Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories
From: redragon@interserv.com
Subject: The Conference (FM, con, FFF, lesbian) 
Date: 23 Sep 1995 03:00:29 GMT

			    The Conference

	Susan dressed slowly. She was not looking forward to the day
at all. Six hours of driving through the center of the state, a boring
dinner, an even more boring after dinner speech, an evening meeting
regarding the Gibbs contract and finally, a night of no sleep in a
hotel room where she already knew the pillows would have no substance
and the sheets would be rough from over washing and long use. She
looked at the clock and sighed. 5:30, she could delay no longer. She
unwrapped the towel and regarded herself in the mirror. Her shoulders,
midriff and legs were still tan from the summer sun, her breasts and
hips white where her bathing suit had screened the ultra-violet. Each
time she saw this, she remembered the club shower and the other women
standing in lines beneath the showerheads, their bodies in varying
shades of brown, their breasts a line of white around the room,
punctuated with dark points, secret circles of pleasure or function or
both.

	As always, the image made her own nipples tighten. She had
studied that shower often, shyly from behind the steam, fascinated
with her own interest in the sensual possibilities of other women,
embarrassed by the thoughts it gave her, pleased by their results. She
shook her head as if to clear it, dark curls tumbling about her face,
framing it as they fell to her shoulders, her breasts swaying as if to
echo.

	She slipped on her underclothes quickly. Matching bra and
panties: white lace, sheer, soft, semi-transparent, sexy, inviting;
the way she wished she could dress all the time. She slipped on her
conservative skirt and thought about the mini hanging in the closet. A
hooker on Sunset had been her inspiration. She had been walking on
Sunset Plaza when she had seen the woman: long legs, short skirt,
tank-top looking as if it had been painted on, showy yes, but somehow
subdued. It was a designer outfit, sophisticated in its blatancy.
Susan had to have it. Just looking at it had given her the thrill she
hoped to effect on some man... some time... some time...

	It hung in her closet now, worn only once, the day she had
bought it and only for herself. That evening she had put it on, made
herself up and had thought to go to Main Street in Santa Monica, to
some bar or coffee house, to somewhere where it might happen, where
the skirt and top would do the talking, where she could forget legal
complications, office politics, breakfast meetings, lonely beds, where
he, whoever he was, would be, for just one night, one free, no
strings, no thought night, a night of tits and legs, tongues and cock,
thighs and mouths. But... it was only a dream. She had stayed home
instead, stared at herself in the mirror, watching her nipples swell
until the force of her mind had been enough and she had lifted the
skirt the short distance it needed to travel above her thighs, seen
the triangle of pink cloth, so eager for her touch and had slipped her
hands down and then up and in, deep in slippery wetness, over and over
until she could not stand and sleep brought a pleasant, if empty
respite.

	She was dressed now. As corporate as a lawyer could be. She
took her bag, locked the apartment door and walked out into the hazy
dawn to her car. A Mockingbird sang a set of variations in the early
air: a series of notes, repeated three times, then a new series and
another repetition. The tune was tuneless but effective. The bird
would be mating before she returned, his song having established both
territory and availability. How many times a year did birds fuck, she
wondered. Once, twice? If it was only once, and this was the day, she
wished him pleasure and, as she started the car, she thought how lucky
he was to be in heat for so brief a time. Perhaps being free as bird
meant more than she had considered.

	By ten o'clock the sun was high and merciless. Waves of heat
rose from the freeway and Susan cursed her foolishness at having
brought her car with her from Hartford, where air-conditioning was a
luxury, not a necessity. Well, if the Griggs deal went through, there
would be a bonus and then an air conditioned Audi or maybe even a used
Porsche, black and sexy, something she could be seen in, something
that would focus their attention on her, her eyes, her tits. I have
nice ones, she thought. Smiling at this, she arched her back slightly
as if to show how nice they were and felt a cooling along her back.
She was still wearing her jacket. It was probably a mess now and would
have to be pressed if she was to wear it to the seminars tomorrow
afternoon. There would be a rest area soon. She would pull over, take
it off and, maybe get some coffee before she continued.

	"Take it off..." the words and the arching of her back triggered
"a memory which unfolded before her as the road passed beneath the car,
the hot air blowing on her face, her hands and once and a while up her
skirt to the tops of her stockings.

	It had been in Law School. Ten years ago. She had just broken
up with Mark and while it had been her idea to do so (as it always
was, with all of them), she had felt rejected somehow, unattractive,
unwanted. Take it off... Jerry, yes Jerry. The class clown and hunk,
so sure of himself, always acting in school shows, never able to avoid
a mirror, convinced of his good looks and his power over women. Poor,
silly Jerry who had to hang around with undergrad coeds because he
talked so much and never said anything. Poor, silly, sexy, solid, hard
Jerry.

