Better Than Life

Chapter Two: Holey Harley

by Kris Cherita

A flyer on top of the room service menu helped explain what was going on outside, and a quick search on my phone told me the rest. It was 2024, and with people so eager to get out of isolation now that COVID was over, a huge annual pop culture convention had outgrown its traditional venue and needed to expand. The only other hotel large enough to hold the overflow located within easy walking distance had already booked one floor for an adult entertainment expo, so the convention had split into two -- a family-friendly event at the main venue, and an 18+ one specializing in horror and hentai a block from my hotel. To accommodate the cosplayers queueing to get in, the city had barricaded off the road for a block and it had turned into a street fair, with girl group Nuclear Pussy playing on a concert stage outside the hotel.

I headed downstairs and wandered towards the expo, hoping I'd be admitted. The side of the street I hadn't seen from my hotel window featured a few more restaurants, but also a range of other businesses -- boutiques, bookshops, comic shops, sex shops, strip clubs. I looked for the end of a queue and ended up standing behind an attractive woman dressed as Harley Quinn from the animated Batman series, in the skintight red and black catsuit. I was admiring how tightly the costume hugged her curves when I realized that it most of it wasn't a costume at all: between her boots, her gloves and her foolscap, she was wearing nothing but paint.

She turned around a moment later, looked me up and down, and grinned. "Hi," she said.

"Um, hi."

"Looking forward to the con?"

"Yes, though there seems to be quite a crowd. I hope they let me in."

"I think you'll get in," she said, reaching behind her to fondle my erection through my jeans, "though we could be waiting for quite a while."

"True."

"But if they've sold all the tickets, you might still get sneak in by the back door," she said, unbuttoning my Levis and reaching in through the fly of my boxer shorts, pulling my cock out and guiding it towards her asshole. I was too startled to protest, even when she grabbed my right hand and placed it over her shaven cunt. Juice came trickling out as soon as she slid my finger down past her clit onto her labia, and the head of my cock popped so easily into her butt that I realized that she had already lubed it ready for anal.

I'm not an exhibitionist by nature, but no-one seemed to have noticed what we were doing, or if they did, they didn't care. We fucked slowly while I rubbed her clit with my thumb and curled my fingers inside her in search for her g-spot. My left hand held onto her hip to keep us steady, and occasionally we took a step forward as the queue advanced. The music from the bandstand drowned out most of the noise we were making, though occasionally she had to muffle her moans with a gloved hand over her mouth. No-one else in the crowd seemed to notice what we were doing as we swayed to the music or even when we shuffled along with the rest of the queue. Each time she came, her ass squeezed my cock so tightly that it prevented me ejaculating and delayed my own orgasm a little longer, until finally the fabulous friction became too much to withstand and I came in her delightful derriere.

We stayed locked together for a moment, then she pulled away from me so that I could tuck myself back in and button up my jeans, and then I realized we'd reached the steps outside the hotel. Before long, we'd made it to the front of the queue and the woman I'd just sodomized was being asked for her name. "Quinn Ellis," she replied. "Full membership, prepaid."

I mentally kicked myself for not asking her that. I'd never had sex with a woman whose name I didn't know before -- okay, sometimes it was only a first name, and in a few cases it almost certainly wasn't their real name, but at least it was a name. Then again, she hadn't asked mine, either. "Your name is really Quinn?" I asked.

"Yes. Got teased about it a lot by the Daria fans at school, before I got into Batman comics." She picked up her name badge, then turned around and kissed me. "Cop you later," she said, and headed towards the lifts.

"Name?" asked the woman at the desk.

"Dan Singer. I -"

A woman at the next desk turned to look at me. If she noticed that I smelled of anal sex, she didn't comment. "Glad you made it," she said. "Your signing session's in forty minutes. We have your badge here, but your freebie bag is in the Green Room on the top floor. Room 1138."

