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Convention Town Girl -1-

Pages: 1

I used to just play with other guys, flirting and touchy-feely stuff. but recently I've actually been screwed by one man, and then another and then, at his urging, played with a whole group of men. How did I get this way? Well, it happened gradually, but he sort of started it.

We were out with my husband's biggest business client one Friday night about two years ago, having dinner and drinks. This is not unusual. Tommy takes clients out every couple months, especially this man, I'll call him Stan.

Stan is recently divorced and was not yet involved with anyone, so he was alone this night. Stan always pays a lot of attention to me anyway, looks me up and down, and touches me. This makes me feel a little uncomfortable . . . especially if he has a woman with him. This night was no different.

Tom always tells me to be cool about it, not to upset the client. Fully one-third of Tom's commissions come from this one customer, so he can't afford to do anything to risk that business.

After dinner we went to a bar in one of the casinos, one with music. This bar was filled with people partying -- I guess there's a convention in the hotel this week -- and with a lot of young women who have come to join the party in a professional capacity, I think. They are really sexy.

I was in a nice dress, nothing flashy or very sexy, just a straight pseudo-silk, off-white sheath that buttons down the front. It's short but not too short, and I even have a slip on for modesty. But compared with most of the women there, I looked and felt positively Suzie Straight.

While sitting at the table, Tommy, my husband, had his hand visibly on my thigh. This makes me feel a little sexy. When we dance, he plays with my butt, and makes no secret of it. Hey, its okay, we're allowed. We've been married practically forever.

Stan asked me to dance, and being a good corporate wife I accepted. When a slow song came on next, we stayed on the dance floor. He pulled me fairly close. With his hands on my hips it did feel a bit fresh. But . . . The guy is an important client, so I don't want to draw any attention to it. I just ignored it. He's done more than that several times in the past, anyway. I mean, he's an attractive enough guy, about ten years older than I am. It's just that, well, I am married, and my husband is right here.

When we got back to the table, Tommy was away, I guess in the men's room. While we were talking, Stan puts his hand on my thigh, right around the hem of my dress. First, on top of the skirt, then down onto my nylons . . . my knee and then back up. Casually, he lifted the hem and went under the skirt onto my thigh.

Thankfully, Tommy returned just then and Stan moved his hand back down to my knee.

When Stan went to the restroom later, I told Tommy that he was taking some liberties with his hands. "So?" he said. "Let him. Please." I was more than a little surprised. "Honey, this is my biggest account. It's no big deal. He?s just playing. Let him have a little fun."

"Do you want him to feel me up?"

"If he wants to, well, yes, I want him to be able to do that."

"You want me to ?let? him feel me up?"

"Yes, sure. I don't want to make a big deal over it."

"All over, you want me to let him touch me anywhere?"

"Oh, come on, Jan, it's not as though you're not tempting. I mean, you're awfully proud of your boobs, and your butt, and your legs. You work hard on them, and it isn't just for me. It's for your ego. And he's just responding to a very attractive woman."

"I think he wants to put his hands all over those assets that I work so hard on . . . And you think that's okay?"

"Sure, let him. It's just playing. It's not like real sex. I don't mind. You shouldn't. Don't do anything to piss him off . . . please." He leaned closer and took my hand. "He's important to us sweetie. His account is the bigger house in the better neighborhood that we just moved into. And, the new car you want."

I'm stunned. How far does he want me to go with this, I wonder? "Well, suppose he wants real sex? Suppose he wants to take me back to his room, to screw me like one of these hookers here?"

"It won't come to that, honey. He's not crazy. Yeah, he knows that big clients get some privileges, but he can't expect to have my wife, for Christ's sake. It won't happen don't worry about it."

I sat back and thought about it. He wants me to let this man paw me. My husband wants me to engage in a little sex play with a client, for money . . . Indirectly.

Well, I get that money, too . . . More indirectly, but I still get the benefits of it. I down my drink, then Tommy's. My husband orders another round, a little more fortification for the night ahead.

"You want me to just let him do what he wants to do?"

"If he wants to be friendly, then I want you to be friendly, even very friendly. And that means open and receptive. Trust me, it won't go too far."

