Kate: Pounding Bodies

The women were more upfront; just walking into the circle and asking Chris to introduce us.

Chris added he'd love to have me as his wing-girl during the conference sessions tomorrow to help him with networking. I declined, but not because I didn't enjoy his company or wouldn't have liked to help him.

This was not a night for me to play the bimbo - even playfully as I sometimes like to do. I suspect a lot of them started out thinking the body (and dress) was all there was to me, asking me what I did and visibly arching backwards when I answered I was studying medicine. So I was quite pleased when the conversation could warm to more meaningful topics. I even knew more than they expected about their profession.

Sitting to dinner slowed things a little, although every time Chris got up to talk to someone or attend to nature, his seat was instantly filled by some hopeful; one often hard to dislodge when Chris came back. Several times I needed to chase them off with a pointed (if still charmingly delivered- of course)..

"I think Chris might like his seat back now.."

While the distraction of sitting at dinner had suppressed the constant feeling of arousal that I'd had been with me since I first saw Chris in the dinner suit, it returned with a vengeance when the music started and we got up to dance. I'm told I do a pretty good line in seductive dancing; flaunting my breasts and butt in rhythm to the music and generally gyrating under the eye or in the arms of my dance partner. And when like tonight I'm wearing a dress capable of being thrown into a teasing pantie view flick, I'm not scared to use it.

But I'd forgotten just how well Chris danced too; almost giving me back some of my own prick teasing medicine. I'm used to being able to judge by a quick look at their crutch just how powerful effect my dancing is having on a guy as they struggle with suppressing a public erection even as they enjoy watching me or being in my arms, secure in the knowledge whatever effect I'm feeling is well hidden from view. But here tonight, that security about my arousal being invisible was slipping away.

Even with his coat now hung over the back of his chair, just the way that shirt draped over his body and his butt and crutch moved in those pants was giving me a major case of the hots. To a point that's good. It's the way a date should be.

But I'd gone way beyond that; way beyond a subtle dampness in my panties to the feeling of a wet, stickiness permeating my inner thighs as my crutch throbbed with desire. My breasts felt swollen, straining against my dress, stretching the material to an unnatural taughtness. As looking down I could see my nipples rising; miniature erections of my own, in this warm room all too clearly proclaiming my desire and their reaction to rubbing against his shirt.

When we danced arm in arm I had to fight back a need to forget the music, forget the expected decorum of even a lovers dance as I wanted to just drop my crutch heavily down onto the thigh brushing lightly between my legs and majorly pash him; all the more so as I felt his own arousal pushing into my stomach; its firmness surging every time the movement of our bodies caused it to glide across the fabric of my dress and the yearning flesh underneath.

Karen got away with an orgasm on the dance floor. Could I? Could I just encourage his thigh to be brought higher and press harder into me and rub myself up and down on it until I was released from this irresistible desire? I was tempted; tempted to a point I found hard to fight against. But Karen had been waltzing with Greg, the dance's natural rise and fall movement and requisite placement of Greg's leg deeply between her thighs offering more camouflage for what she was doing. Plus she was in a less judgmental environment than this corporate event.

This would be far more obvious.

Still?

But what about Chris? He was getting very handisy himself; starting to cross the line from dance appropriate contact to little more than a sexual grope.

No; we need to fuck.

Sure we could go back to the room, but the night was still young and there several hours of mutually seductive dancing we wanted to share. Anyway that's not what I needed. I wanted a skirt lifting, fly open, shirt pulled out, quick and dirty fuck against a wall so I could drag him back onto the dance floor and seduce him all over again. But here, in a hotel with security cameras watching every nook and cranny, in the middle of a corporate function, where can you do that? This isn't like the school graduation ball where you might be able to sneak around the back of the tuckshop block for a quickie (hey, don't judge - I didn't, but I know others who did). Hell even the toilets are going to be too crowded to contemplate.

One thought occurred to me arising from an innocent observation I'd made as we walked down the hall towards the ballroom and lingered outside over pre-dinner cocktails. I put my mouth to Chris's ear so he could hear me over the music without me shouting it to the world. "Do you want to find a dark corner?"

