When the wife's appetite and need for sex became insatiable and she threatened to seduce my work colleagues if necessary, revealing to them that I was married to a slut and whore, the easiest solution was for me to take her out of town to a place like Las Vegas with is multitude of nightclubs and traveling businessmen where she was free to be an unashamed married whore. Technically, prostitution was illegal in Vegas, but the law was never enforced as long as the whores didn't interfere with people gambling. I guessed in fact that the various casinos rather liked having whores around since that reinforced the image of the town as "sin city".
From my perspective, Vegas was ideal in one other respect given my fetish for publicly exhibiting the wife as slutty as circumstances allowed. Women there not only tended to dress sexy even during the day, but at night and in the clubs, it was virtually impossible to dress too slutty. Here she could wear the most revealing dresses and gowns Bill acquired for her. And if there were public swimming pools where women could wear swimsuit with no more fabric to them than a small handkerchief, it was at the casino pools. This was especially true at night when children might be safely in their rooms and pools served but one purpose - as places for romantic our outright erotic liaisons.
Needless to say, then, when I arranged a trip to Vegas, the wife knew precisely why I was taking her there: To display her as a slut and to find men for her to fuck. Her corresponding response was always the same: To pack some of her sluttiest outfits for the trip (along with a few of her less extreme BDSM toys ... cuffs, clamps, whip).
Whenever we traveled by plane to Las Vegas or anywhere else I always replayed one aspect of the wife's travels with Bill: While what she wore on the plane was unexceptional except for her fuck-me high heels, once we landed at our destination, she'd head immediately to the restroom and change into something erotic. No doubt those who check us into our hotels assumed that she was a whore I'd hired to accompany me for the time I was there. Few, I think, would believe I allowed my wife to dress in public as she was.
The events I'll recount now occurred when we stayed at the Rio Hotel/Casino some 5 or 6 years after Bill had left our lives. By that time we had settled into a lifestyle in which 95 percent of the time she served as my sub slut in the same ways she served Bill. I was her Master and she obeyed me totally, doing her housework naked in heels and her ass plugged, being taken to the basement for some hard whippings and tit torture, and in general learning to treat me as she had treated Bill. For the remaining 5% of the time she instead played the role of the wayward housewife with a cuckold husband, telling men that she loved to fuck around and that I had no choice in the matter. When that 5% occurred was largely up to her, but more often than not it occurred when she was at some nightclub with me and pretended to be "forcing" me to see her operate as my slut wife.
In any event, in this particular trip to Vegas, at the airport she changed into an ultra short and tight mini skirt along with a lacy semi-sheer blouse that hid her tits only to the point of making her legal. My comment as she exited the airport restroom was simply "hmmm ... guess on this trip you've chosen the role of the shameless whore rather that slutty housewife."
"Neither of those categories excludes the other, and I know you like me being both."
"Yes, but I wonder if we'll get to our hotel before you're fucked by someone," I answered jokingly.
"We can always hope," she replied with her usual evil grin.
In fact, our ride into the city was uneventful despite the fact that the taxi driver couldn't take his eyes off her in his rear-view mirror. I was tempted to offer her to him, but decided there was time enough for her to meet men and that I preferred to first settle into our hotel room. Thus, it was still early afternoon when we finished unpacking but since it wasn't an especially warm day,instead of the pool we opted instead to go to the casino floor to gamble. I told her to continue wearing what she'd changed into at the airport but to unbutton the blouse to just above her waist. I wanted her tits tantalizingly displayed regardless of whether she was playing roulette, blackjack or simply sitting at a slot machine. My preference, of course, was for her to play one of the table games since it was there that unattached men would be most likely to hit on her. I too would head to the casino, but not to be with her ... rather, to simply hang around to see what luck she was having, financially and sexually.
A couple of comments about the Rio where we were staying. While several of the large casinos along the main strip in Vegas were changing their character to appeal to families, the Rio wasn't one of them. It still catered to the 30 or 40-somethings that were looking for 'fun' along with various businessmen in town for a convention. Thus, its main nightclub at the time, the Voo Doo Lounge, was a place with dancing and both unattached men and unattached women, with the women dressed as erotically as they dared. The Rio was also a place for middle aged wives to go to in groups ... sorta like their weekends out without husbands ... and that more than a handful of them were there to get laid. Thus, I never doubted that of the married women being fucked at the Rio, a good share of them were being fucked by someone other than their husbands. So the wife was hardly alone there in being a housewife whore. In fact, I'd bet the Rio had a reputation as a place to pick up married women looking for a one night fuck, so the men there, seeing someone dressed even the slightest bit salaciously, had to assume she was on the prowl for someone with whom to spend the night screwing.
