During dinner I managed to unbutton two more buttons of my dress without anyone noticing, and we managed to order wine, dinner and the dessert with my tits almost falling out. No one in the room, including the staff and the waiters, seemed to mind or care (or even pretend to notice) but it felt good to be on display nevertheless.

After dinner I modestly buttoned one button, which still left a less than modest decolletage, but at least it wasn't so risque that I risked popping out I stood behind Jim as he played blackjack, and he won for a change ($375). I knew that there were many people who were aware of the full nudity under my clothes, but no one said anything and, like our waiters, if they noticed they pretended not to.

I tried to accidentally flash my pussy to the valet that brought us our car when we left, but his position when I entered the car was wrong and he couldn't see. It was wasted effort on my part.

Jim asked me on the ride back to our hotel to unbutton that button again so he could see me as I was in the restaurant and I surprises him by unbuttoning it all the way down. We drove down Las Vegas Blvd. that way, but again, no one seemed to notice and I didn't want to make it obvious that I intended anyone to see.

I felt a little daring when we reached our hotel but I wasn't so daring that could walk in like I was, so I buttoned up again (somewhat) and walked through the lobby and to the elevator with the same number of buttons open as I had in the restaurant. Jim was happy with me and kept looking down at my nearly bare breasts hoping, I thought, that maybe I would expose one or both of them.

As the elevator door opened we saw Bob, our room service man from the night before, standing there. He had an empty service cart with him and was obviously headed back to the kitchen. His eyes dropped down to my breasts, and then down, and he smiled. "I see that you took my advice and wore the dress without the panties. Good. It's looks great on you that way." He said it quietly so that no one else who could be in earshot would hear. I smiled brightly and thanked him for the compliment. He left, pushing the service cart in front of him, and Jim and I entered the elevator. As we rode up to our floor I regretted not showing Bob my nipples.

Once in the room I stripped off the dress and threw it in the corner. I had worn it all day and I knew that it would need a good cleaning and pressing before I could wear again. I walked over to the window and stood looking at the windows in the other wing. I was watching to see someone else. Jim stripped off his clothes too and joined me at the window. He hugged me tightly from behind and cupped his hands over my breasts and caressed my nipples. We stood in the window like that, kissing and touching each other for 10 minutes or more. We didn't fuck, but Jim finally took my hand and led me to the bed and we made love like we did at home, satisfying, but without the pizzazz of fucking. I didn't cum.

* * * * *

We stayed in bed Saturday morning until almost noon. With all the excitement of the previous day we were still exhausted and the rest would do us good. We ate the sandwiches that Bob had brought us the night before, watched a little TV, cuddled and planned all the "crimes" that we would attempt that evening. Jim suggested that we call room service (again) and that this time I would be in the shower when Bob (or whoever else) came. I would pretend that I didn't know anyone was there and I would walk into the room bare ass naked. I would instinctively try to act modest and cover myself with my hands, but then would smile shyly and say "Well, you've already seen me, so I might as well get dressed now," or words to that effect. I would walk over to the dresser as if my nudity was of no concern and spend a minute or so going through the clothes before putting anything on. It would be kind of a reverse strip tease as I slowly and erotically dress for the man.

Jim also suggested that we might go to the Jacuzzi later that evening. If there was no one there we could strip quickly and get in the water and, if anyone came later, the bubbling nature of the Jacuzzi would cover us enough so we would be at least semi-modest. If someone was there when we arrived we would make the decision as to whether it felt "right" enough and if it was then he would get in first, wearing his suit of course, and I would slip off my shoes and only dangle my legs in the water. If we could, we would start a conversation with whoever was there and try to lead it around as to why I didn't join them in the water. Hopefully they would all "coax" me into the water in only my panties and white cotton undershirt top, both of which would look sexier than hell when they were wet.

He came up with a lot of other delicious and exciting things we could do as well, but neither of us could have imagined, or prepared, or dreamed of what really happened that night!

