What Happens in Vegas Stays in Vegas
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What Happens In Vegas, Stays In Vegas free porn video
I slid my last five dollar bill into the slot machine. "So this is how
I go completely broke," I thought. Sitting on a stool in front of a
one-armed bandit at the Thunderbird Casino, losing my last dollar at the
worst casino on the strip. I had a bottle of no-name vodka waiting in
my crappy hotel room. Actually, it wasn't no-name. At the moment it
had my name on it. Within the hour, I felt, I'd be busted and wasted.
Washed up. Drinking and gambling were an excellent combination for
someone as seriously depressed as I was.
On my last pull, one coin fell into the bin with a deaden clunk. I
hadn't even lined up a winning combo, but there it was. But just my
luck, it was some worthless foreign coin. A dull brassy looking thing
with a half-moon on one side and what looked like a toreador on the
other. It wasn't any casino chip I'd ever seen and it sure as shooting
wasn't currency. I picked it up, shoved it in my pocket and shuffled
back to my room.
I got drunk. There wasn't much else for me to do, since I had no money,
no resources, and no hope. I had the room till 11am the next day. I
had no food. I turned on the TV and poured myself a shot. Then
another. Then another. I was buzzed. I tuned in to the "Bad Girls
Club" on some basic channel because I couldn't even afford the porn
charge.
I began to rub one out. I had my hand down my pants massaging myself
while watching some girl on the tube suck a beer bottle when there was a
sudden flash of light and a man appeared in front of my bed dressed in
tights, a cape and a very odd hat. I sobered up quick.
"What the fuck!" I yelled, pulling my hand away from my dick.
The man looked unpeturbed. "So you've found the magic coin," he said.
"Or it's found you."
"Magic coin? Are you kidding me. What kind of perv barges into a hotel
room and watches a guy getting off while jabbering about magic?"
"The magic coin, sir," the man repeated. "Judging from your - uh -
position, I'd hazard a guess that it's in your right-hand pocket. You
must have - mmmm - grazed it while performing some other task."
I just looked at him and raised my eyebrows. Then I realized that the
man was floating. Not totally, but where his feet and ankles should
have been there was nothing but wispy vapors. Now my eyes grew wide.
"Holy shit," I muttered. "Are you a genie?"
"No. I am a convenient representation and conduit for the forces of
magic inherent in the coin. I am here to assist you in turning the
magic to your needs. To your wishes, if you prefer. I am what you
might call an interface."
"Wow." I paused. "Wow," I repeated. "So, are there rules? I mean is
there a limit. Do bad things happen to me if I wish wrong? What's the
deal?"
"Well," said the man, "there is a limit. Three 'wishes.' As for rules,
I only can say that magic, like nature, abhors a vacuum. You can enjoy
your wishes if you phrase them judiciously and refrain from rapacious
wants."
I looked at him funny. He sighed.
"For instance, the last man who wished to be a billionaire was
transformed into a third world dictator, murdered in a coup shortly
after he used up his wishes. The magic accommodated his wish, without
creating a void, and he was indeed a billionaire for a short time. The
more expansive the wish, the more the magic works to accommodate, and
the less predictable the outcome. The magic will always work to fill in
the gaps, but if you do not watch out for the scale of your wishes, you
might be unpleasantly surprised."
"I think I get it. I just need to be careful about - well -
displacement," I said. "I really have to know my limits."
"For lack of a better term, excellently put sir."
I thought about all the crappy things in my life and how if only they
were fixed, I'd be happy. I asked the man if a compound wish was
possible and he replied that it was, if all the elements worked together
as one general idea. So, I thought on this awhile and then prepared my
wish.
"I want to be me (I thought of that billionaire dictator and shivered)
but I want to be a successful, much better looking, physically healthier
me, with, say, an assured income of about $250,000 a year, adjusted for
inflation, and an ability to charm women and give them intense sexual
pleasure."
I sat back and thought about how good that would all be. "Is that too
much? Is that a dangerous backfire wish," I asked the man.
He closed his eyes and said, "I can't predict all outcomes, but it
sounds relatively safe."
"OK," I said and closed my eyes.
When I opened my eyes, the world shifted. I was in a suite. Apparently
on a high floor of the Mandalay Bay. It wasn't the penthouse or
anything, but this room was easily six or seven hundred dollars a night,
off peak. It was really nice. I looked out the window at my beautiful
view of the strip below and took in the lights and breathed in the air
of a nice hotel room for once. In the window I caught my reflection and
then turned around to check it out properly in a mirror. I was me. I
could still see the shadow of my parents in my face, but I looked like
my own lucky, handsome brother, with smooth, tanned skin, a full head of
dark wavy hair, straight teeth, a strong chin, a Roman nose, and a
winning smile. My body was toned and well proportioned and my penis
seemed quite large without being Ron Jeremy scary. This was awesome.
