check from turning even cruder. He got points from me for that.

While the girls walked past, I checked out their bodies as well. I always thought of myself highly. I go running three times a week for a lean body. However, the top girls were not only skinnier. They also had a beautiful muscle tone. Their belly showed the clear outlines of a slender, feminine six pack. They were flexible yoga rats, when they bent their bodies around to rest. They had all kinds of jewelry, golden ankle bracelets, silvery belly bracelets with pink precious stones, and barbell piercings in the nape of the neck.

I felt ugly with my two year old, stretched out bikini. I always thought of myself as a stunner. I could not measure up with these girls. All I had were those middle aged two dudes, while the other girls had young studs bringing them fruity cocktails with umbrellas. I had always hated those umbrellas, blatently tacky things. However, not having one now stung.

My eyes shunned the mingling of guys and gals to fall upon a little adorable nine year old girl. She was sitting in the shallow end of the wade-in pool with her hair in pig tails wearing a colorful flower swim suit dress. Her eyes opened wide and her little fingers splashed down into the water in abandon, when she told her little friends, "We have to go to the roller coaster." Another girl in an all pink swim suit set twisted her body and opened her mouth wide in amazement, "Whoa, there is a roller coaster here, too."

Without waiting a beat, a third girl, a little chubby blond haired girl with her hair tangled into a mess on her back, yelled loudly "Marco" and closed her eyes. The other two girls shrieked and plowed through the water, throwing up waves and white water, as quickly as they could. "Polo," they echoed as they sped in opposite directions. The third girl blindly waved her arms and went after the first girl, calling out "Marco" again.

The days of being a kid, playing in the pool were so easy. I remembered how engrossing it was to play Marco Polo, the hide and seek style game. Back then, it was so easy to talk. There was no judgment. I can't believe how effortless it was to play doctor for the first time. Julie, my long lost childhood friend, simply pulled out the kiddie doctor case and told me to lift my skirt to put in a thermometer. Haha, imagine doing that with a girlfriend now. She'd think that I'm a loony.

Another girl shyly entered the pool. She paused after entering and looked at the other girls with a pale, worried face. On the next "Marco" call, she replied with "Polo." The other girls looked at her. The chasing girl opened her eyes for a moment. Then, she closed her eyes again and went after the new girl. The new girl instantly understood and rapidly pushed her way along the edge of the pool leaving a wake of water behind her. She was a skinny girl and "Marco." Quickly caught her and made her change directions.

Those kids made friends so quickly. It warmed my heart to see all the play and fun, putting myself back into my own childhood, and at the same time, it stirred a sorrowful wound of being shut out of that world, sitting here on this lounge chair alone in the bright flood light of the Vegas sun.




Vegas in Kellie



I sat up and looked at two women of my age passing by: "Those girls are so adorable," and I pointed. The first woman had big sun glasses. The circle of the glasses went below her nostrils and half way up her forehead. She looked like an overstyled fashionista from a music video. She wore a lip stick red tube bikini and bottoms with ruffles.

"Excuse me." She looked me up and down, pausing on my bottoms and my top. Her eyes lingered on my hair. I felt dirty and self-conscious from being evaluated. The sides of her mouth dropped down to make me feel stung. Then, her head wiggled a little left and right for emphasis, "we are having a conversation." And they strutted on. The other girl had blue bottoms. They were this new style with a molded cup at the behind. Instead of the fabric stretching from buttock to buttock in a straight line, there was a molded shape to indent the center with ruffles, so that each buttock was its own sexy round shape.

My mood was ruined until I decided to take action. I threw my dress back on and left to my room. The bad state had slowly crept onto me like slowly increasing temperature on a. Once I had jumped out of the heat and lethargy at the pool, I felt better. I got my street clothes, high heels, and purse to take a cab to the strip to get a dress to become part of the sexy, elegant Vegas. It was time to leave the small town at home.

The famous strip hotels were visible from the cab: The elegant white logo of the Cosmopolitan high up. The Wynn hotel and Encore at the North end of the strip. There were the iconic New York-New York and the pyramid shaped Luxor. The cab crossed the freeway and we dove into the canyon of hotels that marked the strip. Throngs of people were pushing along the wide sidewalks. Bright video advertisements lighted up the intersections. Excitement overcame me looking at the bustle and world known landmarks.

The cab pulled into Cesar's Palace, where the driveway had two dozen cabs and stretch limos with people entering and exiting. The primly dressed traffic conductors where whistling sharply and pointing their sticks precisely to keep the onrush of vehicles in order. Gloved hands opened the cab door for me and made me feel like a lady, when I bambi-like stretched my calves out of the cab. Elegantly with my knees closed to hide my thong, I stepped up from the cab. I discretely gave the guy who opened the door a dollar bill. Wow! What a world!

The Cesar's Shops were indoors. Yet the ceiling was painted blue to invoke the sky. And the ground had cobble stones to create the fantasy of perhaps being in Rome. The outside of the stores were all styled by the Cesar's Shops look, darkened gold. Thus, the exclusive Gucci store at the entrance looked exactly like the Express store at the back end of the casino mall. Only, the Gucci store was empty and the Express store was crowded. Price does matter.

So, I picked a store in the middle. I wanted to give myself a special getting-over-the-cheater-boyfriend-gift. I wanted to have something Las Vegas, not American chain store. It was a boutique with many mannequins showcasing outlandish Vegas dresses that were straight out of a movie. I got excited. Then my cell phone rang.

