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My Horny Housewife Harem
Part 12 of 16
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Carlos was a shy, fearful virgin when he enrolled in college. Then he met an older woman who made him a man. She also gave him some good advice: instead of looking for romance with clueless girls his age, seek out married women in less marriages. His horny housewife harem taught him the ways of erotic love.
All 16 chapters of this tale have been written and will be posted just as quickly as the good folks at Literotica can review them. Here in Part 12, Carlos learns something exciting and new about Rita.
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I expected to enjoy my trip to Las Vegas with Rita, and my expectations were exceeded. Everything about the trip was fun, exciting, and refreshing. I’d never been anywhere like it before. It made me want to plan more trips to more places in the future.
Part of the reason things worked so well is that Rita had such a good time. She’d never been to Las Vegas either, and everything about it appealed to her sense of adventure. We both felt it was a very romantic place. Our relationship deepened during the trip.
Something completely unexpected happened in Las Vegas. I’m sure my counselor will have something insightful to say about it after she reads this therapy journal.
Rita and I did all the normal, touristy things. We went to shows, attended a nice concert, ate in fancy restaurants, and saw the famous sights. I carried my camera everywhere and took a bazillion photos. Since this journal is supposed to be about my relationships with the women in my life, I’ll spare you the details about most of the things we did, and focus mainly on how Rita and I got along during the trip. That was the best part of the whole adventure.
It started the moment we arrived in our hotel room. It was a very plush, luxurious room with floortoceiling windows and decorative elements that were so artistic and beautiful it felt good to simply occupy the space. It looked like something you’d see in a magazine about modern architecture. I recognized that the quality of the light was so good it was almost like being in a photography studio. I realized that I could take great pictures in the room.
This was important because Rita and I were very happy with the pictures we took during our camping trip. The nude photos of Rita posing in the forest turned out so well that I had several enlargements made. I put them in an album I gave her as a gift; she liked the fact that I’d done such a good job capturing her erotic beauty. As I was learning, Rita took a lot of pride in her personal appearance. She worked hard to look as good as possible, and she liked it when I complimented her.
Rita began changing into different clothes as soon as we opened our suitcases. She’d been dressed in a very sharp outfit that seemed fine to me, but Rita liked to change clothes several times a day. I’d never had a chance to see this part of Rita’s personality, but it was on display during our entire trip to Las Vegas, where she had an entire wardrobe with apparel suitable for every possible situation.
“What do you think of this outfit?” she asked, pointing to some clothes she laid out on the bed. It consisted of a clingy red crop top that put her y belly and dramatic cleavage on display, paired with a black spandex skirt that hugged her curves like a coat of paint.
“Wow. You’ll look great in that, Rita,” I said. “You’ll look like a fashion model strutting down The Strip.”
Comments like that always put a smile on Rita’s face. “Thanks, Carlos,” she said. “I want to look nice for you.” That was true, I guess, but Rita mainly liked to look good for herself. I didn’t realize it at the time, but I was about to learn more about the reasons she cared so much about her appearance.
“Wait a minute,” I told Rita. “The light in this room is wonderful. I can get some great pictures in light like this. I want to take some photos of you changing your clothes. Is that OK?”
Was it OK? OF COURSE it was OK! Rita had already decided that she liked the pictures I took of her, and she loved it when I asked her to pose for more. I picked up my camera and took photos as she removed her outfit.
“Take off your clothes slowly,” I asked her. “Give me time to document every step.” She slowly removed her blouse, then stepped out of the slacks she’d worn as we traveled. “Wow. That’s very y!” I said as she stood there in a matching pair of white lace underwear. The bra did a great job supporting Rita’s big boobs, and the tiny thong panties revealed a lot more than they concealed. I took pictures from several angles as Rita posed for me.
“It’s time to take off this bra,” she said. I kept shooting as she stood there topless. She gave me a y little smile as I told her how to pose, and I noticed that her nipples were nice and hard. Either the air conditioning was too strong, or posing for y nudes excited Rita. Maybe it was a little of both.
“Rita, would you mind removing the panties, too?” I asked. “The light flatters you, and this room provides a nice background for displaying your body. Let me take a couple of fully nude photos while we’re doing this.”
