Another long day in my office at the Wynn Las Vegas. Everyone else had left around 5 PM and I stay another three hours, heading out at 8 PM. It's a twenty-minute walk from deep in the bowels of the main casino's multi-tiered basement to my room in the Encore tower.

The casino floor is just beginning to hum. The retirees and cargo-shorted millennials are giving way to the better-dressed, high-rolling guests of assorted generations. The slots are starting to thin out and the table games are uncovering for the night ahead, pit bosses on alert.

The Wynn properties are a step above the rest of the strip. There are many top-tier hotels in Vegas: Caesars, Bellagio, Venetian, Cosmopolitan, etc, But Wynn takes it a bit further. The t-shirted flip-flop crowd comes by to gawk during the day, but nighttime here is like the old Vegas.

I fucking hate Las Vegas. I hate the money-for-nothing mentality of gambling. Yeah, I know, 'poker is more than that', but the general allure is simply about MORE. Trust me, only the casinos are getting more, and at the expense of the lemmings on the floor.

The city's siren call is for people to live beyond their means, to pretend to be someone they are not. The underlying message is 'You are not enough'.

But if there is ever a lost group of lambs that needed my skills, it is the people I am currently wandering among.

"Situational Awareness" is about the last thing on anyone's mind in this joint.

I am in the middle of a month-long consultation and assessment of the Wynn and Wynn Encore's security. Nothing involving gaming or money. I am specifically consulting on crowd safety and security. With their higher-end clientele, it is a delicate dance.

At this level, they want everything to be airtight, but invisible. Many of their whales travel with their own security and some of them are armed. They make exceptions but I see it as an issue and am grateful for their private elevators, away from the general public.

Luckily, a lot of those games are in private rooms away from the main floor, and thus under my purview.

However, today's work had to do with boring shit like access and egress, locked or unlocked doors, and crowd flow statistics. I am near blind from a day of pouring over CCTV archives and assorted spreadsheets.

I nod at Bobby, the second-shift tower security guard (Monday through Friday). Another weak spot. They pay some guy minimum wage to have him inspect room key cards that people can fish out of the trash at the airport rental car drops or another dozen spots around town.

Some elevators require a key card to access the floor buttons, but most of those are generally programmed and not floor specific, so another weak spot. That anyone could believe this makes the hotel tower more secure is a joke.

I walk into the waiting elevator, wave my card over the sensor and push thirty-one, my home floor for the past three weeks.

My room is about as far from the elevator as possible. The building has a curve to it, so that when making that walk, it seems interminable as you cannot see the end, until well after the halfway mark.

As the doors slide shut, first a hand, then an arm, and finally an entire body... slips between the closing doors, without triggering them to re-open.

"Thanks!, I just made it."

I nod, even though I had nothing to do with her making the elevator.

Thus, I am joined by a woman in her late fifties to mid-sixties on her way back from the gym. She is fit, but not cut. Attractive, but not really pretty. Probably about a decade younger than my worn-out frame.

She punches the already lit button for the thirty-first floor and steps back.

She carries herself with assurance and vigor. She has tight workout shorts on with a tank top. I, on the other hand, am wearing all Armani. A white dress shirt, a dark navy blazer, and black slacks.

She catches my eye in the mirrored doors and says, "Aren't we the odd couple?"

I laugh and agree. "Indeed we are, indeed we are."

We continue the ride without conversation but keep looking directly at each other in our reflections. I am impressed. Most people cannot hold a gaze without making small talk. She is not flirting, but there is strength and some sort of challenge in her countenance.

She still has a sheen of sweat on her and a strong tang of body odor which frankly gets me a bit aroused. I inhale deeply.

We reach our floor and I hold the open button, allowing her to exit first. I am at first concerned she might be worried about me following her, but then remember that I had already pushed the button when she got on board.

So there is no way I could be stalking her. Hell, she barely made the ride! Then why do I feel like I am? She seems to have hit a nerve with me.

She continues toward the end of the hall as I stop at my room.

Never looking over her shoulder, she seemed completely unconcerned that I was behind her.

The stink of her body odor still lingers in my nostrils and I think about how far I could take a fantasy about her tonight.

At my seventy years old, I don't have many options to 'hook up' much with strangers. I have active sexual relationships with three women roughly in my age bracket. They span the gamut of divorced, widowed, and lifelong single. One is actually an ex from forty years prior.

They live in different cities and I get to see each of them several times a year. Online dating or hiring a woman for sex is of no interest to me.

One of them is a bit of a freak, but in general, the sex is tamer than I would prefer. And yet, my desire is as strong as it has ever been, possibly stronger and my boundaries are fewer. I masturbate as frequently as a teenage boy.