When Stan came back to the table, we danced again, and he pulled me to him again, I didn't resist. I could feel him getting an erection against my belly. His hands dropped to my butt, again I didn't resist that. I'm sure that everyone could see them massaging me. He traced the outlines of my bikini underwear with his fingers so that it was obvious that he knew exactly what I was wearing, and he made sure I knew it, too.

When we sat down again, both men put their hands on my legs. Jeezuz, what is this, a threesome? I thought. Tom excused himself again. Stan moved his chair even closer to mine. He whispered to me how beautiful I looked tonight, and what a good dancer I was. I gulped my drink again, for courage.

Stan and I were dancing again when Tom came back, and putting on a show on the floor. During fast dances, he positioned one of his legs between mine, so that I could rub down onto it, which, I did. During the slow dances, he felt all of me that was accessible outside my clothes. When Tom came back with more drinks, I noticed he was watching this intently. I tried not to object or pull away, but I tried not to encourage him too much, either.

Stan went to the john again, and I told Tom that his hands were all over me. "Next he's going to be grabbing my boobs or my thighs."

"So? Let him have a feel. No man can resist those boobs."

"Just like that? You want me to let him touch me, feel up your wife, sexually?"

"Sure, yes, honey, why not? What's a little groping? If it's not going to get us arrested for public nudity, it?s not a problem."

Stony silence for a minute, then he whispered in my ear, conspiratorially . . . "Tell me you aren't enjoying it just a little bit, turning on another man . . . A rich and powerful man who finds you extremely attractive."

I didn't answer, but just sipped my drink and thought about it.

I continued dancing with both of them, more or less alternating, though I have to admit that Stan somehow got more of the slow dances, thus more opportunity to roam over my hips and ass and thighs. By now, when he wandered down from my hip, his hand would go down the back and outside of my thigh to the hem of my skirt, and touch my bare leg. Well, not skin but the nylons on my legs. And he would sneak a finger or two under the skirt and move up my thigh. Still, I didn't object or pull away. I know what Tommy wants.

Tommy got to watch it all. When we danced, he whispered to me that he loved watching another man feel me like that.

A while later, Tommy got beeped and had to leave. Normally, I would drive him to the office and take the car home. This night I can't drive, I've had much too much to drink. Stan offered to see me home, and that solved the problem.

We stay and have another drink and dance some more. During the slow ones, Stan pulls me really close. I can feel that my breasts are in his chest, and the hard lump in his crotch against my belly. His hands go lower to my butt and really pull me into his erection. I continue to let it happen. He's been all over my behind half the night. Besides, it's kind of nice to know that another man still finds me attractive after I've been married for eleven years.

After a few more drinks, I decide that I like his hands on my ass, and I push back against him when we dance. When we sit down again, his hand is on my thigh, starting from my knee, moves up my leg under my dress. This is it, now, a new level of contact . . . Under my clothes. This is scary. Do I stop it here or let it continue? My instructions are not to upset the client, let him play. I uncross my legs giving him unfettered access to my thighs.

He leans toward me and kisses me! If I weren't drunk, I'd be shocked by the public nature of it. His hand moves higher between my thighs and brushes my crotch. I jump at the touch. Here's a man I barely know kissing me and running his hand up under my skirt.

My husband wants me to please this man, to let him play with my body. I think this is getting out of hand. But I don't want to stop it. I was reluctant at first. But with all the alcohol and the fondling, I'm getting into it. What I'm shocked at is that I'm not angry; I don't want him to stop. I am finding this interesting, in fact, exciting . . . Incredibly exciting.

My God, I'm getting wets.

While he's kissing me, I moan into his mouth. He can tell that I am enjoying both the kiss and the touch. I lean back and close my eyes. He can do anything he wants now. I have quite forgotten how public this is, that we're still in the club and there are other people around. I don't care. His fingers push my panties into my crotch, into my slit. I push back at the contact.

He's kissing me with his hand full on my breast, but between us so it's hidden. Still, it must be visible.

The bouncer for the club, really a burly security guard in a tux, comes up behind us and whispers to me that we ought to get a room. "I haven't seen you in here before, honey, but if you aren't a little more subtle about it, you won't be allowed to work in here again. If you don't want to be persona non grata right now, then take your business to a more suitable place.

