Casino du Roturier

Alex reached out and pinched a tiny, pink, hardened nipple. Julie shoved his hand away and pounded his cock even more furiously, all the while continuing to check the driver's window frequently for movement.

"Oh, god, Julie, I'm about to...oh...that feels so fantastic...oh, shit...I'm gonna..."

Julie grabbed a cocktail napkin from the limo's bar and got it to the tip of Alex's cock just in time for his explosion. She milked the spurting, blood red cock several more times into the tissue, then quickly removed her hand as if Alex's member harbored some exotic disease.

"Oh, Jesus, Julie, that was amazing."

"That was the most perverted sex thing that I have ever done. If that is not proof of true love, I don't know what..."

"That's not perverted," Alex interrupted. "That's what married lovers do sometimes, that's all. And, it felt great. The rule is, if it feels good, do it."

"Well, I hope you are satisfied until we get all the way to the hotel on St. Jehan. If you take that thing out while we are on the plane, I will never speak to you again."

There was a long silence and then Julie began to laugh. Alex quickly followed. Soon the two were laughing so hard that tears returned.

*****

That night, Alex and Julie arrived at heaven on earth, St Jehan, a tropical island beautiful beyond description. Even the air was intoxicating, it seemed. When the couple arrived at their room, Alex swept Julie off of her feet, carried her over the threshold, and tossed her onto the middle of their king-sized bed. Julie's giggles changed to gasps when she realized that, in the process, her skirt had flown up and her legs had parted. The bellhop entered carrying their bags at just the right moment to take full advantage of the sight. He stared directly between Julie's legs and continued to gape as she struggled to reclaim her modesty.

"Oops," muttered Alex realizing what he had done. "We're newly weds. Could you tell?" Alex said to the bellhop.

"I suspected that," the bellhop laughed as Alex handed him several bills. "See you guys in three days or so. Call us when you need nourishment."

The bellhop quickly and quietly departed.

"What did he mean by that?" asked Julie.

Alex jumped onto the bed beside Julie and took her in his arms.

"He meant that we will be making love night and day for the next three days, silly."

"Oh my, that's embarrassing...that he knows, I mean," naïve Julie replied. Alex rolled his eyes.

"Three days...starting now!" said Alex. He began to unbutton Julie's blouse.

"Wait!" shouted Julie. "Wait. No. This has to be perfect. I have to get ready, put on my sexy outfit...I spent a month searching for just the right lingerie, Alex. We need some champagne, soft lights, music. We can't just fuck."

The word, fuck, seemed strange coming Julie's mouth. The sound of it stung Alex as if he had been slapped.

Alex sighed. "Ok, my love."

"It will be worth your wait, husband of mine. I promise."

And, it was...to a certain extent. Julie was radiant in her nuptial gown. Alex nearly came when he saw her emerge from the bathroom. She was beautiful. Her diaphanous white peignoir set, albeit a bit old fashioned, made her feel as lovely as she looked. The champagne relaxed them both.

After the lights were off, Julie allowed Alex to undress her and, in the protective darkness, she became a wild woman responding to his every touch with intense passion. With his dancing fingers alone, Alex brought her to a rather violent orgasm quickly, an orgasm clearly not fake.

Later Alex felt excruciating pleasure when Julie's pussy contracted again and again around his stiff cock. He felt like the king of the world when he deposited his cum deep within her. After a brief cuddle, Julie dutifully went to the bathroom to cleanse herself. By the time she returned, Alex was sound asleep. Chapter 3

"Ladies and gentlemen, the house odds are: 2 -- 1 that the red-haired woman will take our bet; even odds that she will lose the hand; 3-1 that she will actually go through with removing her bra if she loses; and 4 -- 1 that she will take our alternative proposition should she lose. Place your bets, please."

Markers exchanged hands quickly in La Domaine Riche while, out on the casino floor, Beverly pondered her proposition.

"Ok, I'll take the bet." Beverly words were barely audible. Groans immediately rose up from various persons peering at the televisions in John Cord's game room.

The blackjack dealer slipped a second card in front of Beverly—a nine of spades. Beverly screeched with sheer joy. Her excitement bubbled over.

"I'll stay with twenty. Ok, baby, deal your cards." Beverly could hardly remain in her seat. She squirmed like a bored child in church.

The dealer dealt his first card, a nine. Next came a three.

"You have to hit. Let's see a face card so you go bust, dealer man," giggled Beverly.