It was Nancy, one of my cases at the Veterans Administration. She was one of the first women to fly an assault helicopter into combat. Barely, twenty years old, she had been decorated with the black-yellow-blue Aerial Achievement Medal for blowing up twenty forward radar installations. Then a mechanic had forgotten to tighten the back rotor hydraulic valve. Her chopper went down like a dead duck. Her right femur was shattered during the impact. The proper medication was denied due to a clerical filing mistake. That caused complications during her recovery. Normally, she would have been fine after 6 months. Now, she had two years of recovery. It was a really sad story.

I had given her my personal number to call with any complications. Nancy was crying. Due to some snafu, her pain medication was denied. A clerk had mistakenly checked substance abuse risk on her chart. So, they had pulled the pain drug and told her to toughen up. I had the afterhours number for the hospital administrator.

While I made calls on Nancy's behalf, my fingers rifled through the dresses. Should I go with a red one, like in the Matrix? For a while, my fingers tried to figure out a dress that was entirely made of ribbons and straps. I could not figure out how it was supposed to fit on my body. White could be quite elegant as well. "Yes, I will take personally care of it," was finally the good news on the other end. I texted Nancy to text me if there were still a problem after an hour.

The sales associate had patiently waited for me to finish my phone conversation. She swooped in immediately. Five gold rings were clicking on her wrist. Her hair was smooth and rolled into a bun behind her head with a chop stick. A big, white pearl ear ring was on her ear lobe.

"Would you like to try any?"

My fingers were on a black dress. The fabric had an odd, cool liquid feel to it. It was one of those novelty fabrics. It didn't feel like fabric at all. It had a shine to it like a liquid. It was amazingly pliable, supple, and limber. Holding it in my hand, I felt like it was liquid and would run through my fingers. I was simply amazed. It was a small black dress. Holding it in my hand, I noticed that there was no weight to it. I would feel completely naked wearing it. I hesitated.

The sales associated waved for me to follow and started walking. I kind of walked behind her like a puppy, a little confused by the strangeness of the fabric and my head still in the phone conversations. Next thing, I found myself in the changing room. The curtain was of a thick, heavy fabric that didn't close snuggly on the sides. People could peek in. I tried to pull the curtain all the way to the side. Yet, it returned to its old shape. I hate that feeling, even though probably nobody tries to peer in.

The changing room itself was opulent. The back wall was a floor to ceiling, wall to wall mirror. There was a comfortable sofa to rest on. The fabric was royal velvet. Track lights shone a bright, focused light that increased the contrast in everything. My hair looked so much better in the light. I felt a little like a fashion model. I slipped out of my dress.

I put the black dress on. The fabric felt immediately cool. It fit my body tight. Yet, the fabric's grip was as soft as the softest hand shake. The thin fabric exposed every little surface change on my body. I could see not only my navel button, but also the skin fold inside of my navel button. The fabric fit smoothly around my breasts. There wasn't the smallest gap beneath the bottom of my breasts, because normal fabric hangs a little or is pulled a little out from the protuberation of my breasts. It made my breasts seem even more naked.

And then I noticed how skimpy the dress was. It barely reached below my buttocks. The slightest upshift and my panties would be exposed. Above, it barely covered my areolas. A little slip down and I would have exposed them.

"Can I have a look?" asked the sales associate with upbeat cheer.

Unsure, I opened the curtain only enough for her face to peer in. Without asking, she pulled the curtain wide open. "That looks amazing on you. Your body is made for it." She took me by the hand lead me outside, spun me in a circle, I instinctively covered my breasts, because I feared the raised arm would have my nipple slip out.

The sole guy in the room kept sneaking looks at me with a blushed red head. He was holding shopping bags for his girlfriend. I liked that reaction of being notice. Finally!

"I'm afraid that it's too short. I'll get exposed."

"Don't worry. This material is developed by NASA. Notice how snug it fits. Take a jump in it. It won't slip a bit."

Seeing that I wouldn't jump and instead crouched a bit down, the sales associate jumped in her six inch high heels. A flash of my childhood rope jumping with my friends got me to jump as well. I checked myself. The dress was still in place. I jumped a little higher. The heavy techno beat in the boutique made me jump to the beat. I jumped up and down in my bare feet. The sales associate jumped with me. I tried to tempt the dress to slip by jumping higher and left foot to right foot. I got a little boisterous. It didn't slip. I was amazed.

The sales associate pulled a strand of hair out of her face that had become loose from the jumping. She looked at me with a dark face of concern. I immediately checked my body for a slip, nothing immaculate fit, and returned my gaze into her foreboding eyes.

"You realize that your underwear stands out in this fabric. It's so supple that you have to get special cover up underwear."

She let me to a bowl with solid colored bras and panties. They were very thin and flat. The price tag was $70 each. My breath stopped. I asked for the price of the dress. It was $400. I was breathless and embarrassed. I really liked the dress. My bank account would hurt. My upper boundary had been $100 for a dress.

"I'll get the dress. I don't think I need the underwear. I have something in the hotel." I was lying about the second part. I figured that in a dark night club, nobody would see my normal underwear.

When the dress was in the big paper shopping bag with the extravagant glamor photo on it, I realized how tiny it was. The folded fabric was about the size of my dad's white handkerchief. His thick cotton fabric compensated for being a little square folded twice compared to an entire dress and still appear the same volume. There was also no weight to it. I peered into the shopping bag again. The dressed was tiny in it. It slipped around like a gold fish inside of a gas tanker. The thrill was on!

