Conference in Las Vegas
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Running A Con In Vegas free porn video
I could see the energy-sapping July heat of Las Vegas through the window of the Virgin Atlantic 747 from London as we slowly taxied towards the terminal. The hills in the far distance shimmered as the ground crews sweated in hi-viz waistcoats and shorts. Four days previously, my business partner and occasional fuck buddy, Cameron, had made the same journey from Panama. This would be our third and final visit of the year. We'd keep a low profile until we returned next January.
You see, we are fraudsters, thieves, con artists, call us what you will. This is how we make our living. Okay, it's not very moral but I couldn't care less. We take money from fat cats who don't think twice about cheating on their wives. Cameron and I won't meet on this trip. We'll stay in different hotels and communicate via highly encrypted emails through servers in Croatia.
So who are we? I'm Vanessa Pilkington, very distantly connected to the Pilkington Glass empire. I'm 5'3" in heels, 29, slim, fantastically beautiful, with naturally round C-cup breasts and an ass that men, and some women, drool over. Yes, I'm vain and have a big ego too. Cameron is stick thin and geeky but with a nice cock that I sometimes enjoy.
We met at Oxford where I was taking a masters degree in Mathematical and Computational Finance having previously graduated with honours in Psychology (Experimental). Cameron was taking the same course but in parallel with a degree in Classical Archaeology and Ancient History. Yes, he really is that smart. After graduating, we kept in touch and realised that we whilst we both enjoyed academia, we hated working for a living.
Cameron has another talent, apart from being able to fuck non-stop for an hour - he's a brilliant hacker. By brilliant, I mean in the top three worldwide, if not the best. But unlike others who have fancy dark web nicknames, Cameron keeps an ultra-low profile. He doesn't belong to groups, chat on message boards or publicise his hacks. He's the hacker that doesn't exist. He hacks for self-satisfaction, nothing else. Well, apart from funding his life in a five-star rain forest resort in Panama.
Of course, I'm not here as Vanessa Pilkington. The Bellagio knows me as Lady Constance Davenport, third daughter to 17th Earl of Rochester. A fact supported by my birth certificate and passport, provided via a little hacking by Cameron. As this is my eleventh visit to the Bellagio they know me well and soon I was in my usual Chairman's Suite. Of course, the Belaggio will have checked up on me but Cameron dealt with that. One of our advantages was that we both had spotless criminal records, having never been arrested or even got a parking ticket, or been fingerprinted or DNA tested. We were squeaky clean.
I was looking forward to a light meal, shower and bed but when I got to my suite and checked my emails there was an urgent one from Cameron. He had a target. Shit. We time our visits to coincide with conferences. Forget the likes of Comic Con, we go for events such as the International Business & Leadership Conference or banking conferences. We were here this week for the diamond dealers conference followed by a strategic investment conference and a mining conference. Events where the attendees are wealthy with fat corporate credit cards. Events that wouldn't attract much interest in the media. Boring shit.
Cameron had spent weeks checking delegate lists, hotel reservation systems, flights, banks accounts, social media, porn sites and emails. He was looking for wealthy married men (occasionally women), with corporate credit cards, expense accounts, probably unsatisfied sexual cravings and who were flying home the next day. George Winkleman from New York fit the bill perfectly. 62 years old, bald, married and CEO of Dean & White Gems. His preference on-line was bondage and anal. He was booked on the 7.10am to JFK the next morning. His Bellagio account showed he'd been here for three nights and each evening visited the hotel's Petrossian Bar and charged four cocktails to his room between 9 and 10:30pm.
The time now was 7pm, I had two hours. Bugger. I'd been up since 5am and it was now 3am the next day in London. Twenty-two bloody hours but there was no time for a nap. After a quick call to room service for a chef's salad and to have my Dior black dress steamed, I studied George's profile. I always ignore their surname in case of an unintentional slip-up - how would I know their surname? As well as his picture there were five video clips of him from the Bellagio CCTV system. A little tubby but I've been to bed with worse.
As I unpacked my bags a courier and escort arrived with a package from Sinclair Jewellers. Onto the bed, I put my killer black outfit - heels, stockings, panties, suspenders and half-cup push-up bra. The courier package contained my rented gold necklace, gold bracelet and diamond earrings. Just needed the dress. A quick shower, salad, teeth, hair, make-up, Chanel perfume, get dressed. Lastly, I took the clock from the side table, put it in a drawer and replaced it with one from my bag. My little insurance policy.