Yeah, my stinky elevator companion could take center stage in tonight's fantasy.

I contemplate ordering room service, but instead opt for some minibar snacks while I peruse TV options for the evening.

Finding nothing worth watching, I start to fill the big jacuzzi tub in my bathroom and get undressed, looking forward to relaxing in the tub and continuing Ken Follett's latest novel, "Never". It is remarkably accurate in most of its research and I am enjoying the read.

Behind the drama of possible nuclear war, it is about back-channel communication between nations, something that was my domain before I joined the private sector. Follett must have a great source, as the descriptions are spot on.

Just as the tub was nearing full, I notice my phone has an AirTag alert. It seems that I have left my travel folio behind in the office. Even though my temp office is in the security complex, an unlocked drawer is not a secure location and I know that cleaning teams test any unlocked door or drawer.

The pebbled leather Prada folio contains my passport, a few hard-to-replace governmental clearance cards, and about $3,000 in hundreds.

FUCK!...

It would be more than embarrassing for a security consultant to report a theft due to his lack of diligence.

I turn off the tub, get dressed, and ready myself for another long walk through the hotel and casino to the security complex. I pull on a silk T-shirt. It clings and shows every fold, bulge, and curve in my 'older' torso.

I check myself in the mirror, sucking my gut in a bit. Note to self: need to focus on my abdomen a bit more. Got a bit of sag to my belly and my arms are getting too scrawny as well. I contemplate putting on something cotton, something baggy... Nah, who I am trying to impress anyway?

I head out and as I exit my door, I almost collide with exercise gal, now dressed up and ready for a night out.

"Hah! Our roles are reversed. Where are you heading dressed down like that, I liked you better before," she says.

"I forgot something in my office that I need to retrieve."

"Retrieve... is that like you have to go get it?" she teases. "What office anyway? Aren't you a guest?"

I explain as we walk the curved, never-ending Encore hallway. She tells me that she is in town for a convention involving AI. She is a former coder who now pitches artificial intelligence for a variety of applications. On the elevator, we do the eye exchange in the mirror again.

"Nice ink." She says, nodding at my sleeved forearms. They are usually covered, but are no longer the alienating signposts they were over thirty-five years ago when I mustered out and joined the private sector. Hell, nowadays EVERYONE has a tattoo.

"Thanks."

I examine her transformation. Her open-toed, strap pumps reveal she has tattoo work on both feet, covering her metatarsals. That takes serious commitment and is usually not a first tattoo location. I wonder what else on her is inked. They look like mandalas and seem to have some intricate detail.

Her dress is a light copper with uneven hems that fall below her calf on one side and is cut away above her knee on the other. The dress is belted with a wide leather belt and she has an odd assortment of necklaces across her chest.

One looks like it could be Bulgari, big and bold. The others are more like exotica from a souk in a middle eastern bazaar. The neckline is wide but shows only moderate cleavage.

She has curled a wave into her shoulder-length brown hair and put on a bit of makeup. Her lips are bare, but full and rosy, not needing help. There is a scent of perfume, but I would swear I still smell her workout underneath it.

Maintaining eye contact, she adjusts the belt across her midriff, runs her palms up her flanks, and then lifts her breasts a bit, pushing them together, causing the heavy necklace to disappear into her cleavage. She dips a hand in between her breasts and almost caressing herself, lifts the necklace back out.

Wait, was that done for me?

I am a bit lost and unsure of how to react... Her face is seemingly emotionless. Before I can assess the situation, the door opens and two Chinese couples push their way in before the doors are fully retracted, forcing me into the corner.

"Have a nice evening," she says over her shoulder as she exits the elevator. By the time, I disentangle myself from the Chinese, she has greeted another woman and they stop at the ATM in the elevator lobby, their backs to me.

I shake off whatever just happened (or didn't happen) and head to my office. Tonight's fantasy blown in our obvious disconnect.

A few days pass. It's Thursday night and I once again head to my room around 8:00 PM. After greeting Bobby, I quickly step in between the closing elevator doors, amazed to find myself on the elevator with HER once again. I am dressed the same and she is once again glowing from her workout, stains of sweat on the belly of her tank top and the waistband of her shorts.

We are alone once more as the button for the thirty-first floor glows white on the panel and the elevator begins its rise.

"Well, now I feel so much safer with you on board. How is your work going?"

It's delivered with a smile and I accept the teasing.

"It's going well. Looks like you had a good workout." I inwardly cringe at this being the best response I can come up with.

