A Conference Affair


I’m so tired of the standard conference affair. The requisite drinks, dinner, gossip about the field, followed by a roll in the sack, and he, whoever he is, either spends the night and sneaks out in the morning, or sneaks out sometime in the night. Sometimes it’s guys I’ve slept with before, sometimes they’re new. But it’s all so earnest and boring, not at all thrilling like it was when it all began years ago.

At this year’s annual geography conference, I decided to challenge myself to do something different to spice things up. I would try to have sex, of some kind, by hook or crook, hand, mouth, pussy, or maybe even anal, with someone from each continent on the planet. With the exception of Antarctica, I allowed myself, unless I got really lucky and found someone who came from there, too.


Is Australia a continent? Or an island? Or a continental island? Ah, debates in geography.

Luckily, I found a way to check that one off quickly, so I didn’t have to worry about justifying to myself that it is an island and not a continent if I couldn’t score with an Aussie. It turned out the guy I sat next to on the bus from the airport to the conference hotel came from Sydney.

“Well, g’day!” I said. “Today’s your lucky day.”

“What do you mean?” he asked.

He was cute, in that Aussie outback kind of way, so I told him straight away about my conference challenge. His eyes got big and then bigger as I put my hand on his thigh. It was late on a rainy night and the bus was dark. We were sitting toward the back. The couple across from us were slumped on each other’s shoulders sound asleep.

I moved my hand up his thigh. He was already getting a woody. I could feel it hardening in his khakis. I rubbed the length of it. Not bad. Then squeezed the tip. I leaned over and gave him a kiss, and slipped my tongue between his lips. I unbuckled his belt and zipped down his pants. His tighty whities shone in the passing street lights. No surprise there. I reached in and pulled out his hard-on.

It was a nice one, especially when it quickly reached full length at about six-and-a-half inches, I’m guessing, circumcised, and standing straight up from a thick thatch of pubic hair covering a tight sack of warm balls. He moaned softly into my mouth when I squeezed them.

I got my hand good and slick with saliva and started stroking him nice and slow and deliberately, paying particular attention on each stroke to circling and squeezing the helmet at the tip. It really felt like a helmet, too, smooth, slippery slick with precum and saliva, with definite hard edges, just a wee bit wider than the shaft of his cock, standing at attention like a soldier on a wet night.

I swirled my hand around the tip and rubbed the underside with my thumb. And then quickly ran my fist up and down his shaft fast and hard while sticking my tongue deep into his mouth. He groaned and got suddenly harder and bigger. He wasn’t going to last long. I went faster back and forth right at the tip, and then down the shaft, then back up around the tip.

The edges of the helmet got even harder and he arched his hips up from the seat. I could feel it coming up from his nut sack, up the shaft, so I leaned over and took his cock in my mouth and suctioned the head, as I stroked the shaft, and squeezed his balls, and he blew a sweet and salty load. Three big shots, one after another, filled my mouth. I swallowed all but the last, which I swirled around my tongue, savoring the taste as I vacuumed his dick clean.

I sat up and shared a sloppy kiss with him. I wondered if he had ever tasted himself before. He leaned back with his head tilted to the roof of the bus.

“G’day, indeed,” he laughed.

He put away his cock and zipped his pants just as the bus arrived at the hotel and the driver turned the lights on and the couple across from us shook themselves from sleep.


My next conquest was Europe. It was easy, at first.

After checking in to my room, I went down to the bar for a nightcap. A Frenchman was sitting alone at the bar. I sat next to him and ordered a bourbon on the rocks.

“Good evening,” he said with a French accent. “Are you a geographer? Here for the conference?”

“Bon soir,” I said. “Yes, and you?”

“No, I am here on business,” he said. “But everyone else seems to be a geographer.”

“A lovely profession,” he said. “I am cartographic curator myself. I’m here to complete the acquisition of a major collection of historic maps for a Paris museum. Would you like to see some of them?”

This is going to be too easy, I thought to myself.

“I’d love to,” I said. “I’m a historical geographer myself.”

“I have the high resolution images on my computer in my room. Shall I go get it? Or would you like to come up to see them?”

“I’m happy to come up to your room to see them if that’s easy,” I said.

“Wonderful,” he said, finishing his glass of red wine. I drained my bourbon.

“Let me get that,” he said, leaving a $20 bill on the bar.

