Convention Town Girl Ch. 05

(MMMF wife, fictionalized, but only slightly)

*

So, finally, here's the story of the title of this series. One of the big high-tech conventions came to town, and our friend Stan was the manager of the booth and the host of the hospitality suite for his company. He needed some babes to look nice at these company functions. Computer geeks may not get girls, but they still like girls, and these conventions are well-populated with "Demo Dollies," models who attract a lot of attention and hand out literature at the display booths.

He had enough models working the booth during the day, but he needed extra girls/women to serve drinks and canapes at the parties several evenings at the hospitality suite. In the booth, they wore costumes in keeping with high-tech theme of week, and he wanted the same in the hotel. Little silver dresses, like Star Trek costumes, really short, basically a silver-lame tennis dress and pants. These dresses were a little more exaggerated than the TV costumes, tight in the torso, and heavily darted to emphasize pointy breasts. Oh, and silver go-go boots to top off the look. Sort of a Hollywood Barbarella techno-chippie look. It was a well-made theatrical costume. It just looked cheap.

Most of the cocktail waitresses were to be local models or dancers picking up some extra money. Stan hired as many models as he could find but still needed more. Busy town. At some point, he asked Tommy to ask me. Tommy the Voyeur, of course, was very enthusiastic about seeing me run around in skimpy outfit with a bunch of drunken conventioneers. He asked me to do it, rather forcefully, for the sake of his business relationship with Stan, so I was stuck with it.

When I got the costume, it included some very nice, dancer-grade tights, essentially metallic, shiny silvery pantyhose, too. Warm, but nice. And warm is not a bad thing in Vegas air conditioning. The silver panties went over the stockings. Good thing, too. The skirt was really, really short. Tennis is one thing, but an evening party with all men looking up your skirt is quite another.

Then I find out that some of the girls will actually be hookers, more than half of them, because, I guess, Stan wanted lots of them. Hmmm.

This is a high tech convention, computers and things that people do with computers, which back in those days was like 90% male. Turns out that the attendees will all be told on the sly that the girls are hookers, so it will be open season: the guys think that the girls are trying to make connections, and some of them will be.

I'm not happy with this, but Tommy is busting a zipper. He wants to see his wife felt up and fondled and propositioned openly by lots of guys. I don't mind at all being ogled and propositioned. Lets me know that I'm still a sexy wench. Being felt up by strangers is another thing. I will have to find ways to minimize it without making a scene. This is turning out to be a lot more than just "satisfying his big client," but I already said I would do it, so I'm stuck.

When I put on the costume, I note that the tights/pantyhose are shiny but very sheer. The silver tennis pants go on top, and a bra, and then the dress. The silver boots are high heels, of course, just over four inches, which is not high by Vegas hooker standards but hard to maneuver in. Silver eye shadow and light reflective lipstick finish off the sci-fi look. A 23rd century concubine would look like this, I think. Barbarella a go go.

The party is in a huge suite, half the floor of the hotel, with three cavernous living rooms, bedrooms and baths off to the sides, but most of the furniture replaced by food and drink tables and groups of chairs.

The hookers don't look at all like hookers. They must be expensive escorts or call girls. You can't tell who's who. We all look like models, over-dressed and over-made-up. The guys, who know only that most of the waitresses are professional hookers, can't tell which are and which aren't, so they will probably be aggressive with the women as the night wears on.

It starts okay. Everyone arrives early to get the free food and booze. Food first, as always when it's free at these events. It is some time before the guys get enough alcohol in them and start getting fresh. Many guys crowd me a little when I push thru the crowd, copping a little feel of my ass. Stan is the first to be really obvious about it, fondling my butt while I'm handing him his drink. A lot of men see it, and some of the other girls. I can't do anything about it because it's Stan, the Big Client. So they all figure I'm one of the hookers, too, allowing this blatant sexual touch. Tommy is with Stan most of the time, and he watches me any the time I'm in the same room.

Then Ken shows up. Ken is naturally much more aggressive even than Stan is. When I first see him, he is sitting with another man, acting slightly deferential, so I figure the guy is probably one of Ken's clients.

I have to bend with the tray because he's sitting. He reaches to the back of my thigh and starts moving up right to the pants under the skirt. And lots of guys see it, including the other man. And Stan and Tom. From then on, most of the men would feel my thighs and my ass, and most of them under my skirt. So long as they stay just on my hip or ass, that's not so bad.

Usually I'm not in one place long enough for them to move from my ass to between my legs, but they tried. When I stopped to hand out a drink or some food, someone would be beside me or behind me, and his hand would start at my waist or my thigh and move onto the bulb of my butt. I can't slap hands away, or twist away, or move away too quickly if I have liquids on a tray. I am getting nervous, so I have a couple drinks "for courage" while waiting for orders at the bar. They relax me a fair degree.

