Stevies Bet What Happens In Vegas

"I'll be back in a few minutes, hun, I have to use the ladies room." She set her purse down on the bar, got down from the stool and walked between a row of video slots. "Watch my purse, will you?" she called out just before she turned the corner.

This was our last night in Vegas. We'd been here for a four day convention and this was our first really free night. Every other had been dinners with our sales reps, awards ceremonies- the usual business stuff you have to do at conventions. Still, Karen and I had enjoyed ourselves immensely. Saw 'Cats" and Selene Dionne on two separate nights. Tonight it had been a dinner show at the Mirage. We were sitting at the bar playing video poker and having a few drinks before we went up to our room for the night.

An elegant but casually dressed African American man in designer jeans and an untucked pin striped shirt came up behind me and tapped me on the shoulder. He'd been sitting at the far end of the bar looking over at us- I thought at Karen. "Excuse me sir, but aren't you... weren't you the quarterback at UCLA... Jerry... got hurt his senior year... Jerry... can't think of his last..."

I laughed. "No, I'm flattered but it's not me," I replied, "didn't go to UCLA. Penn State, and never played ball." I returned to my drink.

"Oh, you a dead ringer for the dude, man," he continued. He sat down in my wife's stool. "Was all set up to go pro but blew out a knee against Stanford."

"That's my wife's seat."

He laughed and moved over one seat. He had an easy smile. "Oh jeez, man, I'm sorry. I shoulda noticed the purse, right?"

I nodded my head. "It's OK man, no big deal."

"So that was your wife walking away a minute ago? Damn, she is one tall drink of water."

She was, or is, tall. 5'7 barefoot, and tonight she was not barefoot. Black high heels, low-cut spaghetti strap little black dress, wavy blonde hair to the middle of her back.

"Man, I hope you don't mind me tellin' you, she is stunning. Is she, like, a model or something?"

It seemed a little personal coming from a complete stranger but it was true. She is beautiful: slim, tall, curves and bumps in all the right places, robin egg blue eyes, well built and never has to wear a bra. "I agree, she is beautiful but, no, she's no model. Just a soccer mom from Fresno."

"By the way, my name's Stevie," he said, putting out a hand over the empty stool between us.

"Mark," I replied, shaking his hand, "and my wife is Karen."

"And you from Fresno? Here for a convention? What for?"

"I own a marketing company," I replied, "and we've spent the last three days giving out sales awards and setting up things for next year. This is our last night here."

"So, did you and Karen have time for any fun?" he asked. He had an easy way of talking; his questions were a little personal and probing- verging on obnoxious- but he was easy to talk to. A good listener. I suspected he was in sales of some kind, maybe insurance.

"We did, in fact, yes we did," I said, "caught Selene and 'Cats', and went to the burlesque dinner show here tonight."

"Here? The Mirage?"

I smiled. "Yeah, we really enjoyed it, great show, and the dancing girls..."

"Yea, they's a knockout that's for sure. Your wife- Karen- topless didn't bother her?"

I'd never thought about it. We'd both looked at the reviews, mostly 5 star. And topless? The dancing was so elegant and the body paint... well, it was hard to even know they were topless. "I don't think so," is all I nervously replied. I lifted my glass an inch or two off the bar. "Bartender, let me have another scotch."

"Hey Kev, put it on my tab, would you?" he told the bartender. He turned again to me. "She work?"

"Nah, too busy totting a couple of six year olds, twins, to school, soccer practice, charity work." Kev the Bartender looked at me with a quixotic, almost lecherous, smile. "Want another for your wife, buddy?" I nodded.

"You know, I bet she could get a job here, on the dance line. She's really a knockout."

So the questions were really about her? "Yeah, I'm a lucky guy. Great looks, good in bed, she's smart, and she can cook." Damn! Why did I mention she was good in bed? That was none of his fucking business. Kev came back with a chardonnay for Karen and a scotch neat with a twist for me.

"Mark," he said, leaning over the empty stool and speaking in almost a whisper, "would you get upset if your wife were on that dance line, bare breasted, almost naked, knowin' there are hundreds of guys out there watchin' her? Lookin'?"

The question stopped me cold. I'd never thought about other men seeing my wife naked. "I don't know Stevie," I replied, "the thought never crossed my mind. I don't think she'll ever be in a position, a situation, to have to do that."

"That wasn't my question, Mark," he continued on in this near-whisper, "would you mind? I mean, she's beautiful enough to be on that line. Would you be upset?"