“OK, Carlos. Whatever you want,” she said. I took several exposures as she worked the panties down her legs and off her feet. When she was finished, all she wore was a pair of strappy red sandals with threeinch heels. The shoes made her pretty little feet look even ier, so I asked her to leave the sandals on.
“Would you sit in this chair, please?” I said, directing Rita to pose in a piece of angular modernist furniture that contrasted with her feminine curves. We had her pose in all kinds of provocative postures.
These pictures were nothing like the nudes we shot in the forest. Those images were intended to be artistic something you could envision exhibited in a gallery. The ones we took in the hotel were more explicitly erotic the kinds of images you’d expect to find in a men’s magazine or a y website.
One end of our room featured a large mirror. I asked Rita to stand in front of the mirror and look into the lens. This created a photo that showed the front of Rita’s body in the foreground with her backside visible in the mirror. You see photos like this so often that they are considered a visual cliche, but they do a wonderful job revealing the front and back of a beautiful nude model. I took several exposures.
We took some photos of Rita sprawling on the bed like Cleopatra. By the time we were finished, I’d taken 49 images more than I realized and I was confident that we would like several of them.
“I think we’re done,” I said at last. “Rita, you look fabulous like this. I hope my pictures do you justice.”
“Do you realize you’ve got a boner that’s bigger than your camera?” Rita asked, giggling. “I’ve been watching it grow for a while.”
I hadn’t noticed. “I guess I was concentrating so hard on taking the pictures that I didn’t pay attention to what was happening in my pants,” I said. “I’m not even slightly surprised, Rita. You are a vision. An erotic vision. I’m sure we’re going to have a lot of fun during this trip.”
“Maybe we should start right now,” she said. “We can go sightseeing afterward.”
That sounded sensible to me. Rita got up off the bed and began helping me remove my clothes. My cock was so hard it pointed at the ceiling. There was no need for Rita to do anything to prepare me for , but she decided she wanted to anyway. “Sit down, baby,” she said, guiding me to the chair. “Let me take care of that hardon for you.”
Rita knelt between my knees and sucked my cock into her mouth. We’d been lovers for months, and in that time we’d developed an especially reliable way to satisfy both of us. It was something I’d learned from the many horny housewives I’d known since I lost my virginity four years earlier.
We began with Rita giving me a nice blowjob. After that, I’d eat her pussy until she climaxed. By that time I usually had my second erection, and it usually lasted long enough for us to have a nice, long session of excited .
Rita looked very loving as she bobbed her head up and down. When we first became intimate, she wasn’t particularly good in the blowjob department. But I’d been patient, guiding her through the steps. By the time we went to Las Vegas, Rita was a champion cocksucker. She was justifiably proud of her skills, and I was proud of myself for helping her acquire them.
“Ohhhhhh… God, Rita… that feels so good. So good,” I moaned.
“It’s going to get a lot better,” she said. “I’m going to make your cock blast off like a rocket.”
And that’s exactly what she did. Rita’s blowjob felt so good I was tempted to use the tricks I’d learned to postpone my climax. I wanted to enjoy it for as long as possible. But I didn’t usually do that during a blowjob. My horny housewives taught me that sucking a cock is hard work, and if it lasts too long it makes their jaws sore. Rita was doing something very nice for me, and I didn’t want to be a pig and take advantage of her generosity.
I hadn’t climaxed since the previous day, so it didn’t take long for me to have my first orgasm. My balls were overflowing with cum, so Rita had to swallow a big load. She’d learned that the part of a blowjob that I enjoy most is the part where I feel her sucking my cum out of my cock and swallowing. Rita sucked as hard as she could without hurting me. It felt as good as a blowjob can feel.
She kept sucking until long after my cock stopped throbbing. I leaned back in the chair and felt my heart pound. “Rita… wow… I mean… wow,” I said. “Just… wow.”
There was a big smile on her face when she rose up to look at me. “You’re welcome,” she said. Some of my cum was dribbling from Rita’s lips; she’d figured out that I like the way she looks with cum on her face, so she always kept just enough of my seed inside her mouth so she could add that y little flourish by having some drip down her chin at the end of each blowjob.
