I checked in to my hotel in Lygon Street, late on Sunday afternoon. I walked the few blocks from there to Melbourne Uni, found the registration desk for the conference that I would be attending for the rest of the week, registered and then went to the 'free' reception, paid for out of my registration fee.
I stood chatting with some of the other attendees that I had met at other such conferences. A very attractive young woman joined our group, I guessed that she was a student, and so I made an effort to include her in our little group.
“Hi! I'm Bill Smith. I'm guessing that you are a PhD student. Am I right?”
“Yes. I'm Suzanne Jones. I'm in my first year of a PhD at Adelaide Uni.”
I introduced her to the rest of our little group, and we all chatted together for a while, until the booze ran out and people started to drift away. As I started to drift away too, Suzanne seemed to drift with me.
“That was good of you, Bill, to include me in your little group.”
“Well it wasn't my little group, but I remember when I was a student at my first conference and someone did the same thing for me. So much of the value of attending a conference like this is in the unofficial contacts during lunches and tea breaks and other social events. I hope that I have helped you to break into the gossip groups.”
“Great! Thanks! Can I buy you another drink to say thank you? Please?”
“Why not? You're very beautiful, and the night is still young.”
As we drank at a small bar, back on Lygon St, I learnt that Suzanne's supervisor had found funds for a cheap airfare from Adelaide to Melbourne, and for a student concession registration, but there was not enough money for accommodation or even food. She was thinking to book into a backpacker hostel for the week. She had been living with a boyfriend in her flat in Adelaide, but she was thinking of throwing him out because he had been cheating on her. I must have had a lot to drink because I heard myself telling Suzanne that my wife of more than 30 years had lost interest in sex and I had not had any for the last six months.
“Wow! That must be awful! Why don't you take a lover?”
“I've thought of it, but I don't want to hurt my wife. We are still very comfortable together. If she found out, it would destroy our marriage.”
“Well, I'm guessing that you travel a lot. Why not a lover that you only see when you are away from home?”
“That would work, except I don't know how to go about it.”
“Well. I'm volunteering for this week. I need a place to sleep. You would like a lover. If I come back to your hotel room with you we both get something we need.”
I was shocked. I was shocked at myself, because I actually liked the idea. There was a huge grin on my face. My cock was growing inside my trouser leg. Suzanne looked at my huge grin.
“I take that as a 'yes', right? I think that you should buy me dinner first. Can I leave my backpack in your hotel room before you take me to dinner?”
So we walked the short distance to my hotel. The beers that I had drunk caught up with me so I went into my bathroom to pee. When I came back into the bedroom I was greeted by an erotic vision. Suzanne was completely naked, facing away from me, bent over her backpack, searching for something. The first thing that I saw was her pussy and arse pointing towards me. Then I noticed her T-shirt, jeans, bra and panties in a pile beside her. She pulled something black out of her backpack, went to put it on, then changed her mind and threw it onto the bed.
She saw me standing there and came to me. I pulled her against me and started to kiss her. She returned my kiss and wrapped her arms around me. I played with her nipples and she moaned into my mouth, but when I started to slide my hand down toward her pussy she pulled away from me.
“No! Not yet! I want you to be thinking about all the ways that you are going to fuck me while we are eating dinner. I want your cock to be stiff from now until we get back here, if we make it back here, and you plunge it into me for the first time.”
Frustrated, I moaned, but decided to play by her rules. She picked up the black garment from the bed and slipped it on over her naked body. It was a stunning black dress, sexy without being slutty. It finished half way down her thighs, it was sleeveless, and cutaway at the back to expose her shoulder blades. The neckline plunged a little way into her cleavage, but not so far to be extreme. She explained to me that it was made from a new artificial fibre that never needed to be ironed. It had been scrunched up in her backpack and yet now it looked perfect. The only thing slutty about her was that she was naked underneath her dress, but only she and I knew that.
But then she pushed her bare feet into the pair of rubber thongs that she had been wearing all day.
“My mum tells me that this dress needs high heels, but I can't afford any.”
Her mum was right!
Down stairs in Lygon St again I hailed down a taxi.
“Why do we need a taxi? I can see 3 restaurants within 100 m.”
“If I'm going to be walking around Melbourne with a stunning beauty, I want her to look her absolute best. Your dress is great, but your mum is right; you have to wear high heels with it.”
“But I can't afford a pair of heels. I've worn nothing but thongs since I started uni.”
“I'm buying your heels. Your job is to choose some that fit and are comfortable.”
Once we were in the cab I asked the driver to take us to a women's shoe shop that would still be open. He took us to a shop only 3 blocks from our hotel; the fare was piddling so I gave him a healthy tip for being so helpful.
