The Erotichronicles V 02: Ch. 08-09

(This is a novel in three volumes, published elsewhere in 2019, revised for publication here. This is the second volume, titled THE DANCE GAME. You may need to suspend disbelief to an extreme degree, and brace yourself for a steady barrage of fantasy-level sex. This includes presenting the life-and-work conditions of women in adult entertainment as much more favorable, and lucrative, than they are in reality. All sex acts involve only people who are at least 18 years old. The corporate designation 'Eroti Entertainment' used in this story, is not real.

(At this point in the story, Molly remains concerned about her sex with Harold, and Gabe wonders if the exhibit hall's air was doctored.

(Details are in the tags. This volume has 22 chapters, and will be posted here in ten parts. The third volume is about the same word length, and will also be posted in ten parts. The story began in Volume I, MEGA PLATINUM VIP, which has already been posted. Enjoy!)

***

Chapter 8: The Vagina and Breasts Were Wireless

***

Gabe cums eight times: three masturbations from an automated system, four pussyfucks (human), and a blowjob, with Molly and two other women, who cum seven times. Molly cums six times: three tribs, two pussyfucks, and a cunnilingus, with Gabe and Giselle, who cum six times.

***

Later Tuesday, December 11. From Gabe:

I knocked on a door on the fifteenth floor. I was welcomed to a large suite, from which the serious furniture (meeting table, chairs, whatnot) had been removed. There were two tall racks of what looked like blade servers, connected in various ways. There was also a rollaway bed and a very big flatscreen.

A brown-haired, clean-shaven man of indeterminate age shook my hand. "Thanks for joining us today, Mr. Morton. I'm Carl Rawlings, Eroti's Director of Research and Development. Will you be comfortable with us speaking freely about your leisure activities?"

I had a hunch going in that everything here would be recorded. "If you mean, can we talk about me masturbating, the answer is yes."

"Good. Your candor and openness make you very valuable to us. First, I'd like you to understand why we're doing this, apart from generating income for the company. We believe that providing sex alternatives will yield many benefits to society, from reduction in the spread of STIs, to fewer conflicts from dating and partner searches. We also see this as meeting a need for people in long-distance relationships, perhaps helping them stay together."

"That's a nice mission statement," I said, "but you were right to put it after the generating-income part."

Rawlings chuckled. "The benefits to society will still exist."

I whatevs'd the rest of this topic. "So I'll be test-driving a new fuck tube?"

One of the other people in the room laughed. There were three of them, two men and a woman, looking at laptops, sitting on stools at the room's short bar.

Rawlings said, "I did say we'd speak freely," though he looked a bit off guard.

Another man (young, bearded, eyebrow-pierced) walked up and handed me a large tube with straps, extrusions, and cushioned surfaces. He said, "This is the ErotiFeel Deluxe For Men. It has a ten-inch capacity, so you should be comfortable."

And in fact I was. I stripped and settled my limp shlong into the tube, which felt warm and yielding. The straps were fairly intuitive, going around thighs and waist, and between the legs, putting in place a sac that surrounded my balls. I noted a socket for an anal attachment, which I did not request. Thin pneumatic tubes connected the far end of the thick tube to the thigh straps. The bearded man didn't correct me on what I had done, so it must have been right.

"Would you like a headset?" asked Rawlings, holding one out.

I set it next to me and shook my head. "I think I want to watch what this thing does to me."

"All right, but later we'd like you to go to full immersion."

I sat on the end of the bed, facing the screen. I looked at the people at the bar. "Is this where you want me?"

They nodded.

Rawlings said, "First, you'll see a video that provides stimuli for the tube."

The screen lit to show Carly Cummings, larger than life (as she so often is), nude, brown hair in a shag cut, babydoll features, DD-cup tits, ass bigger than Molly's, otherwise well-fleshed but not flabby. She approached a vertical dildo in the foreground. Immediately I found this to be a new experience. She put her hand around the dildo, one finger at a time, and the effectors within the tube touched me with individual fingers. They enclosed my prick exactly as she was holding the dildo on the screen.

"Wow, yes, that's different," I said, gasping. My cock enlarged, and the 'hand' kept its hold. "This must be a lot of bandwidth!"

"It is," said the woman, an attractive young Asian with the left third of her head shaved. "We want to know if it's worth it."

The Carly on the screen tilted the dildo to the left. The pneumatics moved the tube to the left. Then to the right. Ditto. Then back towards my gut. My prick went wherever Carly moved the dildo. Carly began stroking the dildo up and down. The tube did the same to me. I came, and admitted it.

"Was it good for you?" asked the third person at the bar, a fleshy young man with tattoos.

"Yes," I said, "but I think I'm just getting started." I was expanding and hardening inside the tube.

Carly put the head of the dildo in her mouth. I felt pressure, and moisture, on the head. She stroked and sucked, and I felt both the hand and the mouth. Her other hand reached down out of frame, and I felt fingers playing with my balls. She rotated the cock as she did all this, putting all the effectors to work. She sucked harder, and took more in her mouth. The suction and wetness worked further down my cock. "I'm cumming again!" I yelled, tipping backward.

"We know," said the woman.

"Shh," said the fleshy man.

The image of Carly froze. The effectors kept up the stimuli. "The feedback from your orgasm overrides what's on the screen," said the woman, "so your orgasm can run its course."

"I appreciate that," I said, panting.

The still pic of Carly remained while I finished spazzing.

"Need a break?" asked Rawlings.

"Just a few breaths," I said. The effectors released contact. I was still erect, and probably not yet at maximum size and sensitivity.

The video resumed. Carly straddled the dildo, which was apparently secured in place. The screen showed her full frontal glory, shaved pussy and bouncing tits, as she cowgirled the entire length. This felt like an automated tube I already owned, so the lack of surprise left me better able to cope. It still felt great, and was timed exactly to what Carly did.

Without looking I grabbed to my right and found the headset. I put it on, and was jolted by the 3-D, 4K detail. I could very easily have let myself spazz.

"This is almost the end," said Rawlings. "Do you want it to continue?"

"Do you have something else?" I asked.

"Oh yeah," said the bearded man. The others laughed.

"Then I'll let this boner carry over to that." I removed the headset.

The screen blanked. Rawlings said, "That was Carly Cummings, recorded. Now here's Carly Cummings, live."

The screen lit again to show Carly, every bit as nude as before, sitting on the end of a bed in a room that looked like this one. She waved. "Hi Gabe!"

