Convention Town Girl

A few months later, Stan was in town again for another big convention. As before, he was the manager of the booth and the keeper of the corporate suite at the host hotel.

The night before the convention started, Stan invited Tom and me over for drinks, at the suite. This was one of the best hotels in town. It was one of those large suites with a living room and dining room and bar in the middle and bedrooms on either side.

I went there straight from work, so I still had on my suit. This one was a nice, dark blue with a modest straight skirt. And of course, I had a white silky (but not silk) blouse, a lacy bra underneath, and pantyhose.

Stan ordered appetizer trays and brought out the good champagne. The really good champagne, Dom Perignon, which even back then was outrageously expensive. Well, we were among his favorite people, not surprisingly. My husband was a good agent that catered to him, and he had been in my pants a number of times. The customer gets to fuck the agent's attractive wife. That isn't officially part of the "catering," at least not at first, but it happened that way.

We eat and drink, and after a couple bottles, I am swaying. My suit jacket is off, my scarf is untied, and I'm feeling no pain. Both of the men want to dance with me. After a few more glasses, they both dance with me at the same time. I'm sandwiched between them sometimes, feeling very close, and they hold me close. The lights in the suite are mostly off, with only lights from the Strip coming in the floor-to-ceiling glass windows, and one little light in the hallway.

When I dance with Stan, his hands are all over me. He pulls me close to him by holding onto my ass. His other hand snakes between us to grab my boob. I don't mind. My husband does the same on his dances. It's a little less exciting with familiar hubby, but still nice to know that I'm still sexy sexy, that they still desire me, nice to be fondled so gently. Gently at first. Stan dances with me most of the time, and feels me up more aggressively.

Boy, I'm getting woozy. And I'm getting turned on from all the attention. I keep my eyes closed now all the time we're dancing. Stan sits me on the edge of the modern wood coffee table, all teak and straight lines I recall, and has me lie back along the length of it. My knees are at one end, my feet on the floor. He kneels next to me, kisses me, raises my arms up over my head and forms my hands around the legs of the table. I hold the legs firm after he lets go. This forces my back to arch, pushes my breasts up tight against the blouse. He kisses me more. Now his hands are on my breasts, rubbing over, up and down the smooth blouse.

Tom joins us on the other side. He begins to play with my left leg. He runs his hand from my knee up onto my thigh over the skirt, then back down. He pulls lightly on my knee until it is off the side of the coffee table, and my foot is straight down on the floor. The straight skirt doesn't spread much to allow movement, so Tom has to pull up the hem. Stan sees this and does the same, raises my skirt even higher as he pulls my knee to the side off the table. Now both my feet are on the floor, well, my heels are, my skirt is barely covering any of my thighs, and my knees are far apart, the entire width of the table. Geez, I must be an erotic sight.

Stan and Tom take turns kissing me and kneading my breasts. Tom's hand leaves my top and goes back to my knee. He comes up the inside of my thigh under the hem of the skirt, I can feel it through the stockings. Higher, way up my thigh. Can he feel my heat? Now he's almost up to the crease of thigh to hip, tickling, touching lightly, teasing. Oh, I want him to touch me harder, there, in the middle, right on my sex, Don't play around on the leg so much anymore! I raise my hips to let him know he's in the right place, and he trails his fingers over my mound and over my pussy, up and down, deliciously. I can't feel much through the pantyhose and panties, but I know where he is and I love it.

Stan matches his movement on the other side. Hand on my knee, slide up the slick stockings. Up, under my skirt, up my thigh to the hot center. Tickle my sensitive lips under the fabrics. I jerk my hips up to increase and lengthen the contact of his fingers with my crotch. Put your hand on me harder, press harder, don't go. Oh, I want to come. There are two hands on my thighs, playing with my sexy center.

They whisper a little that I don't get, then their hands go all the way up over my belly and grab the waistband of the pantyhose. Yes, please take them off. They're hot, they're tight and constricting. They're in the way. I lift my hips and my ass off the table so they can pull easily past them. I have to raise my legs up and together so they can get the pantyhose down off my feet. They have to take the shoes off, too, but Stan says to put them back on, so they do.

When I put my legs back down on the sides of the table I feel a cold draft on my pussy. Oh God the panties must have gone with the pantyhose, and my sweaty and wet sex is directly ******* to the air. The skirt is still covering me modestly, ha ha, or so I think, but I feel *******. Well, the panties probably wouldn't have lasted much longer anyway. Saves a step.

Now the hands go back, to my chest, to my legs. One of them unbuttons my blouse and opens it so he can kiss my chest, and kiss my breast through the thin material of the bra. He blows hot breath through the bra onto the nipple. I love that. He kisses my nipple, my belly, my chest, my neck. His hand is at my waist.