Inside the shop a young salesman, I guessed him to be a uni student, asked Suzanne to sit down and busied himself measuring her feet. When he had done that he went to look at Suzanne's face to ask her what she was looking for, but as he raised his face he obviously caught sight of Suzanne's uncovered pussy and somehow he didn't raise his face any higher. A huge grin spread across his face. Eventually he looked Suzanne in the face and asked what sort of shoes she wanted.
I told him that we wanted a pair of plain high heels, not too high, because she was not used to wearing them, but high enough to compliment the dress that she was wearing. He could not do enough for us.
While he was out the back collecting several pairs for Suzanne to try on, she punched me in the arm.
“You bastard! You're enjoying having him perv on my bare pussy, aren't you?”
“Yes! Almost as much as Bob is.” Bob was the name on the badge that he wore.
Suzanne must have tried on 30 pairs before finally settling on a plain black pair with about 2” heels. She was uncomfortable walking in anything higher, and I judged them high enough to show off her legs below that great little black dress. Bob would have gone on trying shoes until she had tried every pair, her size, in the shop, because for every pair she tried he got to admire her pussy.
She left the shop wearing her new shoes and carrying a small package containing her thongs. Suzanne said that she was comfortable walking in her new shoes, so we walked back towards our hotel and stopped at a restaurant that I knew, from previous visits to Melbourne, to be pretty good.
After dinner we headed back to our hotel and, soon after we walked into our bedroom, I thought that I had died and gone to heaven.
When my wife and I were engaged to be married, she was quite happy to have conventional sex with me. However, when a few weeks before our marriage, I suggested that we try anal sex, she was so disgusted that she would not speak to for almost a week. When eventually she relented, I apologised profusely and promised that I would never raise the subject again. After all, I loved the woman and really wanted to marry her.
Suzanne, on the other hand, loved anal and, at her suggestion, the first way that I fucked her that first night was in her arse.
When I had been going with my wife for a few months, before we were even engaged, she confided that she had dumped her previous boyfriend because he kept asking her to give him a blow job. She found his persistent begging, in the face of her persistent refusal, irritating, to the point where she dropped him. Needless to say, I never asked her for a blow job, although my previous girlfriend had enjoyed giving them to me, almost as much as I enjoyed receiving them.
As soon as I had fucked Suzanne's arse, she went down on me. Because it had been 6 months since I had fucked my wife, and because I found being with Suzanne so erotic, I had no problem getting a new erection, very quickly. Indeed, very soon I was pumping my cum down her throat. Wow!
Also, in the days when we still fucked, my wife would never let me eat her pussy, yet Suzanne actually insisted that I tongue fuck her, next. Oh my god! I loved Suzanne!
In the morning, when I woke up, there was something hairy pressed against my face and something warm and moist around my cock, which was pleasantly erect, already. I made a mental note to suggest that I should shave Suzanne's pussy for her, before taking her hint and working on getting her off by plunging my tongue into her pussy, then sucking on her labia, then on her clit, before going back and doing it all again.
What I was doing caused her to moan and groan as her mouth bobbed up and down my cock. The extra vibration caused by her groans was too much for me, and again I was pumping my load into her mouth. Then she came too which caused a trickle of her cum to flow into my mouth, which I swallowed with great pleasure.
At the conference during the day we did everything together, although we did not touch each other. During coffee breaks and lunch breaks we would attach ourselves to groups of other conference delegates and join in the discussions of the topics that had been presented, or were coming up. Suzanne's contributions to these discussions showed that she was very astute and paying attention to what the speakers had to say. I felt quite proud of my young friend.
But, away from the conference, she was a wild sexual woman, and I loved her for it. The second night, I took her shopping again, not for shoes this time, but for several changes of clothes; her black dress was great, but I didn't want her to wear the same thing to the conference every day. She had planned to go dressed in jeans and T-shirts every day, she had a few clean T-shirts with her, but I wanted her took look her best, which was bloody wonderful. We also bought her a small suitcase for her to take all her new clothes home.
At no point did I offer to buy her any under clothes, nor did she suggest that I should. In fact for the whole week, after that first reception, she never again wore panties or a bra. This again was something that I could never, in my wildest imagination, imagine my wife doing.
And yet each night I rang my wife and chatted for 5 or 10 minutes. She was not the slightest bit interested in the conference, and I had no intention of revealing anything about Suzanne, so I didn't have much to tell her. Consequently, most of our conversation was about her work, her friends and her activities.
Perhaps I should have felt guilty because I was cheating on her, but I was too euphoric about the pleasures that Suzanne was giving me to feel anything but ecstatic.
All too soon the conference came to an end and we had to go our separate ways, but not before I promised Suzanne that I would be coming to visit her in Adelaide very soon. We exchanged email addresses before I returned to my wife in Sydney, and Suzanne returned to Adelaide to kick her cheating boyfriend out of her flat.