In illegal bahis the elevator up to his room, Pierre introduced himself formally, kissing my hand, and then informally undressed me with his eyes, while we traded impressions of some of our favorite museums in Paris.

Inside his room, he opened a folder on his laptop filled with images of historic maps of California, drawn as an island off the coast of North America.

“What do you think?” he asked.

“Beautiful,” I said. “I love these maps. They tell such a story.”

He picked up the phone and ordered a bottle of red wine and a bottle of bourbon and some ice from room service.

As I was leaning over the laptop on the desk, flipping through the maps, and examining them in high resolution detail, he came up behind me and put his hand on my lower back.

“You’re beautiful, too,” he said.

I turned around and put my arms around his neck and kissed him as he pulled my waist to him. We turned together, as if slow dancing, and he laid me down on my back on the edge of the bed. He ran his hands up my stockings and under my skirt, pushing the skirt to my hips. He pushed his face into my crotch, took a deep sniff, and hummed, “Mmmmmm,” as he planted a kiss on my panties, right on my clitoris.

Ahhh, the French.

He pulled my panties down over my legs and dove in. He was good, too. And after giving the Aussie a handjob, I needed this. He kissed precisely all along my labia, so it felt like every part of my pussy was getting attention. Then he flicked his tongue across my clit, circled it, sucked, and nibbled on it. Then lapped all up and down my pussy. I felt an orgasm coming from down under as he stuck his tongue out and inserted it into my pussy several times.

“Ah, oui!” I cried, as I came close to the edge.

He pushed my thighs up and apart. And his tongue slid quickly back and forth across my perineum between my pussy and butthole. He really knew how to drive me crazy. I love that almost as much as anything else. He could do that all night, as far as I was concerned. Then he stuck his tongue in my butthole. I nearly exploded with the surprise.

There was a knock on the door.

“Pardonnez, moi,” he said. “I’ll be right back.”

I laid back with my pussy a l’aire libre.

“Oui, ici c’est bien,” I heard Pierre say.

“Sur la table?” I heard another man say.

I opened my eyes to see a tall black man staring between my legs as he lowered a tray with two bottles and glasses to the table beside the bed.

“De ou est vouz?” Pierre asked.

“Senegal,” the waiter answered.

“Tres bien!” Pierre exclaimed, rubbing his hands together and winking at me. “It seems you have won —how do you say — the daily double, my dear.”

I raised myself on my elbows as they both stared at my pussy. I saw hard-ons in both of their pants. One was definitely more impressive than the other. I reached out to touch it.


The waiter didn’t flinch. He took a step toward me. I traced the shape down his thigh. I could feel the veins through the thin fabric of his black pants. It bulged at the end, but I couldn’t feel a distinct ridge. He was uncircumcised. I licked my lips and unbuckled his pants. They fell to his ankles. The end of his penis hung out of the bottom of his boxer shorts. I watched it slowly grow for a moment. I pulled his shorts down and took it in my hands.

“Ummm,” I groaned. It was impressive, even just turgid. It felt way more substantial than any cock I’d ever held before. And it wasn’t even fully hard yet. I couldn’t get one hand all the way around it. I felt slightly guilty for indulging in a stereotype, but I didn’t let it stop me.

I pushed back the foreskin, and put the torpedo tip between my lips. It wasn’t any bigger around than the shaft, which didn’t grow much longer as it hardened actually. Still it filled my mouth as he kneeled on the bed beside me and I took his cock as far into my mouth as I could.

Meanwhile, Pierre was back on his knees between my legs.

Two more continents down, I thought. This might be easier than I expected.

The waiter was now fucking my mouth as his cock seemed to have achieved maximum hardness. I had to hold on to his balls with one hand so that he didn’t choke me. With the other I held his foreskin as the shaft of his cock slid back and forth inside it, and his head slipped in and out between my lips and banged on the back of my throat. A massive amount of precum flowed from his cock and dribbled out of the sides of my mouth and down my cheeks.

Pierre had his fingers in my pussy, curled around to rub my g-spot while he tongued my clitoris. Then he switched his attention to my butthole again. I felt a finger go in. I was wet everywhere it seemed. My mouth, my pussy, my ass. A cock sliding in and out of one, fingers sliding in and out of the others. I was delirious. I had always wondered what it would feel like to be fucked from both ends at the same time.