The man seemed pleased as well. "Are you ready for your next wish," he
asked.
I thought about that. "No, I replied. I want to try out my new body.
This is great, by the way. I beamed at him."
"My pleasure, sir. Whenever you are ready for your next wish, just tell
me." With that he disappeared in a vapor.
I opened the closet door and found it full of beautiful suits, silk
shirts, and expensive ties. On the nightstand was a Rolex and a Patek
Phillipe, not to mention keys to a Lexus. In my wallet was ten thousand
dollars in cash. I wasn't a millionaire, but this was pretty darn nice,
even if this was clearly not sustainable year-round. I could live very
nicely on a quarter million a year and take a few vacations like this.
I dressed and went down to the casino.
I wasn't just better looking and richer, apparently I was luckier too.
At the blackjack table I spent over an hour. I won here, I lost there,
I was up, I was down, but at the end of the evening, I had more than
twelve grand in my pocket. Up two thousand bucks in one night? Fine
with me! The periodic interruptions from my cocktail waitress were
actually pleasant diversions. I chatted with her in a banter I never
knew I had in me. I knew these girls were paid to be flirtatious so I
didn't give it much thought, but by the time I was ready to walk away,
she was telling me she was about to go off shift. Somehow, some way, we
ended back in my room later.
She was a dark-haired, vaguely Polynesian looking girl with giant orb-
like breasts pushed up to insane heights by her Mandalay Bay waitress
outfit. She had ruby red lips, dark eyes, and other than her breasts, a
surprisingly tiny body. That waitress outfit, though sexy, was off in
quick order. I made that girl orgasm five separate times in three
different rooms of the suite in the course of two hours of headboard
rattling, mattress bouncing, shower banging, couch tipping conjugal fun.
When it was over we both passed out, my last thought being that I had
never had so much good sex on sheets that good.
When I awoke she was gone. By her nightstand was a note on the hotel
stationery with her name, phone number and a giant smiley face. Over
the next week I repeated my escapade with the waitress. Each night I
met a new, beautiful woman - sometimes a cocktail waitress, sometimes a
showgirl, once a pharma rep in town for a convention. And each morning
the same result: a note with a giant smiley face on it. I never called
the girls back and by the end of the week I was waking up from
nightmares of smiley faces. They reminded me of the one thing I had
forgotten in my wish. They reminded me that I was still depressed -
money, looks, success with women - with it all I still felt unfulfilled
and empty and achy.
Part of me knew it would be easy to solve. All I had to do was wish to
be happy. But that seemed like a waste of a wish. I somehow needed to
combine that wish with something else as a matter of wish efficiency.
The answer came to me one night while fucking the brains out of a
hostess and seeing the look of transcendental bliss wash over her face
while she was squirting out cum all over the 1500 thread count Egyptian
cotton pillow cases. The next morning, when she was but a smiley face
note and a memory, I summoned the man with the magic.
"I'm ready for my second wish now," I announced.
He appeared at once and asked whether I was enjoying my new life. I
admitted I was, but that I was missing something and ready to move to
another level of wishing.
"Here's what I want," I said. "I want to create new identities and be
able to live them."
He looked at me quizzically.
"I want to create an identity with broad outline description, and occupy
that identity. While I'm doing that I want my identity to continue to
exist. He'll do what I would do, say what I would say, live as I would
live, he would essentially be me on auto-pilot and when I was finished
enjoying living out another identity, I could return to occupy my true
identity. The new identity I created would live out its life and to
make sure the magic is not turned to bad, I wish the new identity would
be filled in by the magic as a benign force in the world without
negative impact and that no one would be physically harmed by the wish."
"It is a rather odd wish," he said. "I can't even begin to guess at the
outcome." He looked puzzled.
"I've made it safe," I said confidently.
"But you're creating new lives," he replied. "New lives for which magic
has to make countless accommodations!"
"New life is created every day and the universe abides," I stated.
"So be it," he said and then disappeared again.
I felt no different. Still successful, rich, and depressed. I thought
about my wish for awhile and tried to think if maybe I'd gone wrong
somewhere. At long last, I decided to give it a try. Recalling the
look of bliss on the hostesses face as she bounced up and down on my
dick, I began to craft an experimental new identity.
Okay, I said to out loud, but to no one in the room. "Okay. I want to
create a new identity and occupy it. The new identity will be a
cocktail waitress at this hotel. She's 22, a normal, beautiful, blonde
girl, slender and tall with a wonderful all-American look, almost a
Jenny McCarthy lookalike. She's content and happy, sweet and simple,
not especially bright, but knows how to have fun and enjoy life." I
paused. Was that enough, I thought. Well, I guess the magic could fill
in the details.