We decided that for our debut for the day I would wear the cutoff Jeans that Jim had given me the day before. I put them on and studied myself in the mirror. They were the typical Levi type Wranglers, but the legs had been cut off very shortly and major cuts had been made up the side and between the legs. There was only a thin strap of material from front to bottom and the legs were loose enough that one could visually see the gap between the material and the flesh. It was almost as daring "down there" as was the bikini that I had worn at Venice beach except that I didn't have to worry about it falling off my hips. This was taking our new found hobby one more step, as I knew that it would be almost impossible for me to go the whole day without showing at least a portion of my pussy even if I tried (and I was pretty sure that I was brave enough at this point not to). To go along with it I chose of Jim's cotton undershirts, the men's kind without arms, which is what he had suggested I wear in the Jacuzzi that night if we didn't go nude.

Jim had me wiggle around on the bed, open my legs, stretch my arms over my head, bend over, and contort my body into every possible position so he could "check out" how I would look, What he was really doing, I thought, was getting off on beaver shots. He's been married to me all these years and I can still turn him on with simply bare skin. I felt very proud of myself, and feeling proud made me feel beautiful, and feeling beautiful made me feel sexy, and feeling sexy made me horny. I unbuttoned the pants, raised my legs in the air and pulled them off, giving him a good look at my asshole and pussy as I was doing it. I invited him to come and lick me, which of course he did, and as his tongue and lips pleasured themselves in my hairless hole, I climaxed for the first of what was to become a record number of orgasms for me in one day.

After I had cum and Jim had licked up all the love juice, I dressed again in the same gorgeous, slutty Jeans and we went downstairs to play Blackjack. Since we were now playing with the "House" money, as Jim refers to it, I decided to play alongside him. I'm not too good on figuring out what to hit and what not to hit, unless it a a "no brainer" like two tens, and I knew that dressed as I was my mind would be on other things beside cards, but with Jim at my side to help me with the tough decisions I might do OK.

After an hour of staying relatively even, we hit a string of losing hands and were down about $200 which meant we only had $175 of the "house" money left. Jim suggested we find another table where we might have better luck. Dressed as I was I was perfectly content so simply wander around the casino watching other peoples reactions as they looked at me, but I never revealed this to Jim.

As we moved made our way around the casino Jim suddenly spotted Bob playing at a nearly deserted table. Now a nearly deserted table usually means bad luck for a player, but Jim suggested that we join him. He had been a true gentleman the night before, and I was eager for him to see me in my new outfit.

"Hey, Bob," Jim said as we approached the table, "off your shift now?"

Bob seemed glad to see us. "Yeah, I am. How you doing? I guess you didn't see the show last night after all. You came home a little early." Jim admitted that we hadn't and they continued the small talk, but while they spoke Bob never stopped looking at me.

I pulled out the stool and sat next to Bob before Jim could, put my chips in front of me and bet $20. I got a Blackjack that first hand and felt that this indeed might be my lucky table in more ways than one. With Jim on one side of me and Bob on the other I felt I was the center of attention. The three of us continued to win more than we lost for the next thirty minutes, and I would squeal with delight every time one of us got a blackjack and I would jump up and down in glee. Every time I did I could see Bob's eyes go to either my crotch or my bouncing breasts, and he didn't seem embarrassed at all to be looking at me so intently. I knew of course that he was looking for exposure, and I thought about making sure he did, but instead I simply let nature take its course. With what I was wearing he was surely seeing enough to keep him happy. God, it was delicious being a cockteaser. "Que Sera, Sera" I began singing softly. I wondered if either of them knew why those lyrics had popped into my head.

Suddenly, our luck started to change. The squeals of delight were less now, and when they came they were hollow echoes of the squeals from before. Abruptly, after winning a hand for a change, Bob said "I'm out of hear before I lose the entire bundle. I won enough on that last hand to buy us all a couple of rounds of drinks. What do you say? Let's do it now or I'll probably throw it away on the next hand."

Before Jim had a chance to think too much about it I turned to Bob and said "Great idea. I'm tired of losing too. Lead us to the tavern," I had already had four or five Margaritas and I was already feeling no pain. A few more and I would "really" be a fun girl.

Jim followed along and all the way to the bar I continued acting silly, skipping along as if I were a little girl, and singing "Que Sera, Sera" over and over again, sometimes out loud and sometimes only in my head.