I look her up and down in the mirror as I inhale her scent again. She seems to know what I am thinking. With a grin, she raises the arm next to me and smells herself, the move wafts more of her smell over to me.

"God, I stink..." she says, but leaves her arm raised and watches my nostrils flare as I inhale deeply. "However, you seem to like it..."

Waiting a beat, she lets her arm drop. She then pivots 90°, reaches out, and pushes on my shoulder, turning me to face her.

Taking a step forward, she is now inches from me, sniffing me and turning her face up toward mine. "But you smell so pretty..."

For one short second, I think 'What the hell?'... and then I just react.

I grab her wrist, lift her arm over her head and bury my face in her slick, greasy arm pit, smearing it up and down and left and right. As the elevator dings for our floor, I run my tongue across the heart of her pit, let her arm drop, and step aside.

I think of the wall of monitors downstairs (275 screens constantly scanning the 5,500 CCTV cameras throughout the building) and wonder if this elevator's camera was on display when I did my pit dive.

The door opens and a young couple bounds on board, paying no attention to the 'elderly' pair exiting. This time we walk down the hall side by side, tension growing between us. The air between us grows more and more electric as we take that long walk in thick silence.

As we round the bend in the hallway, her voice a bit hoarse, she asks, "You want to drop off your dog and join me?"

I look at her questioningly and realize she is talking about my roll aboard and the briefcase that I am pulling behind me.

My throat is just as constricted as hers and I croak, "Okay..." having no idea what else to add in response.

Stopping at my room, I dump my jacket and bags. My mind is racing, just what the fuck am I doing? This is a fantasy. Exactly! So go for it, you moron.

I suddenly realize I don't know what room she is in... Maybe she will just be waiting in the hall. Or most likely, she is just playing with me and I will step back into an empty hallway.

I almost hope she is. She is the one in control at this point and I am not used to that.

Stepping into the hallway, I turn right. She is sitting on the bench at the end of the hall. The lights of the strip are twinkling through the window behind her. She has taken off her workout jersey and she is untying her shoes. By the time I move to the end of the hall, she is barefooted. Just what does she have in mind?

Standing there in only her workout shorts and athletic bra, she smiles at me. The bra is light beige with dark brown stains along the swell of each breast where her sweat has soaked the cotton.

Her age is a bit more apparent now. There is some sag to her belly and some stretch marks there and on her thighs. Her biceps are toned but have a few crepe wrinkles. For her presumed age, she is in great shape and frankly takes my breath away.

In addition to the tattoo on the top of each foot, there is a large, tribal piece across her belly that seems to morph into a tree, branches spreading and continuing up under her bra, while the trunk surrounds her navel, continuing into her shorts. The natural, open boldness of her semi-nudity is far more erotic than any younger woman's 'tight' body, and my arousal increases.

"I have lots more to smell, lots more to see, but what about you?"

She stands, legs slightly spread, her open palms massaging her belly and pelvis.

Thinking this is crazy, I consider that we are fifty pairs of rooms from the elevators... While exposed, the distance is quite long, and full visual determination of whatever is about to happen would take half the hallway to become clear due to the curve of the hall.

But it also means we may not hear folks coming until halfway down the hall.

I am not an exhibitionist, but this woman's invitation has me willing to step over my boundaries. Hell, I just stepped over a line on the elevator... My final worry is if someone exits a room at our end of the hall...

Oh what the hell, fuck it...

I begin unbuttoning my shirt. As soon as it becomes apparent that I am joining her, she moves closer to me.

"Wow, look at all this ink." She examines me as I take my shirt off and then leans in, clenching one of my nipples in her teeth, she bites down and pulls.

Suddenly releasing it, she repeats the same drill on my other nipple. Both are now standing erect.

"You like that don't you?... Do mine." She pushes her chest out.

I reach around her to release the bra clasp. No clasp...

"Here, let me help you." She reaches up to her side and releases a clasp hidden in the seam and discards her bra as her breasts fall free.

The compression of the sports bra gave lie to what are full, lush breasts. However, the rest of the reveal leaves me speechless.

The tree tattoo branches off just below her sternum and spreads out below the swell of each bosom. Smaller branches splinter off to cradle each breast, like fingers. On each, one of the smaller branches blooms into a cherry blossom, the petals falling open across her areola, the pistil and stamen bursting from her nipples.

The contrast from the Sumi black of the branches to the bright colors of the blossoms is awesome. The work is stunning and exquisite. It must have hurt like hell.

Under and between the patches of ink, her areola and nipples are dark brown, large, tough, and aroused. I bite into one and lean back, feeling her pull away, stretching her entire breast taut. I release it and move to the other.

