Emptying himself all over her backside, Philip slapped her ass again and again. Rosie couldn't help but cum, feeling the hot results of this stranger's bliss spreading on top of her body.
Her new efforts as a result of her second orgasm pushed Marco to the edge. He wrapped up her thick hair around his hand like it was rope, and started jerking his cock off right in front of her.
“You see that?” he grunted, slapping her face with his cock. “You see that, sexy? That's for you. You're gonna take all of what I got.”
His shot hard out from his cock, and a strong, wild emptying sensation flooded over Rosie...and all of her slid out of reality, a new template writing over her blanked out personality. She was lost in sticky bliss for what felt like ages, licking and swallowing liquid pleasure.
Then, someone’s cock entered her mouth. She couldn’t tell who. All she could tell was that sucking cock was the reason she existed.
What a good wife she was, now!
* * * * *
Two hours after entering the casino, almost all of Jonathan and Rosie’s money was gone. Two mortgages put up on their house. Four loans from the local bank. His 401K completely drained. All his stock options spent.
He didn’t care, of course. After cumming down Karen’s throat three more times—the volume and frequency of his orgasms had increased tremendously after drinking all of those Spiral Twists—Delilah and Karen had led his new, hulking self into the VIP room. There, he sat on a leather couch, lazily and drunkenly rolling a pair of dice with Karen happily attending his cock with long, soulful slurps and moans. His body, so large and muscular now, sunk deep into the couch.
He didn't know what game he was playing. It involved him losing quite a lot while Karen sucked him off. That was fine. Everything was fine.
“This casino is so wonderful, isn’t it baby?” Delilah purred in his ear.
“So wonderful,” he agreed happily.
“You’ll sign anything at all for the casino, won’t you please, darling?”
“Oh yeah. Sign whatever.”
Tasha, busty and smiling, bent over at the waist with a tray of papers in her hand.
“Sign these, please,” she said, pointing. “Here, here, and here.”
Jonathan leaned forward, sticking his nose into the redhead’s breasts with a drunken chuckle. Delilah led his hand from point to point and he scribbled out his signature. Or something. Maybe it was just scribbles. Anyway, they didn't seem to care.
“Wonderful,” said the redhead, emotionless, sliding away.
Delilah, delighted, wrapped her hands around his neck.
“One last game, baby.”
“Oh yeah?”
“If you win this one, you can stay here indefinitely. You can work here, just like us. Wouldn’t you love that?”
“Oh...” some strings of thought attended his forgotten conscience and priorities. Wasn’t there...work, or something? But no. This was a job she was offering. “I um...I mean...”
“All you have to do,” Delilah purred, “is cum right inside my pussy.”
God, he could do that. He could really do that.
Getting up, he grabbed Karen and gently placed her aside. Her weight was nothing to him—fuck, but he was so strong now—and then he grabbed Delilah's tiny, curvacious body and pushed her down on the couch.
His hands ripped at her clothes, tearing them away like they were paper, like they were made of wet tissue. Delilah's hot, tiny body tensed and squirmed, hot repeated orgasms clearly running through her body with every touch of his big hands on her naked, hot tits.
With a moan, he sank into this woman, his shaft completely sliding inside of her with no resistance whatsoever. He could feel his own bulge beneath her tiny torso, filling her up so hard.
Gyrating his hips, he began to thrust inside of her again and again. Delilah's head thrashed in ceaseless pleasure, her legs wrapped around his waist. She pulled herself up off the couch, her tiny fuckable body held up entirely by his steely muscles.
“Yes!” she moaned ceaselessly. “Oh my god, yes!”
Jonathan entered and re-entered her with gusto. Her pussy was so fucking tight!
As he continued to fuck her brains out, Mr. Craft entered the room with Rosie on one arm. She was completely naked. Mr. Craft eyed Jonathan casually, like the newly muscular stud was merely sorting mail. Jonathan, seeing Rosie, didn't stop his screwing for a second. Delilah was too good—and besides, he deserved to fucking her.
He was a man, a real man. He deserved any hot pussy he could find.
