The Conventioneer

After trading messages on a hookup site, Gwendolyn and Abbigale arrange a clandestine meeting in a Las Vegas amusement park. As they get to know each other, Abigail's past leaves Gwendolyn in a quenchless state of arousal for her new friend's touch.

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I was waiting at the cab stand of the circus-themed casino when Abigale arrived. Her legs slid from the backseat and the breezy baby blue slip dress she wore traveled up her slender thighs as she exited the car. The spaghetti straps hung loosely from her diminutive shoulders and the front dipped low enough to reveal the rise of two flawless buttercream mounds which rode athletically high on her torso. She was small enough that there was no need to wear a bra and her pricked nipples cast alluring shadows on the expensive looking garment.

Cute, strappy white sandals ensnared petite feet with pink painted toes. She wore her hair straight with bangs that fell to her eyebrows, and it was pulled into low farm-girl pigtails. If she wore any makeup at all, it was difficult to tell. She was beautiful and my heart suddenly started to pound. I was too old, too ugly, too married! This had been a fool's errand and an insanely stupid idea. What was I getting into?

Between my thighs, Claire stirred. The little troublemaker obviously felt otherwise.

Abigale looked around for a moment and I thought about turning away; walking into the building and getting lost in a sea of slot machines. And then she spotted me and our eyes locked. Her smile grew as she walked up with her hand out. "You must be Gwendolyn."

"And you must be Abigale."

"Abby is fine with me."

"Okay. Gwen or Gwenny works for me."

Looking me over from head to toe, she said, "Gwendolyn. You're too elegant for me to call you Gwenny." And then she said, "Gosh you're tall. And I love that skirt."

"Thank you." The lightweight peasant skirt I chose for the occasion was short, falling six inches above my knees, accentuating my height and exposing a lot of leg. Hanging just below my hips to expose a sliver of tummy and my belly button, it was sunshine yellow and covered with little daisies. I had pulled it together with a slim-fitting white cotton tank top. Visible under the shirt, a yellow demi-cut bralette cradled the lower halves of my breasts. The lack of any underwire support emphasized their bounce and sway as I walked. Snuggled beneath the bra and the shirt, my nipples were covered under enough clothing to be suggestive little bumps atop their generous hillocks.

Looking her over and thinking about my own fashion approach to our meeting, I realized she had tried to appeal to my coastal Californian sensibilities while I was attempting to go country girl. This felt right; we were trying to attract each other and I said, "You're more beautiful in person." She blushed and looked away. "Your profile pictures didn't do you justice."

Giggling, she looked up at me and smiled. "Thank you." She wrapped a delicate pinky finger into a bright red pigtail and twirled nervously. "I'll say the same about you and your profile. How many men at the neighborhood block party offered to kiss the cook's wife?"

She had paid attention to my profile and it impressed me. "A few. When my husband wasn't looking, two of them offered to do more." We both laughed and walked into the casino, which fronted an enormous pink-glass dome that housed a small amusement park; a tribute to a time when Las Vegas was trying to transform itself into something more than a gambler's paradise. Within 10 seconds we spied a frozen margarita bar. While we waited for our drinks, I said, "I need to be honest with you."

"Oh no, don't tell me you're weird."

"Probably no weirder than most."

Glancing at Claire, she said, "You have a penis?"

I nearly spit my drink out laughing. When I finally got myself under control, I said, "I've never done this before."

She cocked her head like a curious puppy. "Done what?"

"You know...met a woman on a dating site."

She was nodding. "Me neither. But as my flight took off this morning, I just decided to open a profile and see what happened."

"That's exactly what I did! I don't suppose you also stood naked for your bellman?"

She looked shocked then laugh-snorted. "What?"

Thinking about Rick's essence in my tummy, I circled my belly button with a finger, deciding not to provide details as she may have found my bold actions unbecoming. "The robes at my hotel are comically small and it came open while the bellman was delivering my bags." I pushed my breasts forward to illustrate what caused the mishap and I noticed Abby's eyes lingered over my tank top.

"Oh my gosh!" Her green eyes twinkled.