	"Take it off..." She had gone to class 45 minutes early to
study. The room was empty, dark away from the high windows. She had
just opened her notebook when Jerry of all people had banged into the
room, letting the door slam behind him. It seemed he had been warned.
Wilson was going to call on him today and he was going to be brutal.
What Jerry knew about Civil Procedure would not have filled one page
of Reader's Digest. He was in trouble and he knew it.

	"Take it off..." At first, he seemed intent to master everything
he could in the available time. But he was desperate and it wasn't
long before he had looked up from his own meager notes and asked,
flirtatiously, if he could use hers, just this once. And she, had said
no, but not without some flirting herself which only managed to
encourage him to equate her notes with other treasures she might
withhold. Jerry could not resist a flirt and he responded by reflex. If
he could not get the notes directly, he would tease them away as he
had teased so much more away from countless co-eds in his two years at
Harvard.

	"Take it off..." The words burned in her mind and she felt the
dull tightening of her nipples against the blouse and jacket, the
reflex, if slight, opening of her thighs. The car accelerated as the
memory continued.

	"Take it off..." He had grabbed for her notebook, spilling his
own to the floor as he moved to stand near her desk. But She had been
quicker and was standing, the book clutched to her chest, the sound of
her own laughter surprising her, even as she knew she should feel
anger. He reached again and she had stepped back and up onto the next
level, causing his hands to miss their mark and slide down her rib
cage, tickling her, releasing a deeper laugh. Jerry's eyes had
widened. She could still see them almost smiling at what he had
discovered.

	"Take it off...", "So," he had said, "Susan is ticklish," and she
had laughed a no and had tried to stop him with one hand while pushing
him off with the other. But his arms had been so long and she was
pressed against the desk behind her and then his hands were running up
and down her ribs and she was laughing hysterically and then...

	"Take it off..." She had thought to duck away and under his arms
but she had slipped on the step, causing her back to arch and his
hands to slide up in their light dance until... until... his thumbs
had passed twice over her nipples and it had felt so good!

	"Take it off..." They had stopped for a moment then. His hands
on her, just below her breasts, the notebook sliding from her arms to
the floor. Their eyes had met and his smile, usually so leering was
suddenly soft, almost pleading and she could sense somehow that he was
already erect, already for her and there was the sound of her watch
ticking and they had little time.

	"Take it off..." It had only been a week since Mark but it had
seemed a lifetime and her body would not wait. Transfixed by his eyes,
she had taken his hands and slid them up to her breasts, where she
pressed her pointed nipples to his fingers through her sweater. But it
had not been enough. His fingers, sliding, pushing, pinching, only
made her want more and she had surprised herself and him by slipping
the sweater over her head so that he could press those hands to her
breasts. But he had stood back, teasing a moment and then bent forward
until his lips nearly touched her ear and his chest was pressed
against her.

	"Take it off," he had whispered. "Take it off, Susan." And his
breath had burned in her ear and he said it again. "Take it off." And
she had slipped her hands behind her while he watched approvingly,
hungrily, happily. And her back had arched as she opened the catch and
she had shrugged her shoulders and the bra had fallen from her breasts
and she found herself offering them to him, her hands cupping them for
him, holding them out and she had whispered, "Please," and he had bent
to her right nipple, the touch of his lips causing her to tremble and
while his hand found her left breast and fingered and pulled at the
turgid nipple, his lips, tongue and teeth entertained its twin with
sucks, licks and exquisite flicks that created a triangle of heat in
her: nipple to nipple to clit until she felt herself pressing against
him with desire that was becoming need.

	His hand fumbled with her jeans and she helped him to undo the
button and shivered as he slid the zipper down, pressing against her
with his thumb, making his tongue flick even faster as he took her
hand and pressed it against his bulging cock, a low moan escaping as
she touched him. His zipper came easily open and as her fingers found
and freed the hot, ropey shaft it had covered she moaned herself as
his hand slid into her panties, his finger sliding neatly between her
swollen lips into the slippery velvet and down to her clit where it
paused, circling in delicious motion round and round and round.

	The cock throbbed in her hand and slid as he moved his hips in
sympathetic motion to her uncontrolled arching against his hand. The
ridges passed back and forth in the circle she made with her hand and
she could feel a sweet wetness at the tip.

	"I want to suck you," she had gasped and he, with incredible
control, had looked at his watch.