The other girls were getting the same treatment. Most of them encourage it, because that's what they are being paid for. A couple of the actual non-hooker models were objecting, but still gently because no one wants to make a scene. They won't get paid until tomorrow.

Other than the big rooms, most of the side rooms are set up for meetings, tables and chairs, and some of them have meetings going on, with big clients, I guessed. One of them has a card game. And a couple of them are empty some of the time, door ajar, and seem to be closed other times.

Around the middle of the evening I'm taking a break, leaning against the far end of the bar, out of the traffic. Stan comes over to me, puts his arm around me, and walks me down the hall. He says how pleased he is that I'm there, how glad he is to see me, and how accommodating I am being, and how that pleases him more. He guides me into one of the empty rooms and closes the door behind us. He holds me and kisses me passionately. He has been drinking a lot more than I that evening.

We have played with sex before. I was certainly expecting that he would take advantage of his position, and of me, sometime during the party. His hands are all over me. I try to keep him away from my breasts so that he doesn't mess up the costume in an obvious way. That's okay with him. He reaches under my skirt. He pulls it up and forces his hand into my pants and stockings.

We roll them down so he can get at my pussy, and then into me. His favorite thing, putting his fingers in my pussy, making me hot and wet. This is familiar territory, he does it very well. I don't want to get laid right here in the middle of this party where I am on view all the time. So I take out his cock and stroke him as sexily as I can. Scratch his balls with my sharp fingernails and pump his erection with my hand, being careful to point it away from me. He comes in a minute, all over the floor. The maid will not be surprised in the morning.

I start to rearrange my clothes, but he takes the silver pants, "No, you can't wear these anymore."

"But Stan, there's not much under here. It's awfully short."

"Do it for me, baby," and he puts the pants in his pocket. When he opens the door, I have no choice at that point, I go out with him.

I go back to my "job," resume serving drinks and finger food. For a while, there is no change.

But Ken is still sitting down, and he notices the absence of the pants protecting my goodies. As he reaches for his drink, he slides his hand much further down my ass between my thighs to the heat of my slit. The seam of the stockings is in the slit holding my lips open. When I bend over like this, even a little, I can feel the seam deep between my labia holding my pussy open. He runs his fingers right down the seam between my puffy lips.

Tom sees this and comes over to us. His hand replaces Ken's on my butt. I try to stay calm but they're not. Tom says, "Oh, baby, you're much more accessible now, that's great, I love the feel of these tights on your delicious ass. I hope you'll let my friends feel this, too." He slides a finger up and down the crease, down to my slit, and the nylon there is hot and wet. Yes, very wet. Well Christ I've been fondled by thirty guys in the last couple hours. And fingered by another, an expert, but they don't know that yet. Sure, I mumble.

The very next guy who touches me discovers right away that I have no pants under the skirt, and slides his hand into the seam, forward, between my legs until he's on the goodies. Which makes me even hotter and wetter. I have another drink from my own tray, for more courage, and continue my rounds. Tom and Stan are watching me to see who will take how much advantage of my pantiless state.

As I'm heading back to the bar, Ken takes my arm and steers me away. His friend or client, the man he was sitting with, takes my other arm, and between them they walk me into one of the side rooms. Ken closes the door behind us. I'm alone in here with two guys and I know what they want, but what can I do about it? I can't exactly scream Rape! because these guys and two dozen others have had their hands all over me tonight, and everyone saw it. And I don't want to make a scene, of course, to embarrass Ken, or Stan, or Tommy.

So as Ken is kissing me and pushing me into his friend, who reaches around to cup my breasts, this is what is going through my mind. They hold me tightly. Ken kisses me hard and pulls me to him. Then his hands are on my hips and down the outside of my dress and up under the skirt. He pushes his knees between mine and his hand into my crotch. He wants to screw me here in this back room and in front of this other man.

He cups my sex with his palm, and his fingers push the seam in between my lips. He tries to push a finger into me taking the stocking with it. When he pushes, the rough seam of the stocking scrapes hard across my clit and the sensation is exquisite. Oh, god, it's like he's scratching over my clit and labia with a rough, wet finger. I'm close to coming. Then the fabric of the stockings gives way. His finger has poked a hole in them, and the finger jumps up into me sharply, deep into my hole. I gasp into his kiss and pull my hips up for a moment and then I want to push them down, to get him deeper inside my cunt. He moves his finger around and in and out, and I pump my cunt down onto it in time with his movements. God, now I really want this, too. I want them to fuck me here and now.