"I'm not sure, Stevie. I don't think so but I'm not sure." The question was a little disturbing- why I don't know- and I wondered where he was going with it.

"You know Mark," he said, once again sitting upright and speaking in a conversational tone, "most men, especially men with gorgeous wives like yours, actually want other men to think of their wives naked. It's part of their ego. It's how they got those beautiful wives in the first place: their ego." He took a sip from his glass and looked for my reaction. The drink was clear so I though it was gin or vodka and 7-Up. Whatever it was, I thought it was maybe alcohol talking, taking risks with an almost taboo topic about a stranger's wife

How we'd gotten to this subject I don't know; it seemed to have been a long and winding road but it had been only a few minutes at best. It got me thinking: every married man on the face of the earth has probably had fantasies about his wife. The slut wife, the wonton whore. Being lewdly naked in front of other men. Watching them leer at her, mentally fuck her, maybe masturbate while she dances. Maybe watching them have sex with her. Maybe.

"Scientific fact, Mark, most men like the idea, their wife taking off her clothes in front of other men, flirting with them, getting them sexually aroused, maybe even watching them have sex with her." As as afterthought, he added, "most women would love to have their husbands watch, too."

He'd read my mind! I don't know how, but he'd read my mind! "I don't believe it Stevie, and most wives wouldn't do it anyhow. It's a secret buried deep somewhere. On both sides." But who was I trying to convince? Who was I kidding? And Karen? No way she'd ever consent to anything like that. Ever.

"Tell ya what, Mark, I'll make a bet with you, a hundred bucks: Your wife will agree to have sex with me tonight. If she says no to the offer three times, you get a hundred bucks. If she says yes, we go up to your room and I have sex with her all night while you watch."

"That's nuts, Stevie," I blustered. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Karen's waist length blonde hair bouncing in waves as she weaved her way through the throngs of people playing the machines. I returned to my drink. "Karen's almost back," I said curtly, "nice talkin' to ya, Stevie," and turned away.

"If you introduce us, the bet is on." He turned a quarter to face the bar and took a sip of his drink as if we'd never met.

It took her another minute or so to find me, an infinite amount of time when your mind is in a whirlwind. "Hey sweetie," she said with a quick peck on the cheek as she sat down. "Whatcha been doing?"

"Not much. Put a few bucks in the machine, ordered us up some fresh drinks." I gulped and took a deep breath. "Talked with this guy Stevie," I motioned toward him, "had an interesting conversation. Stevie, Karen. Karen, Stevie." I downed my scotch in one gulp and ordered another.

She took his outstretched hand and smiled. "Nice to meet you Stevie. Are you here with the convention?"

"No, I live here. In Vegas. A few blocks away in fact." He took a sip of his drink. "Mark tells me you guys are from Fresno, right?"

"Yes, we're here for Mark's sales convention, marketing."

"I was down at the other end of the bar and thought for sure he was a football player for UCLA back in the day, but I found out otherwise. And I thought you were a model, but he tells me your a soccer mom. Totting kids around and doing charity work. Struck out on both counts, I guess, didn't I?"

"Keeps me busy," she replied and took a sip from her glass.

And that's how the conversation started. He talked to me on occasion but most of his attention was on her. She turned toward him. He put his hand on the inside of her knee. She didn't object. He pulled his stool closer to her. Her fingers began to run up and down the stem of her wine glass. They got closer, sipping their drinks in synchrony. He touched her hair behind the ear. She leaned into the caress.

She turned toward me. "Mark, let's go up and have a nightcap. And would you mind if Stevie joined us?" Her voice was, I don't know, sensual? Sexy? Smoldering? It had been a 'yes' on the first offer.

I paid the tab as Stevie and Karen walked toward the elevator bay. Kev the Bartender smiled that enigmatic smile at me like he knew something was up. All three of us got into the elevator and wordlessly made our way to our room. Stevie sat on the edge of the bed. I sat on a stuffed easy chair next to the television cabinet.

"So Stevie tells me that most married men would like to watch their wives get naked in front of other men," she asked. "Is that true, Mark? Do you believe that?" Her fingers were toying with one of her spaghetti straps.

I could feel myself blushing. My mouth was dry as sand. "No." It was half-hearted at best.