	"No Time... " he had said. "Tonight," he promised. And that
had made her laugh, "Yesyes, tonight," and she had shaken the jeans
from her legs, stepping out of one half of them even as that
wonderful, knowing finger had slid lower, pressing against her clit as
it teased the opening of her vagina with tiny movements as delicate
and exciting as those the tongue made now on her left nipple.

	He opened his belt with one hand and let his jeans fall also
never stopping in his pleasuring of her. She had taken his cock gently
and pulled it and him to her until she felt the resistance of his hand
against his own shaft. "Don't tease anymore," she had pleaded and his
hand rose past her clit again and was out, wet against her side as she
pressed the tip of the cock against the soft wet cloth of her panties
and began to slide it there, feeling its tension rise with hers.

	He gasped and raised his mouth to her lips. "Now who's
teasing?" he smiled as his tongue met hers and both his hands were
around hers then and they pressed the cock hard to her, moved it up
and down the cloth until she could stand it no longer.

	Her arms reached up and around him and she came against the
thrusting cock, felt her back grow wet against the desk as the rolling
pressure of the come released through her panties, her nipples, her
eyes, his tongue. She wanted him then and forever. To come inside
her, between her breasts (no, tits tits), on her belly, her back, in
her mouth. Her hands slapped against his back as he used his shaft
(his COCK), THE TIP OF HIS COCK to push the panties aside.

	And he was in her.

	Deep.

	Pushing. Pumping. So Hard. So Hot. So good.

	Andyestherewas another waitingthere for her/ him...

	"Take it off," he had said. Take it Off Take It Off.
Takeitofftakeitofftakeitoff and yesyesyes. And she began to come
again and he began to scream which no man she had known had ever done
and he was so powerful and it was so much and she felt the come rising
building erupting inside her and the desk shaking behind her and more
yes more.

	And his come was like a warm cloud folding into hers and he
came and came and came...

	Take it off...

	A horn blasted at her and snapped her eyes back to the road as
the truck passed. She had one hand on the wheel, the other had lifted
her skirt and was warming to the shadows of coming at 65 miles an
hour.

	A blush spread over her face. What had she done? The answer
was obvious. Who had seen? How had she stayed on the road. She needed
that coffee, anything to get her mind on reality. And damn, now she
would have to have the skirt pressed, too. When I come back, she
thought, I'm coming back as a bird. She smiled, remembering that Jerry
had failed that day in class.

	The Sahara Hotel was at the end of The Strip, with desert on
one side and low cheap gambling joints, strip parlors and a few
lounges on the other three. Susan's room was on the 16th floor. From
the windows she could see most of the strip, a great deal of desert
and finally, mountains, their size so great as to make them appear but
a few miles away. The room was typical of Vegas: an oversized bed, wet
bar, color television, bathroom with a tub large enough for six and,
of course, mirrors. Thank God there were none on the ceiling, she
thought, stepping out of her skirt. Why they made these rooms like
this was something of a mystery, anyway. How many people ever staid in
their room long enough to even turn the TV on before rushing out to
the Casinos or shows, she wondered. They could use army cots for the
amount of time anyone slept in Vegas.

	She unbuttoned her blouse and shivered, delighted with the air
conditioning after the drive. It was 102 outside. It must have been
300 in the car when she finally arrived. She opened her suitcase and
began to unpack, putting her underthings in the top drawer of the
eight foot chest and laughing at how lonely they looked. Make-up in
the bathroom, skirts, suit, slacks and robe in the closet, bathing
suit on the bed and...

	She stopped and stared at the remaining contents of her
suitcase. At some point she had packed her diaphragm, a tube of
Koromex and...

	And the vibrator. Susan frowned and took the wooden box from
the case. She could not recall packing it. The last she could remember
was that it had been somewhere in her closet, on a shelf or the floor.
Then she remembered: the time her parents had visited, she had hidden
it in the suitcase. With her mother's penchant for straightening
things, that had seemed the safest place. She opened the box and
looked at its contents. Six inches long, nearly two wide at its
widest, the vibrator was a fairly exact replication of an erect cock
but with modifications. It was ribbed nearly its entire length and
from one edge at the back, there projected a tiny replica of a human
hand, the fingers blunted and the palm up as if in a salute or about
to curl. It rested in a bed of red velvet, the darkness of its color
glowing in the light from the window. Susan had never used it. It had
been a gift from Tracy when they had roomed together while she was
clerking for the State Supreme Court in Maryland. A joke gift but one
which had its practical side.