?I can't believe it! The guy thinks that I'm a hooker, and that Stan is my trick! Then I realize that there were a number of hookers in the bar, and that most of them were probably much better-behaved than I was just now.

I was so embarrassed. Stan paid the bill and we headed to his car. He had to help me walk steadily. We got into his car, which was off in the middle of one of those huge, anonymous parking lots that all the casinos have. When we got into the car, he started it and turned on the radio and the a/c, but didn't drive away. He turned to me and kissed me again. He held me and told me breathlessly how incredibly attractive he found me, how he'd wanted to touch me for a year since we first met at one of these dinners.

We were in a relatively dark part of the parking lot, and surrounded by other cars, so no one could really see inside the car. He was kissing me constantly, our tongues lashing, and his hands were all over me. He cupped my breasts and played with the nipples that protruded through the material of my dress. The electric feeling in my nipples went straight to my pussy, and I got hot and wet. How could I stop now? I didn't want to stop.

He unbuttoned the top of my dress and pulled it off my shoulders. Somehow the seats reclined until he was nearly lying on top of me. He finished unbuttoning my dress and took it off completely. My God, now I'm lying here in just a slip and my underwear. He pulled the slip off my shoulders and pulled my breasts out above my bra. Then he knelt down in front of my seat, between my legs, and kissed my breasts. Oh, his tongue and teeth on my nipples sent shocks down to my sex, and I breathed in gasps.

"I want you, I want you, you are so beautiful tonight," he hisses in my ear. "God, I love the taste of your lips, and your breasts. And I want to taste the rest of you." He reached up under my slip and pulled my panties down. I lifted my butt to help him. I was so hot; I wanted him to taste me, too. Now, there's just the slip around my waist.

He kissed up one thigh, across my belly, and down the other thigh. Then he came up between them. He parted my hair gently with his fingers and lowered his lips to my clit. His tongue was velvet across my button, his lips and teeth gently grasped at it. I pulled his head hard into my pussy, and I came, "Oh, God, Oh, God, Oh, Oh, Oh!" My bare feet were up on the dash, and the cold draft of the air conditioning blew over my sweaty legs and butt.

Stan moved over to his seat and lays back. He put my hands onto his pants, and I could feel the hardness and pulsing of his cock. I unzipped him and pulled his pants down below his knees, and straddled his hips. I knelt over him, and we kissed fervently. His hands were under my slip on my hips and pushing me down. I straightened up, took his penis in my hand, placed it at the entrance to my vagina, and pushed down slowly, sliding it into my hot, wet, hungry sex.

I slid up and down on his cock, moving it in and out of my cunt, slowly, with long strokes, Stan was frantic, sweating, gasping. He wanted so desperately to come. "Fuck me, fuck me. Shoot inside my cunt. Please. Shoot. Squirt in me. Give me your come!" I felt his cock get super-hard, and tense, and he lifted his hips, and he shouted, "Agh! Oh! Oh! OOOOh!"

I collapsed on his chest. As his cock softened, I could feel the fluids running out of my hole. I grabbed the Kleenex box off the back seat, and we both cleaned up. Leather seats don't stain, fortunately.

After we relaxed for a while, I put my stockings and dress back on, but he kept my panties as a, well, trophy. I think guys always want that most intimate piece of clothing as a trophy. "I conquered this woman. I fucked her. See, I uncovered the core of her sex, and I went inside her hole." Well, it's true.

Stan drove me home then. He kept his hand on my thigh and on my crotch for the entire ride. I didn't mind. I was still feeling warm and gooey and satisfied from the fucking.

When Tommy got home later, I was already asleep. I was glad that he didn't see me undress. He would certainly have noticed that my panties were missing and my body was covered with both male and female juices.

The next morning, we lazed in bed and he asked me what had happened. I didn't tell him the whole story. I was embarrassed, but he saw that right away. I let him drag out of me the details of Stan's dancing with me, and feeling me up. I told him that Stan even fingered me in the car before we drove home. Tommy went nuts. He loved it. He was hard in an instant, ripped off my t-shirt and jumped on me with very few preliminaries. I was horny as hell, too, I told him, from being felt and kissed and fondled and eventually finger- fucked. We both came like horny beasts.

