Convention Pt 01 Star Of The Show

Author's Note:

This story is written for the Literotica "

Lit Con 2025

" author's challenge, to write overlapping stories with other authors' character attending a convention. Thank you 'FreyaGersemi' for organizing this challenge.

My Postscript at the end will credit the other authors and their stories for the characters I've included here.

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Prologue

Byron and Linda are at home Friday afternoon, packing to leave for the Grand City Hotel for the Literotica Convention weekend. They've chosen to attend this Convention to help spice up their sex lives with each other. They are both sexually confident, but not swingers or into sharing ever since they married twenty years earlier.

Byron talks about wanting to attend the evening Meet & Greet on Friday evening, then the Saturday workshops for "How to sexually please a woman, while Linda plans to go to "How to sexually please a man." Together they'll attend "The Psychology of Desire" workshop. On Sunday they plan on going to the Brunch, then drive home.

Neither Byron nor Linda intend to play with anyone else for swinging or sharing, since they're both adamant about their wedding vows and monogamous. But they are adventurous enough to possibly stop in to view some of the playrooms, such as a "BDSM for the Curious" demo.

Intro

Byron and his wife of twenty years, Linda, got together in the story

"Good Answer".

Linda has always been rather flirty and was always looking for boys before she married Byron. Before meeting him in her late twenties, Linda was into speed dating and partying even after college. She worked out to keep in shape at a 'fashion model,' man killer level to keep up with her best friend, Lana.

Byron is the tall, muscular, handsome, and dreamy-type, a 'money-man' behind the scenes for an ad agency fashion photo shoot. He's great in bed, but he was looking for more loving commitment than his short fling with a fashion model girlfriend.

When Linda mentioned to her friend that she was looking to settle down, Lana introduced her to Byron.

Now married for twenty years, Linda and Byron are still outgoing when it comes to talking about sex. Linda even rewards Byron with blowjob for doing favors for her, such as saving them three thousand dollars when he fixed their hot tub.

Check-in

I listened to the attractive woman behind the reception desk as she focused her attention on my husband, explaining; "You have an interior room facing the atrium on the twelfth floor in room number 1205," she said, handing him the room key cards. I think her hand lingered longer than needed as she seemed to get lost looking up into Byron's eyes. But I just smiled, thinking to myself,

'That's right, enjoy him while you can. But only I get to take him to bed!'

"There's a bank of elevators at the end of the lobby," she continued, "which provide quick access to the sublevels, with the main convention hall on sublevel 3. Sublevel 2 has the smaller break-out rooms for the other sessions tomorrow. Sublevel 1 has the Grand Ballroom, where you'll find this evening's Meet and Greet, and the dinner and dance tomorrow evening. Also, there are a few last-minute rule changes for the special situation in the hotel this weekend."

"We're just here for the convention," I said. "What other 'special' situation is there?"

"It's called a

'Hotel Take-over'

," she explained. "We have more than eleven hundred rooms in this hotel, and they are all booked with guests here for the convention. With such numbers, the hotel management and their staff are aware there may be provocative activities outside of the guests' rooms. So, they have agreed to forgo enforcement of the normal societal rules of dress code or public displays of affection. They do insist that those activities not be in the hotel lobby, restaurant, or visible from the street level!"

"So," I said to clarify what she implied, "we shouldn't be shocked if we see someone being amorous in a hallway?"

"We're expecting at least some nudity," she clarified. "But with more than two thousand sexually charged guests, we realize it takes all kinds. So, please don't be offended if you see someone in BDSM gear and try not to blush at other things which might happen."

Meet & Greet

I dressed in my black bra and panties, with a loose blouse and a short skirt which came to just my mid-thigh. With my four-inch chunky heels and thick ankle straps, I knew I would catch my husband's attention. He loves it when I wear these heels. The width of the heel keeps me stable when I stand with mylegs apart, and I can bend over with the added height bringing my ass up to the right level for him to easily enter me from behind. He said this is more comfortable, since he doesn't need to bend his knees. When he sees me wearing these heels, he said I'm just begging him to use me as his fuck toy. And I'm not offended, because that's how we talk to each other, enjoying or sex filled life together.