In a shimmering instant I was standing at the foot of the bed looking at
myself. It was the oddest sensation. I turned to the mirror above the
bureau and there I was, a Jenny McCarthy twin, or almost. I felt a
buzzing in my head, then it subsided. I smiled genuinely. It was the
first genuine smile I had in as long as I could remember. So this was
what feeling naturally happy was like. It was a warm, uncluttered
feeling. My old body smiled at me, but somehow I knew the smile - even
though it was a charming, irresistible smile - was a bit forced. It
covered up a sadness inside. I looked at my male self and remembered
how I had wished that I would be successful with women. Suddenly I
wanted to jump on top of myself and slide my pussy down on my dick and
roll around, pumping away for as long as possible.
That was an incredibly odd feeling. I felt slightly schizophrenic as I
slipped out of my Mandalay Bay cocktail waitress uniform. My breasts
heaved free of the undergarment as I did so. Then I jumped on the bed,
giggling. I fucked the other me for what must have been hours, and the
whole time I experienced the most incredible sense of passion and joy
and fulfillment, which intensified to Alpine heights with every orgasm.
My jaw hurt from smiling and just while I was climaxing and screaming
for what must have been my sixth orgasm of the afternoon, I heard my
male body say, "I'm ready for my last wish now."
I lifted my female identity off my male one and fell to the side of the
bed, panting. I was in a fog. What was going on? The magic man
appeared at the foot of the bed again.
"You are ready for your last wish," he asked.
"No," the female me said. "Yes," the male me said.
Oh crap, I thought. The magic man looked confused for a moment, then
told the male me to make the wish.
The female me protested. "Wait. I'm the person with the wishes. I get
the last wish. He's not me. He's just my alter identity. I'M me." I
pointed at my self to emphasize this assertion, and my breasts bounced
up and down as I did so.
"This you," the magic man said pointing at the male me, "according to
your own wish, does what you would do, says what you would say, lives as
you would live. It follows that at the moment his wish is your wish.
They are one and the same."
My mouth hung open for a moment processing this. I remember making my
identity not too smart, and this was getting in the way of arguing to
gain back possession of my wish. Before I could formulate a line of
defense, the male me said, "my last wish is to keep these identities
just as they are now."
"It is done," the magic man said and disappeared with a flourish of
finality.
My mouth continued to hang open. The male me closed his eyes and
smiles, wryly and a bit falsely. I began to stammer, but only felt
foolish.
I got up from the bed and realized that the smell of my wet pussy and my
semen were a bit strong. I was due for work in less than an hour, I
somehow knew. I turned slowly to the bathroom as the male me began to
snore. I washed myself, toweled off as best I could and put on my
cocktail waitress dress. I swallowed and tried to be depressed about
the situation, but somehow things really didn't seem that bad. I had
just had sex with a rich, handsome guy who gave me multiple orgasms. I
was about to start my shift at a job I loved. I was really pretty. I
brushed my hair and saw the nametag on my dress. "Brandi," it said.
Underneath it was printed, "Normal, Illinois."
I smiled. Normal, Illinois. I remembered growing up there. It was
nice. I came from a nice, big family. Was on the cheerleading team at
high school. Went to community college there and tried to study to be a
dental assistant but it was too hard. I dropped out and followed my
then boyfriend to Reno, but we broke up and I moved down here to be a
waitress and when I was old enough got a job as a cocktail waitress at
the Mandalay Bay. It was the best job ever. I lived with my roommate,
Amber, another cocktail waitress, in an apartment off the strip. She
was always lots of fun.
I looked at myself sleeping. It was me. It wasn't me. I was quickly
losing hold of the male me, couldn't even remember my name. What was
it? I scratched out my number on a pad by my sleeping body, and put a
big smiley face over the "i" in my name. Then I walked to the elevator
to go down to the casino and start my shift.
Later that evening I passed the handsome guy I had slept with earlier.
He was winning at the roulette table and had a very sophisticated,
European-looking woman by his side. She looked like royalty! I gave
him a knowing smile as I passed. I had fun with him, but he was kind of
out of my league and I knew my limits. I clicked my high heels over to
the dollar slots, where a frat boy looking guy got excited to see me.
The dollar slots kinda sucked, because the tips were a bit lousy. I
could still make maybe a hundred fifty a night if I was lucky.
"Hey, he yelled out, you're from Normal! I go to school there!" He was
cute in an earnest, goofy frat boy way, with his silly spiky hair and
his Bears t-shirt. He couldn't take his eyes off my breasts.
"Wow," I said genuinely excited to meet someone from back home. "I'd
love to hear how things are going back there!" I smiled and winked. "I
get off in an hour," I said, "if you want to party later." I whipped
out a pen, and wrote my cell number on his cocktail napkin.
With a big smiley face on it.
Maddie
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