For the next week, every time I looked up at him, over breakfast or dinner or the newspaper, he was staring at me and smiling. And he'd grab my ass or my boob every time we were near. And we made love with renewed vigor every night for a week. He loved that horny, sexy night at least as much as I did.

God, imagine if I had told him the whole story!

I'm lucky that Stan did not come back for seconds or thirds or for a regular thing. The incident had just been something in a business context, not an affair of the heart.

The next time I saw Stan was at the company's Christmas party at Tom's office. This is a big shindig, with all the major clients invited. Stan, of course, was on the list, and was in fine form that night. He was delighted to see me, naturally, and spend a lot of time with Tommy and me.

As I suspected he might, he touched me a lot. His hands were on my arm, my waist, my back, sometimes on my butt below the waist. But he was discreet and didn't do anything unusual in front of other people in the company. Tommy noticed, and he encouraged it again. Of course he would. He was using me to cement an important business contact, and it turned him on no end to be reminded that Stan had got into his wife's pussy, even though he thought it was only with fingers.

At one point, Stan steered me into an office that was empty and dark, and he was all over me. I resisted a little, but I didn't want to make a fuss. Any scene here would be a disaster. At the casino, Stan and I were anonymous. Here, I'm the wife of a partner, and he's an important client.

So I can't really make any noise or run out of the room suddenly. He took my indecision for acquiescence and really turned it on. He kissed me hard and held me hard, and felt my breasts, and got under my dress to the bare skin above my stockings. I had worn stockings that night because Tommy asked me to, and it made me feel sexy.

I didn't realize how much more vulnerable I would be to other advances because of them. But here I was, in a dark room, Stan's hand cupping my crotch, his fingers kneading into the lips of my pussy, and I was getting wet.

As much as I didn't want this, I did want it. I stopped struggling and let him get his hand into my panties and a couple fingers inside me. I jerked my hips, almost involuntarily, to get his penetrating fingers deeper inside me. Betraying any good judgment I had left, I pushed my cunt down on his hand, fucking his hand, and moaned my delight into his kiss.

After a couple minutes, he pulled out and licked his fingers. "I love your juice, but we can't stay away from the party too long. Later." And he left. I waited a minute, straightening out my clothes, and then left the office. When I got to the ladies room, I noticed that I was still a bit rumpled. I hoped no one else noticed.

Tom did notice that I was missing for a while, and that I was not completely fresh looking, and wanted to know if I was feeling okay. I told him that Stan had come back for some more play, but much more aggressively than before. Tommy was mainly concerned about appearances, rather than what Stan might do with my body. "Be careful not to let anyone see anything. We can't afford a scene, or even a rumor."

Stan found us at about time, and introduced me to his VP of marketing, Ken. Ken was younger, about Tom's age, and very cute. The four of us were in a corner, so no one else could really see what was going on. Stan decided to play some more. Stan put his hand right on my ass while talking to Ken, who was on the other side of me. I shivered and shuffled my feet nervously. Then he went further. He pulled my skirt up in back and wormed his hand between my legs, right up against my panties.

Jesus, what is he doing? I could hardly slap him or remove his hand without being noticed. I couldn't even just walk away because my skirt was up so far in back. No one could see my predicament except Stan on my left, Ken on my right, and Tommy standing right in front of me. He couldn't see exactly where Stan's hand was, but it was clear it was under my skirt and on my butt.

To make matters worse, Ken took this as an invitation and felt my other thigh, up to the top of the stocking and above, until his hand met Stan's. I just met this man ten minutes ago, and he takes these liberties. Had Stan told him that I was available as a sex toy for clients? Does the company president pass off his sex toy as a perk for his favorite VP?

Tom knows that something is up. I down my drink and swap it for his, which is full. I look at him uncomfortably, he knows I don't want to do this but I can't find a way out. His eyes plead with me not to do anything that might upset these gentlemen. I remembered the conversation in the casino bar the first night Stan came on to me.