And we were off. The conversation was comfortable and flowed smoothly. It was like we'd known each other for years. We liked the same movies, were fond of juice bars and steakhouses, were both addicted to hot yoga and spin classes, loved watching football, got married at similar ages - although she did not yet have children. She said, "We try...a lot!" Her giggle was adorable and her cheeks went rosey when she said, "In fact, Johnny bent me over the kitchen counter this morning while I was trying to eat some toast."

"Mike was the same," I said, "Only he took me in the shower."

"I enrolled in a sexuality course in college," she said, "and I recall how men feel compelled to inseminate their female partners before being separated."

"Really?"

"Yep. It probably goes back to caveman days. Some sort of innate behavior to ward off other interested males."

"Like another man can smell his come inside us and suddenly isn't interested?" I wrinkled my nose.

She nodded. "Something like that."

"Since when has that ever stopped a man from wanting to get between a woman's legs?"

She put a thoughtful expression on her face. "Since...never!" We both laughed. "Another theory is that the male is imprinting on the female; reminding her she belongs to him; that she will somehow not be interested in having sex with another man if our partner's sperm is inside us."

I smiled, "And since when has that ever prevented a woman from wanting another man's cock?"

"Exactly never," she said, "Women just hide it better."

Thinking back to my anniversary weekend, I agreed. Women were far more adept at concealing their interest in men who weren't our partners. "Would you approve of Johnny having sex with other women?"

"I've thought about that. I have imaginged him fucking a few of the women I've seen him ogling. There is a waitress at a bar we like to hang out in; they flirt with each other constantly and I don't mind since I also think she's pretty. I've also caught him looking very closely at one of the women who work at our local grocery store." A sly smile crept onto her lips. "I could see the two of you fucking. I think I'd enjoy that. I know Johnny would. He has a thing for tall girls with long brown hair." Glancing at Claire again, she smirked, "He'd love to get his cock inside you."

I feigned shock. "Abigale, you're awful!"

We both laughed and then she looked away, thinking. "If I knew about it, I think our relationship is strong enough that I might be okay with it....maybe."

"But probably not."

She finally shook her head. "Probably not, at least not without me being involved in some way. But there is also such a double standard. Society seems to accept men spreading their seed; depositing it in every willing vagina. But women are supposed to keep their legs closed."

"Maybe that's just because we are better at hiding it," I said. "Obviously women open their legs. Affairs happen and it takes two to tango."

"That's totally true," she admitted.

"Would Johnny approve of you having sex with another guy?"

"I don't think he would ever propose something like that," she said.

I wanted to tell her about Mike explaining that he was going to permit another man to fuck me, whether I liked it or not. I flashed back to that evening; Mike pushing me forward over the bathroom sink and pulling my panties off. Claire was dry and I whimpered as he twisted three fingers inside her while kicking my ankles apart. I had begged him to stop; told him no, said I wasn't in the mood, then had to bite my forearm to keep from crying out when he entered me. He wasn't gentle and it hurt. As he fucked me, he made me commit to meeting the stranger. When I agreed, he came so stongly his come oozed from my special place. In a matter of only a few minutes my husband of nearly ten years had forced himself on me and offered Claire up for someone else to fill. What Mike didn't know was that I loved every moment of it, even when the tears came.

And then I relived the night of our anniversary; the stranger's thick, dark cock probing Cliare's lips, gently prying them apart with a glistening fat pink head the size of a small plumb. Watching as he slowly fed her every inch; the exquisite discomfort of his manhood stretching my special place; my fingernails grasping his strong shoulders, the pitiful, plaintive whimpers I made as he began to thrust. That night had brought Mike and I closer. "You might think about suggesting something different," I said. "You and Johnny may both be surprised."

She looked forlorn. "I suppose."

"I wish I hadn't attended culinary school," I said. "If I'd gone to a four year university, maybe I'd be able to draw on some psychology lecture that would turn this conversation in another direction."

She brightened. "You went to culinary school? I bet that was awesome. I love to cook." And like that the conversation headed in a new direction, which made us both feel better. I told her about the excitement of being accepted to a school in Switzerland and the time I spent in Europe before opening my catering business in Lucerne. I stopped the story short; not mentioning the eight weeks I spent in Mistress Rebecca Tallenger's care.

"I've never been out of the United States," she said. "I hope Johnny and I are able to get to Europe at some point. I'd love to see Austria and France. Spain would be nice, too."