At 9:15 I walked into the bar and looked around. It was very busy but eventually, I spotted him sitting alone at a table with a book. One of the benefits of being perceived as a VVIP is that your details are circulated to all staff. A waiter appeared at my side and gave a slight bow, "Delighted to see you again Lady Davenport, unfortunately, as you can see are we very busy tonight, would you mind sharing a table?"
"No, that's fine," I smiled, "How about that one, I don't like to be too close to the piano." Well, that was easier than I'd expected!
The waiter gesticulated to another who approached George's table and spoke to him. By the time I got there he had straightened up and his book had vanished. After the waiter seated me, I asked for a Macallan scotch with water. Smiling at George I said, "Thank you so much for letting me share your table. It's frightfully busy tonight isn't it?"
"My pleasure," he beamed, holding out his hand, "I'm George, from New York."
"A delightful city," I said, shaking his hand, "Constance, from London but currently residing in Dublin."
He smiled, "The tart with the cart."
"I beg your pardon?"
"Sorry," he hurriedly said, "Don't they have nicknames for their statues there?"
"Oh, of course," I laughed, "Yes, The Tart with the Cart is Molly Malone. Oscar Wilde reclining on a rock is The Fag on the Crag. I believe that Anna Livia in a fountain is The Floozie in the Jacuzzi. Not particularly politically correct I'm afraid."
George roared with laughter, a little too loudly. The waiter appeared with my drink, "Your scotch Lady Davenport, Chairman's Suite Two as usual?"
"Please, on my tab if you'll allow me, Constance," George quickly said.
"Why thank you, George," I smiled. After he ordered another drink for himself I said, "So why is a handsome man sitting here on his own?"
He blushed before saying, "I was about to ask you the same question, as a lady, not a man of course."
"Of course," I smiled, "I'm here for a few days on behalf of my father. He has a number of business interests here. I dined with a client at Mizumi but he had a 9pm flight to JFK so it was a short dinner."
He frowned, "I wasn't aware there was a 9pm to JFK?"
"A corporate jet out of Henderson Executive." We'd used this line before and it never fails to impress.
"Mizumi?" He said, "I've been trying to get a table there for years."
I shrugged, "Connections, George. Perhaps you'd like to join me tomorrow evening?"
"I'd be delighted," he smiled, "But I have a flight early tomorrow morning."
"Pity," I said licking my lips, "And we were getting on so well, but we have this evening. So you haven't answered my question, George, what brings you to town?"
"A gem dealers convention."
"Which is now over?"
"No, but the remainder doesn't interest me, it runs for another two days. I have a client flying in from Buenos Aires tomorrow afternoon, hence my early departure." I already knew that from his profile after Cameron hacked his diary, hence I knew I was safe with the Mizumi invitation. He continued, "Your earrings. Am I really looking at Fancy Deep Blue?"
"These things?" I said touching my ear, "I don't know, are they?"
"May I?" he asked.
"Of course," I said, removing the left one and handing it over. He produced a jewellers eyepiece and squinted at it.
"Incredible diamonds," he gushed, "Have you ever considered selling them?"
"No, they were an anniversary gift from my late husband," I said, putting on my sad face.
"My condolences," he said, handing it back.
"Life must go on," I said, "So where else do your travels normally take you?"
"Mostly South Africa, Russia and Australia but also Dubai, Amsterdam and London. Vegas is just for the conference. I never achieve much here but my face has to be seen. You?"
"California, Australia, New Zealand, Chile, France, Portugal and a few other places."
"Wine production?"
"Precisely. My father's health isn't so good these days, he hasn't travelled at all this year. Is New York home?"
"For now, until I retire, then maybe Arizona or New Mexico, I've had enough of shovelling snow. Do you get much snow in England?"
"No," I said, "Latitude wise, London is north of Calgary but we're protected by the Gulf Stream. Did you know that half the Canadian population lives south of Milan?"
"No, I didn't. Why Dublin?"
"Tax reasons for now but I'm moving to Oxford soon to be with my father for his last few months."
"Oh dear, terminal?"
"I'm afraid so, in some ways, it'll be a relief though. I seem to have finished my drink, I guess I ought to be going, more meetings tomorrow."
"Please stay for another," he said quickly, "I'm so much enjoying your company."