"Harder this time." She moans.

I bite so deeply I am afraid I will break the skin and she leans back with her full body weight, her stretch marks transformed into deep furrows. She jerks against the strain, finally pulling it out of my mouth. "AH, Fuck!"

She leans forward and suddenly her mouth is on mine and she is wetly soul-kissing me as our bellies and breasts grind against each other.

"I have been fantasizing about this all week!" She pulls her shorts down and steps out of them. She is waxed smooth and clean. She has a beautiful lotus tattoo. It is anchored on her mons, spreading across her pelvis. I smile to myself as I have a similar lotus based just above my cock.

I am stunned. The lotus is wonderful, but she is now buck-naked. Buck-naked in a public hotel hallway where I am doing a consultancy... I chuckle in amazement and shake my head.

"What's so funny? You like my smells?" She pushes two fingers between her bare lips and I notice we have more in common. The lotus roots that cascade around my balls, down onto my perineum, in her case run down onto her outer labia and continue underneath her and I smile once again.

"Here smell this!" And she smears her cunt funk across my face. It is rich and ripe and I become fully tumescent.

She makes rapid progress on my belt buckle and button fly. Spreading the fly open she pushes my jeans down, exposing my lotus...

"Okay, now I get the smiles! Just how cool will this be!"

She lifts my balls in one hand and begins to stroke my cock with her other.

I need to get some control of this situation.

"Enough, lady, it's my turn." No longer caring that we are in public, I push her onto the bench and drop to my knees, slacks bunched around my shoes.

Hooking my palms under her knees I push her legs up and apart, her lotus root opening wide in front of me. As her lips open and her hood pulls back, a barbell piercing pops into view, straddling her clit, anchored in the folds of her hood.

Having adopted her teasing pacing, I bring my face in close, but not touching her yet.

Inhaling, I can now smell both her cunt and a sugary sweet stink from her ass. That seals it. No longer aware of anything, I commit fully to this sexual madness.

I rock her back on the bench and dive into her ass crack, rimming the ring her of sphincter in ever tighter circles until I am riding the muscle itself, feeling it relax while pushing and probing with my tongue... then running it up her taint and burying my face in her now sopping cunt.

She has reached down and is spreading herself wide open. I push in, bathing my face and forehead in her fluids before moving back to her ass. It is so relaxed that I can begin to work my tongue inside.

"Oh god, you are good, come kiss me."

I stand up to lean over her for a deep kiss, but my feet are tangled in my pants and shoes and I trip, falling into her... LITERALLY.

From some weird Kundalini alignment magic, my cock drives into her wide-open pussy as my mouth meets hers. She ravenously sucks her own cunt juice and ass stink off my tongue while wrapping her legs around my waist. Grinding her loins against mine as she starts licking herself off my face in long wet swipes.

Far down the hall, we hear the bell of an arriving elevator.

I try to pull out, but she holds me firm. "No, let's wait a little..." She smiles and I can feel her working her kegels on my cock and I respond by clenching and trying to get my crown to swell inside her.

We both lean back a bit and look down at our two lotuses, seemingly growing out of each other...

The raucous sound of Vegas partiers draws ever closer, but she keeps me locked to her, actually giggling a little bit...

"Nice! I want to get a picture of that, but now may not be the time because I can see our intruders! Okay, when I say go, you follow me...

"Go!"

She releases me, grabs her things, and starts running back toward the elevator...

Pulling up my pants, I grab my shirt and follow. Two couples have rounded the bend in the hallway. One of the men points at us and starts yelling. She opens the door to her room and we dive through.

As we close the door behind us, one of the women yells, "Don't worry... what happens in Vegas, stays..."

We are both breathless and laughing, our lust put aside for the moment.

But in her unique, special way, she once again sets the tempo.

She steps back and watches as I succeed in finally getting my shoes and pants off.

And we are now far enough apart that I can visually take in all of her at once.

So many damn layers to this woman. In the space of a few minutes, she got me to risk this project and my company's well-respected reputation because I like body odor and she offered herself to me in a hotel hallway.

I suddenly realize I am naked in another way.

What the hell have I done? She could be a professional and this is all a setup by a competitor to compromise me with a client.

I put together an operation like this once from the other side of the fence. It was so easy. My client needed something on an opponent and all it took was a bit of ego stroking by a sexy woman and this moron went all in. What they say about men thinking with their little heads is absolutely true

And it is exactly what I had just been doing.

But in that scenario, we used a twenty-six-year-old knockout, not an older, strong, striking adult woman.