Rosie didn't seem to care that Jonathan was fucking someone else. A distant, vacant smile decorated her face. Mr. Craft whispered something into Rosie's ear. Then, obediently, Rosie unzipped Mr. Craft's pants and went down on him right in front of Jonathan.
“Oh, fuck,” he moaned.
He was upset for just a moment. But then Karen whispered something in his ear, something he couldn’t quite make out. The music got louder.
Rosie, on her knees, pumped more enthusiastically on Mr. Craft's cock. Jonathan nodded, feeling his cock throb even more as Delilah's magical pussy hugged it tight.
There was something so very hot about what Rosie was doing. He pumped into Delilah harder and harder, watching his wife get facefucked by another man.
He wanted his wife fucking other men all the time.
“Fuck me in front of your wife,” Delilah moaned. “Show her what you deserve. Show her what you fucking deserve, baby!”
“Cum for her,” Karen moaned happily. “Win that job. Cum inside Delilah! Be the stud! Be the big stud!”
Spasming, rocking, he emptied himself into Delilah. His cum overfilled the small woman, sliding out onto the couch. Karen greedily lapped it up.
“I’m a winner!” he grunted loudly.
He stood up, not winded at all by the forceful fuck-session with Delilah. In front of Mr. Craft, despite his new-found strength, he felt an instant and undeniable deference flood over him.
“Hey Boss,” he said hopefully, pointing at Rosie. “You mind if I take a few rounds with this one here? I sort of know her.”
Mr. Craft held up a finger. “Just a moment.”
Grabbing Rosie's hair, he pulled her off his cock and then unceremoniously came on Rosie’s naked chest. Moaning with need, Karen and Delilah crawled over and licked every bit of his seed off her body. Delilah winked at Jonathan as she did so.
“There you are,” Mr. Craft said, dusting himself off and zipping up, before clapping Jonathan on the back. “Now, I expect you to be awake bright and early at ten in the morning to go to work. We open in a week, and there are so many preparations to make. Another couple arrives tomorrow!”
“A couple like us?”
“Oh yes. We started with just myself and loyal little Tasha. Isn’t it wonderful how we’ve grown?”
Jonathan didn’t really have a chance to answer, after Rosie slid up and hopped into his massive, rock hard arms.
“Hi, Sweetie,” Rosie embraced him with a loving, passionate kiss. “How is my super stud husband today?”
“I’m doing pretty great. I fucked this girl,” he said, nudging his thigh against Delilah and then Karen. “And this one sucked me off a few times.”
“God, that’s so cool,” Rosie cooed. “I wish you could fuck us all at the same time.”
Mr. Craft cleared his throat. “If I may, ladies and gentleman, you do have the honeymoon suite for one more night. You responded rather...rapidly to our assimilation, good little servants that you are.”
Rosie, Karen, and Delilah’s faces all lit up at once. “Oh please!” they all moaned. “Take us, Sir! Take us in your big suite! Take us all!”
Jonathan smiled. He loved the casino. He would do anything or anyone for it...and so would his wife.
# # #
Hypno Casino: The Beach
“Let me get this straight,” said Johnny Falco, owner of the Desert Beach Casino. “You want me to sign over the rights to my entire bus
iness? The same business that I spent thirty years building from the ground up, that business? Are you out of your mind?”
The gorgeous brunette across from him crossed her legs and smiled. Johnny watched the motion, a long, longing sigh threatening to leave his mouth. Her long, graceful legs were kept beneath a daringly short skirt, with smoky stockings covering the rest—except for, of course, her high high heels.
Selene was painfully, omnisciently, omnipresently gorgeous. She was hard not to want—hard not to lust after, in fact. The lust permeated in him in a visceral way—he could practically feel her soft skin sliding under his fingers every time he glanced at her.
“Mr. Falco, I’m sure you can understand my position. I’m here on orders. I have to follow my orders no matter what.” Her voice was a silky, hotly accented purr. Eastern European, he thought. She put a delicate gloved finger up to her delicately beautiful lips. “Oh, I’m so sorry. Perhaps you don’t understand. A man like you, so very much in charge of everything you see, probably doesn’t understand what it’s like to take orders anymore. Do you?”