When the elevator doors opened on Sublevel 1, wide doors of the Grand Ballroom were in front of us with a sign outside in the foyer announcing, "Private Party for Meet & Greet. Hotel Convention guests only. Closed to the public."

We walked through the open doors into the expansive room. There was a long bar set against the wall on our left and a stage at the far end with a big projection screen almost filling the wall behind the stage. The projector was currently displaying a view from a ceiling camera of the guests coming in through the ballroom doors, and I smiled and waved at the camera, with the camera turning slightly and zooming in to fill the screen with my smiling face. There were clusters of people scattered around the room, some sitting at tables with drinks and small plates of food, and others standing at taller tables in semi-private discussions.

Byron led me toward the closest end of the bar and the small group standing there talking as they ordered their drinks.

##

They were mostly paired up as couples, with one pair standing near the end of the bar. She was a 30-something well-built woman alongside a 50-ish mid-sized guy, who was a little shorter than Byron, but they appeared to be together. Another hot-looking couple next to them were younger, maybe in their very early twenties. And a gorgeous, auburn-haired girl with a fit, brown haired, handsome guy at her side was talking to them. The only odd one out was a dark skinned, middle-aged middle eastern woman who was conservatively dressed and standing away from the bar. But she appeared to be part of the group.

"Hi," I started when we stopped near them, "I'm Linda and this is my husband, Byron."

The 30-something woman replied first saying, "Hello, I'm Hillary and this is my friend Robbie," indicating her partner.

"Hillary and I have moved on from Literotica," Robbie said. "But we volunteered months ago to help out at this convention as one last fling, so to speak."

The young guy spoke up next, saying "I'm Alan, and this is my sister, Courtney," indicating the hot looking, very young girl next to him. "We're attending the local university, and we decided to come to the convention for the next steps in getting closer together."

"Byron reads many of the Loving Wives stories on Literotica," I said, "and we came for ideas to add a spark to our marriage."

"Are you two swingers?" the auburn-haired beauty asked. "By the way, I'm Freya and that's my husband, Alex," as she indicated the handsome guy with his back to us as he tried to get the bartender's attention.

"No, we're not swingers," I replied. "I had enough variety in my younger days, and Byron is all I've ever needed since we got together."

"How about you, Byron," Freya asked. "Are you both on the same page as far as not sharing? Alex and I have had some adventures, mostly with some close girlfriends who are here at the convention with us."

"Linda's enough for me," Byron answered. "I played around with a lot of women before I met her. But I was looking for a longer-term commitment, someone I could plan a future with and trust she'd be there with me. The problem I see with swingers and sharing is

'What happens if one of them finds someone they want more?'

Then the other one is left out and alone."

"But that can happen in any marriage," the dark-skinned woman interjected. "My ex-husband and I were not swingers, but he cheated on me. I'm Fatemah, by the way, and I've divorced the cheater. I'm learning that if a couple is honest with each other, sex can be fun with others."

Byron, Alan, and Robbie joined Alex at the bar, ordering drinks for us, with Byron handing me a glass of wine before turning back to talk to the guys.

##

After about ten minutes of 'girl talk', I turned to the bar looking for Byron. He had been talking to the guys just ten feet away along the bar, when I noticed he was gone. I glanced around the room without seeing him any were nearby, then took out my cellphone from my purse and texted him asking, "Where did you go?" Then I heard his phone sitting on the bar as his unmistakable ringtone sounding with the incoming text.

He has a five-second clip of

'I love to love you, baby,'

from Donna Summer's hit song, which he assigned as the ringtone for my phone number in his contacts. And I heard that brief tune play about ten feet away on the bar.

"Damn it," I exclaimed, "he did it again!"

"Did what?" Hillary asked.

"He forgot his cellphone again," I explained my frustration. "He walks off without it, then later he'll expect me to find it for him."

The young girl, Courtney turned and stretched her hand out along the bar to retrieve Byron's cellphone, then handed it to me.

"You should teach him a lesson sometime," Freya advised, "something he'll never forget. Is his phone locked, or do you know his code?"

"No, that's another of his quirks causing the problem," I said. "Without a passkey, anyone could pick it up and text his contacts or browse his photos. And he has some nude photos of ME on there, which I'd rather others not see."

