Convention Town Girl

By Ms. Screwloose
(MMMF, fictionalized, but only slightly)


Part 2

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, too.  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 then, and introduced me to his VP of
marketing, Ken, a younger guy about Tom's age, and very
cute.  The four of us were off in a corner, so no one else
could really see what was going on.  Stan decided to play
some more.  He 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 is 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 perq for his
favorite VP?

Tom knows that something is up.  I down my drink and swap
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 dont want to make a big deal over it."

    "All over?  You want him to touch me anywhere?"

    "Sure, let him.  Touchy-feely anything."

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.

He zipped up and left, just like that.  I hunted around for
my clothes, and 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.  Don't make waves, right?

He 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.  And you
wanted them to.  And 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.  And the next day,
and the next.  This opening up, this freedom, this sex-play
with other men, this became the most exciting thing that
either of us had ever done.