This woman took me on a visceral level with too much common ground (most folks don't know about my tattoo work and as far as the odor kink, no way). No, there is too much kismet to this.

However, I can't seem to shut down my paranoia.

I start looking around the room trying to spot locations for hidden cameras and microphones. But I know that if well placed, I won't find them without a scanner.

I realize I have two choices. Walk out or move forward.

And if this isn't a setup, just the hallway episode would be enough to sink me. Luckily, people screwing in hallways, stairwells, and elevators is not uncommon in Vegas and does not get examined much. Damn, I don't like this feeling.

I feel my arousal draining away.

"Hey, you! Where the fuck did you go?"

Her head cocked, she is standing across from me with her hands on her hips. Her affect is guileless. If she is a pro, she should farm herself out to Universal Studios or Mossad.

I want to believe my gut, but remain completely at sea... this is not familiar turf at all.

"Sorry, I just have never done anything like that before. As you know I am here as a consultant and if I..."

"Wait a second -- WE were just fucking in the hallway."

"Yeah, but you were the one who stepped to me first, back on the elevator."

"Yes, I know all that. And that is why you got me so fucking excited. Most men would have backed away. Not only did you not back away, you fucking licked my armpit for Christ's sake. Hell, when we were walking the hallway, I was so wet that I thought you might be able to hear my labia squishing against each other."

"Next, you took a big risk, just by taking off your shirt and joining me in some nipple play. But when you dropped down between my legs, your bare ass hanging out, I thought you were the hottest thing on earth as you truly had 'skin' in the game."

She laughs and waits for me to do the same, but I just stand there, trying to find my way into believing her or leaving.

"It might surprise you, but I don't exactly do this on a regular basis." She says with a shrug.

"Then just how often do you pick up men on elevators and have public sex with them?"

"Honey, I don't know about you, but there are not a lot of options out there in our age bracket. I am a very private gal. I have a Tinder account and even a Silver Singles account, but have been severely disappointed in the pickings out there with maybe one or two exceptions. And when there was sex, it was pretty fucking vanilla."

"That does not answer my question."

"Well, to be accurate, you had two questions! One: No, I have never 'picked up' anyone on an elevator. Two: Yes, once in New York, I was staying at the Standard and had read in the Times about people openly fucking in their glass-walled rooms, in full view of folks on the Hi-Line. I convinced a co-worker to do it with me but it wasn't that much of a thrill and he was a lousy lover."

I feel like I am losing control of this exchange.

"So just what is this about? You say you're not some cougar or an exhibitionist."

"First of all, I think cougars and milfs go after young men, not someone who I am pretty sure is older than me."

"Fair point, but still not an explanation of what is taking place here."

"For me, it started on our first elevator ride. I watched your eyes, you checked me out but you weren't leering or lecherous. That in itself was a turn-on. Now that I know what you do, I understand a bit more of how you assess people, cold and analytical."

"But you had a tell... I saw you inhaling me. I know my funk is strong and most people step away after I have worked out. But I like body odor and think that Americans in particular have some serious hang-ups in that regard. You seemed to be a bit like me."

"Then you did that cold thing when we met again later that night. Hell, I took a chance and played with my bosoms for you and got no reaction. I just figured I read you wrong. But I will admit that I have been masturbating while fantasizing about you taking me in the hallway... wait a second, you're interrogating me, aren't you? You have that look again."

I am still stuck in my paranoia and just stare back at her.

"When you started grilling me, you were flustered, almost scared....... It was kind of endearing, even cute, but now you are Mr Security Man again and I feel a million miles away from you. So maybe we both made a mistake and you should just get the fuck out of my room."

We just stand there, staring at each other. Throughout this conversation, I had forgotten/ignored the fact that we are both completely naked, so intense was our dialogue.

The situation is ludicrous. I begin to laugh, and shaking my head, I decide to go with my gut..."I'm sorry, I think I owe you an apology."

"Ya think?" She no longer has both hands on her hips. She is now aggressively leaning forward. One hand on a hip, the other on her bent knee. Chin out... "Wait a second, I think I get this now... Did you think I was a pro? Or that this was some fucking game? Oh dude, you live in a weird, fucked up world."

"No, well.. sort of... yeah, I had some concerns. I usually don't get this vulnerable, I like being in control most of the time."

"Me too, but the only thing I like more is being TOTALLY OUT OF CONTROL and you and I got there for a moment. I'm just not sure of how to get back there now."

As she says this, she relaxes her aggressive posture and stands upright, letting her arms fall to her side, assuming a passive position and I do the same.

Damn, this woman has some power and yet the courage to turn around and go vulnerable, allowing me to attempt the same. I am frankly fascinated.

