Professor Spring attends a conference and immediately goes on the prowl for someone who can bring some sizzle to her weekend!
I stow my stuff away in my room then precede down to the conference rooms. Once on the ground floor I see that they’ve set aside four rooms for the myriad of faculty who have gathered. I’m one of hundreds who’ve come from six or seven colleges and universities with the purpose of hearing lectures, participating in brainstorming sessions, and evaluating the education system overall. I, of course, have a secondary agenda.
I’ve come to have sex. A one night stand in particular. It’s not just because I’m horny, not just because sex is my thing. No, I’m frustrated and when I get frustrated I tend to crave sexual release. Getting lost in my lover, in the intensity of orgasm, wipes away everything for those few moments. Or hours. On those rare occasions it can take away the pain, confusion, and daily woes of life for an entire weekend. I have wonderful memories of weekends in bed with my lovers. Jared in particular.
Sitting in one of the hallway chairs, my name tag pinned above my right breast, I survey the human buffet. Men and women come and go, some of them looking my way but most of them intent on getting wherever it is they’re going. It’s nice to just sit here, legs crossed, head resting against the back of the floral patterned chair.
It takes an hour before I see the man who makes my pussy quiver and my undies dampen. He’s tall, his dark hair pulled back in a ponytail tied with twine. On his feet are sandals and instead of professional dress he’s wearing jeans and a plain white t-shirt that hugs his chest. Around his neck hangs a pendant. From where I sit it appears to be Black Hills Gold. Not something I’ve seen many men wear but he pulls it off. The green in his eyes when he glances my way carries something haunting and I’m intrigued. His gaze connects with mine and I feel the pull, the static between us.
I’ve chosen well.
He pauses, half-turned to enter one of the rooms, and stares at me.
I know he can feel it, too.
I sit up a little straighter and lick my lips, slowly. He arches a brow but doesn’t grin. That’s interesting. Usually the response is a bit more enthusiastic, more flirty. My eyes lower to his crotch but I see no signs of a bulge. So he’s interested but not enough to be turned on.
I’m just about ready to stand up and march over to him with my lust laid bare when he turns away and passes through the wide open doors. He’s gone and I feel that familiar ache in my core. I glance at the watch on my wrist. I don’t have time to go upstairs. I don’t even have time to take a side trip into the bathroom to fuck myself. So I’m left waiting. Maybe that’ll make the treat even better once I get it, I can’t be sure.
Shaking my head I grip the arms of the chair and push myself up. Crossing the hallway I enter through the same door my cool mystery man passed through. My eyes search those who’ve already taken their seats, stopping only when I see him. I smile to myself and waltz over to the side of the room he’s sitting on. I eye the empty seats around him but at the last minute I change my mind and turn to the left, taking a seat on the end of a row three behind his own. He’s staring forward and I watch him.
When the speaker enters and takes the podium I barely spare her a glance. I’m too focused on the man to pay attention and I’m fine with that. I’ve heard it all before. Just showing up will be enough to placate the higher ups. It always has been. I watch him, biting my lip as I picture what I want to happen between us. I’ve fucked so many types of people in my life. They’ve had different nationalities, preferences, personalities, outlooks on life. You name a trait and I’ve probably climaxed with someone who has it. That’s one of the joys of a very active, and free, sex life.
This man reads like a free spirit, someone who won’t have a problem jumping in the sack with me.
I stare at him throughout the entire presentation save the obligatory responses required by the presenter. A nod of agreement. A smile and handshake proffered to those in proximity to my seat. The essentials.
My legs stay crossed, the thrumming in my nether regions something I can’t completely put out of my mind.
By the time the lecture is over I want nothing more than to jump this man’s bones and soon!
As everyone begins to rise I stay seated. Partially because I’m afraid I’ve soaked the fabric of my skirt with my juices and partially because I want to watch him walk away. I want to catch him looking at me. So I sit. I sit and wait for all the other attendees to wander off. There isn’t anything else, save a get-together at the bar, planned for the night so there’s no rush to be anywhere. He lets all the ladies around him go before him. Polite. How sweet. There’s a time and place for it.
Finally he exits his row and turns down the center. My heart races as I expectantly wait for our eyes to meet again. I crave that sexual static electricity.
But he doesn’t look at me. In fact, he ignores me completely. Gritting my teeth angrily I restrain myself from letting out some verbal expression of my frustration. I watch him move past me then stand and endeavor to follow him. I stay a good two or three yards behind him but he’s my quarry and I’m focused.
I want him.
He heads toward the bar but turns at the last second, opening the stairway door. I find it interesting he isn’t taking the elevator but I don’t fault him. He looks to be in great shape and seems to exude the kind of personality that favors manual labor over technology. I give him a couple seconds head start and then follow. Pushing open the door I march in.
“You’re persistent,” he says as I run smack dab into his chest. His arms come out, steadying me. His grip is strong and I instantly don’t want him to let go. My nipples perk up and I barely stifle a moan.
Swallowing over the lump in my throat I lift my chin and answer. “I am. Especially when I know what I want,” I tell him.
He wraps his around me, destroying all pretense of personal space, and puts his lips next to my cheek. His eyes watch me as he asks, “And what exactly do you want?” He doesn’t sound country like I’d expected. No, he speaks like a learned man with an accent I can’t quite place. It’s firm and dreamy at the same time.
I inhale slowly and turn my head to face him. “You.”
Now he’s grinning.
“Me, huh? What is it you want to do with me?”
