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.