It was my turn to take care of her. I had Rita lie on her back, then I started to kiss her everywhere. Her face. Neck. Breasts. Abs. Legs. Inner thighs. As the seconds ticked by, I got closer and closer to her pussy. She was writhing on the bed and moaning by the time I began kissing her outer lips.
I noticed that she had a freshlytrimmed landing strip, and that the rest of her pussy was unusually clean and smooth. Rita told me later that she splurged and got her pubes waxed the day before. I’d never seen a prettier pussy.
“Ohhhhhhhh… thank you, baby. Thank you,” Rita said as I dipped my tongue inside her passage. I stuck the tip as deep as it would go, and Rita began moaning in a way that let me know she liked how it felt. She reached down and put her hand on the back of my head, pulling me closer to the most intimate part of her body.
My horny housewives taught me that women like it when you avoid their clits during the first few minutes of cunnilingus. They like feeling my tongue explore every other part of their pussies first, and they enjoy it most when I save the clit for last. Rita wanted me to lick her little button, but she knew I wouldn’t do it until I’d licked and nibbled everything else first.
She was getting desperate when I finally sucked her clit between my lips. “Ohhhhh… baby… yes… yes… yes,” Rita said. I ran my tongue over her little pearl and enjoyed Rita’s reaction. She squirmed beneath my tongue and spread her legs as wide as possible, making it easier for me to explore every part of her beautiful blond pussy. I marveled at how smooth and perfect it was as I ran my tongue from her clit to her little brown pucker.
Rita was surprised and a bit uncomfortable the first time I licked her asshole, but by this point in our relationship, she’d learned to enjoy it when my tongue ventured down there. The y little noises she made got a little louder, and I realized she was going to cum. She had a nice little climax that caused the muscles in her vagina to clench rhythmically. I enjoyed watching as her pussy throbbed over and over and over.
By this time my cock had recovered, so I got on top of Rita’s body and placed the head at the entrance to her passage. She had a happy, loving smile on her face when I was able to look into her eyes.
“You make me feel so good,” she said. “I didn’t know how good could feel until we started doing it.”
“You’re a hot, y woman,” I told her. “I’ve never been more excited than when I’m in bed with you.”
I knew what needed to happen next. I slowly worked the head of my cock into Rita’s pussy, entering a fraction of an inch, withdrawing, then pausing before pushing forward again. She sighed with pleasure, knowing what would happen next. As always, I stroked a bit deeper, withdrew, and moved in and out as I gradually gave her more of my cock.
Rita wrapped her arms around me as I worked to arouse her slowly. My experience with my harem taught me that all women are a bit different. They respond differently to different kinds of . But most of them enjoy missionarystyle when I give them slow, steady strokes that probe deep into their depths. I could tell that Rita’s excitement was growing as I stroked in and out of her body.
Another thing I learned from my harem is that women like it when I move faster and plunge deeper when an orgasm starts growing inside them. Rita likes it when I get a little rough toward the end, so I began her more aggressively after I sensed she was about to climax. I finally reached down between us and began massaging her clit with my fingers.
That’s what pushed her over the edge. “Ahhhh!!! Carlos!!! Ahhhh!!!!!” she cried as her climax began. This orgasm was a lot stronger than the one she had while I ate her pussy. I felt good when I saw how much I was pleasing her. I did my best to make my own climax happen, and I managed to cum inside her pussy while Rita was still throbbing.
My orgasm was over quickly, and it wasn’t as strong as the one I had when Rita sucked my cock. Still, it was a satisfying end to our first in Las Vegas.
We would have liked to stay in bed and take a nap, but we had plans for the day. There was a long list of places we wanted to go and things we wanted to do, so we got out of bed and got ready to explore the city. Rita put on the clingy red top and black spandex skirt she’d shown me earlier, and she looked so y I had her pose for a few photos before we left our room. The clothes were so formfitting that Rita couldn’t wear underwear. She looked HOT!
Over the next several days, Rita changed her outfits several times each day, never wearing the same clothes twice. I took pictures of her everywhere we went, showing her posing beneath the replica of the Eiffel Tower, next to a giant fountain, and in front of many of the famous landmarks found along the Las Vegas Strip.