"I think I can remember that," I said, as she handed me a lanyard and a badge. I headed for the lifts, but Quinn had already disappeared.

*

The Green Room was much quieter than the exhibition floor, but that's pretty much the point. I recognized a few of the people - writers, editors, voice actors, game designers, scientists, artists - who were there planning their panels, taking advantage of the buffet, or just taking a brief break from interacting with their fans.

The young woman checking badges was another voluptuous goth, wearing a zippered miniskirt and Ouija board T-shirt only slightly less tight than Quinn's bodypaint. She saw my name, and handed me a heavy sling bag, then reached into her own bag and pulled out a pen and a hardcover of my first novel which she asked me to autograph, saying that she wouldn't be able to come downstairs in time for my signing session. (Green Room etiquette about asking for autographs doesn't automatically apply to unpaid volunteers.) She showed me her badge so I could spell Morgana correctly, then bent over so I could use her back as a writing desk, her skirt riding up to show that she wasn't wearing anything beneath it. She grinned when she read my inscription, then pointed at the buffet. "Help yourself to anything," she purred.

I resisted the urge to go down on her, and walked over to the table, ate some gumbo and drank a cup of tea, then decided to head downstairs. On my way out, I looked at Morgana, wondering whether her impressive breasts were real; she looked up, smiled, and tapped the 'Yes' on the Ouija board on her t-shirt. I guess she was used to people wondering that.

The exhibition floor was enormous, and fairly evenly divided between the sexpo and the horror and gaming convention. Some of the video game booth babes rivaled the porn stars and camgirls for sexiness, though they tended to wear skintight bodysuits rather than g-strings and pasties, micro-bikini tops, duct tape or glitter. They were also strictly hands-off, while some of the porn stars were offering lapdances, motorboating and face-sitting. There was so much going on that I didn't expect any takers for my signing session -- I've had a few books published, but I'm hardly Neil Gaiman or George R. R. Martin - but I sat at a small table between two bookshop stalls and watched the cosplayers go by. I was astonished and delighted when a young woman in a Power Girl costume came up to my table and leaned over before handing me a copy of one of my novels. As I signed it, she said softly, "Is it true that you also write smut as Kris Cherita?"

I managed to look up into her face rather than her impressive boob window. "Yes," I admitted, "but most of those stories are only available online, so unless you want me to sign your iPad..."

She smiled, and tugged her costume's boob window down until her nipples popped out. "Do you sign body parts?"

I blinked, but was happy to agree. I wrote 'Kris' on her left breast and 'Cherita' on the right, and she kissed me on the cheek (the one to the left of my nose, not...) and sashayed away.

Over the next few minutes, a few more people came up with books for me to sign, and then a woman cosplaying as the valkyrie from Battle Beyond the Stars joined the queue and asked me to sign her breasts. She was followed by an Elvira impersonator who asked for the same thing, then a Scarlet Witch, and then a young woman wearing a Princess Leia slave costume who climbed up on my desk, spread her legs and placed her feet on my shoulders so that I had an excellent view of her very pretty cunt, and asked me to sign her inner thighs.

"Okay," I said, reaching for the whiteboard marker, "but who is going to see..."

"I'm a stripper," she said.

"Oh."

"I'm on the main stage at four thirty, or you can catch me at the club around the corner. VIP members get in free."

"Thanks."

"And of course, there's the orgy tonight," she said, scrambling down from the desk. I signed a few more books before my time was up, yielded the desk to a lovely Sri Lankan woman who also wrote sf and erotica, then adjusted my jeans so that my hard-on was less obvious and hurried back towards the lifts. I was power-walking past a booth selling back issues of magazines when a MILF wearing a a g-string and glitter stepped into my path so that I had to stop dead or collide with her. She had enormous breasts and a grin that was nearly as big and sexy and even more memorable. "Hi," she said, in that glorious maple syrup accent. "I'm Tiff."

"Hi."