In the evening in the hotel, I pre-partied with two vodka shots. Looking at myself in the dress in the mirror, I realized that my underwear was visible like stratosphere tower in the flat desert. Buzzed and daring from the alcohol, I slipped my underwear off. See, panty and bra lines are gone. My nipples were reproduced by the fabric in high detail. The mound of my pubic bone was clearly visible. My pubic hair made it a bigger mound. Impromptu, I rolled up the dress and want to town with the shaver.

When I stepped out of the elevator into the casino, everything had changed with nightfall. Throngs of girls in mini dresses with their high heels in hand were walking through the lobby. Bachelorette gangs were following the bride with a crown. One group of bachelorettes was dressed in tutu ballet dresses. Guys were walking in sharp suits with vests and ties. Other guys were dressed like rockers with torn jeans and wild, spikey hair. The taxi line was long.

When the taxi driver kept peering into the rear view mirror and offered adjustments of everything possible from air to music, I snickered to myself. Even though, I was thirty, the dress had given me back the power.

Upon arrival at the Cosmopolitan, I carefully stepped out, making sure that the worn leather seats hadn't pulled up my dress. The Cosmopolitan had such a, precisely named, cosmopolitan air to it. The bellhop uniforms were based on upscale suits. The lobby had giant pillars with LCD displays. The LCD displays invoked the illusion of naked people trapped inside the pillars behind a translucent plastic sheet. Some people were kneeling in an infantile position. There was a lone dancer. Someone tried to claw out of the plastic enclosure into the casino.

The reception staff wasn't caught behind a desk. The reception staff would walk up to the people in the line to have an almost intimate conversation to check them in, like a conversation with a friend, a very polite friend.

The crowd in the casino was very upscale party style. Every piece of clothing had something unique to it like a specialty designer had made it, none of that main stream Armani or DKNY designer stuff. The entrance to the bathroom had opulently upholstered walls. A bench was built into a cove of the wall that would be fit for display in a museum. Instead of cheap filtered water dispenser machines, the Cosmo had art dispensing machines. Little figurines and art photo prints were inside for $20 each.

I felt little in the midst of the classy environment, and at the same time, I felt large for being part of such a world class location, because I had my liquid, black NASA dress. I held my neck a little higher. I made a little wider steps with stiffer knees to be more elegant.

On the second floor was the entrance to Marquee night club. I was standing in the center court for a number of restaurants and the club. Instead of a dirty court yard, there was a pool table and living room furniture for people to relax on couches. The club had already five different lines formed for different kinds of guests. Guys were patiently standing in a very long line. Mixed groups were in a shorter line. Girls cheered and waved as another girl arrived.

I tentatively stepped closer to figure out which line to go to. A broad shouldered bouncer in an ultra-sharp suit looked straight at me and unclipped the velvet rope. While I stepped forward with my elegant steps, perhaps a little too stiff, a girl in my peripheral vision moaned "Why does she get to go in, when we have been waiting for half hour?" I inwardly smiled and passed the bouncers directing club goers left and right. "The queen of Las Vegas is in the house," I mentally sung to myself to a hip hop rhythm.

After stepping through a big door, I was in a dirty, bare metal fire escape stair case. It was disorienting. All the glitz was gun. People were climbing the tall stairs. I did my best with the heels. After three floors a door opened and narrower stairs let higher. People came out of the door. Other people came down the stairs. I decided that the best must be on top. So, I kept climbing. With each new level more people streamed out of doors. And the originally wide stairs became narrower and narrower until barely two people could pass each other on the stairs.

I stepped through the door. There was a small dark room. The hip hop music was thumping hard. There was a dance floor and tables around it with low couches. It was empty in here. Apparently, everyone was still in line outside.

The awkwardness of being alone hit me again. I didn't have any girl friends to talk to, while the club filled. A guy with a blue bow and French accent approached me: "You want drink, Madame?" "Oui, monsieur," I said with my high school French. He put my arm into his arm and walked me. "Jaegerbomb," he waved at the bartender. I protested. The music was too loud for the bartender to hear my weak protest. The French man smiled at me, while I downed the drink in one go.

The man to my other side turned around and screamed into my ear, "you seem thirsty. Let me buy you another drink." I nodded with a smile, still dealing with the burn in my throat. "Sex on the beach," yelled the man to the bartender, while smiling. I shook my head. The red drink in a tall glass with an orange slice for garnish appeared. I took that in sips. Both guys tried to ask me about where I'm from and what I do for a living.

With all the alcohol, my mind had zoned out. I was no longer thinking thoughts. My mind was neatly empty, quiet. I stared into a red light that was chasing around the room in a circle. My hands were waving to the music without me noticing. I strangely wasn't aware of what my body was doing. For a moment, my mind cleared up and focused on a mixed group taking a photo together, posing with their fingers as a V in front of their lips to signal giving a blow job. Then my mind disappeared into silence, tracing flashing lights, and moving to the music.

"I want to fucking dance," came out of my mouth next. I was pulling the French guy by his jacket sleeve. He was deathly afraid of dancing and fended me off. I stumbled to the middle of the still empty dance floor by myself. My body moved so effortless and was so one with the music that I was in awe.