I saw cameras hung from the ceiling, changing position. "Hi Carly," I said. We had met when Molly's strip club tour reached Eroti's base in San Jose. Carly had come on to both of us. We took a pass. Now I was reeeaallly ready to take her up on it.

Rawlings said, "The full system will include a structure for participants to assume different positions in relation to one another. Some of that is still being worked out, so for now, please sit upright, facing the screen, legs apart."

The bearded man brought over two extra objects. "These are for oral and manual stimulation," he said. "This is Carly's vagina, and these are her breasts."

Carly set between her legs what looked like a gray pillow. She smiled. "Turn me on, Gabe."

I placed a finger in the anatomically obvious slot. She smiled and said, "Don't be shy." I pushed the finger in further, and licked the clit. "Ooooh, there you go!" she said.

Then she placed over her torso a larger pillowish thing. Taking the cue, I picked up the 'breasts,' and fondled and licked them. (Both the vagina and the breasts were wireless.) "Feels nice," she said.

"I have to say," I put in, "that I'd rather look at your whole body, Carly."

"Suits me fine," she said, setting aside the pillows. She picked up what looked like a strap-on grid and secured it around her hips and between her legs. It had structural supports of its own, and a long cylinder extended outside her crotch.

"Mr. Morton," said the woman at the bar, "You take the initiative. Put your hands on the supports between your penis and your thighs, and drive into the tube."

I did. The tube telescoped out and back, but kept me fully enclosed. Carly smiled and said, "That's a start."

I found that I could push in my entire length. It felt like I was using the rowing machine in my laundry room. The effectors relayed Carly's flexures to squeeze my prick. It was warm, tight, and very wet inside my tube. I started panting, close to a cumblast. "Carly, should I hold back?"

"Yesss," she said, head lolling, hands on the bed on either side, supporting her upright. "Be a gentleman."

I had already cum twice, intensely, and was dealing with new stimuli, so I didn't know if I'd be able to stay fully erect after another cum. I gritted my teeth and steeled myself, and kept pumping without letting loose.

"Ohgod ohgod," she said. "Yeah, Gabe, make this sex robot do me good! I will so make it up to you!"

Soon she started to whimper. She gazed at me. "Faster?" she asked.

I nodded and sped up. I was near my limit. She howled. "YEEEAAAHBABAYYEAH! MORE MORE!"

With all that going on, I heard the woman in my room say "Shit!"

I got through about eight more pumps before I started jizzing. "WOWWWW!" Carly yelled. "A BONUS! What the hell was that?"

"Ms. Cummings," said the fleshy man, "the system relayed to you the effect of Mr. Morton's powerful ejaculation."

"No wonder I'm full of slime!" she laughed. "So much for robot sex being clean."

"We'll add a 'dry' option for the user," said Rawlings. "Did you enjoy it, Carly?"

"Yeah, you could say that," she said, and let herself flop on her back.

"How about you, Gabe?"

I took a second to work out a complete analysis. "It was way better than even automated-tube masturbation, and the orgasms were strong, but it's still not as good as real sex with a real partner."

Rawlings smiled indulgently. "We hardly expect to equal that. But if you were a thousand miles away from your partner, and you could do this together, would it be worthwhile?"

"Probably. The novelty might wear off, though, and I imagine cleanup and maintenance would be tedious. Still, this sure makes good use of the bandwidth."

"Yay!" said the woman. She went on, "I can't believe you had tumesced that much, with the temperature and blood flow that high, and managed to hold back your orgasm."

I looked over at her. The two men were looking at her too, not pleased. Didn't matter, I'd already figured out most of this myself.

Trying to sound techie-curious, I said, "So, if all of my physical stimuli are sent across to my partner, the data are also available to be recorded by, um, the mediating entity."

Rawlings nodded. "That's correct."

"So it's possible for that entity to know in detail when, where, how, and into what, I've ejaculated, or experienced any other intimate episodes."

"Yes."

Now the men at the bar were looking at Rawlings, with concern.

"Would you say that this is a mature technology?"

"We've been working with it for a while, yes."

"Is it already in use in existing products?"

Rawlings clammed up, but the look on his face showed that he'd fallen into the trap.

I decided to make things less fun for the R&D operation. "Is it in sex dolls?"

Rawlings tried to smile it off. "Any use of technology we've developed is proprietary, of course."

I looked at the server racks, where many status lights were solid-on or blinking. I then pointed at the gear encasing my johnson. "I've deposited semen into this tube. Can the tube analyze the chemistry enough to identify me?"

Rawlings looked away, just long enough for me to know what the answer was. The three other people looked worried. I pressed on, "So Eroti not only knows when, where, and under what stimuli a male orgasm happened, but it knows that I'm the one who had it. And this could be true also for a woman using this system."

At which point Carly, nude and enthusiastic, barged in from the adjoining suite. "Here's the next test," she said. "Let's prove that the real thing is better than what we just did." She leaned down and hugged me, rubbing her tits against my chest.

I smiled at her. "Let me get out of this darn fool contraption first." I started detaching straps. She helped.

Rawlings said, "You've raised some important issues, Mr. Morton."

"And I'll continue to do so," I said, getting my anatomy out of that excellent jerkoff system. I stood up and hugged Carly. "I should have at least three jizz bombs left," I told her. "Is the bed in your room bigger?"

"Yeah, Honey," she said, although she didn't look all that happy either.

I gathered my clothes. I checked to make sure I had condoms in a pants pocket. Taking Carly's hand in mine, I headed for her room, saying to Rawlings, "We'll close the door. It's not like I believe in privacy around here, but the noise and visuals might disturb you."

If Carly had a stake in the success of ErotiFeel, this may have brought her down to a lower level of sexual ebullience, with which I could cope. We sixty-nined to clean each other up (whatever oozed into her had no particular taste, but I made sure not to swallow). Then I gave her a long, steady missionary, satisfying muscles that had had nothing to push against during our robot fuck. This got her back in the mood, and she clamped her legs around me, flexing her powerful thighs against my pelvis.

She kissed me hard for a while, pulling my hair, then she hiked herself back. "Suck my tits," she said. "That's one thing this system really has to work out. You should have a torso doll that you can fuck and also suck tits, and there should be something transparent on me that'd suck me and let you see everything."

"Do you own a piece of ErotiFeel?" I said, using only hands where mouth had just been.

"The same as everyone at Eroti. You included. It'll be a goldmine. Don't make trouble."