She picked up a copy of D-CUP from the desk, open to her center spread, then turned a page. "Did you write this story?"

"Um... yeah."

She returned the magazine to the table, then grabbed the back of my head and pushed it into her cleavage. I knew her breasts had been enhanced, but unlike too many fake tits that feel like over-inflated basketballs, hers felt as soft as though they were natural and her perfume was intoxicating. "I don't normally read the stories in the magazines, but I enjoyed this one a lot, so I thought I'd say thanks," she crooned.

I'd been desperately horny even before that encounter, but now I felt as though so turned on that I could barely resist the urge to unbutton my jeans and slide my cock between those massive boobs and tittyfuck Tiff until I gave her a pearl necklace... but even though I knew that I could have done it and been applauded by everyone watching, that this scenario had been created purely for my benefit, I couldn't quite bring myself to do it. Partly it was because I hadn't cleaned my cock since fucking Quinn in the ass, but mostly because I'm not that much of an exhibitionist.

"Thank you," I said, when I was no longer being deliciously smothered. "I have to go to the green room for a while."

"Okay," Tiff said. "Are you coming to the orgy tonight?"

"Probably," I said.

"I'll see you there, then," she said, and went back to perusing the magazines. I hurried to the lifts and pressed the button, and a door opened almost instantly. I was about to step inside when I noticed that it was already occupied: Quinn was on her hands and knees being fucked from behind by a woman dressed as the Suicide Squad movie version of Harley Quinn. "Oops," said Quinn, then, "Didn't think the door would open. You coming?"

Not yet, I thought, and hurried in just before the door closed. "You don't have a room?"

"Yeah, but hers is six blocks away and mine is eight," said Quinn. "We couldn't afford this place. Bobbi, this is Dan."

"Hi," said Bobbi, obviously not pleased by the interruption. She went back to fucking Quinn with a strap-on nearly as thick as my wrist, with one finger through the loop of a string of anal beads in Quinn's butt.

Quinn, smiling, reached up and grabbed my cock through the denim of my jeans. "Ooh," she said. "Is that for me?"

"I haven't had a chance to get cleaned up since..."

"No problem; I love ass to mouth," she said.

I blinked, then knelt before her and freed my cock. She licked it from my balls to the tip, said, "Yum," then slowly slid it into her mouth until her nose was buried in my pubes. She sucked with energy and expertise apparently borne of enthusiasm and experience; I tried not to come too quickly, but soon I was squirting what felt like a bucketload of semen down her throat. She drew her head back to catch as much of it on her tongue as she could, savoring it before gulping it all down, and a moment later, she began coming in great spasms as Bobbi pulled the beads from her ass. Quinn collapsed onto the floor of the lift -- then, as her cunt relaxed enough that Bobbi could withdraw that massive toy, opened her mouth so that Bobbi could lower the gobstopper-sized beads into it. Quinn sucked them clean, then grinned and blew each of us a kiss. "Wow," she said. "That was fantastic!"

Bobbi smiled, dropped the beads into a tote bag and removed her strap-on. "We should probably stop hogging the lift. What floor did you want?"

"Eleven," I said, pulling my pants up. "I hope there isn't a camera in here."

"It's okay," said Quinn. "I'm a camgirl anyway, and I came here for the seminars on breaking into porn."

"And to get laid," Bobbi added dryly.

"Well, that too," said Quinn, as the lift began to move. "See you at the orgy tonight?"

"Probably," I said, and looked at Bobbi. "Are you a --"

"Porn star? No, I just do their hair and makeup, and I've dated a few. This is where we get off," she said, as the lift stopped at the third floor. "Bye!"

The doors closed, leaving me alone in a lift that smelled overpoweringly of hot sex. I'd nearly reached the 11th floor when my phone rang. "Hello?"

"Hi. In five minutes, you will have been in VR for four hours. Health and safety requirements require you to take a break of at least thirty minutes before logging in again. Do you want to pause the game now?"