"Let's teach him a lesson," Freya said. "Hand me his phone."

Taking the phone from my hand, she looked at it, swiping the screen to open it. She clicked on the camera app icon, then raised the phone saying, "Hillary, are you up for showing just your boobs? Pull up your blouse."

Hillary raised her arms and picked up her blouse, exposing her braless B-cup boobs. Freya aimed the camera, and the guys at the bar turned to watch the show, gathering around to watch us.

"Pick your hands and blouse up just a little higher," she directed. "I don't want any of your shirt in the pic."

After snapping one picture, she did the same for Courtney, then turned to Fatemah. "Would you dare to go further than dropping your vail, Fatemah?" Freya asked, challenging the Saudi woman's new freedom, as if daring her to join the group's fun.

"After divorcing my husband in

"Three's the Charm"

, I guess that's why I'm here," Fatemah admitted. "So, when in Rome,... or Grand City,..." Fatemah turned her back to the rest of the room and the gathering men, trying to maintain some semblance of privacy for the show. She grasped the sides of her conservative blouse, lifting it briefly until Freya quickly snapped the pic and she put the blouse rapidly back in place.

Freya turned to me. "Now it's your turn, Linda. Show us your boobs for the pic, then you'll take a picture of mine."

"It sounds like you're rewarding him with these photos," I said, as I complied, picking up my blouse and bra at the same time. After snapping the picture, Freya handed me the phone, and I took a photo of her bared chest.

"You'll see the lesson he'll never forget, if you want to play along," Freya said, as we were rearranging our tops back to normal. "Hand me your cellphone, and I'll type the next text you're going to send to him."

She typed the message and before sending it, she handed me my phone to review it. Reading her instructions, she had typed

'You can keep these boob pics ONLY if you play the game!'

I asked, "Why would that punish him?" and she leaned in to tell me her plan.

"Oh, yeah! I'll go with that," and I pressed 'Send', hearing his phone sing

"I love to love you baby,"

with the ringtone announcing the incoming text. Then I took off my blouse to remove my 36-C bra, stuffing it into my large purse, and I put my top back on.

"Now remember the order in which I took your pics," Freya said. "Hillary is number 1, then it's Courtney, Fatemah, Linda, and I'm number 5."

We chatted about what was going to happen next, and the guys around us merely hovered and waited, listening as we planned my revenge. Glancing around at the men who listened tour plan, I asked, "Who is willing to help?" and they all raised their hands.

##

Byron returned to the bar a few minutes later, and I coyly held his cellphone up, waving it and asking, "Did you forget something?"

"Thanks," he said as he reached for it, and I jerked my hand back, pulling it out of his reach.

"Not so fast," I said in a stern voice. "It's going to cost you this time."

"That's my phone," he complained, holding out his hand.

"You don't get it, dear," I said as I very slowly moved the phone toward his outstretched hand. "You have some rather provocative pictures of me on there, and it could fall into the wrong hands when you forget it like this! I don't want those posted to the Internet! So, you owe me for forgetting your phone and leaving it unlocked!" I stopped halfway through handing him the phone, adding "Now you just need to play my game and answer ONE question correctly for me to forget about it again this time. Agreed?"

"Okay," he said as he reached to take the phone, and I jerked it from his hand at the last second.

"If your answer is wrong, then you agree to calmly accept the consequences."

"I'm not agreeing to anything until I know what I'm betting," he replied.

"Okay, then," I said as I looked at his phone and swiped to open the screen. "I'll just delete these pics of our tits we just took for you."

"What?" he asked in surprise, now sounding interested in the game.

"That's right," I explained. "There are five pics of bare women's chests here. Think of them as numbered one through five from the earliest to the latest as you scroll through. And all you need to do is pick the number which you think show mine."

"What do I get if I win?" he asked.

"Well, you get to keep the five pics of our tits," I explained.

"And if I get it wrong?" he asked.

"Then for the rest of the evening, whenever I tell you, you must calmly take more pictures of my boobs," I said with a smile, not yet revealing the catch.

"That sounds like I win either way," he excitingly agreed. "Okay, I'm in!"

Handing him the phone, I had it open to the oldest and first picture of Hillary's boobs. "Now look at those gorgeous tits of Number 1. Scroll by swiping to your right to Number 2, and so on. Then tell us which number belongs to your wife of twenty years, the bare boobs you've seen so often."