I gave him my best smile and said, "Oh you smooth talker, George, one more then."
After two more drinks, he excused himself to the restroom which allowed me to pop the little pill into his drink where it fizzed for a few seconds. By the end of the next drink, he was far less inhibited. "I can't believe I'm sitting here with such a beautiful woman," he grinned.
"Why, George, I do believe you might be making a pass at me," I giggled.
He was staring at my tits as he shook his head, "An old guy like me?"
I took his hand and said, "George, my husband was sixty-six when he passed away. All women have preferences, mine happens to be older men, especially bald men. A shiny head always reminds me of the shiny head of a hard cock when the skin is pulled back. I like licking both."
George coughed and swallowed, "Really?"
"Oh, George," I said, "It's such a pity you're going in the morning, we could have had such a good time. I guess you'll be having an early night."
He quickly shook his head, "No, no, I can sleep on the plane."
I looked at him intently whilst biting my lip. "George, shall we be naughty? Have you ever seen a Chairman's Suite?"
"N..., n..., n..., no," he stammered.
"Come on then," I said taking his hand, "Perhaps a nightcap together."
With my arm through his, I led him to the elevators like a puppy. "Wow!" he said, stepping into the suite, "How the other half lives, eh?"
I smiled, "I can't imagine that someone in your line of work is exactly struggling, George. Can I get you a drink?"
"Ah..., possibly a brandy?"
"Help yourself, the bar is over there. Make yourself comfortable, I'm just going to get out of these shoes." In the bedroom I emailed Cameron - 'Standy'.
I emerged wearing a white bathrobe. George, who'd taken his jacket off, looked me over and smiled saying, "I didn't ask what you would like."
Slowly I walked up to him and said, "I not sure I'm allowed what I want, George."
"W..., what would that be?"
I brushed my fingertips up his arm. "Why you George, you silly thing. I want you. Some men just seem to have an effect on me."
"I'm married."
"That's okay, this is a one-off, George. A wild night of passion and we'll never meet again. Your wife will never know. Perhaps you can fulfil a dream, I'm very accommodating." Slowly, I undid his tie and used it to pull him towards the bed. He sat down with a bump.
"I really don't think..."
He stopped when I slipped the robe off my shoulders and let it fall to the floor. His mouth hung open as he looked at my stockings, suspenders and lacy panties. "Dear God," he finally moaned, reaching out and touching my leg. Locking my eyes on his I sank to my knees and pushed him back onto his elbows. My hands edged up his trousers until they rested on the fabric covering his cock. He wasn't rock hard but there was definitely a swelling.
He still wasn't sure. "I...," he started to say.
I pulled down his zip saying seductively, "Can your wife deep throat, George?" He shook his head. I continued, "Men tell me that it's their best experience ever to have their cock in my throat." He just stared at me. "George, we both want each other, why don't we dispense with these silly formalities? Please get undressed." He was in such a hurry he tried to pull his trousers off over his shoes.
I may be a thief but I always deliver. It's one reason why we've never been caught. Some victims don't even realise they've been taken, other's aren't sure and even more probably don't care. They just remember the fantastic sex with a beautiful woman. So what if it cost them a shit load of money? Cameron's cock actually wasn't too bad. Maybe a tad under six inches. "Remember what I said about bald heads, George," I said as I licked it.
"Uh huh," he grunted. He was laid flat on the bed with his head on a pillow. Kneeling at his side I gave him a good view of my panty covered ass as I edged downwards. Gripping his now hard cock, I licked the head again. "Nnnnnn...," he sighed.
For a few minutes, I sucked his cock and deep throated him as he caressed my ass. As always, I was very careful not to let him cum. Finally, I released him saying, "It's no good, George, I need your gorgeous cock inside me."
"Okay," he blurted.
I looked thoughtful before saying, "I wonder if you might indulge a little harmless fetish of mine? I like to be on top with the man looking helpless. Could I tie your hands to the headboard? There are two bathrobes each with a towelling belt."
He nodded so hard I almost laughed. Men are so fucking pathetic. As I tied them I said, "There, not too tight, it's just a bit of fun isn't it?"
George watched me intently, his cock twitching, as I stripped off. "Mother of God," he moaned as I sank onto his cock and pushed my tits into his face. I rode him gently for a few minutes before suddenly stopping.
"What's the matter?" he said, looking worried.
"I'm being greedy, indulging myself," I said, "I think it's your turn."