Out of the shoe, the dealer dragged a two of hearts. Without hesitation, he pulled another card from the shoe and flipped it over.

"A seven...not a goddamned seven!" shouted Beverly. "Fucking A...he dealt himself a seven. Unbelievable. Simply unbelievable."

The cheers erupted from the crowd behind Beverly and were echoed by selected individuals standing near John Cord.

"Madam, I believe you owe the house your bra," said the dealer.

"Oh, my god," whispered Beverly. She had turned white as a sheet. Men behind her jockeyed for better viewing positions.

"If you please," said the dealer holding out his hand.

Beverly turned from pale white to beet red in an instant. Where the hell is George, she thought. She brought her hands to the first button on her blouse and paused. The room seemed to spin; lights flashed all around.

She unbuttoned the first button, then the second. She noted several men already staring at her lacy bra even though only a small portion peeked through. Her mind raced. Can I get this damned thing off without taking off my blouse? I used to do that in Girl Scouts.

She started trying to maneuver her bra straps under her blouse quite unsuccessfully.

"Oh my, do I have to do this?" she pled to the dealer.

"Given you willingness, albeit reluctant willingness, to go through with paying off your wager, I am empowered to offer you an alternative bet, if you are interested. You may keep your bra and you can win $5,000 if you play and win the next hand."

Beverly suddenly clutched her blouse together at the neck.

"Five thousand dollars? You have to be kidding...at a $5 table?" Suddenly a frown came over her face. "And, if I lose?"

"If you lose, the house requires all of your clothes."

"All?"

"Everything. You must remove your clothing here. The clothing then belongs to the casino permanently. After that, you are free to gamble some more or you may leave...either will be done without your clothes however."

"Oh, my god," cried Beverly.

Just then George, Beverly's husband, emerged from the crowd.

"Hey, baby, what the hubbub?" He eyed her unbuttoned blouse curiously. "Are you winning?" The look on Beverly's face revealed that his was a silly question.

"Is something wrong?" squeaked George.

*****

Like Alex and Julie, Beverly and George Morgan knew the minute they stepped off the plane that all their scrimping and saving for the trip was worth it. Colorful birds flew overhead; the ocean breezes sang in the palm trees; and the smell of the tropics filled their consciousness. It was ecstasy, just as they had envisioned it. They couldn't wait to savor every moment of the next seven days.

George Morgan had worked practically every day for the past ten years. That's the way of life in retail, especially when you live in a small town and when you are the manager, instead of the owner. Beverly was the supportive housewife and mother of their two children. She worked hard to maintain her figure as best she could and she knew George appreciated it. Even after all the years, he still seemed to go crazy with lust when he saw her nude body.

Beverly also tried hard to keep the sexual spark alive in their lives. She occasionally surprised George with a Playboy magazine or a porno movie just for fun. She enjoyed the libido stimulation too. The overly large cocks of the porno movie actors particularly intrigued her. George's was the only penis she had ever seen in real life. He always satisfied her, but his cock certainly wasn't a big as those in the movies.

It was Beverly who had first read about the Hedonism Resort in one of the erotic magazines. She and George had shared fantasies about coming to an island where public nudity was normal. They had even acted out some of their fantasies together at home.

An article in the Sunday Travel Section of their newspaper about Casino du Roturier had sealed the deal. Both George and Beverly loved to gamble. Laughlin, Nevada, was their favorite vacation destination—quiet, inexpensive, loose slots...perfect. But, there weren't any naked women or men in the hotel hot tubs in Laughlin, so George and Beverly had saved for their dream trip to St. Jehan. Their greatest expectations didn't quite prepare them for what they found on the island.

*****

"$5,000!" gasped George.

Upstairs, John Cord motioned toward a nearby television monitor. "Ladies and Gentlemen, the house is giving 4 - 1 odds that the husband of the red-haired lady will encourage, rather than discourage her in taking the new bet. If he is neutral, bets are off. See the steward to place your bets."

High-roller gamblers gathered around the bank of screens and watched carefully.

"Caviar and cocktails are now being served in the bar," Cord continued. "Also, the dapper man on screen #4 has won his bet. Sorry, ladies, no skin will be revealed there...yet. You winners, show your betting slips to a steward for payment."

"What should I do, George?" whispered Beverly. "If I win, our whole trip is paid for and then some. But, if I lose, I have to get naked as a jay-bird right here in the middle of the casino and I'll have to go all the way back to the hotel that way too!"

