This is an adult sex story.
All the characters are of the age of consent or far over it!
Any children named or mentioned are not involved in anything sexual.
This is story number fifty nine (59).
This is continuing story of how I spent my summer vacation in Las Vegas, Nevada, USA.
Except I got sidetracked by what I thought would be a quick trip to Mexico.
Please read my previous story, number 58, which I titled "I Convert Two Lipstick Lesbians."
Enjoy and thanks for the views and votes.
******
What was it about Mexico, or these women that had me hard all the time?
Not just hard, but making me almost needing to cum.
Was it in the air; or in the water? Or maybe just being in the tropics?
I'd been hard since about an hour after I landed even after blowing a load into my parolee Kelly's tight ass on the plane!
Hell, I had just blown a load down a willing female throat (she was the #2 PA (personal assistant) but in my book the #1 BJ) not half an hour ago and here was Mister Pleasure Stick, already searching for a new female hole to visit.
It was almost as if I could feel my balls filling up ... to shoot again.
******
Marisol brought me a large glass of water with a slight hint of something in it and when I asked she said "Essence of banana."
I was thirsty, it was hot outside, and humid, and I consumed half the glass as soon as she handed it to me.
Marisol smiled at me. I smiled back; she was very attractive and I was attracted to her.
Her fragrance was beyond sexual; there was no other way to put it. It was like her perfume was created using nothing but estrogen to attract me.
I was already stiff; the aroma made her more alluring and once again, I had to, discretely, adjust my cock in my slacks.
She just smiled, knowing full well the impact she was having on me.
I briefly wondered why she wasn't already married; surely a woman with her beauty and smarts could have found a husband by now.
Except maybe she wasn't into guys ... and with that fleeting thought my hard fully extended cock actually started throbbing, thinking about the sight of this gorgeous and smart creature being devoured by another female.
Two nude females, young, firm, horny ... tongues licking, hands roving, sighs and groans of pleasure ... two women in heat ... with no need for a man ... except just to tease him.
Fantasies like that get me into trouble.
Marisol and I were at the head of the conference table, looking at the presentation projected on the screen hanging from the ceiling.
She took me through a Power Point on the business, sort of a historical journey, starting with old photos of the founder, the first building they produced the breast firming cream in, the original packaging and so on.
It turns out that Domino's father had a ranch, and his first product was something to take care of the chapped and cracked hands of the ranch hands. He created an "udder cream" which worked quite well; so well he eventually sold off the formula and was semi-set for life. The royalty checks, Marisol told me, were still arriving each month to his trust.
He hadn't gone beyond the 8th grade but he made up for his lack of formal education by reading and experimenting; he built a makeshift lab in the corner of a barn and was apparently known as something of a mad scientist by others in his circle.
During a serious drought, he noticed that his cows were not producing enough milk to feed the new born calves, so he played with a number of different concoctions until he found something that stimulated cow udders. Soon, milk flowed.
He'd found something magical but at that time he was forced to stay focused on his ranch.
But the creative and entrepreneurial seed had been planted. He would create formulas and sell them to others.
Often his many ideas didn't make it past the idea stage; he would have to leave that for others to create.
And when she was old enough, he transferred his knowledge and ideas to his only daughter, Domino.
Apparently, like Michael Corleone, Domino was selected to run the family business.
Maybe that was my both Paulo and Enrique left town; they didn't want to end up like Fredo; but instead of Lake Tahoe their resting place would be the Pacific.
******
Marisol quickly went through the slides, and pretty much brought me current to present day, minus the sale of the second product line which I purchased before having lunch.
I asked about the website I had found sitting by the pool in Las Vegas and she explained that it was an old version and that they had brought a USC intern down from LA to work on a new one it as a summer college project. It was almost done.
Marisol's beauty was intoxicating and I could not keep my eyes off of her; she responded in kind, her hand always in touch with my arm, squeezing it to emphasize a point.
I liked sitting side by side; it gave me the opportunity to really look at her and to appreciate both her natural beauty and her intelligence.
My cock responded too, it was engorged but safely in my pants under the table.
She recapped what she had covered with me and then said, "I want to tell you that we have two different markets. Right now, for women, we have the estrogen based cream that helps stimulate lactation. We have some new ideas that we can work on down the road for sexual enhancement. And, you now own the breast firming lotion and the breast growth product."
