To The Good Life...

To The Good Life...

Status: Finished

Genre: Erotica


Status: Finished

Genre: Erotica


Chance encounters really do make this the good life.


Chance encounters really do make this the good life.


Submitted: November 16, 2012

A A A | A A A


Submitted: November 16, 2012





The best wingman I ever had was my old pal, Buddy Davenport.

A buff six footer with dark pushed back hair, blue eyes, and dimpled chin, Buddy was considered quite a looker. I thought he was a good looking guy ever since the fifth grade when he transferred to 'Little Scholars' private school off Sunset in Hollywood.

Until Buddy showed up, I had been the school hunk, a title I secretly grinned at, but honestly wasn't comfortable with. Too much pressure.

To make matters worse, I wore the school uniform, and Buddy wore whatever he felt like. Uniforms were not mandatory at this prestigious school for the sons and daughters of movie stars, and Buddy took full advantage of Southern California's most laid back campus for kids.

Buddy typically wore Levi 501 jeans, the ones with the copper buttons, a black tee shirt, red poplin jacket with the collar always turned up, black Dingo boots with copper toes, and of course, sunglasses perched on the bridge of his nose. He carried that look all the way to Hollywood High where he lost the title as 'the hunk' to me.

Sometime during the summer, I shot up from just under six feet to just over six four, gained twenty pounds, and grew my hair out over my collar. It felt good to finally look down at Buddy, who relinquished his title with no fight. It seems that he too, felt the pressure to always be 'on' and that can be a bit daunting as young teens struggle with finding themselves amongst soulful tunes, broken hearts, and zits.

After graduation, I went to NYU in Manhattan, while Buddy went up the coast to Berkeley.

I can't count the times I sat on my bed on Sunday mornings with some blonde sucking my cock while I read the New York Times and saw Buddy's mug plastered along with his cronies for staging sit ins and demonstrations.

Yeah, Buddy was still the rebel.

I laughed out loud when I saw the sign he had hoisted over his head. "NO MORE TAXES".

Right. Like Buddy Davenport gave a fuck about taxes. Born super rich, an advantage for sure, he skillfully managed to get even richer. Something called Yahoo had made him a millionaire.

Buddy had two talents. Making money and scoring pussy.

As best friends forever, we always made time for each other. During Christmas break, Buddy would fly to New York (nothings more beautiful) to enjoy the lights of Manhattan, plus he got to wear his fur coat.

Spring break found me on a 757 headed back to Southern California to spend some time in the warm sun of Palm Springs, or the beaches of Catalina Island where I always enjoyed my time with Buddy.

It was always fun keeping score in our 'who gets the most pussy' contest that were always the most challenging. Buddy was tough competition, with his dashing looks and quick wit, but he was lacking in finesse.

I tried to tell him for years to take some foreign languages, but since he did have a bit of a speech impediment, (he stuttered when he got excited) he found foreign languages well...foreign.

Year after year, I managed to win the contest and Buddy was always congratulatory.

After college, I found employment with NBC , and Buddy went to prison for, you guessed it. Income tax evasion!

Poor Buddy.

It was after his release from prison and a couple million in attorneys fees Buddy was back in action. We agreed to meet in Las Vegas to continue our friendly competition.

"How was the flight?" I asked as Buddy tossed his bag in the back of my rented red 911S Porsche convertible.

"Not bad old buddy. Scored twice in the aft bathroom!" The aft bathroom was ground zero for the 'Mile High Club'.

"Buddy, you know that doesn't count without proof."

"You mean something like this?" Buddy had reached behind the seat and grabbed his soft bag and produced two pairs of panties.

I grinned and slapped his face softly, "Works for me!"

After a brief ride to the 'Palms Hotel & Casino', we went up to our suite, a rather imposing blend of marble floors, brass, glass, and Japanese screens, where I poured us some Dom Perignon.

Nothing but the best for my oldest and dearest friend.

"Thanks what's on the agenda tonight?"

I turned from the floor to ceiling glass that gave us a spectacular view of Las Vegas and replied, "Well, its a matter of taste Buddy. If you're cougar hunting, there's no place better than the nightclub, 'PURE' at Caesar's. If you're wanting horny housewives, then we can hit 'TAO' at the Venetian. But, if you're thinking like the Buddy Davenport that I'll want wild and crazy, and that's either the 'Voodoo Lounge' at the Rio, Studio 54 at the MGM Grand, or the 'Ghostbar' right here!"

We were in the Ghostbar at 11:00 PM.

Perched fifty five floors up, the Ghostbar featured the coolest of the cool in bachelor pad style , with large silver divans for lounging, soft indirect overhead lighting, and heart stopping sounds of the bass thumping played repetitively by a super hip chick in a one piece latex suit that showed every curve and move.

Yeah, with a dress code that suggested this was a celebrity hang out, and drinks starting at eight bucks, we knew we were in for a treat.