Quickly, guys appeared out of nowhere to dance around me. I was like a single bambi deer among wolves. They were coy to move in on me. They were waiting for me. I kind of liked watching their hesitant faces. I could see their burning desire to get closer. Yet, they were afraid.

One of them reached out his hand. He was a young kid with Diesel jeans and a collared shirt. He spun me around a few times. I lost my balance. He caught me. We slow danced in an embrace. He turned me around to grind. He felt confident. He bent me forward. I did what any experienced girl does. I ground my two butt cheeks into his groin. I could feel his erection through the thick jeans.

He spun me back up. He puckered his lips and leaned forward as if he was going to take a dump. He was going to kiss me. I yelled no. He looked frightened. He backed off. Realizing that he was scared, I put his hand on my butt. He relaxed.

A minute later, he tried to kiss me again. His butt was sticking out and he leaned forward like an eager young calf to suckle on the milk bottle. I put my flat palm on his face to stop him. His eyes looked distraught. I put his hand back on my butt. His body was still stiff and hesitant. So, I rubbed my front onto his front. My boobs, the little pillows, touched his chest. The liquid dress, let me feel his belt buckle, the big hard, smooth, round thing, press into my belly, the tender, soft flesh. The primal part of his brain made him enjoy the body touch.

His hands squeezed my buttocks. I moaned a little as I felt my flesh pulled. I snuggled my smaller girl body onto his bigger, muscle hardened man body. His hands painted circles on my buttocks and explored them. I jumped onto his hip and pressed my thighs together around his trunk to keep from falling down. His hands instantly supported my buttocks.

He was a little bit of a desk jockey apparently, and stumbled toward the railing at the side of the dance floor. He sat me down there. I kept my legs crossed behind him to keep my underside from exposure, because sitting my short-short dress would definitely have bared it all. My hands were on his shoulder. Looking up at him made me feel a little droopy and submissive. He was staring directly at my boobs, the cleavage of bare skin exposed, and the round, cosmetically-enhanced shape beneath the fabric. That's why I had them enhanced to be admired in a swanky environment.

He went for the kiss again. I simply turned away my face and had his face hit my ear. Then, I put one of his hands on my tits. Oh, it felt so good. He quickly found the nipple under the fabric and softly squeezed it. He smiled ear to ear and pulled the nipple down.

"So, what's your name," he shouted into my ear with an eager, friendly smile.

"No," I yelled back with a fierce face.

I could feel the air blown out of his body. His face firmed with pinched lips, he squeezed my other nipple, rubbing the side of his forefinger and underside of his thumb on my nipple as if counting money. Glancing deep in my eyes with a daring smirk, he amped up the pressure. At first, it went from soft like gliding into the warm Caribbean Sea to firm like snuggling into tight jeans. And then he definitely had my attention with the blood running out of my nipples. The auto-arousal reflex kicked in. The first stab of pain mixed in with a sense of dullness and a desire for more – my body went limp. I let out a guttural moan.

Being aroused and mindless from the alcohol, I started to unbutton his shirt. With five top buttons undone, his chest was bared like a playboy. It also seemed to have put him into playboy state of mind. He pulled me off the railing and slapped my ass hard. I was going to let him ravage my body however he wanted, as long as he didn't kiss me or talk to me.




Vegas in Kellie



My fingers slid inside of his pant with the thumbs outside, I gripped his belt tight and pulled him closer to me. The intimacy of getting under his pant fabric made him frisky. The hands on my butt wandered below crawling around my ass crack around my perineum into no-no land. He got extremely careful advancing forward – almost reaching my pussy. His fingers so close was too tempting. Dr. Dre sang with booming voice in the club: "I wanna fuck bad bitches. We can't be kissing and hugging, girl." With umph, I tilted my pelvis to slide my pussy onto his fingers, the tender mucous membranes on his dry fingers.

I only realized now how wet I was down there. Heck, I was probably sweaty all over my body as well from dancing. Yet, the booze in me didn't let me feel it. His fingers were quickly slick from my juices. Not messing with foreplay, his fingers went straight into my hole. Having become a dirty bastard, he tried to probe how many fingers he could get in. Two was easy. The third didn't quite go in. Ha, I was still tight, I thought to myself, while his third finger was straining against the inside of my pubic bone.

My ass was tilting up with all my effort to help his reach to dive deeper into me. It simply wasn't enough. Once you set an itch on fire, it's terribly thirsty. Perhaps, way too slutty, I leaned back onto the railing and slid down. Slouched against the glass panel behind the railing, I spread my legs wide. My knees poked high. My feet rested entirely on the stiletto heels. My dress had, of course, peeled up to my belly exposing my pussy like a hungry face bared.

Strangely, I thought of the Arnold Schwarzenegger movie "Total Recall." There was a rebel leader who was embedded inside of someone's belly. During a secret meeting, the outline of the little man in the belly was exposed. It was one of those strange scenes. It surely doesn't seem sexy. However, I felt like my pussy, mound, and ass were a separate person that had been hiding all this time and came out all hungry now.

Thinking back, the middle of a club wasn't the right place. However, I was drunk on alcohol, bright lights, slutty music, and horny touches from a strange man.

He got on his knees in front of me. His face was serious and focused. Two of his fingers were quickly inside of me with his thumb grinding on my clit. Oh, heaven, god finally sent me a man, who read at least one GQ how-to sex guide. Both of my hands wrapped around his hand, adjusting the pressure on my clit and guiding the rhythm of his thrusting fingers. Fuck, that was hot! He used me like a horny slut. I used his fingers like a fuck toy.