We had a few more drinks; getting pleasantly drunk while strolling the park. We rode the roller coaster and the Tilt-A-Whirl, laughing continuously as we tried to keep our skirts from flying up. Coming off the merry-go-round, I asked, "When did you know you liked girls?"

"I moved away to college, down to Miami University. I joined a sorority and one night a few of my sisters were hanging out in my dorm room; along with a couple guys from a fraternity. We were drinking and decided to play Spin the Bottle."

I grinned. "Nothing good ever comes from that game."

"Not true in this case." Holding up a finger, she took a long drink. "Anyway, a guy I liked spun the bottle and it landed on me. I was super excited that he'd make me kiss him. But instead, he made me kiss Kimber, one of my sorority pledge sisters. I looked shocked, although I was actually excited by the idea."

"Right," I said. "And you can't decline or you're out."

She nodded. "Kimber was cute and I wasn't going to let the opportunity pass. So I leaned over and kissed her on the lips and she didn't pull away. Instead, Kimber leaned into me and the butterflies in my stomach disappeared. It felt so...right. I finally pulled back; I didn't want the others to see my enjoyment. But the guy said it wasn't enough. He said we had to French kiss. We were all drunk and I could see Kimber was into it." Abby looked into the middle distance.

"Her lips were soft and warm and when she slipped her tongue into my mouth I relaxed and let it happen. It was different than kissing a guy, but I thought it was equally enjoyable. It was just more...delicate. A while later, our sorority president spun the bottle and it landed on Kimber, who was told to strip down to her bra and panties. The next time the bottle landed on me, I was made to do the same and eventually we were all down to our underwear. The guys had hardons and I felt bad for one of them because his cock kept poking through the crotch of his boxers."

"I wouldn't have felt bad," I said. "I've always found the sight of an erect penis very becoming."

"He was really embarrassed," Abby said, "But it was worse for the girls as all three of us had wet spots in our panties." She waved away an imaginary bug. "Anyway, at one point, the president spun the bottle and it pointed to me. She got this evil little grin on her face and said that since me and Kimber were new pledges we had to do what she told us. We knew this, of course, and automatically raised our right hands and spoke the mantra we'd been saying since rush week." Abby actually raised her hand and looked so earnest, I couldn't hide my grin. "Don't laugh," she said. "It was very serious to me at the time." She playfully punched my shoulder.

"I'm sorry, go ahead."

She recited: "My obedience to my senior sisters is steadfast, for I am bound to them. My acquiescence is inarguable, for my senior sisters know my path. I must adhere to their guidance and honor their requests without question. For this is the path all pledges must endure for the sisterhood to thrive."

"Jesus," I said in a tight whisper. "That's really intense."

Abby unknowingly slid the heel of her hand between her thighs, her knees parted a few inches; she was as aroused as I was. "When we finished, she said we had to remove each other's underwear and go down on each other at the same time."

My hand went to my mouth. "Right there, in front of everyone?"

"Yep."

"Oh, God. And you did it?"

"I thought Kimber was pretty and she seemed just as willing. We also didn't want to be on the outs with the sorority. Factor in the booze and, in general, just being horny college kids and it was pretty easy to get on-board with the entire situation." Abby shrugged and her eyes went big. "Isn't that what college is for?"

I laughed. "Pretty much!"

"We stood and I turned away so she could unhook my bra. The clasp of hers was in front and I became so aroused as my fingers fumbled with it, my knuckles brushing against her breasts. When I finally got it off, I slid her panties over her hips and she did the same to me. It was exciting and...naughty...being forced to be naked and so sexual in front of strangers, in front of a boy I really liked."

I ran a hand through my hair. Between my thighs, Claire stirred. I was glad I'd worn panties, otherwise the little mess maker would have drooled a dark spot on my skirt. She desperately wanted me to play with her, but there was nothing I could do.

Abby giggled. "I've never told this story to anyone. Kansas is not Miami and most folks wouldn't look kindly on my behavior, which is another reason I have kept it a secret. I'm a married school teacher in the Midwest. If my proclivity toward women was discovered, I would face the wrath from everyone around me; my church, my school, my husband, my friends." She waved her hand. "It's not worth it. It's easier to just fantasize and masturbate."

I thought about Mike; how he shook the stranger's hand, embraced him, then thanked him for fucking me. "Your husband might like it," I said.