"I don't know, baby. That's a lot of dough. But, you have to decide for yourself."

"What if I have to walk out of here naked, George? What would you think of me?"

"I'd be the proudest guy in the place, cause I'm the one they would all be envying. I'm the lucky stiff who gets to do more than just look. Who really cares? We don't know any of these people and we have seen naked people all over this island. The five grand would be terrific."

"Pay the winners, please Marvin," shouted John Cord to the cheering crowd in La Domaine Riche. "That, I believe, was husbandly encouragement! Last call for bets on our three naked men and their female accomplices."

"Are you sure, George?" Beverly looked deep into her husband's eyes.

George shrugged, "For five grand? I'm sure."

"I'll take that bet, Mr. Dealer. It is a little cold in here to be taking off my underwear right now, so I intend to win." Beverly tried to act cocky, but her hands betrayed her. She couldn't take a sip from her glass because her hands were shaking so much. Buttoning her blouse also was a challenge.

"Yes, Ma'am."

The dealer flipped two cards in front of Beverly...a red eight and a black four.

"Shit," Beverly whispered through clinched teeth. "Hit me."

The dealer pulled a card for the shoe and flipped over a Jack of Clubs. A rousing cheer burst from the watchers. There were high-fives all around.

"Bust. Well, that was quick," sighed Beverly. "And, I kind of liked this outfit too. Bought it just for the trip. Now they own it."

Tears welled up in Beverly's eyes and betrayed her apparent nonchalance.

"Jesus, I sorry, baby," croaked George.

"Take it off, Red," croaked a voice from behind Beverly.

Beverly noted that the dealer was listening intently to the device he wore hooked over one ear.

"Ma'am," said the dealer. "I have been informed that the house will make you one more proposition...one similar bet to retain your clothes and your modesty. One more hand of blackjack for $8,000 and your clothes."

"And, my stake this time is?"

"Your husband's clothes."

"Holy shit!" cried Beverly.

"That's easy, baby," said George. "Win eight grand or we both walk out of here naked...together. Fuck 'em...go for it."

"Let's do it," said Beverly triumphantly. "The odds have to be in our favor."

The dealer quickly dealt Beverly two cards, a king and a queen.

"Yes," shouted George. He now had a significantly greater interest in the game, as did the host of people who had gathered around them.

The dealer pulled two cards, one after another from the shoe.

"Blackjack," he said quietly.

The large crowd that now had gathered gasped as one.

George quietly started to unbutton his shirt.

The dealer held up his hand. "Sir, before you strip, there is one more proposition."

"Jesus, what now? We don't have anything left to bet," said Beverly.

"One more bet...and only two rules apply: both of you have to agree to play right now without hearing the details—I think you have gotten the drift of how we play here from your previous experience—and for this game, you have to go upstairs and discuss the details with the owner. You have gotten out of my league at this table, I'm afraid.

You'll recall, by the way, that the house bet went up five-fold from the first game to the second. That's my only hint. Or, you both can give me your clothes right now...and walk away."

Several in the crowd behind them began to chant, "Take it off, take it off, take it off..." Chapter 4

Ingrid Johnson sat at the bar watching JJ shoot Craps at a nearby table. She was well into her third Gumbay Smash, a deliciously dangerous tropical rum drink. She had a bird's eye view of the casino from her perch on a high stool at the bar. Unquestionably, the star attraction at the Crap table was JJ. JJ always drew a crowd around him and this time was no exception. The table was completely full and all eyes were on the ever charming, deliciously handsome, big spender, JJ Johnson.

Two other men sat at separate tables in front of Ingrid. For the last few minutes each had been sneaking peeks at Ingrid's lean, tanned legs. Her short skirt had ridden up higher and higher as she sat on the tall barstool. The men's quick peeks and longing looks were supposed to go unnoticed by Ingrid, but they did not. She knew they were trying to look up her dress and she liked it.

Just one little move and they will almost be able to see up my little skirt, she thought. She moved her legs slightly apart and waited for the reaction. It came quickly. Both men's eyes widened.

Encouraged by their expressions, Ingrid purposely swung her legs around as if she was about to rise from her stool. In doing so, she spread her legs completely apart for a brief moment.

That's right, boys, no panties today, she mused.