I reserved judgment on her honesty.

"Y'know," I said, fucking deeper, "some people would rather not have all of their sexual activities known to everyone."

"HuuuHWA!" She spanked me with both hands and left them there, clutching my butt. "I, of course, have no idea what that would be like," she said, showing more of a thought process than she usually did. "Thing is, I get paid for fucking anyone, everywhere, all the time."

"And you're very good at it," I conceded. "You cumming yet?"

"I started a minute ago. Keep it up, you're very good at it too. WhhhOOO!"

I sucked her tits more vigorously, squeezing them together into my mouth. She returned one hand to my scalp.

"Yeahhhh," she said, "gimme a simultwofer!"

I thought I got the context, but into her boob I voiced, "Mmm?"

"Clitty and titty at the same time. OOOOO! I am so making porn with you! In my vids I can cum whenever I want, that's what it really means to be a star."

I rotated my trunk and sped up.

"Eeeaaagghh!" She spasmed upward. I adjusted enough to shove my cock all the way in on that move. There were three or four more like that. Then she rose up even higher and stayed that way, holding up all of my weight, which was still quite a lot. "Jackpot," she said weakly. This was, after all, Las Vegas.

I spewed, and we got into feedback. Finally she sagged back onto the bed. She moved her hands to my back and pressed gently. "Stay there," she whispered. "This is perfect." With her tits in my hands and mouth, and my cock in a warm wet pussy that was part of a living thing, and I could feel even through latex, I was close to agreeing.

In the shower, the mood wasn't so sunny. With a mock Russian accent, she said, "You know too much." This didn't make it less threatening.

"I think anyone could figure this out," I said.

"So what if somebody who buys my fuck doll is letting Eroti know when he fucks it? It's a damn fuck doll, why else would he have bought it?"

"He might have tried to keep his purchase a secret."

She rolled her eyes. "Look, I have no sympathy for any loser who has that kind of money. Eroti is all about fucking. Everywhere, all the time. Remember that. You, and your too-good-for-porno redhead."

***

From Molly:

I told Marge and the other dancers (texting those on the other shift) that we should be even more careful about staying safe and sane in the exhibit hall. We already had plenty of bottled water, but Marge made a point of handing it out before and after a dancer worked in the tent.

Giselle's dances were right after mine. I had an idea that might help us get through the shift, but I wanted her to have time to process how she felt about the threesome. In our first bikini stroll, though, she said, "I'd feel a lot better with a little fun now and then."

I looked at her. "You sure? You made it through yesterday."

"It's worse in here today. Even after what we already did."

I nodded. Everyone in the hall looked edgier, hungrier. Some guys were less polite around us, and we'd had to brush some of them off in no uncertain terms. "Well, to be gross, we could go into the portajohn together."

"Please," she said. "If you can wait until after my dance."

So after my first dance and Q&A I sat with Marge. I downed most of a water bottle and said, "You might see something a bit out-there soon."

"Whatever you have to do," she said wearily.

I looked at her. She was den-mothering for both shifts, more exposed to what's in the hall than the rest of us. Henry, fine lover that he is, can't perform 24/7. "You should take a break. We can get by."

She shook her head and held up a tablet. "I'm coordinating other booths. I'll be fine once I can get dinner. I'll hit the casino buffet."

I took her hand. "I'm here for you."

"Thanks. I'll let you know."

I was pretty sure she wouldn't.

I glanced towards the gay-male side. I didn't see any Ramblers. Just as well.

When Giselle emerged from the tent, I picked up my swag bag and entered the portajohn. She joined me a few seconds later. We put our clothes in the swag bag and hung it on a hook. I showed her how to standing-trib, something she was quite interested to learn about. Her outthrust clit gave me a unique thrill as it parted my labia. We tongue-kissed to muffle our yells, which went on for quite a while as we ran fingers through hair and fondled tits. "Damn," I said once we separated, "you fucked me."

"Guess that makes you my sub," she said.

And so we got through the shift.

***

From Gabe:

After leaving Carly I checked messages. From Bella: WE'LL SEE. NOW. With a room number and a passcode.

She glared when I entered. "Where have you been for the past hour?"

"Fucking Carly. In the interest of science."

She threw aside her Zenith robe, and said, "Eat me."

I was all tits cameltoe tits tits yaaaa.

I let her have her little snit. Slobbering her big round mons gives me a rush anyway. It wasn't long before she worked around and closed the sixty-nine.

"So you'll know," I said, doing some math, "I've cum eight times so far today. I'm still good to go, but you may want to conserve my resources."

She grabbed my balls and sucked harder, several times. I broke a sweat.

She pulled me out long enough to say, "So I might actually make you limp? Leave you a flaccid little worm, useless to Molly?" She sucked again, salivating. I swelled, but felt strain.

She pushed away and rolled on top of me. "Has that ever happened? The great Gabe Morton, driven to erectile dysfunction?" She picked up my prick. "With one jerk, could fantasy no longer become ecstasy?"

I propped up on my elbows, impatient. "Works both ways, Babycakes. Do you really want to get nothing after waiting so very, very long?"

She laughed, and levered her cunt onto my dick. "Not today. But what an interesting project that might be." From then on she was a nice, happy, giving lover, and I helped her cum twice as I labored through my ninth.

***

The exhibit was about to close for the night. I strolled around, toting my swag bag. I spent a little time in the Eroti space, noting such products as a compendium video of TopHeavy dances (including Molly's first backflip), and responding to flirts from booth assistants (nice young ladies, apparently chosen mainly for clear, pleasant faces, and great legs).

Then I went to an open stretch of wall where a giant vent was installed. Cool air wafted from it, smoothed by baffles but delivered in great quantity.

I pulled out some sealable, sturdy plastic bags I had bought from a variety store in the hotel, where I'd also bought some sturdy plastic jars. I squeezed a few bags empty and held them at the vent for its air to fill them. Once they were sealed, I reached between the louvers and scraped off some of the residue plated out on the inside. I collected three bags of this. The bags of air might not survive shipping (although sealing them in the jars ought to help), but the residue should.

Then it was time to get ready for hospitality again. Giselle brought her glad rags and other needs to our room, so she and Molly could get their rainbow eye-shadow done. Tonight Molly wore her hair down, and it was shimmery and bouncy, reaching her shoulders, though she kept messing with it, thinking it should be better.