It was hard to focus on most anything she said when her tits were just flagrantly bursting out from her tiny little parody of a business suit the way they were.
There was no other way to put it—the woman was a looker. She reminded him of the kind of woman he used to lust after when he was younger—much younger. The kind of femme fatale you would see on the screen, deadly and sexy at the same time. Her thick, voluminous hair fell down her back in a rich, chestnut wave. Her sensuously beautiful face young and somehow wise, as if she knew every thought that crossed his mind already when it came to looking at her—and what was more, she wanted him to think those dirty thoughts.
The question wasn't whether she wanted him thinking about her on her knees before him, begging to attend his rod, but rather why she wanted that. Was it due to attraction, or (more likely) due to manipulation?
Even if she was manipulating him, Falco had to admit he was enjoying it. The half-hard cock he boasted spoke to that. The attention was a nice change. It wasn't that he was a man who had trouble ferreting up partners for sex—or at least, he never had trouble before he was married. Ever since he had tied the knot, though, his thick head of dark hair and naturally athletic frame seemed all for naught, with his wife growing more apathetic by the day.
This Selene was from the Shining Spiral, one of Vegas’s newest casinos. And, so far, it was one of the city's most effective casinos as well. Falco hadn’t heard a single negative thing about it—in fact, most everyone raved about the experience. It must have been raking in the dough.
Falco didn’t get it. They had nothing for kids there, no shows. Just a hotel, a pool, and lots of gambling. It was a low-rent place—and yet it was already getting more than ten percent of the market share in Vegas. More than that, nobody seemed to leave with more than just lint in their pockets.
Johnny Falco had built the Vegas Beach Casino from the ground-up a little over twenty years ago, starting when he was just a kid, no more than twenty years-old himself and not even legal to gamble on the Strip.
It started with just cheap setting—the consumer had to do most of the work for the casino to believe they were on the beach. Plastic palm trees with shiny metal leaves, dirty sand brought in from the edge of the desert that Falco shoveled into the back of his small truck by himself, that sort of thing. The kind of decoration you might expect from a kid’s birthday party.
For whatever reason, it was a hit—for a while. People loved the quasi-trashy feel of the place, and were more than willing to indulge in the cheap Hurricanes and Long Island Iced Teas he put on deep discount.
But cheap drinks and cheaper décor only went so far. He’d had to upgrade, and upgrade, and upgrade again.
All told, he had invested millions of dollars in his growing casino resort over the decades. Today, he had a fully operating beach on the ground floor—and one on the twelfth, twentieth, and thirty-fourth. Each one had regular waves of varying sizes depending on the time of day. No saltwater, of course. That would start degrading the building too easily. But people tended to like fresh water better anyway.
The ground floor beach was, of course, the largest—but not necessarily the most luxurious. They were available to any guest at the casino, and so often were incredibly crowded—like a normal beach. The higher floors had expansive systems of holograms and screens that allowed for a more immersive experience.
Not that any of that was really on Falco's mind at the moment. The cleavage of the heavenly brunette in front of him was a rather immersive experience all on its own. A shiny jeweled pendant hung from her neck, resting comfortably between her twin globes.
Noticing his gaze, Selene smiled, touching her delectable chest. “You’re staring at my breasts, Mr. Falco.”
“So what if I am?”
She shrugged. The motion simply made her amazing breasts slide together. They looked hot and somehow moist. “That’s largely my position on the matter. I like to be looked at. I am a gorgeous woman, after all. Certainly you’ve noticed.”
“Maybe I have.”
“Of course you have.” She snapped the edge of her jacket against one tit, making it jiggle. They both watched this for a moment, each clearly enjoying themselves. “Your entire staff has noticed as well. Most of them are ready to eat directly out of my hand. Isn’t that nice of them? They’re so ready to mutiny against you, just because of how gorgeous I am. I do so love being so perfectly gorgeous for...” she smiled, eyes sweeping the room. “Mmm, well, for many reasons.”
He frowned. “You’ve got a lofty opinion of yourself.”