Pierre must have read my mind. He pushed my thighs illegal bahis siteleri up as he stood up and slid his cock into my cunt. It’s hard to describe the feeling of being filled up like that. Pierre wasn’t huge, but he knew what to do with the instrument at hand and with his hands. While his cock filled me up, he played with my clitoris. And as the tip of the waiter’s cock grew suddenly harder and bigger, I came with a shudder, and then came again, and again. I felt like I was coming in my mouth and my cunt at the same time.

I held on tight to the waiter’s cock as he pushed it into the back of my throat and Pierre slammed into me again. The cock in my mouth suddenly went still and then throbbed three times as three huge gushes of thick viscous warm cum filled my throat and mouth and spilled out all around the waiter’s cock. I nearly drowned until he pulled his cock out and I gasped for air.

Pierre pulled his cock out of my pussy then and held it tight as he aimed it at me and sprayed my dress, my blouse, and my face with a thinner gruel that just kept coming as he rubbed the head of his hard-on and groaned.

The waiter pulled himself together quickly, wiping himself with the cloth napkin from his serving tray and putting it in his pocket. Stuffing his cock back into his pants, he bowed, and said, “Merci, madame.”

Then he turned and left.

Pierre knelt down and kissed my pussy all over saying, “Merci, indeed. Tres jolie.”


The next morning, I woke up thinking that Asia was not going to be easy. Not as easy as North America and South America. And Antarctica was going to depend on luck. So maybe I should concentration on Asia, I decided.

I was busy with panels the whole day. But I made a point of sidling up to Chinese, Japanese, Indonesian, Singaporean, Korean, and any other Asian conferees I could spot all day long, male and female, between panels. I knew seducing a woman was a longshot. But seducing an Asian guy was turning out to be harder than I thought. They all seemed to be intimidated by a tall, mature woman, who was a full professor at an American university. It was clear they were all more interested in how they could get invitations to my university, than into my pants.

By evening, I was a little discouraged, until the Indian guy in line in front of me for the buffet turned and started chatting me up. He was shorter than me. His head would fit nicely between my tits, I thought, as I leaned over to give him a good view down into my cleavage and introduced myself.

“Raj,” he said. “From Rajasthan.”

He laughed. I loved his lilting voice and laughter.

I followed him to a table and we sat and chatted as we picked at the food from the international buffet. Both of us, it seems, favored spicy.

He was a physical geographer, he told me. He studied orogeny, mountain building.

“It sounds sexy,” I said.

“Yes,” he laughed. “I like to think there is a Kama Sutra of geography, some basic forces that play out in different forms. Do you know the Kama Sutra?”

“Not well enough,” I said. “Can you teach me?”

He looked at me with a shy smile.

“I just happen to have a copy in my room,” he said. “I carry it everywhere, like a good boy scout, no? Always be prepared. Would you like to see it?”

“I would,” I said, nodding seductively.

As we rode the elevator up to his room, he kept chattering nervously about the mountains of Indian, Nepal, and Tibet, the Kama Sutra, and other sacred texts and songs. I didn’t really absorb a word he was saying. I just listened to him sing like a bird in a cage.

“Here it is,” he said, as he fished the book out from his suitcase on the luggage rack beside his bed.

I sat down and opened the book up to a random page, showing a man in robes draped over a kneeling woman, with his big cock penetrating her slit. They were covered in beautiful robes, except for their exposed genitals.

“Can you teach me this one?” I asked.

I started unbuttoning my blouse.

“Ahh, the ‘The Elephant,'” he said. “It’s based on the child’s pose. That’s easy enough to start with. And maybe we can try some others, too. I’ll be right back.”

He went into the bathroom and in a few minutes emerged in a white bathrobe. He handed me another. “So we don’t get cold,” he said. “And in all of the old Kama Sutra art, they are wearing robes. It enhances the eroticism, to see, and not see.”

His robe was not tied, and I could see his smooth, lean brown torso through the opening, along with a glimpse of a spare thatch of black hair and his uncut penis. I climbed on to the bed, laid the open Kama Sutra down, and assumed the child’s position, kneeling, my torso bent over resting on my thighs, head on the bed, ass raised, hands and arms free by my sides. He lifted the back of the robe over my ass, and began lightly rubbing his cock against my distended labia. It felt like light kisses. Or like pussylips on pussylips, as he used the soft foreskin at the tip of his cock to tickle my cunt. canlı bahis siteleri

I felt his soft cock slowly growing harder as he played it up and down my lips, taking his sweet time, as if this were a meditation. I breathed deeply in and out and let myself surrender to his tempo. My whole backside felt like it was opening to him with each breath.

