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The Queen of Las Vegas

Feedback? MrLucky78@hotmail.com

Three Years Ago

I was kneeling on the bed between Freddy's legs, gently rubbing the insides of his thighs. His cock was soft, hanging innocently down toward the sheets. "So, you want me to be your little serving wench for your poker game, do you?"

"Well . . . kind of . . . yeah." Freddy looked at me sheepishly. "It might be . . . you know . . . fun . . ." I looked down at him with a smirk as my fingers toyed with his legs.

"And I suppose you want me to wear high heels?" I asked coyly. Freddy lifted his eyebrows. I didn't even own a pair of high heels back then.

"Would you?"

"Well, like you said . . . it might be fun." I couldn't believe I was agreeing to wear high heels for his poker buddies, but as I rubbed his thighs and saw his cock begin to twitch, I thought maybe this could be fun. ...

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