He made his way across the bar, nodding and chatting a few times to fellow conference delegates as he went to the table where Jane was sitting. She was wearing a smartly tailored blue blouse and black skirt, and looked good without being flashy.
Her blouse fitted quite loosely over her matronly breasts, partly masking their DD size, and her skirt reached her knees. He glanced at her shortish, silver-blond hair, and at the somewhat lined skin above her neckline and of her throat. Her legs had doubtless once been shapely but they were still attractive enough, given that she was now fifty-eight years old and reaching retirement.
He tried not to look at her too much, anxious to preserve their discretion. He glanced round to make sure that nobody was within earshot and began to speak to her casually and with little direct eye-contact. He kept his voice just low enough for her to hear without being overheard.
"All through that last seminar I was rock-hard, Jane. There you were with your thigh resting against mine and your lovely mature DD-boobs just inches from me..."
He looked at her briefly. Her cheeks flushed. He checked again that nobody could overhear.
"I'm dying to rip your blouse open and fondle them through your bra, Jane. I'm dying to get them out and squeeze them and suck them till your nipples go big and hard in my mouth."
She too looked round to make sure that nobody could hear. She was embarrassed to hear him speaking to her like this in public, but she had to admit that it was a turn-on too.
"That's nice, Martin."
"Yeah, Jane. I've been hard and hot for you all day. I can't wait to bury my head in your cleavage. To have you kneel over me and sway those big ripe boobs in my face."
He smiled and nodded at a fellow delegate a few feet away.
"Best of all, Jane, I can't wait to bury my face between your lovely thighs and lick you out."
She gave a low laugh and flushed. "MARTIN!" she hissed.
"I can't wait to kiss your mature pussy and feel your thighs clasp my neck... to tease your hard clit and lap your sweet pussy juices -- and I know you can't..."
He stopped mid-sentence as another delegate approached with four drinks glasses in his hands. He had ended up sitting next to him at lunch. Andrew -- one of those full-of-it know-it-alls who haunted conferences. He dressed too trendily for his age and at most question sessions piped up, "This isn't so much a question as an observation...", so that everybody present -- including the speaker -- could benefit from his vast store of wisdom and experience.
"Interesting day today, Martin?" Andrew's speech was a bit slurred, his breath beery, and his paunch showed through the strained shirt buttons.
"Oh, hi, Andrew. Yeah. I picked up a few ideas for performance measurement. How are you finding it?"
Andrew leaned forward and nudged his arm.
"It's a great conference. Me and my secretary are finding it VERY enlightening -- especially in the evenings, know what I mean?"
"Yeah."
The creep walked past and headed for a table where another (also beer-bellied) male and two female delegates, probably in heir mid-thirties, sat. One of the females was a pretty, slim, leggy brunette in a short skirt. The other was plainer looking, blonde, with a half-open blouse to display her inviting cleavage.
Martin leaned forward.
"Did you hear that, Jane? It's not just us, though nobody would guess we were..."
He leaned back and glanced casually around the bar to avoid the impression of paying her undue attention. Under the table he gave her thigh a playful squeeze, then placed his hand on the table again.
"I didn't tell him that I'm finding it very ENLIGHTENING, too, Jane." Mimicking Andrew's accent he muttered, "I don't have any questions as such, more observations..."
She gave a low giggle. He reverted to his own voice.