A hand goes down my hip and thigh over the skirt. It touches bare skin of my knee. It begins to travel back up. It saws from the top of the leg to the inside, back and forth, lightly touching. Oh, it's at the top now, tickling the hairs of my sex, the few hairs left, splitting the hairs on my lips. Oh, I jump up to bring my lips up to the fingers, and they split the outer lips. My clit craves to be touched and it is touched, lightly, rubbing, up, down, around. I open my legs wider, the skirt is probably completely up to my hip joints now to accommodate the angle.

The finger strokes down from my clit to the inner lips, to the hole, which is wet and swollen and wanting. It pushes at the entrance and I jerk my hips up again to take some of it in, oh, God, past the first tight ring of muscle and he's inside. He waits for me to relax, then pushes a little, then more, then more, until it's deep inside me and swirling slowly to caress all my vagina and my G spot and flick my cervix. Oh, I can feel my womb twitching and grasping. My cunt and my womb need this. Yes, it's a cunt again now, hot and wet and wanting, not just a pussy and certainly not a clinical vagina.

The finger leaves for a moment and then two fingers come back into me. They slide easier this time, all gooey with my juice. Maybe he added some. Did he lick off the first finger and add saliva to the lubricant? Then the two fingers start to move in and out, around, and I notice that they are doing different things, one in one out, one deep one shallow, one rubbing one stretching. They are two different hands! They're both inside me at the same time. The men are sharing my sex, both probing my cunt, both driving me wild. Knowing that makes me much hotter. My hips are moving constantly now, up and down, pushing toward their fingers to get them in deeper. Then there are three fingers, then four, and they're moving all over in all sorts of directions, and the rubbing of my clit at the same time makes me come screaming. My cunt grabs their fingers tight, squeezing, relaxing a little, squeezing again, pumping as they do. And the come doesn't fade away, it stays at a high level peaking again and again half a dozen times until I am sweaty and exhausted and it is too sensitive to touch anymore. I put one of my hands over my mound as a signal to them to stop moving before the pleasure turns into pain.

We all stop and relax, my hand on theirs, their hands still inside me, both of them, and both kissing my neck and resting their heads on my chest. Eventually their fingers slide out of me and back down my thighs, holding them open still.

Ken and the other guy from the party, who turns out to be named Jeff I find out later, are standing over us watching. How long have they been watching? Long enough to have seen me with two men drilling my pussy and me screaming and loving it? I am too ultra-relaxed and satiated to be embarrassed. Besides, Ken fucked me at the party a couple months ago, and I sucked the other guy off and swallowed his come, so we're not exactly strangers. They have both known me intimately, used my body intimately. Stan gets up and Ken kneels beside me and starts kissing me. I feel my heat rising again. Then Tom is replaced by the other guy, and they both kiss and caress me. And fondle my breasts and my legs. And they lift my skirt up to my waist and go up under it again to touch me, touch my core, my sex, my pussy, my clit, and, by the time they get there, my hot cunt.

Ken gives me some more champagne, helping me sit up to drink it, I really need it. I'm so thirsty and I drink a lot. I lie back down again and put my arms up to grab the table legs again, an invitation to all of them to use my body for their pleasure and mine. Ken is kissing my mouth and my neck and my nipples and my chest, surprisingly gently. Then he takes one of my hands from the table and puts it on his pants where I can feel his erection throbbing when I grab it and tighten on it.

The other guy crawls down to my feet and pulls me further to the end of the table. He lifts my skirt out of the way and lowers his head to my hips, his mouth coming down on my sex. He spreads my legs as far as they'll go, uses his fingers to open my labia, and puts his mouth gently on my clit. His tongue licks gently, he sucks on it, his tongue flicks harder, and he sucks more. Ohmigod this is wonderful. He is repaying me for my oral sex at the party. And he is really good at it. His beard's a little scratchy but who cares. He slides a finger under his chin and into me while he's licking and sucking. Deep into me, and around and around. And that does it. After a minute or two I come again, my pussy grabbing his finger and holding it, pulsing and pulsing, clamping to hold the intruder. He stops and I stop and we relax, his cheek resting on my thigh, and I can still feel his breath on my sensitive lips.

Now I am really exhausted. Jeff leans back against the sofa, where Tom and Stan have been sitting watching. I just lie there. Someone has pulled my skirt down a couple inches to cover me, but that's no protection. If they want to use me some more, they can go right ahead, I won't stop anyone at this point. Let's have some more champagne. Well, that bottle is empty -- the second? third? -- open another. Stan looks at the bottle, and looks at me, and looks back at the bottle, and he puts it on the table between my legs.

