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A couple nights after Jeri’s visit, Fritz called to talk to both Ron and MaryAnn. “Hey folks I just got back from Sacramento. Suddenly I’m the Golden Boy in politics and the nabobs up north have been teaching me how to comport myself in the nation’s capital. I leave for Washington in a couple weeks to settle in, but first things first.

“When we can make the arrangements Jeri and I are going to keep a promise to ourselves. We’re taking a three-day vacation in Las Vegas and Jeri insists insist our favorite campaigners come along — all on us.”

Ron asked, “Surely you don’t mean ‘all on us?’ Is this legal?”

Fritz chuckled. “Great minds think alike Ron. I was concerned about that too, but my advisors tell me it’s completely legal. After all this is my money. I made a bit at lawyering you know. In any case I owe you folks big time. You made it happen. Now shut up about it and let us treat our best friends to a three-day getaway.”

Ron and MaryAnn were indeed ready for a vacation and one with two good friends sounded like a wonderful idea.

When they hung up MaryAnn asked her husband, “Do you think Jeri is sexy darling?”

“Oh my god yes. She has a figure that would look good in a porn flick, but you know what really excites me?”

MaryAnn reflected that he wouldn’t have been quite so candid before they started swinging. She hugged him, fondled his crotch and whispered, “What about her excites you. . ohh did I cause that?” She grasped his burgeoning cock.

“I think you have been talking dirty to someone. . . but, Jeri? You want to know what about her excites me? Like you, she’s honest. I’m certain she doesn’t lie. I wonder if she ever even faked an orgasm?”

MaryAnn answered, “If she did it was with her husband. . . unless she was lying about never being with someone else of course.”

“I knew it! You were telling family secrets, and apparently so was she. Does that affect us in any way, say, in Las Vegas?”

“I hope so.”

All at once the atmosphere was charged with sexual potency. His mind was on Jeri, and on MaryAnn’s response to his oblique question. Her hand had invaded his pants and was gently stroking his cock. He pushed his own hand up under her sweater and tweaked her nipples. She felt like she was nineteen, on a date, and being seduced by a boy she really liked.

She decided to let her would-be lover skip second and third bases and head for home. She sat down on the couch. He joined her, kissed her, then started to feel her up. She would be a pushover, literally. A slight push and she fell back on the couch. He eased her back and she lay down, her skirt up around her waist. Then she pulled him on top of her. He pulled down her panties, dropped his trousers, and moved on top.

She guided it in and they had one of the fast fucks they had learned to love lately. She met every stroke with one of her own. Within a few minutes he commenced with those short fast ones, uttered “I love you MaryAnn” for the umpteenth time of the session, then he held it tight inside her and it happened.

As they lay there, still entwined, she asked him, “Good eh?”

He kissed her again and said, “The best.”

“Think I’m better than Jeri would be?”

Ron had been thinking exactly that, but decided against saying it. “Oh of course not.”

As she pushed him off her, she gave with that wicked smile she had when she was up to something, “If you ever find out, let me know.”

Within a week all arrangements had been made and four middle-aged, but giddy people were off to the city of sin, a place that promised “Whatever happens in Las Vegas Stays in Las Vegas.” Jeri thought about the slogan, but she just wasn’t sure things would happen. She underestimated her friend who, herself, had no doubt at all. MaryAnn didn’t wait for things to happen. She made them happen. After all she had engineered the impossible election of Jeri’s husband.

Fritz spared no expense. He had rented a penthouse suite complete with two adjoining bedrooms, a spacious living room, and a fantastic view of the lights of Paris, New York, Rome, and Camelot. On weekends the suite generally was comped to a whale, a high-roller among high-rollers — one of those guys who routinely bet ten grand at a pop. Ron had to pay for the room. It was much less expensive than gambling enough to get a place like this “free.”

The first night’s agenda included dinner in the finest restaurant on the strip, some dancing in a skyroom, then a couple hours of giving money back to the house at the gaming tables. The four of them were overdressed for a casual town like Las Vegas. Both guys wore a suit and tie, and looked spiffy in them. MaryAnn and Jeri both wore dresses, both were low cut, and looked hot in them.

When they met in the living room, MaryAnn, remarked, “Hey Jeri, we look like a couple high class hookers. We will have to hang out around the big stakes tables and show our tits.”