The lounge was fairly empty. The big crowds would probably come later in the evening. Bob led us to a dimly lit booth in the back away from the other patrons. When the waitress came she asked us what we wanted, and he ordered for us. I continued with the Margaritas, Jim with his Bourbon, and Bob his white wine.

"I know I shouldn't ask this question, and you don't have to answer if you don't want, but we have become, uh..." he looked down between my legs, "more or less good friends so here goes. What the hell are your names? I may have heard them last night but I have completely forgotten them if I did?"

Jim and I looked at each other and started to laugh. Last night he had asked us if he could be blunt and it had given us pause for a moment. Now he was apologizing for asking us our names. I wondered if he apologized every time he asked a question. I told him my name was Liz and Jim introduced himself as well. We felt bad that we had forgotten to do so earlier.

After the drinks were brought to the table the conversation began again, and it was about Blackjack. It went on for as long as the drinks lasted, and I was starting to get bored. I wanted to get out of the hotel and start living out our fantasies. Bob ordered another round before we could object and after the barmaid brought it and was handsomely tipped, Bob turned to me, looked squarely in they eyes, and said "Liz, I want you to show me your cunt. I want you to spread your legs apart and show me your shaved lips."

Jim and I were flabbergasted. Bob seemed so mild and apologetic and afraid of saying anything that might be blunt or embarrassing to us, yet there was no hint of an apology or fear in this statement. Was he drunk?

"Before you say anything," he continued, "let me say that last night I knew the minute you asked for my 'advice' that you were either exhibitionists or swingers. You were playing sexual games with one another and I was simply a prop. I've been around the block enough times to know. And don't try to tell me that you weren't aware that I could see your cunt and ass very clearly through that dress. And then last night when I stepped out of the elevator and saw your cleavage, if you can call that deep a plunge cleavage, I knew that all I had to do was to ask you to show them to me and you would. Unfortunately I was working at the time, and I don't like to mix my job with pleasure. But today I'm not working and it's completely different. Besides, I've already seen your cunt four times in the last hour, three times at the blackjack table and once since we've been here in the lounge. And I don't mean just glimpses, I mean wide open views between the lips and up the hole. You think your being daring by running around all day in skimpy little outfits that might, just might, show off more than you intended to show, and I admire that in a woman. It takes guts that most women only dream of having. But to experience the ultimate thrill in your little game you have to go all the way. I'm a stranger to you. I want you to show me your cunt, wide open, no pretenses. I know that this is what you really want, and you know it as well. Now, be honest with yourself. Reach down between your legs, pull your pants to the side and let me stare at your naked cunt."

He didn't sound threatening, and he didn't sound judgmental (well, maybe a little, but it was without criticism), and he spoke the truth. I DID want him to see me. Before Jim could say a word I answered "All right" in the calmest, coolest voice I could muster. I took another deep drink of my Margarita, a deep breath to calm me down a little, and a quick glance at Jim as if asking for his approval, and then I sprawled back against the cool vinyl backing of the booth. A quick glance around the lounge told me that no one could see what I was about to do. All the while looking in Bobs eyes, almost as if I was hypnotized, I slowly reached down and pulled the Jeans to the side exposing my pussy. Then, as his eyes left mine and dropped to see what he had asked for, I took my other hand, dropped it down to meet the first, and I spread my pussy lips apart for Bob's (and my) pleasure. My pulse was pounding and I asked myself, was I really doing this?

Silently he stared at the visual gift that he had asked for and I had freely given. The gaze of his eyes were intense, but he signified no change in his facial expression, Not a smile, or a smirk, or a grin. Just a stone cold stare.

Maybe I was hypnotized, or maybe I wasn't, but without any suggestions at all, other than by what I now believe was my own free will, I inserted two fingers into the warm wet stickiness of myself and began masturbating. It was for his eyes only to see, but it was for my pleasure as well as his. His eyes never left my pussy. My eyes never left his face. His expression never changed. My fingers went deeper and deeper in with calculated abandonment, and with my other hand I began rubbing and stroking my clit, sending spasms of delight throughout my entire body.