“Fuck you,” I answer, seeing no reason to play shy or pretend I’m here for something I’m not.
He chuckles and steps back, letting go of me in the process. “What makes you think I’m interested?”
I usually don’t have to work for my sexual partners. Back at the college there’s no shortage of men and women eager to have sex with me at the drop of a hat or ring of a phone. But a challenge can be fun. As long as it pans out into something. I hate wasting my time.
I shrug. “I just do. When I caught your eye earlier I felt a connection.”
“But I don’t know you? Not a single thing. Not even your name,” he says.
“I’m Sam,” I say, pointing to my name tag. “You could have easily found it out without asking.” Glancing down I finally take a look at his tag. He’s not wearing it on his chest, no he’s pinned it halfway down on his right side. To read it clearly I have to lean a little forward, making it obvious what I’m doing.
I stand up straighter and offer my hand. He takes it. “Yep. I’m Adam.” We shake hands and I do that move where you let your fingertips tickle the other person’s palm. It’s playful and something to get the ball rolling. He arches a brow at me, lets it go on for a bit without any sort of physical reaction from him, then lets my hand go.
“You’re trying really hard, aren’t you?” He asks. Leaning against the wall, thumbs in his pockets while his hands hang at his sides, he watches me.
“Yes but if it’s not worth it, if you’re just going to waste my time, then tell me so I can go find someone else.” My skin is on fire. His hand holding mine had put me in a slight fog. His skin is warm, almost on fire, and I wonder what it would feel like to have that hand touch other parts of me. Licking my lips I glance towards his lack of bulge. I want very much to walk over and put my hand there, to mold and play with that piece of his anatomy until it’s hard and ready to burst.
He watches me for a few seconds. I lift my hand, swiping at a few errant strands of hair.
Finally, when I’m about ready to call it quits and head toward the bar, he takes his hands out of his pocket and pushes off the wall. “Okay. Works for me. Your room or mine?”
I smile, feeling the sudden re-soaking of my panties. “Yours,” I say.
“Alright then. Follow me,” he says and heads up the stairs. I follow, neither of us saying a word until he’s unlocked his room and we’ve both crossed the threshold into his single room.
I’m surprised when he makes the first move. One second we’re just standing there and the next he’s got one arm around my waist and the hand of the other entwined in my hair. I gasp at the boldness of his initiative then melt into a kiss so passionate I never want it to stop. He tastes like lemonade.
I reach my hand down between us and there, finally, I find he’s got a hard on. It’s obvious now that he wants me. I take hold, pressing into pants, and he groans against my lips.
“You want me,” I tell him.
“I do,” he says in return.
It only takes seconds for us to strip. He even removes his necklace.
When we’re both naked we kiss and touch like two violent, starving, madmen. He’s leaving my lips bruised, and maybe my hips, but I have no problem with that. My skin sizzles under his heat and once he has me laying on the bed it’s only a few more seconds before he’s giving my pussy quick sharp smacks. My body flinches, jumping with each strike. A shiver runs through me and already I can feel my body wanting to clench, to dive beneath the waves of an orgasm, but I’m not ready. I focus on holding it back while he teases and plays with me. I want him to be inside me when I climax.
My back arches, my hands slapping the bed, as he runs multiple fingers up and down my slick labia. He’s not entering me, just tracing the ring around both my clit and my entrance.
“Is this what you wanted?” He asks, bending over to blow.
“Yes!” I cry as his cold breath meets wet heat.
He chuckles then finally climbs on top of me. Our body lines up, him taller but a perfect fit. Reaching up I untie his hair, the long strands lightly tickling my bare skin. I still find that bit of twine adorable. I take an end of it in each hand then put my arms around his neck. He grins. He likes that move. My legs wrap around his waist, his cock pressed against my wet hole. I lift my hips, nudging him.
“Guess you’re ready then,” he says just before shoving himself into me. He’s forceful and I feel his balls smack my ass.
I clench the walls of my pussy around his shaft and grin. “More than ready.”
He kisses me then, a soft and gentle one followed by more of the hungry kind. We’re moaning and groaning, our tongues wrestling as he begins a rhythmic pounding of my core. I cry out against his lips and he takes that as encouragement, increasing his pace. A free hand of his slides up my side and finds a breast. He gropes it, squeezing it like a stress ball. I stretch out my arms, still holding the twine. It catches on his back and I like the feel of that.
So does he because his eyes meet mine and there ensues a frenzied race to orgasm. I’m crying out, begging him to penetrate me deeper, to thrust harder, and he’s praising the feel of me, my looks, and the way I’m making him feel.
We don’t know each other but right now nothing else exists but he and I. There’s no Jared. There’s no college, no students, no papers to grade.
It’s just this sexy man with the long hair dangling down and me.
“Adam!” I cry out as I’m suddenly overcome. My legs tighten around him and I whimper as more and more of my sexual juices come pouring out of me and around his cock. Less than a minute later he’s repeating “yes” over and over as he gives one last deep thrust and holds still, his come shooting out of him and into me.
“Oh sweet god, woman,” he says to me, breathing heavily and looking down at me.
I smile and release one end of the twine, my arms flopping to the bed. Panting, I chuckle. “Told you,” I say. Glancing over at the clock I see we haven’t taken near as much time as I thought. I look at him again. “How about you make me come again and then we go get a drink. Maybe after that we can fuck so more. I do this thing with my tongue….” I let the sentence trail off as his eyes light up.
Yep. I’ve chosen very well.