I ached with afterglow for a week after my second bisexual MMF threesome. It wasn't long and I was scheming to find my third.
I was in Las Vegas for a convention, it probably wasn't going to happen here. I had booth duty which was excruciatingly boring. My partner and I made up games to pass the time.
Conventions are different now, no booth babes with silicone and miniskirts, just men and women with The Uniform; Dockers and a polo shirt.
One of the games we came up with was nipple count. We would walk the floor looking for protruding nipples and come back to the booth proudly announcing our number. One time he came back and said, "Check out the one in the booth by the air conditioning register! Five hangers!" I went down and took a look. I imagined her naked, holding up five wire clothes hangers with her nipple. I have a vivid imagination. Yeah, maybe six.
Done for the day, he took off to his hotel leaving me alone. As I walked out of the convention hall I waded through the sea of discarded escort cards. Silicone and miniskirts, so that is what they are doing now. I grabbed a couple.
There were guy escorts too, six-pack abs and square jaws. I grabbed a couple.
I didn't have much money, not enough for one of them. I made a left turn and headed for a casino, any casino.
I found the craps table, triple odds. It was probably the best percentage going. I elbowed in and changed some cash.
I was doing pretty good, at one point I was up...
Doesn't everyone who goes to Vegas say that?
I did start making some real money. I reached down to feel the escort cards in my pocket, I started feeling a surge. Then I crapped out and the surge died too. I tossed my last chip on the roulette table. Nothing. I headed home to my off-strip hotel, dropping the cards in the trash on the way out.
I was sore from standing all day so I pulled on my swim trunks and headed for the hot tub. I had a tumbler with vodka from the mini-bar, a double. God that mini-bar stuff is expensive.
There were three couples in the tub, an older couple, a young athletic couple and a chunky pair.
Of course my thoughts went there. Triple odds.
The older couple reminded me of my last bisexual experience. I closed my eyes and reminisced. When I opened them they were getting up to leave.
Double odds.
The younger couple was sitting on the edge of the hot tub. She was wearing a high cut 'pussy bender' bikini and from what I could see she had a nice wax job. I had to imagine the rest. I have a vivid imagination. I could make out some kind of nipple piercing. Her top barely covered her areolas, I imagined.
Oh yeah, she had a pretty face.
He was wearing a low cut 'budgie smuggler' Speedo, though it looked more like he was smuggling a toucan. He had six-pack abs and a square jaw.
They climbed back into the tub and we exchanged smiles. I felt a surge.
It wasn't long and they got up to get out. Water glistened as she climbed up out of the hot tub. There is nothing more sexy to me than a soaking wet woman. Every curve was accentuated as the water poured off of her perfect body. I sighed. Towels wrapped and with a wave they were gone.
Single odds.
I said hello to the other couple and slid down in front of a jet to get at my sore back. They were being playful with each other. There was some tickling and giggling going on.
At one point she got in front of him and it looked like they were getting amorous.
A calf brushed against my leg. "Oops, sorry," I said as I straightened up to give them more room. "No problem," she said, looking back at me with a smile.
They swapped positions with him in front of her as they continued playing. She pulled herself up onto the deck to cool off and he moved in between her legs. I felt a surge imagining myself there.
Back in the tub, she was in front of him. Her leg brushed me again. I was all the way over on my side, that could not have been an accident. "Sorry," I said again. This time I got a wink from him. I felt a big surge.
They started up a conversation. It was their first time in Vegas, they were there to "blow off some steam."
Blow, I thought to myself. Heh, heh.
They were married, from Alabama. I told them I was from the South too. Southern California. That got a laugh.
The conversation rambled, mostly small talk. Then the guy asked if I wanted to come back to their room for some weed. More surge. I said "Yes," and started to climb out.
She got up to go. I stopped to watch her.
She was big but shaped like a woman, with broad hips and big jugs that filled out her one-piece swimsuit. Water glistened as she climbed up out of the hot tub. It didn't matter that she was big, it was sexy. He winked again noticing my gaze.
I took a glimpse at him as he climbed out, his board shorts clinging to his chubby frame. I couldn't make out any kind of package. Six-pack beer belly.
We wrapped with towels and headed up the stairs. I followed her, watching every move. She had big thighs that rubbed together as she walked.
She knew how to walk in flip-flops.
I excused myself to stop by my room. I did a quick rinse-off shower and pulled on shorts and a shirt. I popped a blue pill, just in case. My doctor had given me a sample pack. Those things are amazing. I headed off to their room.
He waved me in, their swimsuits were dripping on the balcony. She stepped out of the bathroom wet from a shower. She was wearing one of his t-shirts with just the number 88 on it.
Dale Earnhardt Jr. He was a damn good race car driver. His dad was amazing. The Intimidator. Tougher than anyone else on the track. I will always stop on a Cup race when I am hopping channels on my TV. All the other kinds or racing is just cars lined up unable to pass. Stock car racing is nonstop edge of seat excitement.
Wait. Where was I? Oh yeah.
The t-shirt barely covered her entertainment center. She didn't have anything on underneath as her jugs were hanging free.
Her nipples were standing out. They had the air-conditioning cranked. Three hangers.