Like it would have mattered. Her gown would get all the attention. She had never worn it before. It was a sort of dark silver, strapless, backless, and cut to the bottom of the sternum, with her breasts covered through some unknown architectural phenomenon. From the side, it seemed like half of a breast was visible. I was reeeeaaaalllyy going to have to watch my hands.

For the record, what happened tonight isn't what I wanted to happen. I believe in poly and in happy sex, and I know that the real Molly is a smart, level-headed lady. I didn't gain anything from what happened. Nobody did.

Giselle was cool and relaxed, mingling and holding court, neither draping herself on Molly as a newly-minted lesbo, nor overreacting by throwing herself at men. She seemed content to let her eye shadow address that topic.

This was enough to set off Stephanie Kim (Jade), who looked at Giselle and said, "God, another one? It's like a disease."

This was for my 'benefit.' Steph had made it clear a while back that she was both straight and monamorous. She had ended an otherwise great night-and-morning fuck session with me, by asserting that she'd be all I'd ever need, and vice versa.

I asked, "How have you been holding up in the exhibit hall?" She was in the other shift, with Bella, Hollywood, and Valindra.

She grinned. "I love it. What a sizzle. Y'see, Gabe, what you're missing is that until I marry the man who I want to father my children, I can bang anyone I like. I focus on one, to keep life simple." She sipped her drink, looking over the glass playfully. "Then I focus on someone else."

Yeaaahhh, right then she had my attention drawn away from Molly's gown. I wondered if she'd been getting the attention of Eroti execs, so many of whom were legends in their own minds. "So you're having fun here?"

"Sure am." She leaned in to kiss my cheek and give a half-hug. Her hand stroked a bit as it left my back. "Nice." Then she moved on.

This allowed me to be more aware of what else was happening in the room. Some sleek, good-looking men had shown up. Three of them were in the crowd around Molly. One of them, a white guy with slick black hair, slurred, "Y'wastin' y'time."

She nodded and turned away to focus on someone else.

"Just sayin'," he persisted.

Another guy, black and bald, tried to ease him away. "Let's walk it off, Clint."

I started ambling over that way. Maybe it was time for Molly and me to look in on one of the other suites.

Then two things happened at once: I saw still another guy enter the suite, whom I recognized from a video months ago. Harold. And the guy named Clint saw me. He laughed.

"Wooo!" said Clint, pointing at my face. "Even worse in real life! But your prick is soooooo pretty!"

Harold saw Molly but heard that, and came over to join his fellow Rambler to deal with Clint. I smiled at Clint and said, "That's good to hear." Then I headed past him.

Clint looked over at Molly and got loud. "Tell Selena she's got no shot!"

"Go easy, man," said Harold, putting a hand firmly on Clint's shoulder.

"Yeah, let's make it an early night," said the other Rambler, securing Clint's other side. He looked at Harold and said, "I got him."

Clint stumbled. Harold got the drink out of his hand, and the other Rambler headed him for the exit.

Harold looked at me and said, "Sorry, he's been having too much fun."

It sounded like Harold had been heading in that direction too, but he was cordial. "No worries," I said, and smiled.

He started to laugh, tried to hide it, then said "Cool," and headed for the crowd around Molly.

My lizard brain flickered the impulse for me to beat him to a pulp--something I've never done, to anyone--but my more rational brain cells decided that I should give Molly space, to deal with him. So I stayed put and looked away to find someone else to talk to.

Lacking that, I went to the bar and got a ginger ale.

While I was there, I heard Harold laughing loudly while saying what sounded like 'beauty and the beast'.

Realizing that I probably couldn't stay out of this, I turned.

I saw Molly give Harold a warning look. She said, "Please don't."

"All I'm sayin' is," said Harold, "Once you, you wake up, and realize what a gravelface you're walkin' around with, I'll be here for you!"

Her eyes widened. And blazed. "Shut your face, asshole!" she yelled. "Gabe Morton is ten times more man than you could ever be!"

"Hey, Baby, I--"

"You worthless piece of shit!" She slammed her glass down on a table, without spillage, breakage, or injury. She stormed over to me. "Come on, Gabe!"

And so our partying was over for the night.

I then learned what I had long suspected: One does not have to be the target of The Mad to suffer (some of) its consequences. This time, I wouldn't be driven away from her to wait it out. Anyway, I needed to learn how to weather it.

In the elevator, her hand in the crook of my elbow was gentle. "Fucking bastard," she said.

In our room, she held her arms out from her sides. "Take this thing off of me."

I resisted the urge to yank away what covered her breasts. I pulled down the zipper along her side. As I did, she undid my pants.

She let a smile get through her fire, and find me. "Remember what a great fuck I am when I'm angry?"

And it was one ferocious session: oral foreplay into missionary cums, fingerings into cowgirl cums, messy oral cums. It was all the more strange because she was so giving and loving to me, and so joyous in her climaxes. This wasn't going to burn The Mad out of her, but it might distract her for a while. And, lordy, for me it was wonderful. Even as I got to the day's twelfth erection and orgasm.

There was, however, something else that I suspected was true about The Mad: That it only surfaced in connection with something that mattered to her very deeply, emotionally. It wasn't just anger at something bad.

Sure enough, long after we had showered, and at her request I had generated some pillow talk that was well off the subject, and we had been asleep for a few hours, I woke up to hear her crying.

She must have felt me moving. She spun around and hugged me, bawling.

When she quieted, she said, "I don't want to want him."

I held her. Couldn't think of anything to say right then.

***

Chapter 9: By the Way, Privacy Is Dead

***

Continued. Molly and Gabe cum seven times each, together: two pussyfucks (a cowgirl and twice each in a doggystyle), a titfuck/boobasm, another pussyfuck (missionary), a blowjob and a cunnilingus, and another pussyfuck (side-by-side). What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas.

***

Wednesday, December 12. From Gabe:

In the morning she was all business. "I've got the early shift. My period will probably start tomorrow, while we're on the plane."

"Okay if I walk you down to the exhibit?" I asked.

She looked a little surprised. "Sure." Then, still not smiling, she kissed me.

When we got to the Eroti space I found Marge and said, "It's The Mad."

"Giselle told me. Molly's a pro, she doesn't let it affect her work."

I hung around the space for a little while, chatting up booth assistants, doing a little meet and greet where offline pornos were sold (usually a package of a DVD, an SD card, a thumb drive, and a code for download). As I'd hoped, I saw two familiar faces.

"Hi, remember us?" said one brunette.