He nodded; all the invitation I needed to drag him by the hand off the dance floor and out of the Ballroom. To the left was the corridor which led to the rest rooms, reception and ultimately back to our room. To the right was the corridor to the conference breakout rooms; a dead end corridor with the lights now turned off.

I pulled Chris to the right; slowing down and walking arm in arm less purposefully, hoping to convince any watching security guard in the CCTV room that our intentions were a little less desperately carnal than they were. We ambled down the corridor as it got darker and darker - leaving ever further behind us the light spilling from the ballroom area - passing a number of sponsor's stands as we looked for a nook or cranny to make out in.

Chris spotted it first. A sponsor's desk set up against a small protrusion out from the wall framing the secured entrance to one of the breakout rooms. The desk was bare, the promotional material having been removed for the night except for a two metre high banner set up on a tripod behind the desk. Between the banner and the wall behind, there was a space.

With a quick glance behind us to ensure there were no first party observers, we slipped behind the banner; trying to look as innocent as our frisky, lustful selves were capable of.

In an instant Chris had me pinned against the wall. As our tongues wrestled, Chris's hands fumbled to gather up the full length of the material of the front flap of my ball gown, while I fiddled clumsily with the fly of his pants. When I'd got his fly opened it was clear there was no way I was going to be able to extract out of it the giant rigid cock my hand zeroed in on; necessitating another clumsy fiddle - this time with the button holding up his pants. When you're in a slightly tipsy, randy hurry these things are worse than bra hooks!

With my folds of skirt now held up by the pressing together of our stomachs and Chris's pants starting to slip down his legs, the attention of both our hands turned from outer wear to undies. In a single movement I found the top of Chris's erection, wrapped my fingers around it and slid them down its full length; in the process pushing the waistband of Chris's undies to under his balls. At the same time I found myself desperately groping with the reversed fingers of my other hand to extract a condom from the pocket of a pair of pants now hanging off his upper thighs.

In the mean-time a couple of Chris's fingers had done an initial exploration of my crease; running across the now slippery wet material of my thong and pushing it against the throbbing clit underneath and in the process drawing out a groan of pleasure so deep and long he might have thought I was cumming on the spot.

Encouraged, Chris drew aside the narrow strip of the thong and started sliding his fingers back and forward. With one hand around Chris's cock, I had to pull my tongue out of his mouth long enough to use my teeth to help the other open the condom packet; leaving me then trying to pull the condom out of its wrapper and sheath it over his cock single handed. That is actually a well-practiced routine, but today I was severely distracted by Chris's fingering of me. As I tried to concentrate on the task he was reducing me to a continuous stream of suppressed moans and "ohhs" until I had to give up and simply surrender myself to the effect he was having on me.

I held his cock in the fingers of one hand, wrapped the other around his butt and drew him into my thigh while I spread my legs, sunk down onto his hand and let him work his magic. Now sloppy fingers slid up and down against my clit, penetrated into my core to extract another flood of juices and returned to pleasuring my clit again. With his other hand Chris had ripped the Hollywood tape from my skin to push my gown aside and expose a breast. Then he lifted up its flesh with his spare hand and sucked into his mouth the nipple, areola and a fair bit of the breast itself, swirling the nipple around his mouth with his tongue while his lips caressed the surrounding skin.

Chris's cock seemed to throb in my hand each time I slid my fingers over the top to gather up the copious pre-cum oozing from its head and combine that with the sweat of my palms to lubricate the action of my hand as I brought it up from in contact with his balls to over the tip and back again. Yes it was saying to me in that way a guy's cock communicates its needs that it wanted to be inside me; that it wanted to spray Chris's seed against my cervix and pump it into the very depths of my body.

But it had to wait. Already deep down in my crutch an orgasm was forming like the first spawning of a tornado; building, building. It unleashed itself. Ripping through my body, causing me to lose control and emit a barely muffled prolonged moan of pleasure as my core clamped itself on Chris's fingers. Once, twice, I released my bodies grip on them only to spasm back against them again, all the while holding Chris's head against my breast in a suffocating hold.