There was a table with bottle service behind the glass. I heard young boys cheer. I looked around. There were five guys in their early twenties. They were dressed all prim with skinny ties, suspenders, and wide, fluffy shirts. They made catcalls. Their arms were waving in the air like original gangsters out of the hood. I climbed up on my stiletto high heels with my shaky bambi legs. They seemed like a whole lot more fun.

I walked around the railing, strutted around the table filled with mixers in open carafes, proud oversized Stoli bottle in the center, and a shiny metal bucket full of ice. In the middle of two, I fell down on the couch. One of my legs was on someone's knee. I was wedged in between two big bodies as a skinny, little girl. A cheer erupted as a welcome that made me excited.

The guy from the dance floor had followed me like a sad, stray dog. I flipped him off with both hands. My index finger sticking out like a damning sign. All the guys around me flipped him off as well. One hollered, "Yo, fuck you dog." This intense feeling of being part of a team overcame me. The whole club saw that guy getting blown out. He still stood there, as if the entire torrent of a rain forest downpour in Brazil had been focused entirely on him.

I twisted my body to the guy next to me – a clean shaven face with a strong jaw. I latched my lips around his and deep tongued him right away. The liquid tenderness lighted up a hundred thousand pleasure nerve endings. From the corner of my eyes, I saw the dance floor guy get the message and trudged away disheartened.

Sitting back in the deep couch, I felt like a boss. My butt sunk deep into the soft couch. The backrest was so slouched that I felt locked in place. Fast arms were working the table in front of me. The Stoli bottle generously doused a glass, while a random variety of mixers were splashed in. They gave me the glass with friendly, warm hospitality. I felt like a star, the center of attention of the boys – unrestrained boisterousness was in their eyes. They would not take a no like the weakling guy from the dance floor.

I put the glass to my lips. A sole ice cube bumped against my lips. The alcohol burned in my throat. The mixers merely flavored the vodka yet didn't soften the burn of the alcohol. Fist pumping and cheering drove me to drink harder and faster. Big gulps, struggling breathing, and my small, empty girl belly bubbling overcame me. Done, I raised the empty glass straight into the air to celebrate victory. Then, I threw the plastic glass away without caring. It probably ended up somewhere on the dance floor. Some dumb bitch on her high heels tripped and fell. All the guys high fived me to celebrate how bad ass I was.

Strong hands pushed me to lie across the lap next to me without question. A lime was shoved into my mouth. Someone drizzled salt onto my dress on my belly. One of the guys, a curly haired, smudgy faced guy pumped himself up. Playing the scene, I lifted one of my stiletto feet and put it behind the neck of the guy who used to be on my other side. My pussy fully flashed the guy. He stared, yet was unfazed. I was sprawled out over three guys like in a sexy high fashion photo shoot.

The smudgy faced guy threw his body back to take the shot. The DJ blared a female hip hop singer: "Bitches in heat for gangsters that got dough. What you don't got is my natural flow. Packing big dicks..." His face dove down into my belly. I was tickled by his fervor, the tongue darting around my belly button to lick the stray salt grains. "Andrew, Andrew, Andrew," everyone cheered around me. His lips dove onto mine. They tasted of Tequila and salt. Too quick, his teeth took the lime from mine. I wanted more of that wet, alive touch.

Showing those guys how hard core I was, I took the Stoli bottle by the top of the neck. It was heavy. I lifted the whole thing bottom up. My lips latched onto the hard glass opening hard, because my hands were shaking. I gulped – once, twice, thrice. The guys were taken aback speechless. Tears welled up in my eyes from the burn. Everything got a blur. The music poked back into my consciousness: "Some of us have angels. Some of us have demons." A little clarity told me to stop drinking the whole bottle of vodka like water. I pulled the nozzle away from my mouth. Vodka splashed my face and dress liberally. Three of the guys lunged for the bottle to save the booze. As they recovered, each of them had to high five me with enthusiasm.

I rolled over to kneel on the couch and rest my forearms on the lap of the guy once over. Then, I pumped my butt like I had seen black girls do on YouTube videos. The guy that had the front of my feet resting on his lap didn't wait long to pinch the bottom of my liquid, black dress. He puckered his lips in a playful way that expressed, "oh-oh, I'll get in trouble for this." I loved it. He lifted the hem of my dress to glimpse my butt. He playful shrugged his shoulders up and looked around as if he had just done something wrong to get into trouble. I giggled like a little girl.

Two of the guys quickly got up to dance in front of the couch. They were smart to shield me from the eyes of the bouncers. They were experienced in this club game. Feeling like I'm in my own play room, I reached into the pants next to me without even looking at the guys face. My hand was inside of his underwear. My slender fingers wrapped around his cock. The fat meat was half hard, half soft. My finger nails scraped his balls.

Hands were on my butt. The thumbs were beneath my butt on either side. The fingers were on top. The guy played my butt cheeks as if they were a mouth talking. And then I realized the hip hop song: "You are a big girl now, fully grown with your hormones. No more daddy's little girl." I had to laugh at his audacity and jumped up to sit on his lap, straddling him with no panties. I playfully wagged my finger in the air like he was in serious trouble. Everyone laughed. Someone called out, "She's a cool shorty." There was something warm and accepting in the voice that made me happy.