Jeri, by now used to MaryAnn’s brashness, pulled her dress away from her breasts briefly exposing her nipples and asked, “Wonder how much these would go for?”

MaryAnn noticed Ron bending over to get a good look. She said, “I’m sure they are worth only about a thousand — each.”

It was going to be a great evening. MaryAnn promised herself that she would be very circumspect in her drinking. She loved the excitement this evening promised but wanted to control the excitement.

At the top restaurant on the strip, she ordered bouillabaisse and wondered if the shellfish really acted as a sexual stimulant, not that she figured she needed it. She also passed up on white wine in order to sip a Burgundy. She was feeling good enough not to need any liquor to reach some sort of nirvana.

The conversation was casual and free flowing, not much politics but a lot of social comments. All considered themselves freethinkers and avoided dogma. Jeri seemed to spend a lot of time looking at Ron, just as MaryAnn figured she would.

Then to the club in the skyroom. A live band was there. MaryAnn hardly missed a dance, except to turn down a guy who insisted “Hey little lady, come on. If something happens we can leave it here, just like they say.” She reflected that under different circumstances it might be an adventure but she did have on an expensive dress, and her would-be paramour looked as if he might not hold his supper. She gave him a smile and a “no, but thanks for asking.”

Fritz asked, “How much do you think you could have got for an hour or so?”

“Less than I’ll lose in a couple hours playing Texas Hold-em. Now dance with me before Mr. Drunk comes back.”

The evening was off to a nice start. Fritz was a good dancer and she moved in closer than he expected. When he looked down at her she smiled and said, “We are good friends aren’t we.?”

He smiled back and commented, “Jeri said you two had the best conversation since you were sorority sisters at the big college up the road.”

“Oh we did. We had a lot to talk about whether you folks could keep your privacy and live your lives as you wished now that you are a public figure.”

“I’m sure you had good advice. You’ve been pretty much in the spotlight yourself what with your writing and opinions. How do you keep your privacy.”

“To start with I never do anything scandalous.” She gave him a big grin then added, “Of course I have to change the definition of “scandalous” now and then. Mostly though Ron and I ensure that whatever happens behind our closed doors stays behind our closed doors.”

His hand drifted a bit south and he gave her a slight squeeze. She smiled and moved almost imperceptibly closer. Surely this was an omen to more intimate touching later. Things were right on schedule. She looked over at Ron and Jeri and noticed their handsome counterparts also dancing close together. She reflected everything so far was akin to foreplay, exquisite foreplay.

Then back to their own hotel casino for a couple hours of what the chamber of commerce euphemistically calls “gaming.” The guys headed for the craps tables, Jeri to the slots, and MaryAnn to the poker table. There was room for one more at a Texas hold-em table. One player was a woman and she was not Annie Duke. Nor were any of the men Chris Moneymaker or Professor Lederer. The folks at the table were probably good but not invulnerable. MaryAnn had a chance.

She knew the rules and had a good grasp of the odds, but the top-dogs didn’t have to stop to remember either. They had both down pat. While she would be trying to figure out her chances of filling a winning hand they would already be planning how to extract the maximum amount of money out of what they had, or could expect to have, or what they would pretend they had. The ability to do all that smoothly was what separated the big winners from the rest, and the rest from their money.

But MaryAnn wasn’t outclassed in an average game. She knew people well from her experiences as a journalist and she knew how to spot a braggart when she was interviewing someone. How much different would it be to spot one at the poker table?

She bought two thousand in chips and joined the game. The table had a limit of five hundred per bet. Yes, a bad run would wipe her out, but she figured she could hang on and, maybe make a profit. This was one of the few games where she would not be fighting immutable house odds.

The other woman was a bit older, perhaps fiftyish, but still striking. MaryAnn sensed her resentment. Mrs. Fifty-Something wouldn’t get all the attention now. Well this might work out for her. Getting the best cards not nearly as important as playing mediocre ones wisely. That and flashing her tits perhaps.

As the game progressed MaryAnn folded more often than not, contributing to the ante and blinds with no return. But she kept her eyes open and looked for something she could use. When she won a small pot, she gave with a Scarlett O’Hare flutter, leaned over towards the other gal and made her tits wiggle.