I get it. He comes over to me, holds out his arms to help me up. I stand up but he's so close to me I can't move away from the table. My knees are straddling the corner of the table, a good two feet apart. My skirt is hanging down to cover me, but it must still be a fairly obscene pose. With my knees this far apart, the skirt barely touches my thighs. Blouse open, straddling the table, and they all know there is nothing under that skirt to stop anything from penetrating me. Including no resistance from me. I'm in a sex-hungry daze at this point, I'll do anything that feels good. The bottle is there right in front of me, the glass phallus pointing straight up at me. Stan pulls me forward until my skirt brushes over the top of the bottle and it is pointing up between my legs. Oh, God, he wants me to sit on it, to fuck it in front of them all. This is not just a little wine cooler bottle that I can hide entirely inside me, but a large bottle with a long neck that can go up six or eight inches into the goodies. This is more like the big Chianti bottle back in college.

He kneels down in front of me to hold the base of the bottle with one hand, the other on my leg behind the knee. I can still hear the music that we were dancing to earlier, much earlier, back when I had all my clothes on and was still an innocent. I look at Tom and his face is filled with lust. He stares back into my eyes with pleading, he wants me to do this. All the guys are staring at me, they all make eye contact and nod and look down.

Okay. I put a hand out on Stan's shoulder for balance and I start to sway. Sexy sexy, just moving my hips a little, and the hem of the skirt sways gently. I can't see the bottle anymore, it's directly below my hips. Stan is looking up at me and then down at my hips and down at my knees. I bend my knees a little as I sway and move down a few inches. I don't have to go far, the height of the table and the bottle are very near my crotch level, especially with my legs this far apart.

I put both hands on Stan for balance and bend further. And I feel it. It's cold and wet. And I'm hot and wet. And I feel the hardness on my lips. I'm not quite on the opening. I push my hips an inch forward to align the entrance. God, this is obscene, doing this, fucking myself in front of these men. Well at least they can't actually see the penetration. But they will know it from my reaction and my movements.

Push down now and the wide neck of the champagne bottle pops in past the front of my slick hole. I gasp. Now they know for sure. I look down at Stan, who is staring with lust at my face, over at Tommy, who catches my eye and nods again. Down, down. Ken and Jeff are looking at my hips, about waist level or below, imagining what is going on in there, under there.

I relax my legs more and slide down and the bottle slides up into me. Cold, hard. But getting warmer. Down up down up, it slides easier now, oh, boy. I have my eyes closed, hanging onto Stan for support. I use my left hand to grasp my breast, squeezing it and pinching the nipple. Down harder now, and faster, real fucking, not just a show. Down as far as I can go. It's hard, it pushes deep into me and stretches the opening. I think it hits my cervix and stretches me wide and deep. Oh! Oh! Oh! Oh! I want it in me, I want it as deep as it goes.

I reach inside the bra to get my nipple, every touch of the nipple sends a shock straight to my clit, and the bottle stretching my lips and clit. And I push my cunt down onto it hard and long and I come again. Shout Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Slower, slow down, settle down onto the bottle for maximum penetration, as deep and as wide as I can get it into my hole. God, I'm dripping all over it. God, my ass is almost touching the table. How much of that glass monster must I have inside my insides! It hurts and it pleases and it fills me, and I want to just relax down and take it all, but I know that's not possible, I know that's not safe.

I open my eyes and look down at Stan, and he nods up for me to move off it before I fall. I put both hands back on his shoulders and pull up slowly. No, I don't want to leave just yet. I still want to feel that hardness inside. So I pump it some more, until my legs hurt so much and start to shake. I come off it with a loud pop. I'm embarrassed. What a sound. My cunt was so attached to my inanimate lover that it tried to hang on. I sit down hard on the table and Tommy moves in to hold my back so I can sit up. Someone hands me another glass of champagne and I can finally catch my breath. I'm gasping and my throat is so dry. Was I not breathing while I was doing that? Was I just gasping for air and shuddering with pleasure?

They help me off the table and onto the sofa, where I lie down for a while to recover. God, three series of orgasms in what, an hour? And I'm still high from the booze. Good booze. Great booze. More booze. I have to take a nap.

When I open my eyes it's fifteen minutes later? Twenty? The guys are still around me, and touching me again now, and they've pulled my legs apart, way apart. They're undoing the rest of my clothes. There goes the blouse, the skirt, the bra, that's it. I'm still on the sofa. Two of them grab my legs and pull them wide and then up to my chest, fold me in half. My pussy is completely ******* and wide open like this. Wait, they're all undressed, too. I didn't notice that before. Oh, jeez, they're all going to fuck me.