Strong arms took hold of me beneath my arm pits. They lifted me into the air. My whole body was suspended in the air effortlessly, I felt like a little girl lifted by my dad again. I was placed down on the couch on my hands and knees. Unsure what this position was about, I felt my dress lifted over my butt again. Instinctively, I started to dance my butt to the beat. Strong hands stopped me from moving to hold still. Confused, I paused.

A very soft, light powder was dumped on the small of my back. The hard, thin edge of a plastic card dragged the powder around. I felt the card being swiped lengthwise. Then, a face pressed against my hot, sweaty lower back. A pinky finger swiped the skin. Then a thudding slap on my butt told me that it was done.

The alcohol got to my head and made me drowsy. Softly lowering my arms down, my chin came to rest on a big, muscular thigh. Instinctively, I wrapped my arms around it and used it like a pillow and went to sleep.

Big hands did not want to let me sleep. Big hands pulled me over. Back stuck in the deep couch like a boss, a very sleepy boss, my eyes stared into the club lights shining bright red and blue. The two guys dancing to shield me from the bouncers were silhouettes that my eyes traced in stupor. My soft pink lip stick mouth must have dropped open and drool run down. I didn't move to contain it. The blood alcohol level had moved from the happy state to the lethargic state.

One of the guys jammed the opening of a beer bottle inside of my pussy. He went in an inch or two, a first for me. Then, he smelled the beer bottle opening and took a swig. Another guy got motivated to get his Kellie pussy flavored beer as well. The bottle went in until it firmly bounced against my pubic bone. The joy on the guy's face was priceless as he dove the bottle into his mouth as deep as he could to get all of my flavor.

Hands dragged my butt to the edge of the couch. My head slid deeper. My hair got pulled up – probably making me look like a wild witch. I was so out of it that I let them do whatever. My arms were limp at my side.

With my feet resting against the edge of the table, knees bent, a guy got on the floor between my legs. His face moved toward my pussy, waited an inch away. A brown beer bottle was poured over my snatch. His lips started hungrily licking my pussy like a dog drinks from a bowl with a hundred darting licks. Liquid was running left and right of his tongue down my lower lips. He feverously licked trying to get all the stray beer, yet plenty poured onto the floor.

"Gross," I thought, "sticky dried beer between my legs in half hour. The alcohol will go into my blood stream through my pussy. I'll pass out. I like his lips. Fuck it. Fuck it all." That thought drifting through my head was the only resistance that I mustered. Not even a muscle twitched or an upset facial expression. The alcohol had made me passive like an object, a stuffed animal.

Condoms were being passed around. I saw the shiny, foil squares being ripped in the middle to expose the rubber, the thick round rim and translucent center. I resigned myself to being fucked tag team by a gang of guys in the club. Dicks would be in my pussy soon, probably in my mouth as well, and possibly in my ass. I let myself stretch deeper into the leather of the couch, this leather was going to be my home as my body was going to be ravaged by a gang of hungry wolves.

Then a bright light was shined onto my pussy. A towering bouncer in super sharp suit stood there motionless, the black stick flash light held above his shoulder in a fist. The bright light on my naked pussy stayed there for the longest time for the whole club to indulge. I didn't move. A short thought crawled through my head and got lost on its way: "I must have reached the low point in my life. My naked snatch was entertaining the entire club. I was such a whore."

Yet, I could do nothing about it. From the alcohol, I was withdrawn deep into my head. Only random thoughts in my head kept me company. My body was far on the outside of me, too far to reach. The bouncer lifted me up on his arms. He carried me like a groom carries the bride through the whole club. He was the only guy that didn't try to fuck me.

The bright lights of the casino hit me way too harsh. Even in my stupor, I cried out and squinted my eyes in pain. My head was pained by a sharp pain. There was a bustle of people and ring ding of slot machines. My arms hung lifeless down. My head was tilted back and bounced with every step. I saw the world upside down, which was kind of fascinating. A woman the age of my mom had an exasperated facial expression. I tried to flip her off, yet couldn't figure out if I had to move my leg or my hair to lift my index finger. Everything was scrambled.

The bouncer's hand was squeezing my cheeks to get my attention. "Which hotel are you staying at?" Why was his hand on my face? Didn't he need both to carry me? I realized that I was propped against the wall outside the casino at the cab line. He rifled through my purse. Finally, I had a little pause. He was busy. I drifted off to a soft sleep.

"No, I'm not going to take that drunk bitch. She'll throw up all over my cab."

The yelling woke me up. Next, the big bouncer arms softly put me into the back seat of the cab. I got a glimpse of a fifty person long cab line staring at me with shock. The seat belt was tucked over me. It felt good to have my boobs being touched. The door slammed shut. The cab lurched forward. The cabbie was still cursing to himself.

I passed out. I woke up a little, when the cabbie was dragging me out of the cab at my hotel. My feet were dragging over the pavement. He left me on a bench. My head dipped forward and stayed there. He was so needy talking about money. Eventually, he gave up and walked away. 

The bench was cozy. I made friends with the arm rest that dug into my ribs as I rested on it. My consciousness went from dreams of bright light, wolves chasing me to watching people pass me in a respectful distance. Occasionally, their whispered words touched my ear: "She is so drunk that she passed out." Cabs entered the casino driveway in front of me and left again. There was a little potted tree next to me. I spent some time looking at the leaves before I drifted back into a sleep of being lost in a forest, and all I wanted was to find my stuffed childhood horse.