Would her act of ingenuity work? Or did her opponent wonder if she was being set up? A macho dude at the table was amused at it. “Damn it was worth losing just to see that.” The thing was that both the woman and Mr. Macho were solid players. The others simply nursed their chips and played without imagination. She followed the maxim “don’t try to bluff a poor player, or a good one who is on a losing streak unless he gives an indication that he or she might fold.”

Then it happened! Mrs. Fifty checked then bet the limit against a small raise before the flop. The flop brought three cards to a straight with two more coming. Her opponent had something for her initial check-raise, surely a big pair. It didn’t look as if they had been helped, no big cards on the table. The straight looked plausible. MaryAnn raised back, the limit. The other guy folded. There was about fifteen hundred on the table. It would take a good player to fold.

Mrs. Fifty took made a long look at the board. She could count as well as anybody. A long pause then she said, “Shit! Lucky broad.” and folded. MaryAnn nonchalantly turned her cards over. They were a nine and a six, utterly worthless.

“Lucky,” MaryAnn asked? She then murmured audibly enough for Macho to hear. “Why Ah’m just a poor working girl.” “Working girl” was a euphemism for hooker on the strip. She noted that Macho’s eyes finally moved from her breasts and into her eyes when she said it. Then she made a big deal of raking in the pot and stacking her chips, by now a sizable amount.

Later the macho dude came at her and her chips with a vengeance. This time MaryAnn was loaded. She had pocket eights and the flop gave her a third along with two threes. She bet the limit and noticed Macho’s eyes light up. She made him for trip threes with a big kicker, probably an ace or he wouldn’t have hung around. Unless he held a the fourth three this pot belonged to her.

And she had bluffed once very successfully and a couple times for small pots, one unsuccessfully, She knew Mr. Macho was paying attention to her playing and her boobs. Then there was the idea she’d implanted of being a hooker. If she lost he must be calculating she would surely need some extra money.

It was fairly routine one more round of betting, the other players had dropped out, and Macho was down to about five hundred in chips. She could wipe him out in one bet. The final card, “The River,” didn’t look to fit any holding he might have. MaryAnn stood up to make her bet. She bent over and said, “oh what the hell.” and pushed five hundred dollars of chips into the table. She also noted that her dress fell away and Macho could see her nipples if he looked carefully.

He did but he must have felt he’d been had. Still he didn’t want to be bluffed by a woman, and if she lost . . . well a working girl would likely want to recoup her losses. He calculated that it would almost like being free. But he hesitated. Then he looked around the room. This was a tough one. He was beginning to suspect his lovely opponent with the décolletage was a much better player than he had first thought.

MaryAnn helped him make a decision, “Hurry up honey, I have things to do tonight.”

That settled it. Macho took a deep breath, and pushed his remaining chips into the pot. As she raked in the pot, MaryAnn asked “Trips and an ace kicker?”

He gave her a grudging smile and left the table. She hoped he did indeed have enough left over for a hooker. She liked him, but didn’t plan on playing poker with him again. He too wise to be taken to the cleaners a second time.

MaryAnn was aflush with excitement when she left with twice as many chips as she bought. “Damn, this is an exciting night,” she thought. It was a good time to head to the room for a game even more exciting.

Soon four giddy visitors to the city that never sleeps were heading to the penthouse suite reserved for big rollers. “Ahh that was a great night. Any winners here tonight?”

MaryAnn said, “I did okay, and had a barrel of fun doing it.” She didn’t elaborate.

Ron smiled and added, “Look we can sleep for a week after we get home. Let’s shuck these fancy rags and have a night cap, or two, or three.”

MaryAnn and Ron went to their room to change. After they undressed she sat on the edge of the bed and asked Ron, “You know the best cure for premature ejaculation?”

He walked over and said, “What?”

She fondled his cock, said “this,” and took it in her mouth.

Then she moved her mouth on it, felt it grow hard, and kept on sliding up and down on it. When it got going good she grasped his balls. Then she slid one finger up to his ass, probed, and shoved it up there hard.

Ron, alternately holding her head and fondling her titties, moved faster and faster, then “OOOH MY GOD. OHHH JESUS CHRIST.” And he let it go.

“What was that about? And why would I need to worry about premature ejaculation?”

MaryAnn looked at him, gulped, and said, “I think we’re about to find out.”