One man's jaw fell open; the other tipped over his drink. Ice cubes and liquid spread over his table. Ingrid laughed at her own little game.

Just then a huge cheer came from JJ's table. Ingrid arose from her stool, flashing the two men in the process one last time, and strolled over to see what all the excitement was about. She snickered as she neared the one man who feverishly sought to sponge up his spilled drink. She gave him a big Nordic smile when she passed by. She could feel his eyes on her ass as she walked away.

Ingrid pushed her way through the crowd, intentionally brushing her breasts against a muscular man in a floral shirt. When she arrived at JJ's side, he leaned down and kissed her full, puffy lips. She put her hand on his waist and allowed it to fall down along his firm ass. JJ winked in recognition of her caress.

Just then, the stickman who was operating the Crap game announced, "The shooter is a big winner and still rolling. Place your bets, please."

As he spoke, a red light over the boxman's head began to flash and a loud siren sounded.

"Ah hah!" said the stickman. "Ladies and gentlemen, here at the Casino du Roturier, that flashing light means that it is game time. The house will pay the crap shooter 100 times his or her current bet—sir, for you, that would come to...ah...$6,000, I believe—if you make your point before rolling a seven. If you should lose, however, the house requires a special payment from you in addition to your money."

"What's that, dude?" asked JJ.

"All you clothes, sir."

"Hey man, you're not fucking serious!" questioned JJ.

"Dead serious, sir."

"I'll be a son-of-a-bitch. The dude is serious, baby cakes."

"You can choose not to play, if you wish, sir."

The crowd began to clap and chant, "Play, JJ, play; play, JJ, play..."

"Get totally naked right here?" JJ asked.

"Yes, sir."

"Now I understand why we met that naked woman on the way in, baby," said JJ. "She must have lost it all right here."

"I believe your point is six, sir. Stay with your $60 or try for $6,000?"

"I'm feeling like a lucky mother-fucker, my man. Start counting out that 6,000 dinero, dude."

JJ rolled the dice...five...the crowd groaned...he rolled again...four...the crowd responded again...he rolled a third time...seven!

The crowd went berserk.

"I believe that the house now owns your clothes, sir."

Ingrid gasped, then screamed, then laughed.

"You want to take them off of me your own self, mother-fucker?" JJ's eyes flashed with anger.

"No, sir," said the stickman quietly. He was absolutely calm even though JJ clearly was angry and towered over the casino employee. "The house, however, is prepared to increase our wager from $6,000 to $60,000 plus the return of your clothes, if the next shooter rolls a seven or eleven on his come-out roll."

"Shit, $60,000? So, what do I have bet this time?" hissed JJ.

"You wife's clothes, sir."

The crowd erupted into a boisterous cheer.

Seconds later, the casino owned both JJ's and Ingrid clothing.

"So, we both have to undress right here?" said a much more humble JJ Johnson.

"Yes, sir, however, the house is prepared to offer the two of you one last proposition. You must agree to the wager right now without knowledge of the details...those you will receive from our owner upstairs. There is considerably more money involved. Or, you both can strip...ah...now."

The stickman was distracted by Ingrid who, to the boisterous cheers of a large group of bystanders, had begun to take off her shirt. A unison intake of breath occurred among the viewers when Ingrid lifted her shirt above her breasts. The bright colors of her floral bra seemed to glow under the bright casino lights. Plus, everyone immediately appreciated that Ingrid's bra was a genuine engineering feat. It had to be in order to contain her massive breasts.

"Wait, baby, wait," said JJ. "We are gonna get into the significant money here. Put your shirt back down."

The crowd began to boo and hiss.

"The owner, huh? Ok, we'll play," grunted JJ.

He dragged Ingrid toward the elevator. Ingrid turned back toward the table and abruptly pulled one prodigious breast from its cloth confinement and defiantly flashed it at the remaining crowd. In answer to their cheers, Ingrid blew the group a kiss. JJ put his massive hands over each of Ingrid's breasts and whirled her into the open elevator doorway. Chapter 5

"Ladies and gentlemen, betting is now closed on our Revelation game. Direct your attention to the television monitors and we will begin playing." At that moment, a walkie-talkie signal went to the floor boss who sprang into action.

"Folks," he said over the PA system, "you see before you three of the casino's honorees, three gentlemen brave enough to try for the big money. Unfortunately though, they lost...yes, that happens occasionally here...so they now must play our Revelation game. Gentlemen, are you ready?"