"Of course," I said, beaming. "My biggest fans!"

"That was so much fun!" said the other brunette. "And you were such a good sport about it."

These women, who identified themselves as Alice and Trudy, had taken selfies with me after the panel discussion. Now they asked if I had time to talk. I said that I had a lunch engagement, but would love to get selfies with them first. They complied, and we were all cheerful and smiley.

"Will you be in the hospitality suites tonight?" asked Trudy. She was maybe thirty, trim, a bit beaked-nosed, straight hair center-parted.

"I certainly will."

Alice moved in a little closer, looking a bit nervously in each direction. "We really like what you do." She seemed about the same age, a little taller than Trudy, also wider, curly-haired, prettier in the face.

Trudy took hold of my hand. "Yeah, uh, you really turn us on." Definitely not models, at the level of the ladies at nearly every booth.

Alice leaned at my ear. "Do you think that we could, mmm, return the favor?"

Maybe trying to come across as part-time hookers?

I went all mock-coy. "Well, let's discuss that tonight. I like your chances."

"Wooo!" said Alice.

***

Cliff Remington had invited me to have lunch with him in a restaurant overlooking the casino. This was on my formal schedule, so 'invite' might not have been the right word.

"Look at you," he sneered as I forked through a shrimp salad. "You are so damn pussy-whipped. There's practically none of you left."

I was determined to let most of what he said roll over me. "I still have, what, fifty-some pounds on you."

He chuckled, and vaped. "Maybe you're better off. When I look at Selena now, I almost can't walk. But I know Mark would rather have you fat and ugly, not just ugly."

"There's no fat clause in my contract."

"Look, if she doesn't want to do the doll, fine. I just want to know why she's so down on it. Would she rather break the law in a private room, than let her mannequin get fucked legally?"

"She hasn't done private rooms in months." I drained half a glass of ice water, one of the things that made Nevada borderline habitable.

Remington pressed. "But she never objected to it. And she doesn't object to other dancers making that money."

"Which wouldn't be there for them if the rooms only had dolls in them."

"So is that it? Robot overlords putting human prostitutes out of work?"

I looked at him. I had to admit, there was a brain in there behind the vape. One that shouldn't be taken lightly. "She doesn't want to do this, that's all. Are you thinking she's sending mixed signals?"

He smiled. "She's lost, what, at least twenty pounds, none of it coming off her moneymakers. She has that unique combination of great size and dense tissue. Gravity will catch up with her eventually, but right now she has a perfect body and a heartbreaker's face and hair. It's the ideal time for her to go through the motion capture and the other stuff to make her doll."

"If you really believe that," I said, "Make her an outrageous offer and see what happens."

"She'd better not wait," he said. "The window won't be open long, and not just for her body. The doll that just lies there will be obsolete in five years."

I laughed. "Stop watching Westworld."

"Candela already has a doll that self-balances, standing and sitting," he said, referring to a European rival of Eroti. "It has flexors and feedback programming that can give a handjob. It's been demo'd on eight human shlongs, different size and shape, starting flaccid, and all of them spunked. A little debugging will get that on the market in a year. We're behind. Our main draw is the human models we base the dolls on."

This, unfortunately, confirmed what I'd said during the Bella doll rollout: That features would be added gradually, and a full-scale sex robot didn't have to arrive right away.

"When are you going to cut the price on the Bella doll?"

"I'm not at liberty to say," he said, and took a bite of his half-pound cheeseburger. "The Carly rollout is following the same pattern." Which roughly meant that Bella's doll wouldn't get cheaper until after Carly's doll sold a hundred, and its price went up.

"But let's talk about you," said Remington. "A man among men. Just the guy to draw investors for a TopHeavy franchise."

"Oh wow."

He handed me a tablet. "Look at the promo. There's two versions, one tame and the other not. In here, it's okay to look at the hot one."

The video featured Jane Terry, who danced at TopHeavy as Hollywood. She comes across in her dances, and her meet-and-greets, as a stereotypical Nordic ice queen. Beautiful and voluptuous, but with a blank expression that combined with her angularity to make her seem unapproachable. In speculation about sex robots, which followed in the wake of the Bella doll, it was suggested that Hollywood might already be one.

So who knew, that as the guide/spokesperson for the franchising of TopHeavy, Hollywood would be pleasant, engaging, and conversational?

There are metrics used by the office people at TopHeavy to determine dancer popularity. For a long time, Bella was alone in first place. Selena has zoomed up from maybe-second-among-many to roughly even with Bella. The larger crowds, brought in mainly by Selena, provide more data that now show Hollywood as clearly in third.

In the video, Hollywood walks around the various parts of the club, noting the improvements already made and the plans for more. She describes pole dancing while she's near the main stage, and table dancing while on the open floor. She has a brief chat with Bella, and another with Selena, who are in casual but flattering clothes. These chats are intercut with clips from their dances, with both getting fully nude, and crowds shown as gigantic.

Through the rest of the vid there are also clips of other dancers, which go to full nude, and Hollywood herself gradually sheds garments while narrating, finishing naked, dancing on a pole in a private room (described only vaguely) with male silhouettes in the foreground. The video ends with her standing between two silhouettes, G-cup breasts and shaved vagina in full glorious view, each hand on a silhouette's shoulder. She says, "Any questions?"

I handed back the tablet. "That sure could loosen some wallets." And tighten other things. I left that line for Remington, but he didn't bother.

"Pick a location," he said. "We have an option on an old movie house on Long Island. We might decide to convert the Toronto club, you've been there. You put in a little seed money, meet some high rollers, tell some stories which, in your case, are true, some of the flagship's ladies come in and shake what they got, and the next thing you know you'll have a TopHeavy of your very own."

"I really like the one that already exists," I said, deciding to show how much I relish the obvious, "and I have enjoyable encounters with many of the ladies already, totally consensual, and not poisoned by a management-labor situation."

"Then don't buy in. You could make some promo ads for us, extolling the franchise opportunities." He had fun saying 'extolling.'

"You're pretty much done here, aren't you?"

"Yeah," he said, waving it all away. "But I do want to know what Molly's problem is. Seriously. I really like her a whole lot, and I was floored by her comeback. I'd like to claim that this happened because I was the manager, but everybody knows better. If she has a problem with sex dolls, a lot of other potential models might too. And the wives of prospective buyers. Maybe I need to have my consciousness raised."

"After eight million gross revenue from Bella's doll?"