From his position, and mine, I couldn't tell if Jim could see my fingers doing their magic, but he could certainly tell what I was doing. He hadn't said a word. Maybe he was speechless or maybe he was wise enough not to disturb what was for me a private and almost spiritual experience. I could feel the tension building in my body and I knew that it would seek escape. I felt myself starting to tremble and I bit down hard on my lip to keep from making any outward sound that might draw the attention of any of the others in the lounge. I knew that from the position I was in no one except could see my nakedness, or my pussy, or my fingers, but they could damn well see my face.

Smiling gently now, Bob reached down and inserted his finger inside me as well and our fingers worked in tandem for what was now a common goal. I couldn't help myself any longer. I bit down harder on my lip, closed my eyes and moaned softly, pushing my pelvic bone down harder and harder against his finger and mine, It took only moments, but I felt the familiar, always sought after, overwhelming sensation take control over my body and with a spasm and a soft cry from deep in my chest I came.

Not caring now about anything, my naked body, my loss of composure, Bob, Jim, the others in the lounge, anything at all, I lay my head down on the table and quietly sobbed as the warm spasms wracked my body. Jim's hand was on my hair and he was rubbing the back of my neck with gentle caresses. My legs felt wet and rubbery and my breath was coming in short bursts. Finally, slowly, the pleasure began to decrease and I started to regain control. It was the most overwhelming orgasm I had ever had.

I looked around the bar to see if anyone had observed my temporary madness, but everything looked the same as before. No one had seemed to notice. I looked deeply into Bob's eyes and said quietly "Thank you."

Then I turned to Jim. "I love you so much it hurts," I said, and once again I burst into tears of happiness and sexual release and Jim and I kissed with long kisses that were meant only for us and I was unashamed.

As we left the lounge Bob had one more suggestion. Once again it caught us off guard. "How would you like to by the house tonight for dinner? I'd like to introduce you to my wife, and we always enjoy company. That is, of course, unless you have other plans. I certainly wouldn't to impose" Typical Bob again, I thought to myself, always being deprecating.

Jim was, I could see, starting to get a little pissed off. "What, first you give my wife an orgasm with me watching, and then you want us to go by the house so you can fuck her as well? It's true, we were playing with you last night and setting you up as a, what did you call it, a prop? It's also true that since we've been here in Vegas we've gone out of our way to show her off a little now and then (an understatement, I thought) but what happened back there in the lounge was something that just happened, and it's not going to repeat itself. I certainly don't want to fuck your wife and I don't want to watch you fuck Liz, either. We're not swingers and that's what I think that's what your invitation is all about, isn't it" Jim said it as if it weren't even a question.

Bob smiled. "You're right," he said, "I would love to fuck Liz, but I doubt my wife would approve. I don't doubt for a second that Liz would be a terrific piece of ass, excuse the expression, Liz, but I can assure you my intentions were not to fuck her. My intentions were to videotape YOU fucking her."

That certainly set Jim back a bit. He had told me in our ride out here in the car that it had been a fantasy of his for a long time, having people watch us have sex, but now that the opportunity was presenting itself, would he be up for the challenge?

"OK," I said boldly before Jim could give an answer, "but on two conditions. We keep the tape when it's over and your wife will be with us the whole time." I thought that Bob would begin to cover his ass about now, because I didn't really believe there was a wife. I thought that it was just a ruse to get us over to his house. I had read enough murder mysteries to realize that you don't just follow strangers with candy.

"Oh, that presents no problem whatsoever. In fact, my wife will probably want you to videotape us as well. She loves it when people watch us fuck."

Jim looked excited, but also a little ashen. I could tell he was scared. Like me, I thought. Maybe we were going just a little too fast for comfort, but like the old saying goes, nothing ventured, nothing gained.

Bob reached in his wallet for a piece of scratch paper and scribbled down his address and phone number. "Say about eight? And please do us the courtesy of calling us as soon as possible if you change your mind, OK?"

I excused myself and went to the restroom while Bob gave Jim the directions to the house. As I entered the Ladies Room I couldn't resist looking at my reflection in the mirror. No one else was there so I stood and stared at myself for quite for quite a while. I squeezed my tits together and lifted the side of my Jeans to get another good look at the brazen image I had dared to show the world. Liz, I said to myself, do you really know what you're getting yourself into? No, I answered myself. No, I don't.

I left the restroom softly humming "Que Sera, Sera"

To Be Continued....

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