With a bang followed by clattering sounds of little things, my purse dropped onto the floor. I got on my hands and knees to crawl after the lip stick rolling down the slope of the sidewalk. There were so many little things to collect back into my purse. It was a very engrossing activity. Apparently, my mind was clearer. It seemed like a good idea to make it to my room and sleep off the booze.

Smart enough to take off my heels, I walked barefoot into the casino with my heels and purse in hand. The air felt wonderfully cool. The smoke of cigars hit me hard and made me dizzy and nauseous. I felt bad standing on my feet. My belly rebelled against the smoke.

"Whoa, take it easy," a guy grabbed me by my arms. It was the nicer of the two guys from the pool earlier that day. The ugly, nasty friend of his was standing next to him.

"I'm completely fine," I slurred.

"Let us help you up to your room."

"I don't need any help."

They walked me anyway. The nicer guy introduced himself as Dave and was walking me. The other guy who called himself Chad was walking behind us with a dirty, creepy look in his eyes. Chad had a beer belly, half bald head with nasty black hair fluff on the sides, and his touristy t-shirt was oversized. He waddled as he walked and was short.

When Dave took me to the elevator for the Masquerade tower instead of the Ipanema tower, I realized that they were not going to take me to my room. I rationalized to myself that Dave was in a way a nice guy. He was wearing nice slacks, a clean and ironed shirt, and a friendly smile. A bed and cuddling might not be the worst. I only had to get rid of Chad, the nasty wart.

Dave had put his arm around mine like a gallant gentleman. He made small talk about being a refrigerator sales man. Chad was his co-worker. He saw my ankle tattoo, a virgo sign. He complimented me on it and pushed down the right side of his pant to show me his Captain Morgan tattoo on his butt. Chad rolled up one sleeve to show me his: It said "Fuck off" in Celtic letters on his shoulder. Real classy! I had to look to see, yet averted my eyes quickly at the crassness.

The elevator door opened. Dave said something about having to see the view from the 34th floor in his room as a lame excuse to get me there. Everything was clearer now. We walked on moldy carpet. The light was dim and yellow. The dispenser machine that we passed sold cheap filtered water for $2 and Cola. The paint on the ceiling seemed to have yellowed over two decades. When we got to the door, I realized that it must have been the adrenaline that gave me the renewed clarity.

We walked into the big suite. The Rio has only suites, pretty regular dingy rooms that are a little larger. Dave sat me down on the bed. There was a suitcase on the floor. The city stretched out beneath the floor to ceiling windows. Chad rubbed his hands excitedly.

"He has to go," I said pointing at Chad.

"My cock will be in you before the rooster crows," said Chad crudely.

"C'mon, he is my friend," said Dave consolingly.

"I know what is going on. But he is not part of it."

Dave realized that he was going to get sex, yet I was feisty about Chad leaving.

"Okay, let him watch you naked. And then he'll leave. Hey, he's gotta get something in exchange for leaving. It's his room as well. He'll have to wait downstairs."

I mulled it over. "Fair."

Chad added weakly in a hushed upset voice, "Just wait, you'll be begging me for that cock."

Chad sat down on the couch, eight yards away from the bed. Dave pulled my dress over my head. Not having underwear, I was immediately split naked. My bare feet were on the carpet. My tits were out for Chad to molest with his eyes. My snatch was mostly hidden between my thighs, beneath my body. My silhouette was slim and sexy in the dim light of city reflecting on me and the distant, weak light at the door.

Chad zipped is pants open, got his cock out, and started stroking. "He has to go," I yelled with anger and at the same time awkwardly powerless as naked and as exposed as I was. Chad got up, took one last lingering look down my body that made me feel so dirty and disgusted that I screamed, and then he drew the door shut behind him, threw the door open again, and yelled, "I'm gonna have you every way before the night is over, you slut."

"He's a little rough around the edges. Once you get to know him, he is a real sweetheart," said Dave with a smile. I kind of wanted to believe him. However, there was a slick sales man tone about it that made me distrust it.

His hands caressed my boobs. He had thick fingers, age spots on his hand, a bit of hair, and a big golden ring with a burgundy red seal. I sunk back on the bed. His lips followed me and kissed me all over my torso like a gentleman. He pulled me deeper onto the bed. He fumbled with his shirt buttons, while his lips were latched onto my nipple. I got to fully enjoy the sensual stimulation.




Vegas in Kellie



There is a thing where human touch nurtures us on a deep level. It put me back into moments of being intimate with boyfriends. All the stress of loneliness started to warm up under his touch.

He put on a condom and started humping me in missionary position. His wet lips were nuzzling on my neck. His body was rubbing over mine. I let myself go into his arms. And then he came. I begged him to make me come as well. He simply rolled over and passed out to sleep almost instantly. I felt his penis. It was limp. My last thought was if I should blame the alcohol for not being able to come. Though, he had lasted only two minutes at most. I drifted into sleep. I felt relieved. The night was essentially over. I'd get my slumber and walk home the next morning.

The deep soothing sleep covered me with its blanket. I was too exhausted to go into dream states. I drifted into black outs and coming up for a moment to glimpse at the ceiling with the reflection of the city lights.