They changed into their night clothes, MaryAnn into a form fitting pair of chiffon pajamas that showed every part clearly. Just wearing them in this setting made her feel sexy. Ron wore a pair of silk pajamas she had bought for him. Both had a thin robe to effect a modicum of decorum.

They went back to the living room to find their hosts even more provocatively clad. Jeri had on the thinnest negligee possible, and like the dress she had just removed, it plunged just to the edge of her nipples. She had wrapped an equally thin robe around it. MaryAnn reflected that without the cure she had effected, Ron would about on the edge of orgasm just from looking.

“What’ll it be folks,” asked the host. “We have about everything, including some after dinner liqueur.

MaryAnn said, “Don’t tell me you have Cointreau?”

“Of course I do, only the best of everything (he glanced at Jeri) for our guests.”

“Hmmmm I love to treat myself to the best. I’ll have a splash of that, a big splash if you please my love.”

She loved the orange based liqueur for its taste, but even more for the warm feeling it gave her as she swallowed it.

Ron remembered that his wife always seemed turned on by the drink. He turned to Jeri and asked, “How about you may I bring you some Cointreau? It’s perfect for this time of night.”

Jeri said, “Maybe I’ll take a double then. It might make a wonderful evening fantastic.”

And it was a wonderful evening. Soon the conversation turned to personal matters. “Ron, Jeri told me that she and MaryAnn had a wonderful chat a couple nights ago. We envy you folks and the things you can do, but which might be taboo for a nascent congressman.”

Ron gave with a knowing smile and glanced at MaryAnn who stuck out her tongue at hem. He responded to Fritz’s comment, “You know more than I do Fritz, All I know is that our wives had an intimate conversation about intimate things. Why don’t you bring me up to date on what you already know?”

MaryAnn said, “Yes, please go ahead. We’re friends.”

“Well you guys made a pact that you won’t let jealousy drive you apart. Then you pushed it a bit further, until you did some swinging. That excites me and — let’s say — interests Jeri.”

“And I’m betting both of you are wondering how you would get started?”

Jeri broke in with, “Yes, was the first time scary for you MaryAnn, and did you worry about Ron watching?” She knew the answer from the earlier conversation but wanted Fritz to hear it.

MaryAnn had given a lot of thought to her answer, long before it was asked. More than anything she wanted things to go well for her friend. “First only do it if you want to, and only with someone you want to do it with. But you folks don’t dare to attend any sort of party. It’ll have to be just with a few other couples, preferably just one other.

“And yes, it will have to be with your husband watching. That’s the whole idea of the thing, and believe me you’ll find it adds a tremendous amount of excitement.

“But you wanted to know how to get past the first hurdle. I think one friend did it wisely. She and her husband and another couple had all agreed to try it. Then she, herself, broke the ice by pretending she was on a date with a guy she liked. She had the assurances that she could back out if it really bothered her.

So in your case, if you find you can’t handle it, stop. I’m sure nobody will insist you go beyond that point. If you decide to go ahead, you’ll find out you have the horniest husband you ever saw, even if he fucks someone else.

“And remember it isn’t fatal for a marriage. Ron and I are more in love than ever and after swinging our sex is hotter.”

As MaryAnn was talking Ron and Fritz had changed places. Ron was now sitting beside Jeri. She turned to him, “Would you like to kiss me Ron?”

The electricity was in the air. MaryAnn got another shot of Cointreau and felt its heat as it slid down to her belly. When she sat back down it was so close to Fritz his leg rubbed hers. They watched Ron put his arms around Jeri, turned her face to his and put his lips on hers. It was a nice sweet kiss at first, then MaryAnn could see Jeri open her mouth. Things were happening.

Soon the two lovers were making out like high school kids. Ron’s hand went to Jeri’s breast. Without breaking their kiss she moved it away. He moved it to her hip and she didn’t stop him. then he moved it around to her thigh and she left it there until he started pulling up her nightie so he could reach bare skin. Then she moved it but left her legs slightly apart.

Meanwhile, MaryAnn and Fritz were holding hands, nothing more. Both wanted to witness the seduction of his wife.

And on it went. It was a classic seduction, hotter and hotter. Finally Ron pulled her bodice down and her size 36 D breasts came tumbling out. She didn’t pull the nightie back up. He fondled them then bent over and took one into his mouth.

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