Now with an urgency born of need, I sheathed Chris in the condom and brought his cock towards my opening, moaning again as I slid its length through my crease as I guided it towards its long awaited destination where he would satisfy my need to have him fill my body. Arching my hips out from the wall I encouraged Chris to drive it home, pushing against him until I could feel his balls between my thighs and the base of his cock pressed into my crease where it touched up my still wanting clit.

Chris had been patient; giving me my release first. Now it was his turn to unleash his passion. Encouraged by me, he pounded my body against the wall, my arched out hips bringing him up against my clit with every thrust. Knowing that Chris gave a little grinding movement at the end of every thrust, changing a mere blow to my clit into an incredibly stimulating rub.

Exerting himself, Chris started grunting loud enough that I felt the need to put my hand across his mouth least we attracted attention; an action that brought us both to laughter even in the middle of our carnal lust. Chris was never going to last long; there'd been too much of a buildup for this to be some sort of long slow fuck.

As he came he drove himself fully in. Even through the condom I could feel his cock pulsing as he emptied his seed into me. He'd brought me so close to a second orgasm I couldn't stop. As his body went through the spasms of his climax, I pulled his crutch hard against mine and ground it around in small circles; bearing down against him looking for that final little bit that would push me over the edge.

Even when Chris got to that moment of exquisite sensitivity guys get post climax where any further stimulation walks such a fine line between pleasure and pain that they try and withdraw I couldn't let him go, still grinding against him as I pulsed my core down on the remains of his slowly softening erection.

And then OMG, there it was, a beautiful body filling orgasm that left me sunk down in is arms.

Of course, when the lust has been satisfied and the body drained of its carnal needs, there comes that moment when you realise you're now just a pair of slightly naughty dishevelled young adults; when you need to tidy yourself up and get back to the party, hoping to hell no-one noticed you.

As we separated Chris's now flaccid condom covered cock flopped down against his pants; the ball of cum at the end of it hanging like a tennis ball in a stocking. He decided the easiest way of dealing with it was to tuck it in like it was and make a visit to the loo on the way back. Me? As my dress draped back down as our bodies came apart I did a quick check down to make sure there was no external signs of dampness. Short of a fresh thong there was little I could do about my soaking undies other than slide them back into place and hope they'd dry now that my body wasn't flooding them with juices; even if they might be a bit stiff.

I pulled my top back over my exposed breast so I could try and stick it down in place again. Hollywood tape is not terribly forgiving of the sort of bodice ripping stuff we'd just got up to. Yes it stuck, but it was hard to get it to sit quite as neatly. And as to the question of whether it would hold my tits in next time I swung them around on the dance floor - we'd find out soon enough.

Then it was back to the dance floor to stir each other up all over again.

I woke up next morning with Chris spooned into my back and his arm across my waist as he continued to sleep. Surprisingly, even though his hips were pushed against mine I couldn't feel any erection between us. Mind you, the wild sex we'd had an hour ago as the first dawn stirred us both to semi-wakefulness might have had something to do with that.

It was time for me to get up. Normally I'm an evening shower person. But since my last shower before the ball last night I'd enjoyed a night of intense dancing and four even more intense fucks - the one against the wall at the far end of the hotel in the middle of the ball, another when we'd returned to our room, one in the middle of the night and the aforementioned morning one. I sort of had a sense a morning shower might be a good start to the day today.

After breakfast today I was going to take advantage of the hotel's heated hotel pool and gym to let me do some more training out of the freezing Canberra winter weather, so when I got out of the shower I put on the bikini I intended to wear in the pool. It wasn't really what you would call training swimwear - but then most of mine wasn't. Still, maybe this one was more egregious than most of mine.