"I don't understand, this is great."
"Yes, but why don't we make it even more special? What's your greatest fantasy? What have you always wanted to do that your wife won't do?"
"I..."
"Come on George, I'm a woman of the world, tell me your deepest desire." As I said that I gripped his cock with my cunt.
"Anal," he said, in a barely discernable whisper.
"Goodness gracious!" I said.
"Sorry, but you did say...," he said looking sheepish.
"No, no," I said, "You just took me by surprise that's all. I have done it before but only when I was very drunk."
"Another scotch?" he grinned.
"No," I laughed, "Only Krug Champagne sends me silly, that's why I avoid it."
"Didn't I see some in the bar?" he asked hopefully.
I shook my head, "No only small bottles."
"Room service?" he said, "On me." I could hear the desperation in his voice.
"You really want a $500 bottle of Champagne on your room bill, George?" I asked, tilting my head.
"No, you're right. Let's make it two bottles. I could phone it down and use a credit card?"
"No, I don't trust hotel phone lines, especially with credit card details," I said, "There is a Bellagio secure app though, which allows you to access room service, we could try that?"
"Yes, yes," he said, "My wallet is in my jacket."
I picked up my phone and pretended to download the app. In fact, the app on my phone was designed by Cameron. I pulled out some credit cards saying, "I'm assuming you don't want this on a private card?"
"No, use the American Express card, with Dean & White on it."
I typed in the details then said, "It's asking for a PIN, I'll untie you."
"No, I trust you."
"Absolutely not," I said, "You should never give your PIN to anyone, especially someone you've only just met." I untied him and let him type it in while I looked away. Cameron's fake app looked perfect as he'd based it on the genuine Bellagio one.
Within seconds, Cameron in his room at the Motel 6 near the airport had all he needed. He would now place the Champagne order using the genuine app, then set to work. I know what you're thinking - why is he in a Motel 6 when I'm in the Bellagio? The simple answer is, he's happy there. In fact, he even regards the motel as an unnecessary luxury. He'd be happier in a tent but he needs power and internet. Over the next few hours, he would make multiple transactions, all of which would appear on the Amex account unobtrusively as 'Anderson Consulting', 'Westminster Imports', 'Cape Town Communications' and so on. Companies set up by Cameron a few days ago in the Marshall Islands.
Drinking from the bottles over the next hour we descended into giggly debauchery. In his excitement, Cameron didn't realise that he was drinking twice as much as me. We swopped mouth fulls of it, drank from my shoes and Cameron licked it off my breasts. He nearly lost it completely when I put my feet behind my head and upturned the bottle into my cunt. He gurgled like a happy baby when I squatted over him and let it gush out into his mouth.
Finally, with him very drunk, the two bottles were empty. It was time for his treat. I knelt in front of him, sucked him to hardness and handed him a tube of lube. With him standing I knelt on the edge of the bed with my ass in the air. With remarkable self-control, he used a finger to gently lubricate my anus. "You really have got the most beautiful ass," he said.
"Go gently," I said, "I'm not used to cock as big as yours." Nothing like a bit of flattery to boost a guy's confidence. I felt the head of his cock on my ring, relaxed and pushed back. This wasn't going to be a chore for me, I really do enjoy a good ass fucking but usually, have to use my fingers on my clit to bring myself off. Unfortunately, I didn't get a chance with George. He let out a cry after three thrusts. The excitement proved too much for him and he came in my ass. Damn.
He left happy though at just after midnight. I hope he made his flight. We took him for $127,500. Would he have linked it to me? Possibly, but I never saw his PIN and a check of the Bellagio records would have shown an order placed via its secure app, albeit thirty seconds later. Anyway, would he have gone to the Police to complain that he'd been conned whilst fucking a woman up the ass? Just in case, I saved the high definition video from the clock to a secure cloud account.
Over the next eight days I was pissed on, fucked, deep-throated, tied up, ass fucked and I wanked off a guy in a babygro. The things a girl has to do to earn a crust. By the time we flew out, there was $2.7m in the Marshall Islands. Within 24 hours it was gone and the companies not only shut down but wiped from the government's records. They never existed.
I'm sure you have a question - if Cameron is so good, why not just hack a bank and steal $100m? A number of reasons. Firstly, half the law enforcement agencies of the world would hunt us. Secondly, we're not greedy. Cameron monitors the FBI and Interpol IT systems and to the best of our knowledge no-one is looking for us. We don't steal enough from each individual to make it worth their while to pursue us. They would lose too much status and reputation if they admitted to being ripped off. And thirdly, where would be the fun in it?