	One Summer, Tracy had talked Susan into going to a, "sensuality
party" at a friend's apartment in Baltimore. It was, Tracy explained,
a sort of Tupperware party for sex. That winter, Susan was getting all
she needed from the only single Judge on the Court, but Tracy was
spending most of her nights alone, despite her long legs, red hair,
green eyes and very willing manner. In Baltimore, it seemed, there was
just enough of the old world to require an element of sophistication
in addition to looks and availability. Tracy finally went back to
Houston where, so she said, things were simpler.

	But, before all that, she had taken Susan two the party.
There were, maybe, twenty women there. Several of them were married,
all of them, except Susan, looking for something new, something
different, saying that their boyfriends or husbands were bored when it
was clear that they were the bored ones, spending their nights either
alone or with men whose idea of love-making had more to do with speed
and duty than with expression or, God forbid, fun.

	The room was filled with lingerie for every purpose and of
every description. There were silk teddies, satin robes, lace bikini
panties and bras. There was wine too and everyone got to feeling
pretty silly as the hostess, Tracy's friend, opened box after box of
garter-belts, chemises, shortie pajamas and slinky gowns which were
clearly not meant for sleep. The room filled with giggles and winks,
smiles and laughs as the evening went on. The thought of what all
these closed implied formed a bond in the room. It was like a pajama
party after a while. No one wanted it to stop.

	Susan took off her bra and, still holding the vibrator, sat on
the edge of the bed and remembered. Sometime after the sixth bottle of
wine had been opened, the hostess had asked if anyone would care to
model any of the items in the room. You might be able to chose more
carefully if you know how they feel or look, she suggested. There had
been no shortage of volunteers. Eagerly, the women had snatched up
whatever had caught their fancy and, in a moment, were all crowded
into the bedroom and stripping. Susan had chosen a peach colored teddie
of silk with a lace diamond at the midriff and a burst of lace over
each breast. The bedroom was warm but she soon noticed that everyone's
nipples, including her own were turgid with anticipation. The thought
of modeling was turning them on, answering some secret wish they all
had been keeping.

	And when they had returned to the living room, the effect had
been electrifying. The women, some of whom had seemed dumpy, even
frowzy in their skirts and slacks had been transformed by their
selections. Thighs whispered seduction from satin slits, breasts
bobbed delightfully in bras which caressed as much as supported,
panties peeked from beneath short robes or pajamas, showing inviting
glimpses of black, purple, red or blue covered treasures. Susan could
not take a position in the teddie without appearing to invite and when
it had been her turn to pose before the others, someone had whistled
and one of the women had reached out to touch the fabric, her fingers,
hot as the traveled down Susan's side, had left her dizzy with
desire.

	When the show had finished, the room was full of tension.
Only the hostess seemed calm, relaxed, ready to move on, interested
only in making a few sales.

	"I have some toys, as well," she had said, giggling a bit.
"You all should see them."

	She produced yet another box and began to pass its contents
around the room. There were things Susan had never imagined. Penis
rings to excite her and keep him hard even after he had come, wrist
and leg bonds (which attached by velcro, so that they were never quite
serious), ben-wah balls, lotions, gels, powders, feathers, a long
scarf into which h ad been tied hundreds of tiny, inviting knots.

	Then She had produced the vibrator.

	This is very special, she had said and had gone on to explain
that it came from somewhere in the orient. She was almost clinical as
she described its use, giving particular attention to the little hand,
what it was for, how to use it. That some of the women in the room
were not familiar with their own anatomy became evident as she went on
talking. They didn't understand.

	"Shall I demonstrate?" the hostess had finally asked.

	"No," the woman sitting next to Susan had said.

	"No, Let me." She had looked around the room. "I really need
it."

	"Of course, Marlene," the hostess had said and she had passed
the device.

	Susan slipped the top of her bathing suit on and secured the
clasp. The coolness of the fabric against her skin was refreshing and
she watched her nipples harden slightly as she slipped her panties to
the floor.

	Marlene was tall and blonde with long legs and lovely breasts
that swayed as she walked to the center of the room. The robe she was
wearing, was loose, revealing. She untied the cord, sliding it through
her fingers slowly as she did and then sat in the lotus position.

	For a moment no one breathed. Then Marlene turned on the
vibrator. It made hardly a sound but if there was any doubt, it was
dispelled by the tiny motion of Marlene's fingers where they held the
device at its base. She studied it for a moment, then moved it to her
face, running it up her cheek, across her forehead and then down
again. She repeated this, slowly, several times, her eyes shining,
focused on some other world. Her shoulders relaxed as she slid the tip
across her lips, kissing it, finally licking it and then, for a moment
resting it on the tip of her tongue before sliding it down her chin,
her throat, then to the space between her breasts.