Normally I just go for string tie triangle bikinis. These pants were different in that they were very low slung tight fitting hipsters with thin strappy fixed sides. Their other departure from my normal style was that they had a vertical centre seam; running from the front, down through the crutch and up the back with the lightly constructed material gathered in so that they moulded down into both my front and back crease. That's not normally an advantage comfort wise with swimwear. But I'd bought these to wear under my legging/ compression pants when I was both running and swimming. Since my compression pants leave absolutely nothing to the imagination in the way they mould around my bum and front, if I'm going to wear anything underneath, these swimmers leave much less of a VPL than just about anything else.

The top was a matching string tie one. Regular readers will know I'm renowned for wearing rather brief - barely adequate - ones. "Small coverage" I think is what the manufactures describe them as; and that assumes you don't buy a size smaller than you're meant to. This top was in something of another league again. If I tied the under-breast string tightly into the base of my breast then the triangle would only just make it over the turn of the breast; leaving my nipple sitting right in the peak of the triangle and with some areola peeking out from the side. So you sort of had to tie it to sit in the centre of the breast; not quite firmly pinned down to any point.

Really it was straight off the cover of something like Zoo magazine and normally this was too much - or maybe more to the point, too little - even for me and not really suitable for swimming in anything other than still water. But Chris had been majorly turned on by it when I'd worn it once last summer and, given I was just doing pool laps, it was actually quite comfortable while I was swimming and I wanted to give him another thrill, I'd decided to give it a run this morning; especially as he was heading home tonight and this might be our last few moments together.

So just dressed in the bikini, I walked back out into the bedroom to find Chris now awake, lying naked and uncovered on the bed on his back and watching me.

Chris opened with a simple "Good morning."

I lay on top of him; straddling his legs with mine to have his cock immediately grow up between my legs and start pushing into my crutch.

"Shouldn't you be up by now?"

"I would have thought it's pretty obvious to you that I am"

"So you can only think about sex?"

"Let's see now. I've got a stunningly gorgeous, completely delightful, barely dressed woman lying on top of me with my cock between her legs. I think most guys in that situation would have their brains distracted by sexual topics."

"So you'd like me to get off you so your brain can work properly would you?"

"I'm not in any hurry if you're not."

By now his arms were around me. While we were both clearly aroused there wasn't really any sense this was going to turn into sex. We were reasonably fucked out at the moment; sexually satisfied if you want to put it more discreetly. It was more a moment of intimacy; maybe a final one.

There was a moment of hesitation in our banter.

Chris opened up again in a more serious voice.

"Kate, I've loved spending time with you this weekend. You know the offer I made to you last summer is still open."

It was tempting to play dumb; pretend I didn't know what he was talking about. Not because I wanted to tease him. Because I didn't want to admit to myself that the thought of that offer had been on my mind since I thrown my body at him about 36 hours ago. Actually if I was honest it was since I'd got his text announcing his intended presence in town a few weeks ago. It was the offer of a long distance relationship; of something more committed; even of acknowledging the budding love that added so much spice to our time together.

Part of me just wanted to say "yes, yes, let's just give it a chance and go along for the ride". But it wasn't that easy. My past, specifically my parent's divorce and its messy aftermath, gave me a phobia about committed relationships; a deep down unassailable fear of getting hurt if I opened my heart to love. Without intending to, I always sabotaged any path to real love if I let things drift in that direction, which then just resulted in a whole new world of hurt for both me and the innocent person unfortunate enough to be on the other side of the equation. And yet the happiness Greg and Karen found in each other gave me an incredible yearning to share that same sort of love.

Chris knew my problems; I'd opened my soul to him at the end of our time together at Christmas. He was understanding and willing to risk it, but I couldn't.

Now things were even more complex. I was in the middle of first year med and was feeling the pressure to focus on my study. In the best of circumstances a long distance relationship is difficult; with the complexity of my study pressure and relationship issues I still reluctantly had to come to the conclusion it was impossible. If only I could somehow put Chris on hold; some sort of suspended animation until I got my act together where I could drag him out for the odd weekend like this while still being certain another girl wasn't going to steal his heart out from under me before I was ready for him.