Sex At the Conference

With her buttocks resting on her calves, she kneels in the center of the hotel room; alone or not, she doesn’t know. She can only feel the cool air blowing from the air conditioner. Plugs stop her ears, and he has glued skin- toned patches over her eyes. She appears eyeless because of carefully applied make-up blending the patches into her face.

Behind her back, her hands loosely grasp the opposite arm just above the elbow. Soft rope, dyed black, covers the entire length of her forearms, coiled into a seamless wrap. From the center of her joined arms, two strands of rope run down in a braid to her ankles. They are tied to the black bindings holding her ankles together.

She has on a pair of high-heeled shoes, also black, with straps and buckles, and a pair of black satin panties. She wears no collar (he hasn’t that right), but he has placed a simple gold chain around her neck. A small, pendant dangles between her upright bosom. Matching earrings hang from each ear, the stones catching the light.

No warning heralds the gentle hand that cups her chin in its palm and lifts her face. The back of a second hand strokes her cheek. Her mind races as she tries to guess who may be touching her. She silently waits, having been instructed not to speak.

“Yes, she is attractive,” she hears, his voice enters her ears as if from both nowhere and everywhere at once.

After a short pause, she hears, “No, she can’t. Nor can she hear you. She has earplugs in, modified hearing aids actually. I’m wearing a mike across my throat so she can hear me, but nothing else.”

The hands leave her face, but she holds her head in the position they leave it. She feels the stranger placing the palm of his hands to the back of her head. Without warning, the stranger withdraws his touch.

“Hands behind your back,” he tells the stranger. “She does all the work.”

She feels soft skin against her lips and opens her mouth. The stranger’s erect penis slides inside. She holds it there for a moment. Savoring the feeling of the head in her mouth, she lets out a soft moan around it. It feels so different than either her lover’s or her husband’s. After the sound has passed, she runs her tongue over and around the glans.

The stranger twitches inside her mouth, and she bobs her head back and forth as her mind struggles with her task: what does this stranger want? What effect is she making on him? Is he close?

She has no clue. She varies her motion and changes her rhythm at random intervals with a trust that her efforts bring him pleasure. It takes long though, and her jaws begin to tire. When she starts to feel as if she can do no more, the penis begins to twitch and to spasm.

She sucks onto it, drawing in the offering he pours into her mouth. She holds it there. When the stranger withdraws, she moves her face where she thinks he can see it. She opens her mouth to show him what he has given her. Then, she swallows and smiles her best smile at him.

After a moment, his voice breaks the silence “I’m glad you enjoyed it. Will you be at the reception?”

There is a pause while the stranger gives an answer that she cannot hear. “Very good. Have a good evening.”

After a moment of time she cannot judge, the plugs are pulled from her ears; she can hear again but remains blind. He pushes her down to the floor gently so a cheek rests on the floor. He pulls the crotch of her panties from over her sex.

She is very wet and with only the slightest of difficulties, he enters her. She gasps as he begins to slowly slide inside of her. Neither of them lasts long, and with a hard thrust, he shoots into her as her inner muscles grip at his shaft.

He undoes her bindings and kneads her stiff muscles to help the circulation return to her body. Together, they shower and clean the evidences of the afternoon’s passion from their bodies. They dress and leave the room hand in hand. He steals a kiss after the elevator doors close.

They are still holding hands when they enter the hall set aside for the opening night’s reception. As he speaks with his colleagues, she looks into the face of each man, watching for any sign from whomever she had spent the afternoon and wonders to herself which, if any, of them it may be.