While Buddy took on the impossible task of getting it on with the latex dj, who head bobbed with a cigarette danging from her fuckable lips, ignoring Buddy completely, I took on a less challenging target.

I glanced down at a stunning young blond."Hi", I said with a wide grin.

She looked up at me while nibbling on her bottom lip.

"I'm Amber. Wanna blow job?"

Life has always come too easy for me.

I nodded. Amber took my hand and led me outside to the patio. I looked straight down and saw an un-obstructed view of the pool since the floor was glass.

This was no place to be if you were afraid of heights. Luckily, I wasn't, but even If I was, Ambers red lips wrapped around my cock had my full attention.

I grabbed her long blonde mane and twisted it around my hand. I arched my back and began giving her mouth a good fucking. The sights and sounds were incredible.

The latex DJ was spinning, "I'm Addicted To Love" as Amber received my first load of warm cum and the girl just kept sucking. I suddenly found my own hand in the air with the rest of the crowd pointing at the sky pumping in time with the music while pumping my cock in and out of hot Amber's lips.

Damn. This Amber was hungry! What she didn't swallow while my cock was down her throat, she scooped from her pouty lipsand ate.

I had almost forgotten we were in public since we were partially blocked from the noisy crowd by one of the chrome and glass fountains that graced the glass deck. As I looked around, I noticed my cock wasn't the only one jammed in a hot babes mouth.

Even one of those hotel heiresses was cock hungry.

Hmm. Vegas had changed.

After a sticky and steamy goodbye kiss Amber strolled back inside looking for another cock to suck.

I stayed on the deck and leaned against the rail, wiped my mouth and lit a cigarette. My eyes scanned the Las Vegas horizon and savored the most beautiful mile and a half of commercial real estate in the world. The Stratosphere of course was the downtown landmark and clearly the tallest. Other hotels like the Venetian stood out as did the Wynn and NYNY. Fabulous!

Down below there were couples making out or in some other form of public displays of affection that had my cock twitching again.

"Hello." A soft sultry voice came from behind me. I turned my head and stared at the glamorous brunette that I instantly recognized as Lori Dunning. Lori was the number one country western singer in the world at that time and was standing toe to toe with me.

"Hi." Well, since I had grown up around celebrities, I knew better than to gush over her. Most celebrities hate that anyway.

Lori was mid twenties, tall, slender, full orange lips, piercing blue eyes, and a body to die for.

Forty minutes later, after working up a nice sweat on the dance floor, Lori was under me soaking our juices into the 1000 count linen sheets.

I flicked on the bedside lamp and grabbed my cigarettes.

"Light one for me will you sugar?" Lori asked as she sat up and pulled the sheets over her tits. I giggled to myself at her sudden modesty. In the last hour and a half, I had sucked them, nibbled on them, tongue flicked them, and sprayed cum all over them, and now she's modest?

I lit two, ala Betty Davis and handed her one.

"Thanks my sister tells me you're some kind of writer?" Lori said as a huge volume of smoke poured from her nostrils.

"Sister? What sister?" I replied as I poked my legs into my boxers and stood to go pee.

"Amber. Amber is my little sister hon."

Well, fuck. What were the odds?

Hey, this was Las Vegas so I'm betting I could get someone to take that bet.

Have sex with sisters at the top of the Palms in less than three hours without knowing they were sisters? I'd say the odds against that were very high. Probably a thousand to one. There's never a bookie around when you need one.

"Oh, so Amber's your little sister?" I said while streaming piss into the bowl spelling out, 'idiot' in almost perfect cursive.

There was no reply. I peeked out the bathroom door and the number one country singer in the world was gone. Man, I hate being used!

Fuck it.

I showered and climbed into bed. I find it hard to sleep in a bed that has seen so much hot action, and Lori had a special scent that was intoxicating. I knew I had to get up and regroup.

I dressed more casually this time. Where the Ghostbars dress code restricted jeans and tennis shoes, I knew the Crazy Horse Saloon off Sahara and Eastern had no such policies.

That's another cool thing about Las Vegas. If you want 'it', it's available 24 hours a day....along with the cabs.

A short cab ride, a ten dollar tip to Jose, and I was inside sitting at the bar in minutes.

I glanced at theCorona clock. 3:10 AM.

At 3:12 AM, the saucy redhead that had just finished her performance stepped off the stage and plopped down next to me as one of her assistants draped a satin robe over her shoulders to keep the draft off her.

Hmm. Where was the assistant five minutes ago when she was soaked in sweat as she pumped her pussy in the air while leaning back on her hands?

"Hi. I'm Dallas. Dallas Raines."

I grinned and replied, "Of course you are. I'm Garrett Carr."

She took one of my cigarettes from the pack on the bar and slipped it in her over glossed red lips waiting for a light. I flicked my Dunhill and watched her watch me as she sucked the smoke into her mouth saying, "Never heard of ya" before exhaling over her shoulder.

I knew that Dallas could be had. All we needed to determine was the price. Now, it's not like I have to pay for pussy, but sometimes...well, sometimes the right situation pops up, and I'm no fool.

