Nic and Nicy

She was a redhead with a complexion so pale I could see her veins, blue beneath her smooth, ivory skin. She might have been a marble statue—or an ivory one—come to life. She was thirty, if that. Her diaphanous red dress (it matched her ruby lips) suggested, rather than revealed, her feminine curves.

She took a stool near mine, glanced at me, smiling, and ordered a mimosa. As she sipped the concoction, she gave me another sideways glance.

"The stool between us isn't occupied," I advised her.

"So I see." She didn't change seats, though. She was playing it coy, which suggested she wasn't new to the game she was playing.

I tossed down the shot of bourbon before me and ordered another. "And another mimosa for the lady."

"How do you know the lady

wants

another mimosa?" she asked.

"I don't."

She scooted from her stool to the one next to mine, making sure her drink joined her. "I've heard it's not good to drink alone."

I smiled at her. "Me, too."

Our drinks arrived.

"You from around here?" she asked.

"No, I'm from Las Vegas."

"Nevada?"

"Is there another?"

"Yes. The one I grew up in, in New Mexico."

"What brings you here, to San Diego?"

"My husband."

I raised my eyebrows.

"He's here on business, wanted me to join him."

"But you aren't with him."

"Not at the moment."

Deciding to move the game along, I put two twenties on the bar and stood, downing the shot the bartender had just delivered. "Hope you enjoy your stay."

"You're not leaving?"

"I've drunk enough for one day."

"There's a lot more to do in San Diego than drink bourbon and mimosas."

"You say that as if you know the town."

"Sit. Let me finish my drink, and I'll show you what I know about having a good time in this town—or any other."

I sat. "Including Las Vegas, New Mexico?"

She chuckled. "'Any town' includes my hometown. I'm Nicole, by the way."

She offered her hand. It was dainty, her fingers long and slender. I imagined them wrapped around my stiff, hard cock. I lifted her hand to my lips, kissed the back of it. "My friends call me Mike."

Her gaze was sultry. "And what do your lovers call you?"

"'Bastard,' mostly, or 'son of a bitch.'"

"And here I'd thought you were a gentleman."

I laughed. "Hold that thought, Nicole."

"My lovers call me 'Nicky.'"

"'Nicky.' I like the sound of that."

"I'm in Room 1218." She took a key card from her clutch purse and laid it on the bar. "My husband, Nicholas, won't be home until late, if at all, tonight. He's wining and dining a client, which usually includes exotic dancers and a nightcap of call-girl sex."

"You don't seem bothered by his wheeling and dealing."

"I married him for his money, not because I'm in love with him." Her eyes flirted with mine. "By mutual agreement, we have an open marriage." She put down her empty mimosa glass and nudged her key card closer to my shot glass. "Be careful with that. It's the key to my heart."

"Let's go up together," I suggested.

She shook her head. "Give me fifteen minutes to freshen up."

And make a phone call, I thought. "I'll be counting the seconds."

"See you in nine hundred."

* * *

I ordered a shot for the road, bolted it, added another five dollars to the forty on the bar, and walked to the bank of elevators off the hotel's lobby. A chime sounded, as one of the cars arrived, and its doors slid apart. Except for the operator, it was empty within.

""Good evening, sir," he said, as I stepped inside.

I repeated his greeting and named my destination.

At the twelfth floor, I exited, removed Nicky's key card from my pocket, and inserted it into Room 1218's lock. A green light illuminated, and I heard the click of the lock as it disengaged.

Nicky was waiting for me, naked. She had some music on, too, but I wouldn't have called it mood music. It was rap, with singsong lyrics and heavy bass. It was loud, too.

I wondered when her bitter half, Nicholas, would arrive. He'd be experienced, too, I thought, and dangerous. I imagined some version of the stereotypical mobster, pretty much a Cro-Magnon in an ill-fitting suit and short, rumpled tie. He'd pull his rod and rob me. That's how the game Nicky—or whatever her true name might be—was playing is played.

The only thing I had going for me was that I was armed, too, and I was dangerous. We Navy SEALs always are, even after we've retired. I was confident that I could take care of Nicholas. Then, in a different way, I would take care of Nicky.

Meanwhile, I'd better play the game. I didn't want to make Nicky suspect I was anything but another easy, horny mark.

"Come into my arms, Mike," she invited, opening them to me, "so you can cum into my cunt."

Such bold talk! She obviously meant to set the hook so her husband—if he

was

her husband—could reel me in.

I stepped across the room and into her arms. Her full, round breasts, their nipples erect and swollen, flattened between us. I moved my hands down, behind her, holding a smooth buttock in each. I gave her ass a friendly squeeze, and she moaned softly in my ear. She was good, believable, seemingly earnest and ardent.

I kissed her throat, and she leaped, throwing her legs around me. Her cunt pressed against my erection—yes, I was already erect—and she said, her voice low and hoarse, "Take me to bed, Mike. Take me."

"Can we turn the music off or down, at least?"

"I like rap," she said, "and I like it loud."

I shrugged. It was her room. After carrying her to the bed, a king-size, I lowered her onto her bare bottom.

