As I opened my eyes on Friday morning and took in the college dorm room that had been home for the past week, I couldn't help but smile, as all of the images and sensations of the night before flooded back so vividly. My right hand began to move its way down to touch myself once again, but before I could indulge, your text arrived: "Are you awake, yet?"
"Yes!" I responded instantly, delighted to hear from you so soon.
"How was your night?"
A few more quick texts back and forth, and then you asked if we could talk. I eagerly dialed, pulling on just enough clothes to be decent so that I could go outside and talk to you freely, away from the thin walls separating me from the colleagues with whom I was sharing the apartment.
I couldn't wait to share with you what I had done, just how much of a slut I had been to please you, and of course pleasing myself in the process. But for the purposes of this written account, I should first share a bit of background before I describe that wild Thursday night.
It was a weeklong conference hosted on a university campus that will remain nameless to protect the innocent, as well as those less than innocent. I had traveled there with three colleagues, all women who proved to be lovely roommates. As I shared with you earlier that week, I was - at 30 - not only the youngest of the group, but also the only one without a tattoo; that still makes me laugh. Our days were largely spent apart, attending our separate workshops and meetings, but we would typically gather in the evenings for a meal.
I came into the week knowing that I would not do anything to do my professional relationship with any of these colleagues, but also that you had challenged me to take advantage of the conference to continue the exploration of my slutty ways. My goal was to have at least one, but preferably many, encounters to tell you about. "Pictures if possible," you had said before I left.
My first opportunity came on Monday evening, the first night of the conference, when I attended a reception hosted by the conference. I was there with my colleagues, but thankfully we split up early on and began mingling with other attendees. I sipped my wine, responded to a variety of naughty suggestions from you via text, and before long found myself at a round standing table with a man whose nametag read 'Jon'.
We chatted, but I remember very little of what he said aside from where he worked. He stole numerous glances at my cleavage, and found every excuse to touch me on the arm or shoulder during our conversation, so I decided to make my move. I reached down, glancing around to make sure nobody was watching us, and grabbed his crotch. He seemed a bit surprised, but did nothing to stop me, and so I began stroking, slowly at first and gradually faster.
I was already tipsy, but took one more sip of my wine, and then decided to try bringing the encounter to another level. I stopped stroking him, and when he made eye contact, clearly disappointed, I motioned for him to follow me, and led him to a long hallway which led to the restrooms. I pressed him against the wall and resumed my fast stroking of his still-hard cock, all the while listening to the room where everyone was gathered. I was simultaneously afraid to be caught, but also turned on by the risk.
When I was confident that no footsteps were headed our way, I quickly crouched down, unzipped his slacks and pulled out his cock, and he came almost instantly. It was all I could do to get his 4-½ inch long but fairly thick cock into my mouth in order to catch every drop of cum, but I did. I know you would have been proud. He went back to find his colleagues, and I mine. While I made small talk with them, I couldn't think about anything but the taste of cum in my mouth and my throbbing clit.
After that first bit of excitement, the following day - Tuesday - proved uneventful. I began my Wednesday assuming it would be as well, but was quickly in for an interesting surprise. While my roommates slept in, I left the room just after 6am and walked to the Starbucks that I was very thankful was just a few blocks away. Coffee in hand, I then explored a bit further, finding a quiet park on the water with a small beach.
Given the early hour, I wasn't expecting to see anyone, but as I walked towards a small parking lot near the beach, I noticed one car parked, and could see two people inside. As I drew closer, it was obvious from the motion of the silhouetted figures that the people were not just sitting and talking. I was witness to either a hand job or a blow job, or a combination of the two. I had no intention of interrupting their encounter, but the closer I got, I recognized the profile of the man in the driver's seat as that of a fellow conference attendee. My curiosity now heightened, I couldn't help but glance into the car as I passed it. I kept a decent distance, but as I was walking on a gravel path, my footsteps attracted their attention.