Sometime in the early morning, a bright flesh lit up the inside of my eyes lids in a livid red. "Fuck, he was taking photos of me." In the stupor of sleep, I reverted to the childish belief that keeping my eyes closed would make me invisible or somehow let me avoid the situation. My eyelids flashed orange-red again. I felt the sheets pulled from me. Based on the flash against my eye lids, he must have taken one straight up my pussy.

He walked away. I counted my breath half worrying that he was going to start again and half easing that it was over. Around twenty five, I had fallen back into sleep.

A couple hours later, I was again roused by fingers. He must have thought that I was still asleep. With my closed eyes, I could tell that it was a little brighter. The morning sun must have just come up a little bit. The fingers walked around my pussy left-right with the index and middle finger. Then, they squeezed my lower lips shut. There was a squeeze around the tendon of my hip abductors. A flat palm pressed against the pubic bone and moved my skin over the bone.

I almost moaned, but I was pretending to be asleep to see how far he would go. It didn't take long for his fingers to wiggle in between my lips, find the tunnel of love and its wetness. Realizing that I was wet – how could I not be? – the hands withdrew. And his dick entered me.

Something was odd about it. It felt thicker. It felt like it had a side poke. I blamed it on the lack of rubber. "Please, put a rubber on," I whispered.

The rolling laughter made it clear that this wasn't Dave. It was Chad inside of me. I should have realized the hairy, fat belly pressing on me. I had been too focused on my pussy and his cock. He grabbed my legs, put his arms into the crook of my knees and pinned my knees to the pillows left and right of my head. My pelvis tilted up. He rammed his cock into me. The angle let him penetrate me deeply. I was helpless pinned as a bundle onto the bed and could not even wiggle.

"I told you my dick would be in you before the rooster crowed," he said with superiority and disgust in his voice.

All night I had been groped and my pussy penetrated. Yet, I hadn't come a single time. He was fucking me hard. He had me already half way. It was hard to pull out now. I turned my head away and pretended the cute guy from the airport was fucking me. I painted a scene in a cabin on stilts at the shores of Hawaii with charms hanging from the ceiling and fluttering in the air. I dreamt of salty hair from the ocean.

And then Chad spurted his dark, bedeviled seed inside of me. His nasty sweat and breath enveloped me.

"Just a little more, I'm almost there," I cooed Chad.

"Fuck you, I'm done."

"C'mon, please, you got what you wanted."

"Get out."

"I'll do anything just make me come. I'm begging you."

"Yeah? Why don't you lick my dick clean? And I might make you come."

I crawled down the bed. I got between his hairy, fat legs. I put the limp penis in my mouth. He hadn't shaved his pubic hair. The hair tickled me. His penis tasted horribly salty and nasty. "Get it all bitch," he demeaned me. I moved my tongue around the bottom of his head. He was uncircumcised. The extra skin flap gave me a little to do.

"Take it all, wash it all," he demeaned roughly. I took his penis in my mouth. My lips went all the way down to his grizzly pubic hair. He pinched my nose shut. "Suck it all clean. I won't let go until you suck it clean. Suck hard." So, I started sucking and turning the dick around my tongue in circles. He hardened. That was apparently his plan. He let go of my nose. I realized that he wanted a blow job.

I moved my head up and down his shaft. My cheeks were puckered, because I know how to suck and hide my teeth like a good girl. Fully hard, I could only take half of his penis. He didn't like that. He twisted my hair into pig tails and then grabbed them like a motor bike handle. He pulled me up and down his dick without regard for his tip bouncing against my tonsils. I couldn't breathe. I tried to say so. My mouth was muffled. Spit started flowing out of my mouth from the gagging.

Luckily, he was getting close to coming. He pressed his cock hard against the back of my throat. My reflex made me struggle. He shot his load deep into my throat, so that I could not even spit it out. He jerked me down one more time harder and let go of me.

Still focused on wanting to come, especially after the hard work, I quivered, "my turn!"

"I said maybe. The answer is no. Now, get out. I got stuff to do."

The coldness took me by surprise. "I still need to come," I said weakly.

Being between his legs, he cocked his foot and simply pushed me out of the bed. I fell onto the floor naked in a horribly confused mess with spit all over my face. Dumbfounded, I repeated, "my pussy is hot."

"Damn bitch, you don't get the message, do you?" He got up in his naked glory, grabbed my dress, walked to the door, opened it, and threw my dress down the hallway. I rushed after my dress naked. There were empty champagne bottles outside of the other rooms and discarded dishes from room service. My dress was a little black, liquid pile.

I ran naked down the hallway with my feet flying in the air. I quickly pulled it over my head. From all the grabbing and booze on it, it was messed up. My shoes and purse flew in an arc outside the room. So, that was it. I got a glory full walk of shame through the hotel lobby.

Fresh faced people with golf hats and gloves watched me, completely out of place among the sober, regular people, walk in my little dress, my buttocks half covered, nipples standing up under the fabric walk bare foot through the casino to my Ipanema tower. I crashed on my bed and went to sleep. The last drops of Chad's and Dave's cum were still oozing out of me.

When I got home, I got myself tested. Thankfully, I was negative. I never get more than one drink anymore. I wear modest clothing. However, in the darkness of the night and solitude of my bed, I still fantasize of that night of being depraved and taken. The slutiness gets me so horny. I just wish that those boys at the club had given it to me bukakhe style. And once the orgasm subsides, I feel so horribly guilty about my thoughts.

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The story is based on the story "Vegas in Kellie" from kellie_beth. Check out her story. It is hot.