"Get naked," she urged, all but screaming to be heard over the pounding beat of the music. "We can't do much while you're wearing a sports jacket, slacks, and shoes."

"Don't forget my socks and underwear," I added. "Briefs, in my case, not boxers."

"Stop wasting time."

I removed my clothes, putting them on a nearby chair, within easy reach. While I did so, I let my .357 Magnum ease its way out of my jacket's inner breast pocket, onto the seat of the chair, and let my jacket settle over the top of it. When I needed it, it would be there, ready and waiting. Nicholas would have an advantage, because he'd already be armed, but it wasn't one I was worried about.

Nicky had climbed into the bed, and I joined her.

"Lie down, on your back."

I did.

She worked her way into a seated position, folding her right leg under her, and leaned far forward, taking my burgeoning erection into the circle of her lips. Her head bobbed up and down, up and down, as she pumped her mouth upon the straining shaft of my thick, swollen cock. Nicholas was one lucky fucker, I thought.

Releasing my cock, she bathed its tip with her tongue before taking its girth back into her mouth. As she nursed my dick, she worked the skin of its shaft up and down, in short, slow strokes with one hand while she massaged my balls through the taut flesh of my risen scrotum with her other hand. She was one fantastic cocksucker, and, again, I thought her husband was one lucky son of a bitch. I would have been, too, if she'd really been lonely instead of trying to run a con on me.

As she continued to bob her head up and down, her lips rolled over the crown of my cock, sending flickers of pleasure through my prick and balls. She paused to lick my shaft again, under and around its acorn-shaped glans. Then, she lowered her head, letting my cock slide deep into her mouth, her fingers and thumb tugging and pushing the flesh back and forth, up and down, upon my rigid shaft, below her oral embrace. She increased her tempo, taking me first deep, then shallow.

I stroked her clit with my fingers as she continued to suck my cock. What's good for the gander's good for the goose, I thought.

As I fiddled with her clit, she sucked my cock, her hands roaming my thighs, before returning to the base of my prick, both caressing my erection and my balls at the same time.

We'd been at it for about ten minutes when the door opened. In steps Nicholas, looking pretty much the way I'd imagined him. His eyes went wide—and wild—and his mouth gaped as he saw what was happening between us. "What the hell?" he thundered. Had he been acting in a movie instead of a con game, he'd probably have won an Oscar. He was even a better actor than Nicky was. He reached under his suit jacket, but I was quicker in retrieving my revolver from the chair beside the bed than he was in pulling his own weapon.

"Drop it!" I ordered.

He did, right before Nicky bit me. Hard, in the hip. I was lucky she hadn't still been sucking my cock; she'd have bitten it clean off.

"Damn, woman!" I cried, thrusting her from me.

Her maneuver occasioned all the opportunity her husband needed. Quick as Wild Bill Hickok, he'd retrieved his handgun. Now, it was just a question of how much I'd have to pay.

"You win," I told him.

"I ought to kill you, you son of a bitch."

"Why not just rob me instead? That's what this con's all about, isn't it?"

"No."

"What

is

it about, then?"

"Nick likes to watch," Nicky said. "He's a voyeur."

I shrugged. "Why not? It's better than getting robbed."

Nick laughed, as he began undressing. "Who said you weren't going to be robbed? But first things first. Let's see if you're as good in bed as Nicky is."

* * *

With Nicky squatting over me, her legs spread wide, her feet planted on the bed, one on either side of my hips, while bracing herself with her arms extended behind her, a palm pressing the mattress on either side of my head, I lifted and lowered my hips, shoving my cock into her pussy again and again, as fast as I could.

When we tired of this position, we changed things up. Nicky knelt, leaned forward, and dropped onto her elbows. Her sopping-wet cunt was displayed below her parted buttocks, and her tight anus seemed to wink at me. "Use whichever hole you like," she invited.

I started in her pussy, but, as soon as my prick was wet with her juices, I impaled her ass. Lubricated with her vaginal secretions, my dick moved easily back and forth within the tight ring of her asshole, and I drove my cock into her rectum, hard and fast.

My hands on her upper thighs, I held Nicky's buttocks against my groin as I turned, dropping onto my left hip. She now also rested on her left hip, her ass slightly higher than my groin. My prick had remained inside her ass, and I continued to fuck her.

We were near the edge of the bed, and her husband, who went by "Nick" so, as a couple, they could be Nick and Nicky, knelt on the floor beside us. He jammed his face into his wife's crotch, licking her wet, shining labia and the shaft of my cock.

As he continued to lick the lips of Nicky's pussy, while I pummeled her ass with my cock, I sometimes felt the tip of Nick's wet tongue against the shaft of my prick. I grimaced, not liking the thought of some faggot's tongue lapping at my manhood, but I was too much into the moment to protest, as long as he didn't try anything else.

Perhaps sensing my disgust, Nicky explained, "Nick's bi."

"Well, I'm

not

."