The man saw me first, and immediately turned bright red. He obviously recognized me as well, and as he turned towards me, I could see that he was wearing his conference name badge. As I mentioned, I hadn't intended to interrupt them, and it was obvious they didn't want to say hello, and yet the man seemed to feel obligated to cover for their behavior by waving me over to the car to say hello.
The woman in the passenger seat reached down for something, which I later realized was her jacket, to toss into her companion's lap - undoubtedly to cover the evidence of his unzipped slacks and perhaps even his still-hard cock. When I reached the car and leaned in to say hello, I noticed that the woman - who I guessed to be in her early 20's to the man's mid-50's - was also wearing a conference name badge.
A quick glance to both name badges - his name was John and hers Whitney - confirmed that they were from the same institution. It didn't take long for the source of his painfully awkward embarrassment to become clear - obviously they were teacher and student. I wish I could remember my exact words, because I rarely think so well on my feet, but I managed to express to them two facts: I had no objection to their public meeting for sex, but I also knew that I now held something over them that I might choose to use for my advantage. Whitney, her wavy brown hair tousled from their encounter, blushed now as well, although she didn't look as terrified as John.
My favorite part of the story, as I'm sure I told you at the time, is that after I walked away, they got right back at it. It couldn't have been more than 30 seconds after we said our goodbyes and I walked away that I turned, looked back, and noticed that the car windows were beginning to steam up.
That evening, I had a networking dinner to attend at a pub off-campus. My colleagues and I drove together, and given their presence and the relatively small room in which we were meeting, I didn't expect to have much opportunity to be slutty for you. There was wine and mingling for about 45 minutes, during which I enjoyed texting you, before we were ushered to tables where our dinner would be served. I was a bit disappointed to find myself sitting at a table with just women. Ah well, I told myself, I'll enjoy the conversation and try again tomorrow to be naughty.
There were five of us squeezed around a small round table - myself and two of my colleagues, a very entertaining older woman from Scotland with fiery red hair, and a shy young brunette who sat next to me, her nametag reading 'Hello, my name is Jen.' I found myself working to bring her into the conversation, as she was so quiet, but she did begin to loosen up after her first glass of wine.
Before long, into the second glass, we had found some common areas of interest to discuss, shared some laughs, and she had even touched my arm a few times during the conversation. I was proud to have pulled her out of her shell, but didn't think much more of it. That is, until the other three women at the table were occupied with their own conversation, and a now quite tipsy Jen leaned in and told me that her husband loved tits like mine - full and firm - and that she always wished hers were bigger.
I couldn't help but glance down at her chest, which I hadn't done up until that moment, and while her tits were perfectly lovely in their perkiness, they were probably no more than an A-cup. She was petite anyway - 5'2", about 110 pounds, and so her boobs looked perfectly good on her frame. But as soon as she'd said what she'd said, she kept staring at mine, obviously jealous. Jen was probably in her late 20's, with a cute, girl-next-door kind of look. She was wearing a black bra and camisole under a sheer white blouse, and slightly baggy jeans.
Although I was surprised by the direction the conversation took, I still didn't think it was an opportunity to have much of a story for you, given the crowded professional environment. After all, I was the designated driver to take my colleagues back to our rooms. Undoubtedly, I'd soon have to say 'good night' to Jen, perhaps never to see her again.
As the event wound down and people began heading for the exit, I excused myself from the table to visit the ladies room. Jen quickly did the same and followed me. Again, naive as I apparently am, I didn't read between the lines. At least not until we found ourselves alone in the restroom. We took care of business, washed our hands, and then Jen moved between me and the door, and asked, with a disarming directness, if she could see my tits.
She put her foot against the door, so that we'd at least have some warning if someone else tried to enter. I smiled, and without breaking eye contact, pulled down my camisole and bra to free my tits. Her eyes immediately dropped to my erect nipples, and she reached out to feel them, her touch extremely gentle.