We continue to face each other, two heavily tattooed closet freaks, well past middle age, trying to find a way back to the wild, free space they had so recently lost. Still a bit on the back foot, I drop my gaze and focus on her bodywork.

The foundation of the tree that rises from her belly is a Polynesian mash-up of Maori, Samoan, and Marquesan motifs, and well done. In my passion, I missed much of the subtle grey work. There are wind bars flanking the circle and tree, running up her rib cage and over her breasts.

When the wind bars reach the swell of her breasts, they morph into leaves and falling petals, fading in and out. It's part of what makes the stark black of the tree and the color of the blossoms "pop". Major work, but very private and not on display for all. Besides a penchant for body odor, we seem to have this in common too.

I see her drinking in my work as well.

"Turn around," she commands. As she sees my back, she laughs, "Damn, we hide ourselves well, don't we?"

She comes forward and pushes up against my back, reaching around me, palms on my chest, pulling me against her.

I feel her lay her cheek against my shoulder blade, as she presses her breasts into my back and her pelvis into my butt. It's not sexual, it's a hug. It's warm and tender, unlike any of our contact to date. She begins humming and rocking the two of us left and right.

"My turn to apologize. I knew you had a lot to lose and I just didn't care. You made me so crazy out there. The matching lotuses were like some special sign and when you started rimming me, I simply lost it."

She keeps rocking us, laughs, and holds me tighter. "What a pair we are! My last Tinder date was with a cop who couldn't get much past missionary. You sure aren't him. And I'm a sucker for sphincter love. Oh Good Lord, I can't believe I just said that. I'm okay now. Are you sure you are too?"

"Yeah, I'm okay," I say with a strange catch in my throat.

"Good. Because I owe you something."

Dropping one hand down, she grabs my cock and using it as a rudder, steers us toward the dresser. I place my palms flat on the dresser and place my feet far apart, hoping this is what she wants.

"Perfect!" She then slides her body down my back. Dropping to her knees, she spreads my cheeks apart and starts sniffing my balls, jiggling them with her tongue. She slowly sucks each one until I groan and then she releases.

Taking it slow, she licks up my sack and onto my perineum. Once well slathered with her spit, she runs her nose from my sack to my sphincter and sniffs loudly. "Damn, this thing is squeaky clean." She then begins rimming me with a vengeance.

She is good at this and I squat, opening myself wider for her. But she ends it all too soon, jumps to her feet, spins me around to face her, and takes my hand as she pulls me toward her bed.

"Okay, now I think we are even and can restart this adventure." She laughs and pushes me onto my back.

She then grabs my feet and pulling my legs around, pivots me into the middle of the bed. Climbing onto the bed, she reverses herself, her cunt over my face. I reach back, grab a pillow and shove it under my head, pushing my face closer to her.

As I begin eating my way into her, she starts licking my penis in long slow passes, finally closing her lips around my crown and sliding my cock into her mouth.

She continues to gorge on my cock as I alternate between sloppily licking her labia and tugging on the barbell with my teeth, rubbing her hood back and forth over her swollen clit. She stops sucking me. She pushes up off my cock, squatting herself onto my face. Swiveling her hips, forward and back, she runs herself from taint to clit, across my forehead to my chin. Literally fucking my face with her cunt.

Moaning, she pushes my face deeper into herself. My nose and mouth are now inside her, my chin on her clit, and she grinds ever harder onto me. I am unable to breathe, but unwilling to break this embrace, as her arousal seems to be peaking.

Just as I think she is going to come, she suddenly raises off me, knees now straddling my head, and looks straight down at me.

Busting the groove entirely, she asks how much longer I am in town. Because of our positions, our faces are reversed, which makes the dialogue even stranger. Between her upside-down countenance and the constant stopping and starting of our sexual escapades, I am getting dizzy.

"How much longer are you here in Vegas?"

I tell her ten more days. "And you?" She tells me she is leaving Monday and has a full schedule over the next two days.

I am confused about the inquiries and want to get back to having her bathe my face. Is this punishment for my interrogation?

"Tell you what. Shit! I don't even know your name." She laughs, "So just what is your name?"

"Bill. Nice to meet you..."

"Jesus, you don't know mine either, do you? How did we get this far and not even know each other's names? Where has civility gone in this country? That people can eat each other's asses without a proper introduction?"

We both laugh and she continues.

"No one would believe this was real if we tried to tell them about it. Don't worry, my lips are sealed and like I said, no one would believe it anyway. My name is Lisa and it has certainly been interesting meeting you too."