Studying the picture, appreciatively leering at it longer than necessary, he said "Number 1's are great, but I think they're a little perkier than yours," he finally admitted. I watched as he swiped right. At the second one, he nodded saying "Those look good." Scrolling along, "Number 3 looks too tanned, without tan lines," and he glanced at Fatemah, obviously recognizing her complexion, saying "But they look very nice!"

After scrolling through the last two, he admitted "This is tough. It's between numbers 2, 4, and 5. But I think it's Number 2."

"Wrong!" Courtney said as the young girl picked her blouse up and shook her shoulders to sway her bare boobs in front of him. "Those are right here."

He smiled as he stared at her nude chest, and I casually reached to the bottom edge of my blouse, lifting it up and off over my head, completely exposing my bare chest. Courtney dropped her blouse down again to hide her boobs, and my husband turned to look at me now standing topless at the bar. I put one hand under each tit and hefted them to point toward him. "Mine are number four, in case you forgot and want to check. Now for the next hour you have to take another picture of these every time I tell you."

He grinned and aimed the cellphone to snap the first pic, and I said "Wait! I need to get my glass of wine." When I dropped my right boob to pick up the glass, I looked down at my sagging breast, saying "Oh, this won't do. It needs a bra for support." I turned to the group of guys watching us, and asked, "Robbie, would you be so kind as to lend me a hand for a few minutes?"

The 50-ish year-old guy stepped behind me as I faced my husband, and he reached both hands around me under my arms, grasping my girls in his hands, and I dropped my left hand giving him complete freedom to feel them. Byron stood there wide-eyed staring at us, when I looked at him saying "Now, dear, take a photo," and I held up my wine glass and smiled for the camera.

Robbie's hands began massaging my boobs as he squeezed them. With his palms under them, his fingers found the nipples and he used the first finger and thumb of each hand to tweak them, and my eyes opened wider in surprise at that.

"What the fuck, Linda?" Byron exclaimed in surprise. "You're going to let other guys man-handle your tits in front of the whole bar?"

"They're just boobs, dear," I said coyly, "and everyone has them. Mine are just bigger than yours! But mine need support, and these guys have gallantly offered to take turns being my bra for the rest of the evening. You can have fun doing your pervy thing by taking pictures of me topless as long as we're here this evening. I'll even let you post them to the Literotica General Board, if you want!"

With a shake of his head in defeat, my husband said, "There's no fucking way I'm posting pics of other guys fondling my wife's tits!"

"But you agreed to accept the consequences, so take the picture!" I insisted.

He grudgingly raised his cellphone. Robbie lowered his head to my shoulder to look at my husband, and I knew he must be smiling at the camera when I heard the click of Byron's phone catching the image.

I was enjoying the look on my husband's face as he sternly glared at Robbie's fingers rubbing the soft, bare flesh of my breasts. Freya was right. This was something my husband would never forget. But I must admit, Robbie's hands were catching my attention, as he softly massaged my mounds and lightly pinched and rolled the nipples.

When Freya explained this idea, I imagined the guys merely holding my mounds in the palms of their hands. I hadn't considered the problem if they touched my sensitive nipples. I don't usually go braless unless the dress or blouse is tight and shaped well enough to help hold the girls up. Even then, I always wear pasties over my nipples for a reason. Without those pasties, my nubs were growing with the direct stimulation. And when fully aroused, they're embarrassingly long, sticking straight out more than a half-inch from the areolas. When we were playing at home, Byron once had me hold my boobs together, and he laid two long pencils across from one to the other, resting together on my hard nipples! And Robbie was now drawing them out.

I don't know how long he played with them, but I heard Alan's young voice breaking me out of my revelry saying, "Don't be greedy, it's my turn." When Robbie briefly released my tits to drop, I felt disappointed for a few seconds until another pair of hands lifted them, this time squeezing a little harder. He roughly pinched the right nipple, and I gasped in surprise without objecting or trying to stop him. But at the same time, I felt wetness between my legs and closed my eyes. Gritting my teeth, I even let him pinch it a little harder, as I took deep breaths, pushing my chest into his hands.