	Marlene folded her free arm under her breasts, causing them to
meet where the vibrator waited. Slowly, she moved it up and down her
cleavage while her nipples formed dark hard spots against the white of
the robe. Someone shifted and Susan looked around the room. The other
women were watching intently, some leaning forward. A dark haired
woman was sliding her hand slowly up and down the tops of her thighs.
A short redhead was kneeling, her arms folded across the bra she was
wearing, her hands sliding over her shoulders. Tracy was sitting on an
ottoman, lotus style also. Her hand was echoing Marlene's, sliding
between her breasts, her eyes were closed.

	Marlene slid the vibrator across the robe to her right nipple
where she moved it in circles, sometimes large, sometimes small. She
arched her back and placed her free hand on her left breast, her
fingers squeezing at the hot point they found. Someone sighed or
gasped. Susan pressed her thighs together and rocked slightly.

	Marlene was rocking also, her eyes closed, she seemed for a
moment to lose control. But she wanted she wanted all she could get
and was willing to take her time. She pulled the robe away from her
breast as the vibrator continued to circle and press against her. When
the tip met her skin she sighed deeply and used it to press her nipple
deep into the whiteness that surrounded it.

	Several of the women were openly touching themselves now,
sliding their hands across their breasts or between their legs. Tracy
had opened her bra and was holding her beasts between her thumbs and
forefingers, her index fingers tapping incessantly on her nipples.
Susan felt shy but could not stop her hands from cupping her own
breasts, pushing them together, then apart, then together again.

	"Tits," someone whispered, "I love my tits."

	Marlene moaned. The vibrator was between her legs now, sliding
from on inner thigh to the other, just touching her mound as it
passed, each pass causing her to inhale sharply. The passes became
smaller and smaller as she guided the toy to her target. She was
rocking freely now, bumping the vibrator with her mound, her hand
holding it steady.

	"Omigod... yes, yes... so good... " whispers began to fill the
room.

	Tracy was ahead of Marlene now, her fingers tugged and twisted
her nipples, her tongue moved along her lips in tiny darting motions.
She was rocking, letting the fabric of her panties pull against her
vulva, hungry noises interrupted her tongue each time she moved
forward.

	"Ohhhhhhhhh," Marlene sighed.She slid the vibrator into her,
deep. "Oh Oh Oh." There was a moment of adjustment and then anyone who
was still paying attention knew what the tiny had was for. Properly
positioned, it rested against Marlene's clitoris giving double
sensation as the toy moved deep within and without her. She paused a
moment and then removed her hand. Miraculously, by design actually,
the vibrator remained in place. Marlene arched her back and returned
her hands to her breasts.

	"Oh, yes, I needed that," she smiled. "So good... " She
pressed and released her nipples, squirmed, closed her eyes,rocked.

	Susan found her hand between her legs but she could not take
her eyes off Marlene's face. The joy there was so pure and clear.

	Marlene began to moan. "Oh, God," she said, "I'm Gonna... "

	"Ahhh yes," Tracy panted.

	There were other sounds now. Moans, sighs. Someone was
growling.

	"Fuck," Susan said. "Fuck fuck fuck fuck," until the word had
run together, sounding as if she were choking.

	"Commmmming," Marlene had shouted!, "Comming comming comming
commming"

	"Me me me me me me me me," Tracy said as she came. "Me me me me
me me."

	"Oh, yes, yes, yes," Marlene laughed, coming again. "All of
you," she gasped, "all of you come with me, come with me."

	Susan had screamed that time, so aware of what was happening
around her. The woman behind her had fallen from her pillow is
uncontrolled spasms. A bleached blonde older woman was pressing a
stuffed toy between her legs and cooing with delight.

	Marlene came and came until she had her wish and everyone had
joined her, filling the room with the odor of sex.

	Susan stared down at the vibrator and then closed the box.
She stood up, knowing that if she turned she would see a wet stain on
the bed. Tracy had meant the toy as a joke and a joke it would remain.
She placed it back in the suitcase and pulled on the swimsuit bikini,
grabbed a towel and headed for the door, then caught sight of her self
in the mirror.

	Her nipples were still semi-hard under the top, their outlines
just visible. Susan thought a moment and smiled.

	"Oh, no," she said, "Not good enough. I want you guys to
show." She held her breasts as she remembered Tracy doing and tapped
her nipples.

	"Come on," she said, "let's show off a little before work."

	And when she got in the elevator, it was her nipples that
everyone wanted to touch, not the floor buttons.