I was getting wetter now and could feel the hard tip of his cock poking through his foreskin as he rubbed it between my lips. Please put it in now, I thought. But he rubbed it back and forth along my slit from back to front, pausing to circle my clitoris with the head of his cock, which was now fully exposed as I felt the ridge rub back across my lips and my clit.

Then he pressed the head of his cock against the opening of my cunt, and it slipped in easily. He put just the head in and took it out, and then put it back in, slowly each time, going a little deeper. It was agonizing. He was not big. He didn’t fill me up, like some men, but he seemed to know precisely what he was doing. As he went in deeper, he angled his pelvis so that the head of his hard cock slid slowly across my g-spot and I groaned. He stopped there for a moment, and then slowly went back and forth across that spot. I fell into a reverie as a fire was slowly, steadily stoked in my core.

I put my hand back and felt his cock sliding back and forth into my cunt. I caressed his balls and fingered my clitoris.

“We should try another position now,” he said quietly, as he withdrew his cock ever so slowly. I shook myself from the dream I was in and looked back. His cock was quite beautiful, wet and shiny, curving elegantly from between the sides of his robe. It wasn’t thick, but it was long after all. I wanted to take it my mouth.

He sat back on his haunches and his cock stood up proudly. He looked like a statue. A Hindu god. I turned and crawled toward it. I wanted that cock.

He leaned over to pick up the Kama Sutra.

“This position is good for the woman,” he said. “And not bad for the man, either.”

As I looked at it, he put his legs straight out in front of him in “The Lotus” position. I crawled up on to his lap and guided his cock into me as I settled down on him with my legs straight out in front of me, too. He raised my legs up around his neck. We rocked back and forth gently as he fondled my tits softly and took one and then the other into his mouth. I reached behind my ass to cup his balls.

I can’t remember ever experiencing any lovemaking like that before. It was an oceanic feeling. The gentle waves went on and on.

How many positions are there? I wondered. And how many would we try? As much as I could do this forever, I was getting a little impatient. I brought my hand down to my clitoris and starting fingering it as we rocked back and forth.

Raj sensed my meditative state had been broken. He laid me back on the bed and pulled my ass to the edge of the bed. He held my legs straight up in the air and crossed my ankles. He held my ankles there with one hand. And then he plunged his cock into my tightened slit all of a sudden.

Whoa! That woke me up.

He hadn’t even bothered to tell me the name of this position.

My pussy felt tighter than ever. And his cock, which had felt pleasant but not big before, suddenly felt big and hot and hard. The head seemed to grow bigger with each plunge he took into me. With this free hand he found my clitoris and began rubbing it vigorously.

I closed my eyes. My whole being was concentrated around this rod going deep into me over and over again. I was becoming a cylinder of pure light and energy. And then suddenly the cylinder filled up and burst in a dazzling display of lights and colors. I hadn’t felt it coming. I couldn’t even tell if Raj had come. I dissolved completely. Then I slowly recomposed myself around his hard cock as he held it inside me and held my legs in that position while we both found our breath, again.

Then he gently lowered my legs. He lowered his body toward mine and kissed my breasts, my collarbone, my neck, my lips. Then he withdrew his cock and crawled on to the bed and spooned me.

Later, I emerged from a deep sleep and felt him breathing softly at my back. I gently moved his arms and slipped out from his embrace. I checked my watch. It was just after 11 p.m. I was hungry. I gathered my clothes from the armchair, dressed quickly, and slipped out.

-South America-

The bar was the only place open in the hotel, so I found myself there again, ordering a bourbon on the rocks, a Coke on the side, and a burger and fries. I was famished. While I scarfed down the food, I surveyed the room.

It was the usual assortment of late night conference goers. A few tables of emeritus scholars leaning toward each other in earnest conversation, turning their hearing aides up. A couple of tables of nervous erstwhile couples, probably trying to decide if they were going to go forward with the affairs they imagined themselves indulging in but didn’t know if they were actually ready for. And one big rowdy circle of graduate students and postdocs, conversing loudly in several languages. I picked out Spanish, Portuguese, and English at a minimum. I recognized a couple of them, a grad student and postdoc from my university.

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