"If I can figure out how to alleviate women's concerns, we might get twenty million for Carly."

"Bullshit," I said, shaking my head. "Tell you what, though. I'll tell her that you'd really like to know. Maybe she'll email you."

"I appreciate that," he said, with what might have been a grain of sincerity.

Then I went back to my room, booted the laptop, loaded the selfies of Alice and Trudy, and made plans for the coming night.

***

From Molly:

Be very afraid. I'm writing under the influence of The Mad.

Is it possible for me to be happy within The Mad? It was this time. See, after the initial flare-up, I settle into a slow burn that projects a don't-mess-with-me vibe. My ire is directed at the initial target, and I can dance, interact favorably with an audience, and be less of a pain in the ass to the entire world.

The first Mad against Gabe was kinda diffuse. Yeah, I hated seeing him with his lady friends, and I hated him, but what I hated most was how hurt I was. The Mad settled on my hurt, and because Gabe immediately tried to make amends, I was less focused on him, after a few insults, and taunts that he was a porn-addict loser.

In the second Mad against Gabe, when he got the message from Tomiko and wanted to work things out with her, he was the bulls-eye, and stayed that way. What was behind this, for me, was fear. I had fallen for Gabe completely, and I was incapable of reason, so I 'thought' that I might lose him forever to Tomiko. All of my speeches about how he should fuck anyone he liked, so I could see how that would affect his feelings for me, were in that moment null and void.

But that moment passed (thankfully!), as it always does. My rational mind resumed control, and recognized that my fear and anger had no basis in reality. It was a little like when Gabe gave me his shirt, and brought back the real me.

This time, when Harold started yammering at me, I could tell that he was getting me close to The Mad. I tried to get him to shut up. He wouldn't. He certainly isn't the only stupid drunk in the world, but other stupid drunks hadn't rung my bells as thoroughly as he had. When he bluntly declared that Gabe was too ugly, and I should know better and throw Gabe under the bus and give myself to Harold, I instead gave Harold what he deserved.

I can get all psychobabbly about this, based on no genuine knowledge. I think that The Mad may have tried to rescue me from my Harold episode and send me back to Gabe. Of course, it isn't that easy, hence the crying in the middle of the night. Today I was resigned to being conflicted about this, maybe long after The Mad burned out. In moments when I recalled sex with Harold, I got moist. I did want him. I do want him. What derails this from nice, happy polyamory is that sex with Harold made me totally irrational.

I had all this bottled up during my shift in the tent, 11 a. m. to 3 p. m. Today, the crowd in the hall didn't seem as big. The event was winding down, this was the last full day. I've heard what are probably trucks in the access port, and a few booths are gone. But our tent was still full.

I danced, and did the Q&As, and everybody watching got into the usual lather, so I was doing what I had to do. In the last dance, though, I felt myself getting friskier. My first reaction was, yeesh, all the damn pheromones. But then, I thought I saw Gabe at the corner of my eye.

Staying in the dance, I waited until I could look that way again. No, Gabe wasn't there, he had no reason to be. Apart from paying customers there were just two bouncers standing along the sides of the tent. But then, I saw him again, and it was a glimpse of him in a grandstand. In the tent, there were folding chairs on a flat floor.

So now I was hallucinating? Whatever, the images of Gabe got me hot. And happy, at least about Gabe.

In the Q&A I didn't see Gabe in the crowd, but I couldn't get him out of my mind. It was all I could do to keep my hand out of my crotch. When I was done, my shift was over, and I was barely dressed as I headed out of the hall.

I texted Gabe: U IN ROOM?

As I was getting to the elevators, he sent: YEP.

I sent: GET NAKED

As I made the turn in the corridor, I saw our door was open and Gabe was leaning his head out.

Of all of the parts of him to see, this was the least appealing.

I sprinted at him, yanking off my t-shirt, waving it over my head as a stripper prop, boobs everywhere.

Pretty routine for a Las Vegas hotel corridor.

All I could say at first was "Not on the floor!" Housekeeping had dealt with the carpet yesterday, but still.

After a cowgirl, and during a doggystyle, I was able to get to meaningful words. I was shedding tears, but in a good way. "I think it'll be okay," I told him. "When I was dancing, I wanted you. Didn't even think about him. I still want him, but not down deep."

He was panting as he pistoned. I flexed hard against him, heading for my third cum, and feeling all ooooohhhhh. "So this is what it's like," he said, "to get a dancer on endorphins."

I laughed. "This is nothing. Short dance, at least ten minutes ago. Wait till Jessie gets you."

"She's having more--woooo--fun teasing."

I looked back at him, enjoying even the swing of my hair. "She's had a different guy in her office every Wednesday night. The other dancers have fun trying to figure out who. You'll definitely be one." Then shivers went through me and I started spazzing. So did he, hot spunk blasting away.

When that settled down, there was one thing I wanted to do more than anything else. We disengaged, we embraced, and I kissed his facial distinguishing features. For a long time. "No guilt in this." I said. "Nothing suspicious. It makes me feel good. And when I go on the rag, it might be my only fun."

"The club doesn't open again until Monday, right?"

"And I don't have to dance until Thursday. Good timing, for a change."

"We can find other things to do."

I smiled wickedly, with The Mad now completely compartmentalized against Harold. "I can find some of the same things to do to you. Titfucks, if the ibuprofen does what it should. Blowjobs. And speaking of that..."

I shifted down to mouth his wang. Spent about as much time on it as I did on his face, but not enough for him to cum. I freed my mouth to say, "Aren't those nice titties? They sure would like to feel good." Dutifully, he began fondling them in the way that starts me toward a boobasm. I continued to lick, lapping up our merged happy juices, tongue-tipping the top of his ball sac, the back of the head were the two sides of the mushroom cap curl up to meet, the edges of the semen duct bulging along the underside.

In a flip of earlier events, I had a vision of myself dancing in the tent, but with his hands on my nips and areolas. My pussy, not in contact with anything, flexed hard.

Maybe I should yadda this, but I think it matters. There are times when I want sex with someone, but there just isn't an opportunity. When I then have sex with someone else (usually Gabe), it's really nice, but doesn't address what I had wanted before. No big deal, I get over it. This time, Gabe's fucking gave me exactly what I wanted. Pardon the cringe word, but I got closure. Even though so much of my body was open.