As I'd hoped, it didn't take long for a man to strike up a conversation with her shortly after she sat down at one of the blackjack tables. The conversation, of course, started innocuously: "Here on vacation from out of town?" he'd ask.
"Yes ... needed a break from the usual."
No doubt seeing the ring on her finger, he then immediately began to cover the essential ground "Here with your husband?"
The wife wasn't about to lie, but at the same time she surely didn't want her answer to put him off, and she knew how to drop the necessary hint "yes, but he's essentially leaving me alone for the weekend to have my own fun."
That is about as bold a statement a woman can make short of saying outright that she's here to find men to fuck, and it did cause her conversation partner to pause a second or two to digest what she'd just said. But recover he did, and quickly thereafter added "well, I hope in some way I can contribute to that fun."
Playing it a bit coy, she responded simply with a question: "Here alone, on business or a vacation?"
"On business ... a convention headquartered over at another casino, but a couple of my friends and I booked our rooms too late to get a room where the convention was being held."
Clearly, the conversation had just taken an interesting turn. The man was not alone but with friends, presumably male. Would they limit what he could do with the wife or might they join him if and when she and her new friend headed to the privacy of a room. Since it was by now inevitable that they'd eventually head off to fuck, she probed a bit deeper with a suggestive comment: "I hope the convention and your friends don't occupy too much of your time here in Vegas."
"Oh, no ... the convention is only an excuse for me to come here for a little fun, and as for my friends ... well, there's no fun I can think of that they wouldn't enjoy themselves."
Clearly, the conversation was now loaded with not-so-subtle erotic meaning, and if there was ever an open door for more than the sexual involvement of more than Alex (his name) she wasn't about to close that door. In fact, she intended to make sure he knew she was keeping the door as wide open as possible: "I hope they get to enjoy Vegas as much as I think you will."
Sitting at a blackjack table closest to theirs, I could overhear every word and it didn't take a genius to know they'd soon be heading off to one room or another to fuck. To say that my cock was rock hard and left me unable to concentrate on my cards is an understatement. And the same was true for them. What man, after all, wants to gamble at blackjack when another man's wife has in an undisguised was just invited him to fuck her - a wife with firm round tits she was making no attempt to hide, a tight ass and long legs exposed nearly to her cunt? "Care to take a break and get a drink?" he volunteered.
Most women, I suspect, would simply say 'yes', but she wanted to fuck and there was little reason to hide that fact: "why don't we go to your room or mine for that drink?"
"I have a bottle in my room ... why don't we go there."
Stepping away from the table, the wife decided to put the icing on the cake in terms of underscoring that she was operating without any constraint from a husband. Walking over to me she said in a voice loud enough for Alex to hear "I'll look for you in our room between 5 and 6, OK?" And with that she turned and walked away alongside her new friend.
I don't know what went thru Alex's head when he heard her, in effect, tell me she was going upstairs to spend the afternoon with a man she'd just met and where they weren't going up to play cards or look at family photographs, but for the self-evident purpose of having sex. I also didn't know whether he thought of me as a cuckold or her pimp, given my quick acceptance of what she told me. But what he thought didn't matter to me. Instead, what mattered was knowing that in little more than the time it took for the elevator to reach his floor she'd have another man's cock down her throat or drilling her cunt or ass. And since he seemed normal in all respects, I also had to assume that shortly thereafter he'd be shooting his warm creamy seed into my wife while she came for him like the bitch in heat that she was. With a cock now as stiff as a rod of steel, all I could do then was sit there at the table imagining how he was going to fuck my wife, how many times she was going to cum for him, and what plans the two of them might make for the time we were in Vegas. But if I had a specific thought in my head it was simply "what a dirty fucking slut she is!"
I stayed in the casino, though, trying to concentrate on my cards since I knew that if I headed up to our room, the urge to jerk off and cum with images of my slut wife getting drilled by Alex's cock filling my head would be irresistible. Looking around as I played, I checked out the occasional women I saw walking by who looked unattached and potential targets for getting picked up and decided that Alex was indeed a lucky bastard. Despite being a tad over 40 and well-used as a slut, the wife was still incredibly hot. Her petite frame had sustained a figure that wasn't much different from what it had been when Bill first began transforming her into a shameless whore. The only difference, if there was one, was that she no longer pretended to be some sweet, innocent and proper wife when men hit on her. If she encountered a man who she wanted to fuck, as Alex had just learned, she knew how to move the conversation along quickly so as to achieve her goal as quickly as possible. Surely Alex had to be a bit surprised at how easy it was to pick her up ... and he was perhaps soon to be equally surprised at how willing she was to partake of any and all sexual acts possible in a hotel room.