"He said most women wanted their husbands to watch. Is that what you want, Mark?" She slid the strap off her shoulder. "That you'd like me to take off my clothes in front of Stevie?" I didn't answer. The strap fell to her elbow. The dress opened up the slope of her left breast, the fabric itself clinging precariously to a nipple. And the fact was, this was turning me on. My dick tented up the front of my pants.

"Well it kinda looks like you're enjoying it, Mark," she said looking at my crotch. "Shall I continue? Just say no." She waited a moment, grinned, then dropped the other strap. Her dress fell to the floor around her high heels, her only piece of clothing: black bikini panties covering her genitals. There was a distinct wet patch at the bottom.

"He said one of your fantasies was watching me have sex with another man." Stevie got up from the bed, took off his shirt, and stood behind her. He fondled her breasts, squeezing them with the palms of his hands and teasing the nipples between his thumb and forefinger until they stood up like little soldiers. She leaned into his shoulders. "Well Mark, we all have fantasies, don't we." It was a statement, not a question. Her blue eyes, smoldering with lust, fixed on mine. "One of mine since college has been to be ravaged by a black man. A black man with a big cock fucking my brains out."

Stevie slid a hand beneath her panties. Her eyes closed in rapture as he fingered her clitoris and the moisture between her swollen pussy lips.

My hard-on was raging. A little wet circle had formed next to the zipper.

She kicked off her high heels and slid the black panties down her legs. "He says his cock is twelve inches but I'm not sure I believe that. Do you?"

"I don't know Karen," I replied. Some composure had returned, along with a little bit of my voice. "He never mentioned that to me."

"I'm curious. Stevie, is it really twelve inches"

"Baby, why don't you find out for yourself." He unbuckled and unzipped his pants. She got on her knees and pulled them and his underwear down to his ankles in one quick move. His erection stood out like a great obsidian obelisk. The veins stood out like hieroglyphics.

Karen gasped, a little fear in her face. Still, she stroked it slowly. "Stevie, I don't know if I can take all of that. It's huge!"

"Trust me baby, your body can take every inch and, promise, you'll be wanting it all night." He bobbed the massive black head against her cheeks and nose. "Put it in that beautiful mouth of yours, sweetheart. Make it wet."

She tentatively licked the tip, still stroking him slowly. "I've never had one in my mouth before, Stevie," she said coyly.

"Mark, is that true?" he laughed, "a gorgeous wife like this and she's never give you head?"

And it was true. Karen liked sex a lot. She loved to fuck but on her terms. Missionary. No oral, period. To me or from me. She was really good in bed and could orgasm almost every time we had sex. But it was on those terms.

He put the slit with its clear drop of precum up to her lips. She opened her mouth, touched it with her tongue, and took him in. It almost seemed to be a natural reaction that her head bobbed up and down on the obscene fleshy pole. "That's it baby, get that cock really hard."

"Don't cum in my mouth please," she pleaded. I guess that wasn't part of her fantasy.

"Oh Karen baby, we a long ways away from that, honey." He took her hand and helped her to her feet, leading her to the bed. "Hey Mark, why don't you get naked, too, an' maybe have a little fun here."

I took everything off and fished my cellphone out of the back pocket. I really wanted this on video.

Her legs hung spread wide apart off the edge of the bed. Stevie started kissing his way from her ankles up her calves, to the inside of her thighs. His fingers moved ahead of his lips to her swollen red pussy lips. His thumb teased the little nub of her clitoris as his finger probed her pussy. His long middle finger found something sensitive because her hips started moving in rhythm to his stroke. Her moaning was long, guttural, continuous.

His lips found the pedals of her labia. He coaxed them apart with his tongue.

"Oh no!" she cried, "I don't like oral sex, please stop Stevie, please stop," but he didn't and her body belied her words. Her hand went behind his head and pushed it down onto her pubic mound. Her moans turned to chirps and cries. "Oh god baby, don't stop lover, oh god," was her chant, her mantra. He coaxed her nipples and squeezed her breasts while his tongue and lips worked their wicked magic on her pussy.

Her hips suddenly thrust up hard against his mouth. "Oh god Stevie, you're making me cum," she cried as a flurry of orgasms swept through her like lightning bolts. "I'm cumming, oh Mark, he's making me cum, please Stevie, I want you inside of me, please, fuck me. Now baby, now!"

Stevie got up off his knees, pushed her up toward the pillows, and straddled himself between her thighs. She got up on her elbows and looked on with unadulterated lust as the thick black monster penetrated her tight white pussy. The thick head gently parted her lips, the shaft moved into her with glacial slowness, fractions of an inch at a time. She wrapped her legs around his thighs. He laid down on top of her, his chest crushing her breasts, their lips and tongues doing strange dances between them.