I drew my closed mouth up along the prick and let it go, and got off the bed to kneel on the floor. He shifted to put his legs on either side of my torso. I squeezed my boobs around his dick. He leaned up enough to grab the tits and fondle hard. I tandemed, alternated, tandemed again, and brought my mouth on to the purpling prick head. What zoomed from my nipples into the rest of my body felt like heat lightning. Jism splattered the roof of my mouth. We came loud and long, even by Vegas hotel standards.

In the shower, murmuring in my ear, he told me what he did earlier, and what he'd do later.

***

From Gabe:

Eroti would still have a presence here on Thursday, but it would be much smaller, with no live performances. Figleaf 29 would end that day at 3 p. m., and most of the time visitors would see stuff being taken down and removed. Bargain hunters might find discounts on dildos and fuck tubes and edible undies that sellers didn't want to haul away.

Eroti held its own closing ceremony in its biggest tent at 7 p. m. Wednesday. There was no admission charge, and the tent was full. I was content with standing room in the back.

Darrendahl ran the show. First the booth assistants, about 30 of them, were trooped out onto the stage, in their Eroti-branded black halters, thongs, stockings, and heels. Mark gave each one a pair of spangly earrings (gems, metals, and value not specified), and a hug that didn't look too line-crossing.

Next came various groups of performers, with Weinstock in the first set, made up as Calypso but dressed casually, as were the others. My presence had not been requested for this parade, maybe because of my comments to the R&D folks. I was fine with that.

Between groups, Darrendahl praised all of the backstage and tech support personnel, naming a few, but not bringing them up to be shown off. He also cited facts and figures about how great Figleaf had gone, with 158 new VIP memberships and 314 new subscriptions to the streaming platform.

Weinstock walked up to me, all smiles. "May I glom?" she asked.

"Always," I said, making space for her. She hugged me around my left side. Still a little unnerved about what she'd said about her 'backer,' I asked, "Good week?"

"We're getting a residency in San Jose in March!" she said. "The crew, not just me. Details still being worked out. Two scripts greenlighted so far. I'd like to get you out there too. Interested?"

"Uh... maybe. Hard to think that far ahead. Anyway, congratulations."

Darrendahl, I guess to his credit, had a group of gay male performers on the stage, and hugged each one, with no sign of discomfort or disrespect.

"I'll probably have something more definite in January," said Weinstock. "Can't name names, but I know of six who are really eager to work with you. One in particular."

"I'll await developments," I said. "So you'll be directing high-quality, high-budget stuff?"

"The keys to the kingdom, at least the porn kingdom," she said, not-entirely-mock-smugly. "I could get seduced by being a mogul and forget about non-erotic art films. But if I can get Nathan and Penny and the others into real work, it'd feel like I've done some good in the world."

Now Darrendahl got to the subject of TopHeavy. He declared that investors have been lined up for two franchised clubs, and that the first could open before the end of 2025. There was applause, which I joined in out of respect for the people who had worked so hard on this, like Wexler. I wondered if 'lined up' meant firm commitments.

"And now, as they have done so brilliantly each time their home club has closed for new construction, here are our TopHeavy in Vegas dancers, to say farewell. Valindra! Galaxia! Bella! Hollywood! Ginger X! Selena! Kittykat! Jade!" And despite seeming to have been referred to as sleigh-pulling reindeer (in December, no less), they strolled onto the stage, waving and smiling, wearing only heels, NUDE NUDE NUDE!

There were maybe 200 people in the tent, and they were all on their feet, screaming. Dozens of phones were outstretched to catch this fabulous image. I found myself staring at Hollywood's gorgeous camel toe, last seen by me on Remington's tablet. My pants started to adjust to internal pressures.

Then the sight of the whole group hit me, and I got out my own phone. Beautiful, buxom young women of so many different nationalities. I got about fifteen seconds of video, all eight onscreen.

"How many of them have you banged?" asked Weinstock.

I kept the words 'five going on six' from my mouth, instead saying in a Borscht-belt cadence, "And this is your business, how?"

"I haven't given you permission to do Jew jokes."

Darrendahl got a bit line-crossy in these hugs, while putting on each lady a big, spangly necklace. As the talent exited the stage, he said, "There they go, back to the prime destination in live adult entertainment. Fifty-eight people have booked the Eroti tour package to the original TopHeavy!"

Now Darrendahl arrived at his dreams of durable goods. "And now, you lovers of beautiful women, we move on to the frontiers of ecstasy. Our Research and Development Department has made great strides with ErotiFeel Deluxe, and I can now announce that it will be rolled out in April, to transform what was once a lonely pastime into a new way for many people to share in the enjoyment of the most intimate of pleasures."

"It's great," I told Weinstock. "Best fuck tube ever. So good that the user might never again have to meet a human face-to-face. And, by the way, privacy is dead."

Darrendahl announced, "Full descriptions for all products, for every user, will go live on Eroti websites in February. Advance orders will be taken then, with attractive financing terms available."

"Attractive financing," said Weinstock. "Just like for cars nobody can afford."

"And in conclusion," said Darrendahl, "let me express my thanks and praise for the beautiful women who have brought us into the new world of ecstasy. The models of our first home companions, Bella and Carly!"

Bella re-entered from the side where she'd exited, still nude, without the necklace. Carly entered from the other side, of course nude. Another standing ovation prolonged Darrendahl's opportunity to grope, which Bella rolled with but Carly played up.

When Darrendahl was finally able to gift them with thick spangly bracelets, he said, "During Figleaf 29 the Carly companion has rocketed to 71 total sales--sorry, we didn't hold at 69 just for this--"

(Carly, being Carly, gestured a blowjob.)

"--and there have been eleven more sales of the Bella companion, now the best-selling fully-featured deluxe companion of all time. Ladies, we all love you." He hugged them harder. "Desperately! And to you lovers of beautiful women, thank you, and we'll see you again at Figleaf 30!"

Recorded music blasted into the tent. Bella left the stage, but Carly barged right into the audience, yelling "Mosh pit!" A couple dozen men eagerly converged to attempt this, but couldn't coordinate well, and Carly settled for getting back to the floor after a good deal of groping. Undaunted, she pushed into the crowd, hugging, grabbing heads to her boobs, humping legs. Darrendahl left the stage, laughing and shaking his head. A few bouncers tried to thin the crowd. Carly rubbed her naked self on them too.

"Should be easy to leave now," said Weinstock, "since all the men are staying." She headed for the tent flap.

"I'm with you," I said, starting to trail her.