We re-positioned ourselves on the bed, Nicky lying on her side. I took up the same position, my hips below her buttocks, and drove my prick home again, entering her butt all the way to my balls.

Lying with his face pointing toward his wife's cooze, Nick resumed licked her parted labia, her swollen clit, and my own erect cock, as I continued to fuck his wife. The feel of his wet, insistent tongue gave me the heebie-jeebies, but I didn't want to stop fucking Nicky to knock the hell out of Nick. Besides, the pervert still had a weapon close to hand. At present, I didn't. As long as he didn't try anything else, I told myself, I'd let it go. A tongue, after all, was just a tongue, whether it was in the mouth of a man or a woman.

We changed positions again. This time, Nick lay on his back in the bed, his feet toward its head. Nicky straddled him, her feet on either side of his face. Leaning forward, she rested the weight of her upper body upon her palms, which pressed against her husband's thighs. His face half-buried between her ass cheeks, Nick lapped Nicky's pussy, his nose bumping and grinding against her asshole.

For a few moments, she slid her cunt along the lower parts of Nick's face, the tip of his nose, his lips, and his chin. Then, she lifted her hips, allowing me to slide my cock into her asshole, She rocked her hips back and forth, thrusting against my erection. I took the initiative, driving my prick between her cheeks and into her rectum, pulling it back through the stretched ring of her sphincter, and thrusting it again into her depths.

Denied both Nicky's cunt and my cock, Nick could only look up, watching, as I butt-fucked his wife. After a while, she took pity on him. Swinging one leg over her husband's chest, she rolled off the bed. "Sit up," she told Nicky.

He did as she'd commanded, and she took my prick in her hand, guiding me off the bed. Holding onto my penis as I stood, she steered my groin toward Nick's face. Pushing my hips forward, toward him, she inserted my cock into her husband's waiting mouth.

This time, I endured the act, without protest. I didn't like it, but I didn't have to. Whatever it might have done for Nick, it meant nothing to me, and I didn't want to disrupt the passion of the sex I was enjoying with Nicky to grapple with Nick.

Thankfully, his involvement didn't last long. Having allowed her husband to enjoy my prick for a few moments, she pushed him aside; took his place in bed, her ass toward me; and reintroduced my erection to her asshole. Penetrating her, I resumed fucking her.

A few minutes later, alerted by the telltale signs of orgasm, I yanked my cock from her ass and began furiously pumping its taut flesh back and forth upon the organ's shaft while I held Nicky in place, my other hand on the small of her back. My cum splattered her asshole and dripped down her perineum.

When I finished ejaculating, Nicky knelt beside Nick, on the bed, as he masturbated, tugging and pounding his cock wildly; his head turned to one side, and his eyes closed, as he moaned. She never lent a hand, but, when he reached the point of no return, she cupped her palm below his prick, to catch his semen. Bringing the white gobs to his face, she rubbed her husband's sticky fecundating fluid over his mouth.

Somewhere along the way, Nick had set his revolver aside or dropped it. So intent had I been upon fucking Nicky, so absorbed had she been in being fucked by me and in managing her husband, and so engrossed had Nick been in licking her pussy and my cock and in eating her cunt, that none of us had been aware that he'd disarmed himself, nor, for the moment, did we know where his handgun now rested. Had he dropped it on the floor, on one side of the bed or another? Did it lie among the folds of the rumpled bedspread? Had it been pushed beneath a pillow?

I, for one, didn't care where it was. After witnessing how pussy-whipped Nick was, I'd lost all respect for him. He wasn't a man; he was a submissive wimp, completely under his wife's command and control. He'd even suck another man's cock if she wanted him to do so or lie idly by while some stranger fucked his wife's pussy or her ass.

As I began dressing, I ignored Nick, who lay still, his face still splattered with his own cum. I asked Nicky, "Why do you care whether he got any action? Wouldn't it have been enough for you and me to have—"

"I like strong men, Mike, men like you. But I married Nick." She looked at him with the same expression of contempt that I had given him. "As I said, I married him for his money, not for love. Our marriage has taught me something about myself, though: I like strong men, but I also enjoy controlling weak ones, submissive little bitch-boys like Nick. By letting him have a share in things, I get to enjoy both strong men who know what it's like to please a woman and weak pussy boys who like being dominated and humiliated like my cuckold-of-a-husband."

Finished dressing, I returned my revolver to the inner breast pocket of my sports jacket and handed Nicky a card. "If you ever want to get together again sometime—just the two of us, I mean—give me a call."

She read the text on my card: "Worldwide Imports." Smiling she said, "A fellow James Bond fan, I see."

I played dumb. "Bond fan?"

"His cover is that he works for a company called Universal Exports—as if you didn't know." She looked serious. "What

do

you do, Mike?"

"If I told you, I'd have to kill you."

Her eyes glinted as she arched an eyebrow. "Really?" She placed my card in her purse. "I'll make sure I get to San Diego again—frequently."

I nodded toward her cum-splattered husband. He hadn't moved or spoken since our grand finale. "Make sure you leave him at home. There must be some chores you give him to keep him occupied."

"I can think of a few."