After agreeing on a hundred bucks, Dallas took my hand and led me out back where there was a series of mobile homes. Okay, trailers.

After kicking the bottom of the door with her slipper-ed foot, she dragged me in and slammed the lightweight door. I tossed the kitty from the orange and green plaid couch, sat down and leaned back expecting the customary cock wash and inspection. Hey, this wasn't my first time with hot babe with a pay plan.

"Let me slip into something a bit more appropriate baby. Be right back. Just put the cash in Elmer." She pointed at a glass pig on top of the TV.

Dallas excused herself and quick stepped to the rear of the trailer where I heard her tossing the drawers for her lingerie.

I leaned forward and fed Elmer. I didn't know Elmer was one of those talking banks until he said, "Thank you" as the last bill dropped.

The pocket door slid open and Dallas reappeared at the door wearing way more stuff than she had on when she left, but at least it was sheer and I could see her big puffy nipples and hairy bush. Not too big on the bush program but surely there was a pussy in the forest somewhere.

I leaned back as she did a small hip bump walk towards me. Damn, this girl oozed sex like honey dripping from one of those little bears that you pour over pancakes.

She approached me as I leaned my knees out for her to slide between them and rest her elbows on my thighs. Slowly, she unsnapped and unzipped my jeans and spread the fly open. My throbbing cock made its appearance at her first touch. Amazingly, even after getting a great blow job from Amber, then another one from her sister Lori, followed by some hot sheet action where Lori soaked the bed with her orgasms, I was still ready to go.

Dallas pulled my foreskin back and gave the head a kiss. Then her tongue licked the underside of my rim before sucking the tip in her mouth. The sensation was unbelievable as she nipped the rim with her teeth. A quick disclaimer here. Do not try this at home!

Seconds later, my cock found the back of her warm mouth. She relaxed her jaw enough for my cock to slip down her throat. The moans against my cocks shaft had my balls aching. Deeper and deeper my cock plunged as Dallas bobbed her head up and down. My right hand rested on the top of her red hair while my left hand reached under her and played with her wet pussy.

The tension in her pussy increased as my cock swelled. It clamped tight around my two fingers as her first climaxed washed over the palm of my hand. My cock began spurting its load of thick cream as a result of her cumming in my hand.

It was one of the most exciting climaxes I'd had in a long time.

Afterwards, I fed Elmer another hundred because well...I could.

Dallas and I agreed to meet again soon.Then I took a cab back to my hotel. The room was cool and smelled fresh. I walked into the bedroom and discovered somehow there were fresh sheets on the bed along with red rose petals.

I smelled smoke and glanced to the bathroom and saw Lori Dunning in the bathroom mirror, the ever present cigarette dangling from her orange mouth.

Lori saw me and said, "Hi need to get changed hon."

I looked at her with my best puzzled look and replied, "Changed for what?"

"We have to be at the Candlelight Wedding Chapel at 5:00 AM."

"I'm not about to get married." I said emphatically.

Lori grinned as she stepped from the bathroom, "Relax sugar. This isn't a least not yet. Your pal Buddy called and said we should meet him there at 5:00 AM sharp " then stepped into a long silver sequined dress.

I shook my head and feebly replied, "Huh? What?" before catching myself falling on the bed.

"Your friend Buddy Davenport wants us there. Now, get dressed and let's go. By the way, where have you been?"

I was stunned. "What do you mean us? Why are you going and by the way, where have you been?"

"Buddy is marrying my cousin Edge. And I had another performance at 3:00 AM so I rushed out. Sorry I didn't say goodbye."

"Edge? Who the fuck is Edge?" My mind was going ninety in a forty mile zone. There was way too much information coming in and none of it made sense.

"I told you, she's my cousin. The DJ upstairs. That's Edge."

We arrived by limo at 4:57 AM and walked straight into the wedding chapel. There was Edge. No latex. No dangling cigarette. No spiked hair. She was simply beautiful in her long cream colored dress with the lace bodice. A band of daisies around her head. Radiant, blissful, and incredibly stunning. My pal hit the jackpot.

I looked over and saw Buddy grinning like he'd struck gold again.

Still dressed in his Levis, black tee shirt, Dingo boots, and red poplin jacket with the collar flipped up, and yes...sunglasses.

Buddy Davenport, the rebel with a cause, my wingman and best friend for life was head over heels in love with a woman he'd met less than eight hours ago. More importantly, she was head over heels in love with him, too.

They didn't want an Elvis impersonator. They insisted that Lori and I sing a duet for them. We sang "Islands in the Stream" the song made famous by Kenny Rogers and Dolly Parton.

That was many years ago.

Today, Buddy and Sharon (Edge) have three children. Yeah, their first born was named after me.

Garrett Oscar Davenport. God.

The winner of the contest in numbers was me. The winner in love was Buddy.

To the good life...stay thirsty my friends.

Meet Dallas Raines.


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