You see, we are fraudsters, thieves, con artists, call us what you will. This is how we make our living. Okay, it's not very moral but I couldn't care less. We take money from fat cats who don't think twice about cheating on their wives. Cameron and I won't meet on this trip. We'll stay in different hotels and communicate via highly encrypted emails through servers in Croatia.
So who are we? I'm Vanessa Pilkington, very distantly connected to the Pilkington Glass empire. I'm 5'3" in heels, 29, slim, fantastically beautiful, with naturally round C-cup breasts and an ass that men, and some women, drool over. Yes, I'm vain and have a big ego too. Cameron is stick thin and geeky but with a nice cock that I sometimes enjoy.
We met at Oxford where I was taking a masters degree in Mathematical and Computational Finance having previously graduated with honours in Psychology (Experimental). Cameron was taking the same course but in parallel with a degree in Classical Archaeology and Ancient History. Yes, he really is that smart. After graduating, we kept in touch and realised that we whilst we both enjoyed academia, we hated working for a living.
Cameron has another talent, apart from being able to fuck non-stop for an hour - he's a brilliant hacker. By brilliant, I mean in the top three worldwide, if not the best. But unlike others who have fancy dark web nicknames, Cameron keeps an ultra-low profile. He doesn't belong to groups, chat on message boards or publicise his hacks. He's the hacker that doesn't exist. He hacks for self-satisfaction, nothing else. Well, apart from funding his life in a five-star rain forest resort in Panama.
Of course, I'm not here as Vanessa Pilkington. The Bellagio knows me as Lady Constance Davenport, third daughter to 17th Earl of Rochester. A fact supported by my birth certificate and passport, provided via a little hacking by Cameron. As this is my eleventh visit to the Bellagio they know me well and soon I was in my usual Chairman's Suite. Of course, the Belaggio will have checked up on me but Cameron dealt with that. One of our advantages was that we both had spotless criminal records, having never been arrested or even got a parking ticket, or been fingerprinted or DNA tested. We were squeaky clean.
I was looking forward to a light meal, shower and bed but when I got to my suite and checked my emails there was an urgent one from Cameron. He had a target. Shit. We time our visits to coincide with conferences. Forget the likes of Comic Con, we go for events such as the International Business & Leadership Conference or banking conferences. We were here this week for the diamond dealers conference followed by a strategic investment conference and a mining conference. Events where the attendees are wealthy with fat corporate credit cards. Events that wouldn't attract much interest in the media. Boring shit.
Cameron had spent weeks checking delegate lists, hotel reservation systems, flights, banks accounts, social media, porn sites and emails. He was looking for wealthy married men (occasionally women), with corporate credit cards, expense accounts, probably unsatisfied sexual cravings and who were flying home the next day. George Winkleman from New York fit the bill perfectly. 62 years old, bald, married and CEO of Dean & White Gems. His preference on-line was bondage and anal. He was booked on the 7.10am to JFK the next morning. His Bellagio account showed he'd been here for three nights and each evening visited the hotel's Petrossian Bar and charged four cocktails to his room between 9 and 10:30pm.
The time now was 7pm, I had two hours. Bugger. I'd been up since 5am and it was now 3am the next day in London. Twenty-two bloody hours but there was no time for a nap. After a quick call to room service for a chef's salad and to have my Dior black dress steamed, I studied George's profile. I always ignore their surname in case of an unintentional slip-up - how would I know their surname? As well as his picture there were five video clips of him from the Bellagio CCTV system. A little tubby but I've been to bed with worse.
As I unpacked my bags a courier and escort arrived with a package from Sinclair Jewellers. Onto the bed, I put my killer black outfit - heels, stockings, panties, suspenders and half-cup push-up bra. The courier package contained my rented gold necklace, gold bracelet and diamond earrings. Just needed the dress. A quick shower, salad, teeth, hair, make-up, Chanel perfume, get dressed. Lastly, I took the clock from the side table, put it in a drawer and replaced it with one from my bag. My little insurance policy.
At 9:15 I walked into the bar and looked around. It was very busy but eventually, I spotted him sitting alone at a table with a book. One of the benefits of being perceived as a VVIP is that your details are circulated to all staff. A waiter appeared at my side and gave a slight bow, "Delighted to see you again Lady Davenport, unfortunately, as you can see are we very busy tonight, would you mind sharing a table?"