They can both tell when I come. Ken lifts up my waist and they move me over to a table. Now my legs are around his, and he has an easy shot up my skirt and directly into me. I lay back on the table, and the other man kisses me and continues to knead my breasts. I hear a zipper, and then he plays with the hole in the stockings, enlarging it I guess, and I feel a cock pushing into my pussy. I push back up to meet it and lock my legs around his waist. The other man releases me a moment, and straightens up. Then his cock is in my face. Ken is pounding into my cunt at the one end, and now I tilt my head back over the edge of the table to take the other cock in my mouth as far as it goes. They fuck me at both ends in rhythm, both cocks sinking further into me at the same time. This is unbelievable. I would never have guessed that such a thing would happen to me. The man in my mouth, the stranger, I still don't know his name, even, comes first. I almost choke on the first couple squirts. A short time later, Ken finishes, too, dumping his load into my very juicy pussy. We all relax a minute.

There is a bathroom so I can drain the cum out of me and clean up a little. Fortunately, I keep my hair short, so that isn't a disaster. I try to make my face presentable again, but I don't have cosmetics here. I have to go out and get my purse from the bartender, and a lot of people notice me on the way. Now I'm really in for it.

With no panties for protection, and a ripped seam in the pantyhose now, it's easier for guys to go further than they could just an hour ago. They notice, and the word spreads, I guess. The girls notice, too. While I am waiting at the bar, one of the working girls sidles up to me and, while whispering in my ear, runs her hand up the inside of my right leg, right up to my crotch, and puts her hand over the rip in the stockings. Totally brazen. I jump when I first feel a hand on my thigh -- I don't "swing both ways" as they say, and I haven't done anything with another female since a few experiments in college -- but now I can't move. We are right up against the bar so no one else can see much, not directly, anyway. Yes, it's in public, but if I make a big deal of it, it will be much more public.

So I stand there frozen while, for the next minute, she runs two fingers in and out of me and pinches my clit. She tells me how hot and wet I am, how slippery inside, what a nice cunt, what a fine piece I must be and how many guys are going to get into this cunt tonight. I am weak in the legs from the erotic heat of her touch. She is almost nibbling on my ear while her fingers slide into my lips and hole and rub my clit. "I know you're an amateur, honey," she hisses, "and that makes me want this even more. I'll get you later." When the bartender finally brings my tray of drinks, I'm relieved, but I really don't want to pull away, the feeling is so delicious. She really knows how to get a girl going. When I have to go, she pulls her hand up and sucks her fingers right there and then. It does not go unnoticed by some in the crowd. Yes, Tommy is there watching, too, and even he gawks at the brazenness of her display.

When I come around to Stan again he has found a chair. He insists that I sit on his lap. I argue that I have to continue serving, but he parries that it is his party, he's the host, he can excuse me for a few minutes. "Besides, I saw you take a break earlier and I want you to take one with me, too." As I sit down on his lap, he puts his hand down, palm up, at the last instant, so that my butt comes down firmly on it. His fingers are right on the seam of the pantyhose, or right where the seam ought to have been. His first two fingers go through the tear, curl upward, and slide right between my slippery lips, and he pushes them hard up into my hole. I move my legs a little and sit down harder on him. I hope my movement covers the groan as his fingers fuck into me.

"I see you're opening up a bit, my dear. That's very good. You shouldn't hide your charms from your fans, who are many, and many are here tonight." Tommy leans over to hear what he is saying. "Tell him, my dear, tell him what's going on."

I whispered to my husband, "Tommy, he, um, I'm sitting on his hand, and there's a hole in my pantyhose, and his fingers are up inside."

"Inside what?" Stan asked. "Tell him what they're inside and what they're doing."

"Oh, god, Tommy, they're up inside me, inside my cunt, inside your wife, between the lips and up my hole, and they're fucking me while I sit here on his hand. And I am embarrassed but it feels wonderful." I wanted to shock them. I looked at Stan defiantly. "And they're swimming in the cum that is still dripping out of my fuckhole."

Tommy's dick is so hard he can barely stand up. Stan's, too. When I get up off his lap, he has to cover his hard-on. He smells his fingers and then wipes them off with a napkin. Guess he doesn't like to eat other men's semen.

As I stand up, I have to put one foot down before the other and anyone who is looking gets quite a view of my crotch up my skirt. With no panties hiding anything, just the sheer pantyhose, my bush is broadcast to the room.

It's all over in a minute and a half, maybe two minutes, but I feel as though I'd been thoroughly ravaged. I'm dizzy and sweating, even in this hyper-air-conditioned palace.

The rest of the night was anti-climax. It was late and the crowd had thinned considerably. It was easier to avoid clumps of men with Roman hands.

Stan had rented us a room for the night so we wouldn't have to drive home late. We went downstairs. Tommy attacked me as soon as we were in the room. I got the dress off so we didn't ruin it, but the pretty silver tights got shredded. We were both hotter than blazes and needed release. It was great. Hotel sex, you know. In the middle of the night, we got up and went at it again, this time more slowly, less urgently, more gently. And again before breakfast. Wow, not bad for an old married couple. We just need the right kind of stimulation.