“I do.” She stood up, strutting up toward his desk. The fabric of her skirt stretched neatly as she slid over the desk corner, her legs sweeping closer to him. “Well-deserved, I hope?”
Falco sat back. “Listen, lady, you’re hot, I’ll give you that. But I’ve seen plenty of hot ladies in this town. Hell, in this office. Double hell, doing this very same thing you’re doing. And if you think you’re gonna put one over on me just because you got fabulous tits and a gorgeous face, then you’re in the wrong town.”
A disappointed little pout spread over her face. “I really had been hoping that you would simply see things my way,” she said. Her voice was like a collection of velvet blankets, warm and staggeringly comforting. “That’s all right, though. I understand that a strong, strong man like you would need some rather effective convincing.”
Her heel slid up his leg, and she bit down on her lip, luxuriating in the feel of his leg. Stubbornly, he crossed his arms.
“No dice, sister.”
She smiled, “Oh, that? That’s not part of the ploy. I just enjoy touching you. I was ordered to enjoy touching you, as a matter of fact. I enjoy everything about you, now.”
Falco's frowned deepened. Just what did that mean? But then her fingers began toying with the jewel pendant on her necklace. There was an audible click—and the jewel opened up, revealing twin spirals. One for each of his eyes.
“Now,” she said, leaning forward more and more. “Won’t you consider what I have to say? I’d love for you to consider it very, very carefully.”
At first, his eyes tried desperately to stay firmly affixed to her cleavage as it closed in. But the spirals...the spirals...the spirals...
The spirals made everything in his life seem unimportant and everything she said make perfect sense.
* * * * *
Johnny Falco didn’t exactly wake up, but rather was just suddenly aware—he was in the middle of a hallway in front of his penthouse apartment at the top of the casino. Nearby, a tall mirror told him he looked as disheveled as he felt. He took some time and tucked in his shirt and buttoned his jacket. How long had he been walking for?
His balls ached, like he had been cumming for ages—like entire volumes of his lust had been written out due to some angel's happy inspiration. But when he tried to place how and why, all he could recall was simple, happy w
hite-washed bliss.
He remembered some things—Selene talking to him in that perfect accent, sounding so perfectly even and wonderful, every last thing she said making quite a lot of sense. She was a smart, smart woman, that Selene. He ought to trust her with everything.
Falco walked through the front door of his home, tired and distantly horny. His wife Stephanie was there, sitting down in her chair examining a beauty magazine. Their maid Lola poured her a glass of wine. It was two in the afternoon—a little early for such refreshments, he felt.
Stephanie, lovely and pampered, was twenty years younger than him. They hadn’t been married for very long—only three years. But, already, it felt like much of the magic had abandoned them. They hadn't had sex for over a month, and hadn't had a decent bout in over a year.
Truth be told, he suspected that his blond, fantastically leggy wife was engaged in some extramarital activity. If he had considered that even yesterday, he would have worked himself up into a rage. But now, his anger at adultery felt distant, removed.
At the same time, all the sexual exhaustion he felt from whatever happened with Selene seemed to melt away from him. Instead, now, examining his beautiful wife's form, he could feel his lust rising again.
“Lola,” said Falco, admiring Stephanie's long legs beneath her tight sundress, “why don’t you take off for a bit?”
Lola left with a short, knowing smile. She’d propositioned Falco a number of times—or near enough for him to proposition her, anyway—but he’d resisted. She was a lovely sort—curvy and short, with bright blue eyes. She didn't seem to care at all that he was married.
But even so, Stephanie meant more to him than anyone, and almost more than anything. The casino, of course, would always be number one.
And Selene...Selene was definitely high up on that list. She deserved it. She was so gorgeous.
He leaned down and kissed Stephanie on the cheek. Thoughts of Selene's cleavage flashed in his mind, and his kisses became more insistent. Stephanie barely shifted attention from her magazine article—tips on how to make her hair really stand-out this season. Pressing onward, he listed kisses down her cheek and neck.
Hypno Casino: The Bundle (The Shining Spiral Saga) Page 4