"No, that's fine," I smiled, "How about that one, I don't like to be too close to the piano." Well, that was easier than I'd expected!
The waiter gesticulated to another who approached George's table and spoke to him. By the time I got there he had straightened up and his book had vanished. After the waiter seated me, I asked for a Macallan scotch with water. Smiling at George I said, "Thank you so much for letting me share your table. It's frightfully busy tonight isn't it?"
"My pleasure," he beamed, holding out his hand, "I'm George, from New York."
"A delightful city," I said, shaking his hand, "Constance, from London but currently residing in Dublin."
He smiled, "The tart with the cart."
"I beg your pardon?"
"Sorry," he hurriedly said, "Don't they have nicknames for their statues there?"
"Oh, of course," I laughed, "Yes, The Tart with the Cart is Molly Malone. Oscar Wilde reclining on a rock is The Fag on the Crag. I believe that Anna Livia in a fountain is The Floozie in the Jacuzzi. Not particularly politically correct I'm afraid."
George roared with laughter, a little too loudly. The waiter appeared with my drink, "Your scotch Lady Davenport, Chairman's Suite Two as usual?"
"Please, on my tab if you'll allow me, Constance," George quickly said.
"Why thank you, George," I smiled. After he ordered another drink for himself I said, "So why is a handsome man sitting here on his own?"
He blushed before saying, "I was about to ask you the same question, as a lady, not a man of course."
"Of course," I smiled, "I'm here for a few days on behalf of my father. He has a number of business interests here. I dined with a client at Mizumi but he had a 9pm flight to JFK so it was a short dinner."
He frowned, "I wasn't aware there was a 9pm to JFK?"
"A corporate jet out of Henderson Executive." We'd used this line before and it never fails to impress.
"Mizumi?" He said, "I've been trying to get a table there for years."
I shrugged, "Connections, George. Perhaps you'd like to join me tomorrow evening?"
"I'd be delighted," he smiled, "But I have a flight early tomorrow morning."
"Pity," I said licking my lips, "And we were getting on so well, but we have this evening. So you haven't answered my question, George, what brings you to town?"
"A gem dealers convention."
"Which is now over?"
"No, but the remainder doesn't interest me, it runs for another two days. I have a client flying in from Buenos Aires tomorrow afternoon, hence my early departure." I already knew that from his profile after Cameron hacked his diary, hence I knew I was safe with the Mizumi invitation. He continued, "Your earrings. Am I really looking at Fancy Deep Blue?"
"These things?" I said touching my ear, "I don't know, are they?"
"May I?" he asked.
"Of course," I said, removing the left one and handing it over. He produced a jewellers eyepiece and squinted at it.
"Incredible diamonds," he gushed, "Have you ever considered selling them?"
"No, they were an anniversary gift from my late husband," I said, putting on my sad face.
"My condolences," he said, handing it back.
"Life must go on," I said, "So where else do your travels normally take you?"
"Mostly South Africa, Russia and Australia but also Dubai, Amsterdam and London. Vegas is just for the conference. I never achieve much here but my face has to be seen. You?"
"California, Australia, New Zealand, Chile, France, Portugal and a few other places."
"Wine production?"
"Precisely. My father's health isn't so good these days, he hasn't travelled at all this year. Is New York home?"
"For now, until I retire, then maybe Arizona or New Mexico, I've had enough of shovelling snow. Do you get much snow in England?"
"No," I said, "Latitude wise, London is north of Calgary but we're protected by the Gulf Stream. Did you know that half the Canadian population lives south of Milan?"
"No, I didn't. Why Dublin?"
"Tax reasons for now but I'm moving to Oxford soon to be with my father for his last few months."
"Oh dear, terminal?"
"I'm afraid so, in some ways, it'll be a relief though. I seem to have finished my drink, I guess I ought to be going, more meetings tomorrow."
"Please stay for another," he said quickly, "I'm so much enjoying your company."
I gave him my best smile and said, "Oh you smooth talker, George, one more then."
After two more drinks, he excused himself to the restroom which allowed me to pop the little pill into his drink where it fizzed for a few seconds. By the end of the next drink, he was far less inhibited. "I can't believe I'm sitting here with such a beautiful woman," he grinned.
