The desert sunset is beautiful and I don't think I have ever felt more relaxed and satisfied as I recline into the soft leather seats of the limo speeding along the highway back toward Vegas. The driver has popped a cassette of the soundtrack from that new movie "Dirty Dancing" into the tape player and "The Time of My Life" is playing. I can't help but grin thinking of how very appropriate that song's lyrics are right now.
As I glance your way, it is clear you are lost in thought and I'm pretty sure I know exactly where your mind is. We have often discussed our sexual fantasies and there are certainly a lot of them, many of which are far too risky or bizarre to ever contemplate actually attempting. But today, in this one case, we have turned fantasy into fact and it has been better than I had ever even imagined. As I begin to relive every delicious detail of the last spectacular hour or so I find my hand has strayed between my legs to gently massage my still sensitive clit through the thin fabric of my dress.
****
Even after three stiff drinks on the drive up, it takes me several moments to work up the nerve to exit the limo. You are standing next to my open door waiting patiently, but I can sense the undercurrent of excitement coursing through your body. We've talked about this for years and, with the planning and preparation complete, all that is left is for me to give the final go ahead. What the hell, I tell myself. Let's make this happen.
I step out into the heat as you take my hand. I glance around nervously, but this place doesn't look especially threatening. In fact, it looks rather ordinary, almost disappointing. I don't see anything sensual or erotic or really even interesting about the structures, which include what appears to be a main building and a series of smaller outbuildings. It reminds me a lot of those old motels along travel routes, with a lobby and a row of single rooms stretched along a parking area, but in this case all the parking is at the lobby and the rooms face a grassy courtyard. It's a nondescript rather ordinary looking business - a little worn, but nice enough, I suppose.
"Are you sure this is the right place?" I ask only half-jokingly.
"Yep," you reply. "Before we left the hotel, the driver guaranteed he knew the route. Said it was a very popular destination. He told me he gets a fare up here at least two or three times each week."
You lean in to speak to the driver, I assume to confirm our pick-up time, and then take my hand. We turn toward the building and make our way across the gravel parking lot to the marked entrance. My hand may be sweating a little as I'm still more nervous than excited about what is coming up.
You hold the door open for me and as I enter the lobby my opinion of this place begins to change. I'm not sure this is exactly my definition of classy, but the interior is very clean and very well done. The fancy wallpaper is a little over the top, but if it weren't for the risqué paintings hanging on the walls and few semi-lewd advertisement displays I'd still think I was in some kind of "normal" hotel lobby. This place doesn't seem so bad. I explore the large room while you speak to someone behind a counter through something that looks kind of like a teller's window. I assume you're selecting our companion for the afternoon and negotiating the terms of our visit.
We are directed through some door to a bar area where we can wait for our chosen hostess to join us. Several other patrons are present, including what appears to be a group of four men probably in their early thirties, a bachelor party or something, I suppose, but we are the only couple in the room. (Awkward!) There are several scantily clad women chatting with various people and this is where things get real. All of these women are gorgeous and they are leaving very little to the imagination. Most of their asses are barely, if at all, covered and I think I can see every nipple in the room through shear fabric draped over what are mostly very impressive breasts. I have nothing against small boobs, they're nice, too, but I definitely have a thing for big bouncing boobs. (Fine - call me a size queen if you have to label me.)
The fit young blonde that comes over to offer us drinks does not disappoint in that regard. A pair of lacey panties cover her firm round ass and through a thin white camisole I can clearly see large pink nipples. Her tits are fantastic. I estimate she is at least a 36C, if not better, and she's sporting only what nature so generously provided her. I think my mouth might be hanging open in spite of my nervousness. I feel awkward, but now something else is creeping in. Is my pussy starting get a little tingly? Either way, she leaves to get our drinks and I manage to exhale - finally. You are just looking at me and grinning stupidly.
We watch the goings on and sip our drinks, which are pretty good ones, while we wait. I just can't get over how comfortable these women are with all of their naughty bits out in public view. They're just as cool as cucumbers with these other customers openly admiring their wares. There's lots of familiar touching and laughing, but nothing explicitly sexual. Except for all the exposed flesh, this could be just about any bar in just about any town I've ever visited. I begin to relax and note with a little surprise that there is definitely a pleasant tingle growing between my legs.
