I’d like to say this experience becomes boring after a while, but that would be a lie. Three men sharing one woman is always fucking exhilarating.
The Wicked Horse in Las Vegas, Nevada is sort of my home away from home. It’s a decadent sex club with a never-ending supply of eroticism, ripe for the taking.
Up on a raised dais, we’re displayed on a mattress covered in black silk. Behind the glass wall in front of us, a dozen or more people are avidly watching me get my cock sucked.
That’s part of the thrill, of course.
Having people’s eyes on me.
A blonde takes me deep, her lips stretched wide. Her throat tightly massages my length, and it feels so fucking good.
Beneath her is a dude I just met tonight… Rick Something-or-Other. While he’s flat on his back, I’m kneeling over his head. I can’t see his face, but I can hear his groans as the woman rides him.
Alicia and I have fucked several times before. She loves taking three men at once, something few women here can do. Hell, I’ve seen Alicia take two cocks in her ass at the same time—an experienced porn-star type of trick.
She enjoys sex—like every other patron in this establishment—and I admire the hell out of her. Over my time here, I’ve gotten to know Alicia well. A sharp lady with a brilliant mind, she’s a corporate attorney who isn’t interested in relationships or having children. She spends her days working hard, leaving her evenings free for unlimited orgasms.
As I drive my hips deeper, I test how much Alicia can take. When she extends her neck to peer up, I slide farther into her throat. Expertly, she accommodates me without even a hint of a gag reflex. She’s practically perfect.
From underneath, Rick steadily pumps into her. It has to be damn near impossible for Alicia to find a rhythm while three men try to claim her, so she holds herself still and lets us have our way.
Trailing my gaze along her slender back, which is arched in pleasure, to her upturned ass, I eye my buddy, Declan Blackwood, who slowly fucks her. He’s barely two feet from me, Alicia sandwiched in between us. I have her mouth filled while he’s plundering her ass. From prior experience, I know she’s extremely tight, but she can handle more than he’s giving her.
He grins. “This is the life, right, August?”
Sliding his hands down for a firmer grip on her hips, he slams into her. Alicia groans against my cock and my balls contract, then start to tingle.
“Sure the fuck is,” I mutter right before I shoot my load down her throat.
When Declan holds his glass of bourbon up, I tip the edge of mine to it. We’re taking a break at the bar in the Social Room, but we’re by no means done for the evening.
Above the Onyx Casino in Vegas, The Wicked Horse is spread out over multiple rooms. The Social Room is exactly what it sounds like—a place to mingle and meet potential hookups. Declan and I stand at the bar, which is a position we find ourselves in a few times a week. We met several months ago and we’ve become fast friends, despite the fact we have little in common outside the club.
I’m a former Vegas cop now employed by Jameson Force Security, a company that provides high-end security. Our services are not only for private individuals, but also for our government. I make good money—more than enough for a lovely home in an upper-class neighborhood and a Range Rover. But Declan Blackwood is insanely wealthy. Heir to the Blackwood hotel fortune, he’s as close to American royalty as one can get.
Still, we’ve become tight over our months of hanging together in the Wicked Horse.
Sometimes, we simply enjoy a drink and shoot the shit. After, he’ll go fuck whomever he wants in whichever room, and I’ll do the same.
Other times… like tonight… we’ll share a woman.
And still others… one will fuck a woman while the other watches.
There are no limits—except personal ones—in The Wicked Horse. Because I tend to live in a world where I have to play by strict rules, it’s incredibly liberating to have a place to go where there aren’t any.
“Got any cool missions coming up?” Declan asks me, but his eyes are on a woman at the end of the bar. With milky-white skin and jet-black hair cut severely over her dark eyes, she has a real Morticia Addams vibe going on. I bet she’s into some freaky shit.
“Nothing right now,” I reply, swirling the amber liquid in my glass before taking a sip. My job might require me to spend weeks in a place like Somalia only to send me home to Vegas for several weeks off. It’s definitely an up-and-down business, and it makes planning for the long-term difficult.