This was the moment of my fantasy: watching another man penetrate my wife while she moaned in ecstasy. Small, short thrusts, each moving his cock deeper into her wet, pulsating vagina. The friction from each thrust sent shudders of intense pleasure through her body.

His strokes became longer, deeper, her hips meeting the cadence of his every thrust.

Precum dripped from the slit at the tip of my cock down the shaft. It lubricated my strokes as I filmed them fucking. "How does it feel, Karen, is he too big for you?"

Her eyes were closed, her response dreamy. "No baby, he was right, it's so good, so good. I'm gonna want this all night." She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, drew him down and kissed him. "Just don't stop, Stevie, keep doing what you're doing."

He talked as he stroked, his cock sliding in and out of her well lubricated pussy. Her body quaked with every thrust. "You one lucky guy, Mark, your wife has about the tightest sweetest pussy I ever fucked. But she never give you a blowjob?"

I shook my head. "No, she just would never do it." Fact is, I'd only cum in a woman's mouth a couple of times with an old college girlfriend. It was all just the memory now, but it was heaven then.

"How long you been married?"

"Eight years next month."

"An' she ain't swallowed you in that whole time? Boy? an' you let her get away with that?" He rolled his eyes and laughed without missing a stroke. "Karen baby, that's gotta be criminal," he said looking down at her. He pulled his cock out of her pussy and rolled her over onto her stomach. "You gotta learn how to make your man happy, baby. Mark, get up on the bed."

I got up on the bed not really knowing what to expect.

"Now baby," he said to Karen, "get up on your knees, get between his legs an' you take his cock in your mouth an' when he cum, you swallow it." He smiled.

She reluctantly got on her knees between my legs. As with him, she was tentative. She stroked me slowly as her tongue touched the head of my stiff and oozing erection but pulled back. "I don't want him to cum in my mouth," she replied defiantly, then to me "I'll put it in my mouth but please Mark, don't cum in my mouth," she begged, "I don't like the taste and it's so slimy."

He got off the bed and walked to the end. "How the hell you know how it taste, Karen, if you never taste it before?" He got back onto the bed behind her. "Now you give him some proper head girl or no more of this big black cock sliding into your sweet white pussy tonight."

Her body told us that she wanted more of his big black cock pounding her pussy. She got on her elbows, took my slick cock between her fingers and took me into her mouth.

"Play with it baby," I said, "use your tongue and your teeth." She stroked it with her hands. Her head bobbed up and down and she teased the sensitive spot at the base, just below the helmet. "Oh god baby, you don't know how good that feels to me... I'm in heaven." Her teeth gently raked the veiny shaft. She was indeed a quick learner.

Stevie parted her legs and teased her pussy lips with the slick head of his massive ebony organ. She quit sucking me. "No Stevie," she cried, "not this way, not this way, not animal." He parted her engorged pussy lips and slid easily inside her wet cunt. Her eyes opened in pleasant surprise, like she just opened her favorite birthday present. "Oh my god," she cried out in lusty pleasure, her long blonde hair rippling, their flesh slapping with each thrust. She was oblivious to my pending orgasm.

He spanked her. The handprint on her white skin quickly turned bright crimson. He spanked her again. She cried out in surprise mixed with lust. "C'mon Karen," Stevie implored, "keep sucking your man's cock. His dick is about ready to explode, baby." He spanked her again. She went down on me, my cock slipping into her mouth smothering her sensual moans. I groaned when my throbbing manhood let loose a stream of thick creamy semen down her throat. She gagged a little but swallowed it all when I came.Then she went back into the reverie of her black lover fantasy.

Her breathing became a series of gasps, chirps, and moans as his tempo increased. The muscles in her arms tightened up. He leaned forward and kissed her neck. He grabbed a handful of long blonde hair and pulled her head back as if she were a reining in a wild mare. Her breasts swayed back and forth like peaches in a tree. It was so hot watching her, watching him, watching the two of them fuck, and knowing I had it all on video.

His ebony pole was coated in white lather from their furious fucking. "Harder Stevie, harder," She cried, she demanded, "faster oh god, faster baby harder." Her toes curled, her back arched. "Ahhhh, oh shit, I'm cumming baby, cumming on your black cock, oh god it's so good, baby, cum inside me baby, I want you to cum inside me."