I smiled and said, "What do you have for the men?"
Marisol said to me "We have three formulas in testing. Don't laugh when I tell you the code names."
I wanted to kiss her. Her mouth was so pretty and that pink tongue of hers kept darting out of those perfect lips.
She blushed. "Stop staring at me!"
I couldn't but I didn't say so.
I just smiled at her and said "Go on."
She smiled back, still blushing, pushed her hair behind her ear which meant she was interested in me and asked "Do you remember the movie The Great Escape?"
I said "I sure do. It's one of my favorites."
"What names did the POWs give the names on of the tunnels they were digging?"
I started laughing, even though I said I wouldn't.
She playfully punched me in the arm, laughing herself saying to me "You said you wouldn't laugh!"
I'd like to tell you that right then and there I leaned my head in and kissed her and that we fucked right on that conference table.
******
Well, we did fuck, but not at that moment, even though I wanted to (even needed to because of the growing sensation in my balls. My sack was feeling a sensation I couldn't quite describe.
But I'll explain that, um, release, shortly.
We stopped laughing and Marisol said to me, in a matter of fact voice "Jack, Domino and I figured out that if we wanted to be successful in business, we had to understand and accept something."
I nodded and said, "Go on."
Marisol continued "If we could find something that addresses the basic needs of men, and their grateful lady friends, we'd be helping civilization and society and maybe make some good money at the same time."
I nodded, they wanted a niche. I got it.
"Jack, it's all about the cock."
"It's all about the cock?" I asked her, in a disbelieving voice.
"Yes, Mister Colton, it's all about the cock. The erection. The hard on. The pulsating pink tube. The prick. The penis. Let me explain, and I'll use you as an example. Since your wife passed and even before you met Catherine, you have been on the constant prowl for pussy. That's been your quest; your mission: to fuck as many beautiful women as possible. You are discrete; you are a complete gentleman about it; you wine and dine; spend money lavishly, with fine meals, first class plane trips or on your private jet, fancy hotel suites, and gifts any woman would die for. From what we can tell, no man on the planet eats as much pussy as you do, and you do it to pleasure your partners. It's all very unselfish. You do all these things for one reason: for you to have a woman spread her legs for you and to accept your throbbing hard bare cock into their tight, wet, hot pussies. And when they do, you make sure that your sexual partners are completely and utterly satisfied before you end the ... session. The evidence we have suggests that this is something you do constantly, seven days a week."
You would have thought she had a Ph. D. in Psychology with that speech. She nailed me. It was sort of hard to take. I sounded like a man who just wanted to pursue pussy and just fuck all the time.
I said "You forget I have companies to run. I have thousands of employees I have to lead and look out for. And they have families depending on me."
Marisol continued "Jack, you're a very smart guy and you have handpicked some top people to do everything in the businesses you own. We estimate you spend maybe an hour or two on actual work each day. The rest of the time you spend considering things to buy to add to your portfolio of companies and at the same time you're looking for someone to have sex with."
My eyes searched hers. What she said sounded pathetic. She thought differently and told me so. I took a deep breath.
But she went on "Jack, you are living the dream. Any man who isn't a priest would love to switch places with you. You've got money, brains and no shortage of women willing to let them fuck you, in whatever hole you want to penetrate. And, Jack, every single one of them loves you. Everyone one of them wants to be with you, around you, in business with you, back in bed with you. Every one of them would switch places with Catherine if the opportunity came up."
That's what those folders were all about; Domino and Marisol had done their background investigation on me, interviewing all my former lovers. And who knows, maybe my current ones too.
"So, why am I here?"
"Jack, we want other men to have what you have. We want their sexual fantasies to come true. We can do it for them, and we need your help."
"You need my help? To do what, exactly?"
"Jack, Domino and I are chemists, not business owners. We can create products but we have no idea how to go about taking something like what we've concocted and successfully take it to the global marketplace. But we know you can, because you've done it and it fits right into what you're selling with your swimsuits, the breast firming cream, the Las Vegas Challenge; your car dealerships and your hotels."
"Explain that to me please" I asked.
"Jack, when a husband and wife go to buy a car, who decides what car the family will drive?"