Tommy is first. He kneels on the sofa down by my butt, what would be between my legs if they weren't being held up in the air by my head. He slides his cock into me gently, slowly, because I might still be a little sensitive from so much use earlier. Oh, it's not bad, it's good, it's a real cock in me, it's wonderful. He slides deep and I move my hips up to meet him as much as I can in this position. He bends down to kiss me between my knees and I love him. He pumps a few more times deep, deep into me, and I feel him pulsing. As he squirts his cum I squeeze my cunt around him to milk him, to hold him in.

He sits up and pulls out, and Stan is next. He slides in easily because my fuck-tube is so wet now with Tommy's cum and my juices, too. I don't know how long he lasts, but it feels good just to have him there, warm, sliding into and out of my pussy. Slowly, then a little faster, then pushing in hard as he comes, too. That's two loads now when he pulls out. Nothing runs out because my cunt is still pointed straight up with my legs held over my head.

They change places again, it's a Chinese fire drill, and someone goes next. I have my eyes closed again so I can feel everything more intensely, concentrate on the sensations in my sex, the lips being stretched and drawn in, then pulled out as the cock moves in and out of it. What a feeling, just lying there, being held in that obscene position, hot cock drilling into my cunt over and over and over, until it gets super-hard and leaps and spurts its payload into my womb. Fabulously depraved. I concentrate on the feelings as though I can sense every nerve fiber, every individual bit of skin, every contraction of his muscles and mine.

All four finished, came inside, and then two of them went again. I don't know which, I didn't look, I was just feeling. I'm a mess, overflowing, six loads of cum in me now, and stretched wide enough to accommodate all of them. They pumped more in and drilled it out at the same time. I'm a mess, it's all over my pussy and ass. They still hold my legs. I want to put them down now to relax, but Stan whispers his idea to me. Remember when you drained my cum into the wine cooler bottle? Well, let's put our collective liquors back into the champagne bottle. At this point, I don't care, I just want to be held and to sleep.

All four of them pick me up and move me over to the window. If anyone were looking in, they would see one naked woman being held by four naked men directly in front of the window for all Vegas to see. Stan, I think, had the champagne bottle and put it on the floor. The others hold me upright and lower me onto the neck of the bottle. My pussy, my thighs, my ass, the whole area is sloppy covered with their juices, and mine, too. Cum is pouring out of me. This time everyone can see the penetration, and the flow of thick white semen from me onto and then into the glass container. Please don't drop me, I thought. They lower me down onto the bottle until it stretches me tight, then up a few inches, then down again. Oh, they're all fucking me with the bottle. Or are they fucking the bottle with me? I'm moving, after all, not it. They carefully lower my knees to the floor so I can support myself and control the depth of penetration. How obscene would all this be if someone were watching!

After a couple minutes, I figure that I am well drained. I'm so tired I can't come again, so there is no point in continuing the fucking motions. I pull up off it and the guys help me to my feet and into the bedroom. I'm not completely drained, though, and cum is still running down my legs. This time I'm not embarrassed. This is a badge of honor. I fucked out all these guys, drained them, and put on a show they will never forget, even put on a show for all of Vegas to see if it had the sense to look. I don't care. They pull down the covers and I lie down to sleep. Tommy lies down with me and holds me until I fall asleep, which was probably only a minute or so.

I woke an hour or two later and had to pee like crazy, all that champagne I drank. The guys were still up in the living room, talking and drinking. I wondered if they would all want to, or expect to, fuck me again. I didn't have a lot of protection: my clothes were still out there, probably strewn all over the place. And if four guys want to fuck me, clothing isn't much of an obstacle. And I had willingly let them all fuck me earlier, even some more than once. If I had been a professional whore, instead of just an enthusiastic amateur, I'm sure they would all have just come in for seconds and thirds when they felt like it. Since I couldn't do anything about it, I just went back to sleep.

Tommy came in later with my clothes, what he could find of them, and we left. As we left, all the guys kissed me goodnight, and hugged me, and fondled wherever they wanted to. They all felt me up again on the tits, and they all reached under my skirt to put a finger into my juicy pussy once again. I didn't mind. I wasn't sore, I guess being so well lubricated during all the action, and it felt good and it even felt right to have them be inside me again. I willingly opened my legs wide and pumped down on their hands to get their fingers deep. And they took their time, but I didn't manage to come again. Oooh, I didn't want to leave after all that, but leave we did.

Is this going to happen every time Stan comes to town?