"Why, George, I do believe you might be making a pass at me," I giggled.
He was staring at my tits as he shook his head, "An old guy like me?"
I took his hand and said, "George, my husband was sixty-six when he passed away. All women have preferences, mine happens to be older men, especially bald men. A shiny head always reminds me of the shiny head of a hard cock when the skin is pulled back. I like licking both."
George coughed and swallowed, "Really?"
"Oh, George," I said, "It's such a pity you're going in the morning, we could have had such a good time. I guess you'll be having an early night."
He quickly shook his head, "No, no, I can sleep on the plane."
I looked at him intently whilst biting my lip. "George, shall we be naughty? Have you ever seen a Chairman's Suite?"
"N..., n..., n..., no," he stammered.
"Come on then," I said taking his hand, "Perhaps a nightcap together."
With my arm through his, I led him to the elevators like a puppy. "Wow!" he said, stepping into the suite, "How the other half lives, eh?"
I smiled, "I can't imagine that someone in your line of work is exactly struggling, George. Can I get you a drink?"
"Ah..., possibly a brandy?"
"Help yourself, the bar is over there. Make yourself comfortable, I'm just going to get out of these shoes." In the bedroom I emailed Cameron - 'Standy'.
I emerged wearing a white bathrobe. George, who'd taken his jacket off, looked me over and smiled saying, "I didn't ask what you would like."
Slowly I walked up to him and said, "I not sure I'm allowed what I want, George."
"W..., what would that be?"
I brushed my fingertips up his arm. "Why you George, you silly thing. I want you. Some men just seem to have an effect on me."
"I'm married."
"That's okay, this is a one-off, George. A wild night of passion and we'll never meet again. Your wife will never know. Perhaps you can fulfil a dream, I'm very accommodating." Slowly, I undid his tie and used it to pull him towards the bed. He sat down with a bump.
"I really don't think..."
He stopped when I slipped the robe off my shoulders and let it fall to the floor. His mouth hung open as he looked at my stockings, suspenders and lacy panties. "Dear God," he finally moaned, reaching out and touching my leg. Locking my eyes on his I sank to my knees and pushed him back onto his elbows. My hands edged up his trousers until they rested on the fabric covering his cock. He wasn't rock hard but there was definitely a swelling.
He still wasn't sure. "I...," he started to say.
I pulled down his zip saying seductively, "Can your wife deep throat, George?" He shook his head. I continued, "Men tell me that it's their best experience ever to have their cock in my throat." He just stared at me. "George, we both want each other, why don't we dispense with these silly formalities? Please get undressed." He was in such a hurry he tried to pull his trousers off over his shoes.
I may be a thief but I always deliver. It's one reason why we've never been caught. Some victims don't even realise they've been taken, other's aren't sure and even more probably don't care. They just remember the fantastic sex with a beautiful woman. So what if it cost them a shit load of money? Cameron's cock actually wasn't too bad. Maybe a tad under six inches. "Remember what I said about bald heads, George," I said as I licked it.
"Uh huh," he grunted. He was laid flat on the bed with his head on a pillow. Kneeling at his side I gave him a good view of my panty covered ass as I edged downwards. Gripping his now hard cock, I licked the head again. "Nnnnnn...," he sighed.
For a few minutes, I sucked his cock and deep throated him as he caressed my ass. As always, I was very careful not to let him cum. Finally, I released him saying, "It's no good, George, I need your gorgeous cock inside me."
"Okay," he blurted.
I looked thoughtful before saying, "I wonder if you might indulge a little harmless fetish of mine? I like to be on top with the man looking helpless. Could I tie your hands to the headboard? There are two bathrobes each with a towelling belt."
He nodded so hard I almost laughed. Men are so fucking pathetic. As I tied them I said, "There, not too tight, it's just a bit of fun isn't it?"
George watched me intently, his cock twitching, as I stripped off. "Mother of God," he moaned as I sank onto his cock and pushed my tits into his face. I rode him gently for a few minutes before suddenly stopping.
"What's the matter?" he said, looking worried.
"I'm being greedy, indulging myself," I said, "I think it's your turn."
"I don't understand, this is great."
"Yes, but why don't we make it even more special? What's your greatest fantasy? What have you always wanted to do that your wife won't do?"
"I..."
"Come on George, I'm a woman of the world, tell me your deepest desire." As I said that I gripped his cock with my cunt.