"He's pretty traditional. I'm not so sure." Abby took another drink "Since I was a few months older than Kimber, the president said I got to be on top. Kimber laid on my bed and I crawled over her. When I lowered my...vagina...to her mouth, Kimber kissed it gently. It was pretty obvious neither of us knew how to pleasure a woman. She was tentative, as if tasting a fruit that might be bitter. "

Cocking an eyebrow and glancing at her special place, I said, "Somehow I don't think that's the case."

Abby blushed, pushed some hair behind her ear. "And then her tongue was inside me and I gasped the moment it happened. I remember quivering. I couldn't recall feeling so nervous before; it was far more intense than being with a guy. And it was so different. She wasn't as...forceful...which probably made it better. Looking between her legs, I spread her thighs and licked the blond hair on her mons. It was soft and fluffy, like a cotton ball. I had to nuzzle in deeply before I found her...opening."

Noting Abby's unease in describing the femenine anatomy, I explained why I called my vagina my special place and she smiled. "I like that. So many of the names it's given sound so dirty and vulgar. And vagina is so clinical."

I didn't really care. At that moment, 'cunt' would have been fine by me; I just wanted to get back to the story. I was imagining Abby, her lithe body atop Kimber (who in my mind was petite and small breasted), her pretty freckled face buried between her sorority sister's slender thighs, her tongue ravenously lapping the rivened pink slit. I asked, "Did you come?"

She shook her head. "No. It was just so impersonal. And being in front of all those people was intimidating. But we went down on each other for quite some time and I realized I was really enjoying myself. She tasted good and smelled good and what she was doing between my legs was intensely pleasurable."

"Did you and Kimber ever get together again?"

Her face went serious. "After the frat guys left that night, Kimber and I were invited to the sorority house where the president said a little ceremony was in order. When we arrived, all the other sisters were called into the living room and Kimber and I were told to remove our clothes. While we undressed, the president explained to everyone that she had witnessed something special and believed we should be elevated in status within the sisterhood. We were told to repeat the pledge, and when we finished the president explained our obligation was to perform what we'd done in the dorm room earlier that evening."

I purred. It sounded divine and I told her so.

"It was incredible," Abby said. "With no guys around, we were more comfortable and much less tentative with each other. Even though I wasn't able to come, Kimber did. Feeling her body moving beneath mine as I brought her to the edge was intoxicating. She made these little hiccuping sounds in her throat and when she did this, her breasts bounced; I could feel her nipples brush against my tummy. The fact that I was able to elicit such a response was even more gratifying. When Kimber came, I...I nursed from her special place for a long time while she pushed her fingers inside me and nibbled my clit. When I finally rolled off, I was surprised when more than a few of the older sisters began to applaud. Their approval meant something special to me.

Their response helped validate for me that it was okay to enjoy the company of another girl in a sexual way. A vote was taken and all but three of our sisters raised their hands. As we laid on the floor, panting and drenched in sweat, Kimber and I were told to hold hands and open our legs. While the Executive Board chanted some phrases in Latin, the other thirteen pledges were each required to kneel between our thighs and lick our special places five times. The tradition of Subjugate Sister ascension was long-standing within the sorority and each lick represented the number of decades the ascension ceremony had been practiced. As they did this, the President repeated the Latin mantras and sprinkled cold water over us. When they finished, our senior sisters hugged and congratulated us, while the pledges were made to stand in silence with their heads bowed. From then on, within the walls of the sorority house, we were referred to as the Subjugate Sisters." Abby looked at me to see if I knew what she was talking about.

I'm sure my eyes went big. "You were their slaves?"

"I wouldn't really call it slavery. It was part of the sorority's legacy and every year two freshmen pledges are assigned to be the Sub Sisters. It's not like they physically harmed or mistreated us. In fact, there was some real honor to it and the three pledges who voted against our ascension openly expressed their displeasure at not being selected. We were given the nicest room in the house, which meant we didn't have to live in our filthy dorm rooms any longer. And there was a financial benefit. The sorority covered our dues and housing costs, which was a big deal to me since I didn't come from a lot of money. Mostly we just had to handle more of the house chores, which didn't bother me. My mother had taught me to clean a house from top to bottom; you know, midwestern values and all of that."