The pictures turned out well. Some of them looked good enough that I felt they would be appropriate for travel magazine stories about Las Vegas. As I look back at these photos, I marvel at the large number of y ensembles Rita packed for the trip.
It made me ask myself a question. Why does Rita always dress so y? Everywhere we went, she was the hottest woman around. I enjoyed being in the company of such a dazzling creature, but it made me wonder why she put so much effort into being so conspicuously y.
As I watched Rita from day to day, I noticed that she was very good at modeling a certain kind of outfit. There’s a fine line that separates y from slutty, and Rita managed to wear clothes that came as close to that line as possible without crossing it. Although I liked the way she looked, and I loved the photographs we took, it made me wonder what I’d think if Rita and I were a committed couple in an exclusive relationship.
We both agreed we were friends with benefits, enjoying our time together and feeling free to have nostrings . But if we were in a conventional romance, I was unsure what I’d think of a girlfriend wearing such provocative clothes. The people we passed stared at Rita, and I could tell that she loved getting all that attention.
I was able to think about it objectively because I knew that Rita was free to pursue other men if she wished. Although she once told me that the only man she’d been intimate with was her loser ex Phillip, I didn’t expect that our relationship would always remain exclusive. I knew that Rita and her girlfriends often went dancing at local clubs, and she always wore very y outfits. There was no question that lots of guys flirted with Rita, and there was no reason to think she never went home with any of them. After all, that’s exactly how we hooked up the first time.
I suspected that I’d feel uncomfortable about Rita’s y attire if she was my exclusive girlfriend. Since we didn’t have that kind of relationship, I didn’t think my opinion mattered. Still, I couldn’t help but wonder why she always wore clothes that called so much attention to her y body.
I didn’t know it yet, but I was about to gain a lot of insight into that question.
The thing that helped me understand this aspect of Rita’s personality began as we were discussing the activities we wanted to do on our little vacation. I’d already made reservations for some shows and restaurants, but we had one evening with nothing planned.
“Have you ever visited a strip club, Carlos?” Rita asked me.
“Never,” I said. For most of my life, I didn’t have enough money to pay for a trip to such a place. Since graduation, I hadn’t thought much about it. All I knew about strippers was what I’d seen in movies.
“I know a lot of people think strip clubs are sleazy places, but that’s not my experience,” Rita said. She explained that her ex Phillip and his friends used to go to a local place called “Nirvana,” and she thought the club offered what she called “positive entertainment.”
“I spent a lot of time there, and I always enjoyed it,” Rita said. “If you’ve never seen exotic dancers, this is a chance to broaden your education, Carlos. Las Vegas has bigger, fancier clubs than you can find in our town. Can we go?”
“Sure, if that’s what you want,” I said. It seemed odd to me that Rita was so enthusiastic about going to a place where women take off their clothes, but I thought it might be fun. My feeling was that the only thing better than a naked woman was a group of naked women.
Rita talked to our hotel’s concierge, asking for a recommendation. “We want a club that’s welcoming for couples,” she said. “It would be great if we could go somewhere with an amateur contest.”
Amateur contest? “Those contests are a blast, Carlos!” she said. “They invite women in the audience to get up on stage and dance. You get all kinds of gals. Ladies from out of town who’ve always wanted to flaunt their bodies. Women who want to show off their new implants. Drunk housewives. Bachelorette party girls. There’s nothing more entertaining than watching tipsy bitches pretending they’re exotic dancers. You’ll love it!”
The concierge made some calls, and then sent Rita a text that recommended a club called “The Birdcage.” When we showed up there was a large crowd already. Most of the audience consisted of men, but about a quarter of the people were women, including a very boisterous group of females who seemed to be drinking heavily. The club was huge, with flashing lights, mirrors, and loud music.
They had a big main stage and several smaller ones. Lots of different women were pole dancing the entire time we were at the club, guaranteeing that you could always find a woman who looked attractive. We ordered cocktails and I had a cashier give me a stack of 100 dollar bills. I wasn’t a regular customer of strip clubs, but even I knew that the dancers were there to make a living, and that it was essential that customers have plenty of cash to stick inside their garters.
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