"Anal," he said, in a barely discernable whisper.
"Goodness gracious!" I said.
"Sorry, but you did say...," he said looking sheepish.
"No, no," I said, "You just took me by surprise that's all. I have done it before but only when I was very drunk."
"Another scotch?" he grinned.
"No," I laughed, "Only Krug Champagne sends me silly, that's why I avoid it."
"Didn't I see some in the bar?" he asked hopefully.
I shook my head, "No only small bottles."
"Room service?" he said, "On me." I could hear the desperation in his voice.
"You really want a $500 bottle of Champagne on your room bill, George?" I asked, tilting my head.
"No, you're right. Let's make it two bottles. I could phone it down and use a credit card?"
"No, I don't trust hotel phone lines, especially with credit card details," I said, "There is a Bellagio secure app though, which allows you to access room service, we could try that?"
"Yes, yes," he said, "My wallet is in my jacket."
I picked up my phone and pretended to download the app. In fact, the app on my phone was designed by Cameron. I pulled out some credit cards saying, "I'm assuming you don't want this on a private card?"
"No, use the American Express card, with Dean & White on it."
I typed in the details then said, "It's asking for a PIN, I'll untie you."
"No, I trust you."
"Absolutely not," I said, "You should never give your PIN to anyone, especially someone you've only just met." I untied him and let him type it in while I looked away. Cameron's fake app looked perfect as he'd based it on the genuine Bellagio one.
Within seconds, Cameron in his room at the Motel 6 near the airport had all he needed. He would now place the Champagne order using the genuine app, then set to work. I know what you're thinking - why is he in a Motel 6 when I'm in the Bellagio? The simple answer is, he's happy there. In fact, he even regards the motel as an unnecessary luxury. He'd be happier in a tent but he needs power and internet. Over the next few hours, he would make multiple transactions, all of which would appear on the Amex account unobtrusively as 'Anderson Consulting', 'Westminster Imports', 'Cape Town Communications' and so on. Companies set up by Cameron a few days ago in the Marshall Islands.
Drinking from the bottles over the next hour we descended into giggly debauchery. In his excitement, Cameron didn't realise that he was drinking twice as much as me. We swopped mouth fulls of it, drank from my shoes and Cameron licked it off my breasts. He nearly lost it completely when I put my feet behind my head and upturned the bottle into my cunt. He gurgled like a happy baby when I squatted over him and let it gush out into his mouth.
Finally, with him very drunk, the two bottles were empty. It was time for his treat. I knelt in front of him, sucked him to hardness and handed him a tube of lube. With him standing I knelt on the edge of the bed with my ass in the air. With remarkable self-control, he used a finger to gently lubricate my anus. "You really have got the most beautiful ass," he said.
"Go gently," I said, "I'm not used to cock as big as yours." Nothing like a bit of flattery to boost a guy's confidence. I felt the head of his cock on my ring, relaxed and pushed back. This wasn't going to be a chore for me, I really do enjoy a good ass fucking but usually, have to use my fingers on my clit to bring myself off. Unfortunately, I didn't get a chance with George. He let out a cry after three thrusts. The excitement proved too much for him and he came in my ass. Damn.
He left happy though at just after midnight. I hope he made his flight. We took him for $127,500. Would he have linked it to me? Possibly, but I never saw his PIN and a check of the Bellagio records would have shown an order placed via its secure app, albeit thirty seconds later. Anyway, would he have gone to the Police to complain that he'd been conned whilst fucking a woman up the ass? Just in case, I saved the high definition video from the clock to a secure cloud account.
Over the next eight days I was pissed on, fucked, deep-throated, tied up, ass fucked and I wanked off a guy in a babygro. The things a girl has to do to earn a crust. By the time we flew out, there was $2.7m in the Marshall Islands. Within 24 hours it was gone and the companies not only shut down but wiped from the government's records. They never existed.
I'm sure you have a question - if Cameron is so good, why not just hack a bank and steal $100m? A number of reasons. Firstly, half the law enforcement agencies of the world would hunt us. Secondly, we're not greedy. Cameron monitors the FBI and Interpol IT systems and to the best of our knowledge no-one is looking for us. We don't steal enough from each individual to make it worth their while to pursue us. They would lose too much status and reputation if they admitted to being ripped off. And thirdly, where would be the fun in it?
Fawn
- 08.12.2022
- 20
- 0
