It’s Saturday morning in Las Vegas, and as usual, I’m sitting in front of my three monitors looking at an almost full-size image of my gorgeous wife in the buff stretched across the triple displays. With 32-inch ViewSonic screens, my six-foot ex-model wife has her elbow at the edge of the leftmost monitor and her toes at the right.
As usual, we went to a small house party last night of approximately twenty couples. The party didn’t break up until about 3 AM, and then we stopped at Denny’s with several other couples and one of our unicorns.
Luckily, there were no religious nutjobs to critique the ladies’ lack of clothing, and the grave crew at Denny’s just rolled their eyes at us. On the positive side, one of the night crew waitresses appears almost converted.
The woman is fortyish, blonde, with a trim figure and a friendly attitude. I believe she’s gotten suspicious since our little group comes in regularly and never sits in the same order. She realized the woman sitting on one guy’s lap was with another guy or girl the last time.
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