"Do you want him to feel me up?"

"If he wants to, well, yes, I want him to be able to do that."

"You want me to ?let? him feel me up?"

"Yes, sure, I don't want to make a big deal over it."

"All over, you want him to touch me anywhere?"

"Sure, let him."

The last time, he left before the touching had gone beyond a hand on the knee. Well, this time, he was going to see what that really entailed. They were really going to feel me all over, and I couldn't do a damned thing about it at this party without ruining my husband's career and our fancy lifestyle.

Ken asked me to dance. I thought that I would be getting away from most of the groping, so I agreed. Boy was I wrong. He slipped his hand up onto my breast while we danced. When I didn't slap him for that, the hand went under my skirt. And he was not as careful as Stan. I was afraid that someone would see. He danced me off into the darkest corner of the room, out the door into the hall, and into another empty office. Tom and Stan were both watching as we slipped into that dark office and closed the door.

Once inside, Ken became very aggressive and insistent. I had had enough to drink that my struggles were ineffective, and at that point, I didn't much care anymore. He took my dress off, and my bra, and, while kissing me all over, my panties, my last line of defense, not that they were very substantial, small, wispy, lacy, mostly transparent. He pocketed them, as a trophy, of course. He pushed me back onto the sofa, lay down between my legs, got inside me, and fucked me for four or five minutes. I almost didn't care.

When he finished, he zipped up and left, just like that. I hunted around for my clothes. I found my dress, which wasn't too badly wrinkled, but my bra was gone. I guess he took it as another trophy. Either that, or someone in that office will get quite a surprise on Monday morning. So now all I had was a slightly mussed dress and stockings. No panties and no bra for the rest of the party. I was sure that some of the women at the party would notice.

I found Tom, but he was still with Stan. Stan gave him an "I'd like to dance with your wife, too, wink, wink" brushoff, and Tom didn't have time to step in to object, even if he had wanted to.

Stan danced me back into the same empty office, and started to make out with me. He was incredibly excited when he found that my breasts were loose, not constrained by any bra. He kissed them, and I loved it. He really does that well. Then he was delighted when he found that I had no panties, either.

He put his fingers into me, gently, then roughly, then gently, and thumbed my clit until I started fucking his hand again with my cunt. Yes, I had a cunt again, hot and yearning to be filled. I came and came, screaming my pleasure into his mouth as he kissed me hard. No one else heard, I think.

When he lay down on the sofa, I knew what he wanted. I lowered my hot, wet cunt onto his cock again, and pumped him slow and fast and slow and fast, teasing and pleasing, until he came hard. I felt the pulsing and the flooding of my insides. I got off him, ran my fingers through my hair, straightened the dress a little, and left to find my husband.

As we got onto the elevator to leave, the cum of two men started to leak out of my honey pot and down my leg. It tickled. And it shamed me. Tommy didn't notice it until we were at the car and I had to wipe some off that had trickled below my knee. "Omigod! Is that. . . ?"

I grabbed his lapel and pulled his face to mine. "Yes, Tommy. You wanted me to be nice to your clients. Well, I was. You saw that. You saw their hands all over my body. You saw them reaching under my clothes to touch me. You wanted them to. You wanted me to let them do it and even to enjoy it, you bastard.

"Stan's cum is running out of me and down my leg, Ken's cum is there, too. They both fucked me tonight and left their loads inside me. You wanted them to, didn't you? You wanted me to let them feel me everywhere and put their fingers and fuckhoses inside me, didn't you? I think you ought to clean it up, since I was so nice to your clients."

He almost threw me in the back seat of the car. He climbed in on top of me, pulled up my dress, and licked my legs clean. He ended between my legs, and licked that clean, too. I came again, screaming in the garage. It echoed all over. I'm sure that anyone else in the garage knew exactly what was going on. Did we have an audience?

But that was okay, because this time it was with my husband. And even old married couples are allowed to be a little frisky around the holidays.

That night we talked about what happened, then again the next day, and the next. This opening up, this freedom, this sex-play with other men, became the most exciting thing that either of us had ever done.

By MrMsScrewlose (Gently Edited)

Pages: 1


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