But I didn't move fast enough. Carly headed me off and squeezed me, yelling, "My next co-star!" She went past even my boundaries, stuffing a hand into my pants. As gently as I could, I tried to push her away. She grabbed my prick once, then finally drew out her hand. Pulling my head onto her boobs, she declared, "See you in March, motherfucker!" Then she finally released me, and worked her way back to the stage. The event was over when Carly decided it was over, when she went backstage, waving and smiling as she exited.

***

Molly and I had a room-service dinner. She declared herself to be still fuckable and eager, so we missionaried, and then prepped for the final night of the hospitality suites. She decided to go with eye shadow that didn't make a social statement, and wore her light blue gown, which of course looks great on her but seemed tame compared to the new outfits.

There were still plenty of people in the Eroti zone on the seventeenth floor, but everyone seemed more relaxed, or maybe just tired. In the main Eroti suites, some people played movers-and-shakers, but the TopHeavy rooms were quite chill. No Ramblers showed up, and that kept the evening congenial. Marge and Henry were on a sofa together, PDA-ing pretty heavily, looking blissed and exhausted.

I had the opportunity to tell Jane Terry how charming she was on the franchising video, and said I wouldn't be surprised if she were the big reason for the two maybe-new-clubs. I was hoping to find again that engaging person, but to me she was the same old Hollywood, polite and remote and really not interested in having anything to do with me. So, as she drifted off, I felt no qualms about letting my thoughts of her return to cameltoe cameltoe cameltoe.

After a while, Alice and Trudy showed up, all bubbly and excited, in black cocktail dresses, heels, and party makeup. We hugged, and I guided them to an empty sofa, upon which they surrounded me.

"So, fun week?" I asked.

"Some," said Alice.

"Not enough," said Trudy, leering.

Lowering my voice to a murmur, I said, "Well, what would you say about us going somewhere to make our own fun?"

Alice kissed my ear and said, "The sooner the better."

"What's you room number?" I asked.

"Oh no!" said Trudy. "It's a mess! Full of our girl stuff."

Alice indicated the rest of the women in the suite. "We have to work really hard on our looks, and we still can't compete."

"Well then... my room's available."

"Oh yeah!" said Trudy.

"But I'm afraid you won't find what you're looking for," I said, enjoying this too much.

"Why not?" asked Alice. "All we need is you."

I brought out my phone. "You've done this very well. I could believe you really are porno fangirls. Except that you both work for DRFG."

They stopped having fun. I showed them the results of my face-mapping from the selfies. They still had resumés cached on the job-hunting site Mploy, from back when they had been security professionals at places other than DRFG. The resumes gave me their real names. Which led me to a few hits connecting them to DRFG itself.

"I've already shipped the samples I took," I said. "Whatever you were going to do to me so you could search the room, I'd rather not go through, so I won't let you into the room so you can pretend to enjoy having sex with me. Please let your superiors know, because I don't want anyone hacking into our room before we check out."

Stone-faced, they got up and left.

***

From Molly:

It was nice that this was low-keyed. In theory, we were still supposed to be playing roles and pushing goods, but we really didn't have an audience for that anymore. Even Henry had decided that we were done.

There was sofa space on either side of Henry and Marge. I smiled at them. Henry waved me over. I sat and leaned against him. "No water in this jacuzzi," I said. They laughed at the reference to their hourly-rate hideaway motel, where I had been privileged to join them in a threesome a few times.

"Thank God the club won't open 'til Monday," said Marge. "Soon, we get the Christmas break." She batted eyelashes at Henry. "Any chance we can skip Figleaf next year?"

"Like I have anything to say about it," he said dourly.

"Marge, you need to cheer him up," I said.

She smiled over at me, fingering a lock of his hair. "I might need some help."

I held Henry's arm and leaned a bit closer, tit-first. Marge nuzzled his ear. From across the room at a bar, I heard Marquesa laugh and say, "Please, don't get a room."

Gabe was standing next to her. They looked quite content together, but I figured I could borrow him for a little while. "Honey, why don't you come over here and show Marge your suit?"

He ambled over, not knowing what was up, but game. He started to pose in front of her. I said, "No, sit, so she can see how it drapes," which of course made no sense.

He did, sending an arm along the back of the sofa behind her head, and putting on a mock-flirty smile. (Or real? With his face, it can be hard to tell.) Marge and Henry were both amused, which was all I was trying for.

"Too ridiculous," said Marquesa, coming over with her phone. The web folks got the pix, but never posted them.

The hanging around continued for a while. A few people from the other Eroti suites drifted in, maybe because our bar was still well-stocked. I saw Stephanie getting really flirty with some suit, near middle aged but with charm that seemed to come easily for him. I think it was Jerry Mullins, Director of Licensing, but I hadn't checked the organization chart lately. Despite some attempt at reserve, he looked totally smitten with her. Steph and I have cycles in synch, so she might have been as close to monthliness as I was.

Andie Lansing dropped by. Even by the standards of the ladies who adorned Eroti suites, she was quite the looker, with her golden hair in lush waves, makeup that was understated but drew focus to her blue eyes, and an otherwise take-me-seriously dress showing a lot of excellent leg. She one-arm hugged me while holding her drink clear. "Hiiii Molly! Is it too soon to talk about another tour?"

"It is," I said. "But I was okay with putting that in the contract. The last tour was fun, and I gotta say, lucrative."

We talked shop for a little while, vaguely considering dates around the last construction halt, which might be in late January. Then I saw her looking over my shoulder. "Is that Gabe?"

I looked that way. He was with a few booth assistants, who tonight were dressed. Everybody was having fun, but I could hear him asking about how they felt when they were at work in the hall. "Sure is."

"Looking pretty svelte. Your doing?"

"It's worked both ways." I held out an arm and shook it, producing no discernible flab wobble.

"More than that," she said, looking at him again. "On the tour he seemed... I don't know, out of his depth sometimes. Now he looks really on top of things."

"He's interesting," I said. My guy was making up for years of intellectual laziness every day, and that was making my brain more active. I was again the way I was during the COVID shutdown, when I filled downtime with reading, studying, and a few online college-level courses.

When Gabe and I got back to our room, I checked on myself to make sure. "Still fun time," I told him. "Eat me, probably last chance." I hadn't had any PMS. Just an emotional crisis.

We sixty-nined to orgasm, then had a nice side-by-side fuck. The next day we finally got the hell out of Vegas, where it seemed as though we'd been stuck for years.

(To be continued)