"Tell you what Bill, can you let your funk grow for the next two days? Just don't bathe. I won't either. I have always wanted to try this with someone, and it appears you are that guy. What is your Sunday schedule looking like? I am free until our closing conference in the afternoon."

My head is spinning at this weird proposal. I don't answer immediately and she is on a roll.

"We can use these nifty hotel bidets, but only after defecating, I still want your ass sweaty and greasy! Oh yeah, and definitely brush your teeth, because while I love gland stink, I hate halitosis. If you need to be around people, go ahead and use a little cologne or whatever to cover it up, I do it all the time. Think you can do that?"

I think back to how I could still smell the workout under her perfume the first night we met and know she is serious. And while I have never admitted it to others, body odor definitely arouses me, so I am all in for this.

"A Sunday fuck brunch... yeah, I can do that and yes, we seem to share a common fetish for body odor. I'm game."

But she can also hear the disappointment in my voice...

"Oh, don't worry Billy, we're not done, but we are going to save the oral until we are truly ripe and funky. In the meantime, how about you fucking me in the ass. If you follow my direction, I bet I can squirt all over you and then you can cum on my lotus."

She grins, reaches into her bedside table, and grabs a tube of lube.

"Now jump off the bed and let me get into position."

She slides her ass up to the edge of the bed and brings her knees to her chest.

I think about her unsuspecting Tinder or Silver Singles dates. I am sure the cop she mentioned would not know what to do with a proposal like this. I wonder if any of them ever got even a glimpse of this sexual tigress. Probably not.

Squeezing a generous glob of lube into her palm, she spreads it around her open ass, slipping her middle finger in and out as she does.

"Bring that cock over here."

Reaching between her cheeks, she guides me inside, I let her control the entry. Her thumb and index finger have circled my sack and she gradually pulls me into her by my balls. We go very slowly... Right up until my crown has breached her sphincter. She then takes her hands away. Looking up at me, she nods and I slowly push my way inside.

I groan as my crown slides across the upper wall of her rectum.

"You like that Billy Boy? ... You know, you almost missed this, you idiot!"

When I am fully inserted, she nods again and I slowly begin stroking my cock in and out of her ass. She reaches up and starts pinching and pulling her nipples. She then swivels her hips a bit so that my cock is roaming around inside her rectum.

Her labia begin to flare and are soon wide open as one hand leaves her nipple and reaches down to her mons.

I lean forward and let a stream of my spittle sloppily fall onto her fingers, hood, and clit. Her fingers concentrate it onto the barbell ends as she tugs the hood farther back and then pushes the barbell back and forth over her swollen clit on a wave of my spit.

Concentrating on her clit, she keeps nodding as my thrusts increase in tempo. She begins to writhe and her cunt convulses as she climaxes and I know I am close too.

"Don't you dare fucking come!" she shouts.

She grabs her knees and rocks back onto her shoulders, lifting her ass off the bed. My cock is now angled against the membrane that separates her rectum and vagina and I can feel it pressing into her vestibule. Her open cunt is angled straight up and I can see into her urethra.

"Come on, Bill, deeper, fuck me deeper."

I lean over her and push in. My cock is pretty average and while it brings me a lot of pleasure, at this moment, I wish I had another couple of inches to give her.

"Oooh, yes, right there Billy, right there." I can feel resistance and am guessing that I am pushing that membrane onto her G spot as she rocks herself against me.

I reach over her knees and grab her shoulders, pulling myself hard against her.

Her teeth are bared in a grimace as she keeps rocking. I am clenching myself as hard as I can to keep from coming, scared at any moment I will unload inside her and break my promise.

Her lips curl in an almost evil sort of grin..."Yes, yes, I knew we could do it."

She lets go of her knees, her legs falling open as she begins to squirt. Hot streams shoot up, out of her urethra and splash against my face and chest. She starts manically flailing her cunt with both hands, sending the spray all over each of us.

"Now it's your turn... and don't cum in me, cum on me.

She continues writhing on the bed, spreading her come over her belly and breasts and into her armpits.

I slowly pull my cock out and lean up and over her so that my perineum is pushed down against her open cunt and let myself settle my full weight against her, letting us both cool down a bit.

"Ooh, you are a tease... And I like that!"

She reaches up and cradles my face in her cum-soaked hands. Pulling my face to hers, she begins softly kissing me with closed lips. The tenderness of these caresses is in direct contrast to her feral energy only moments ago. Like the earlier back hug, she has a soft, vulnerability almost at odds with the rest of her.

She brings her knees up again and wraps her legs around my hips. Her butterfly kisses continue and she begins making little mewing sounds as her legs work and press me against her.

I push myself up and look down. Her artwork is glistening from its squirt bath, nipples fully erect. She lets her arms fall back over her head and grins again. "Damn, I am so glad you stayed! Hah, this was a great idea!"

With that, I slide back, dragging my balls into and through the wet valley of her swollen cunt.

As my shaft slides over her clit, her barbell digs into its soft underbelly and the pain is so poignant that I press in harder, glorying in the sensation as it helps to stem the ejaculation that I am trying to hold back.

She seems to know and clamps her legs tighter, increasing the pressure on both my cock and her clit.

"I want to see it, I want to see it cum out of you."

I arch my back more and she unwraps her legs from my waist. I let myself slide forward, my balls gliding back and forth between the folds of her lips. The wet warmth of her vulva is heaven and I continue, the pressure in my balls increasing with each stroke.

"I still can't see it, come up here and fuck my belly, I want to see it, I want to see you come on me."

I slide up and out of her cunt's embrace. Well covered in her juices, I begin grinding on her, fucking her belly, my balls pressed against her lotus.

"Oh god, your cock is on fire, damnit, just go on and give me your stuff!"

And with that, I begin unloading. The first stream splatters onto her chin and neck, the second, onto her left cheek and into her hair. The rest pumps out over her belly and breasts.

"Yes!" she exclaims with glee and wraps her legs around me again, pulling me against her. I slide up and down her torso, co-mingling all our juices.

I lean down to lick it off her... but she has the same thought and we wrestle as we lick my cum and hers off each other, before collapsing against each other.

I roll off her and we are now lying on our sides, facing each other. I pull a wad of my cum out of her hair and suck it off my finger.

"You are one seriously freaky fellow Mr Bill. You know that, don't you?"

"Madam, I do believe it takes one to know one. The sex I have been having recently is nothing like this. I thought I was all alone in the fantasies I created while jerking off. You have challenged me in previously unimaginable ways."

"Look, I am serious, no bathing. Leave our cum and jizz and use what we just did as a foundation. Remember, I have not truly tasted any of you. You had a bit of ball funk, but hell, even your ass had no smell, no taste. Do we have a deal? Your room on Sunday at 10 AM."

"We have a deal, I am looking forward to this."

"Me too. Hey, if you want to, you can spend the night..."

She is excited now, almost like a teenager.

I pause and she immediately says, "Nah, maybe not a good idea."

"Just hold on a second, all I did was pause."

She has already turned away from me. Fuck! All I did was pause! She seems as vulnerable as I was when we entered the room and I went on my freak out.

"Come here." I reach across and pull her against me, spooning into the angles of her body.

We are laying across the bed and I reach over her to get each of us a pillow.

I tuck one under her head and then pull the covers up over us and feel her soften and melt up against me. I lay my head on the pillow and let my arm rest over her rib cage, taking one of her breasts and letting it fill my hand.

"Mmmmmmmhhhhhhh." she shrugs herself even deeper into my embrace.

Laying there, I wonder about the last few hours and this complex woman. On so many levels, she gives as good as she gets. She is strong and independent and yet there is a fragility when she is at her most vulnerable. It's easy to want to protect her.

She can turn 180° in an emotional microsecond. While it is giving me whiplash and I certainly don't need the drama in my life, there is something in her that tugs at me.

"I would like to spend the night, but I have to be up pretty early."

"That would be nice. I usually don't want lovers to stay, but I feel safe with you. Sorry, I got all weird there."

"No weirder than I was... Why don't we alter positions a bit and turn out the lights? If it was anyone else, I would offer to get a towel, but ..."

We both start laughing.

We kill the lights, move ourselves to use the bed in its intended direction, and resume our spooning position. I marvel at her softness and how well we fit together so well. She folds her arms over mine and I somehow feel complete.

Both spent, we slip easily into sleep.

Six hours later, I am literally stuck to her back and have to peel myself off. She stretches but does not wake. I tuck the covers back around her, put on my shirt and pants, and carrying my shoes, let myself out the door.

Back in my room, I turn on the shower before remembering our covenant. I turn it off and go over to the sink to take inventory.

My semen and her cum are crusted all over me from mid-thigh, up into the hairs on my chest and onto my neck and cheek. I can smell her scent on me and my odor is already pretty high from last night's exertions.

It's going to be an interesting forty-eight hours allowing this to fester while hiding it from others. Luckily, my next two days involve either podium presentations or working alone in my office. Nothing too close to others.

I grab fresh socks, jeans, and a shirt and squirt some cologne on my neck, immediately hating the cover it provides for our aroma.