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Writers' Conference
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As an author, I have to deal with my agent on a regular basis. Most of our communication is via email. We talk on the phone about twice a month. And occasionally, we have to meet in person. There's never been anything out of the ordinary with us; it's strictly a professional relationship. I respect her skills as an agent, and she respects my abilities as an author. As it should be.
As an author, I understand the importance of attending any event for learning more about the business, and I never pass up an opportunity for networking. Yeah, an author has to be able to write. But knowing people, the right people, is about the only way to get published anymore. Agents and editors receive so many query letters and manuscripts every day that unless you know the recipient, it's rare that your work is read. Even rarer that you get a contract. And every once in a while, that contract leads to an actual book, sometimes even a best seller. So understanding how difficult it is to make it to the top, I attend every conference I can, show up for any local book-signings, and sign-up for any workshops that will give me more insight into the world of a writer.
Recently, I attended a conference out of state. The writers' group holding the conference is good enough, but I didn't go for them. I went because there was a NY Times bestselling author giving the keynote address. This author with multiple number ones works with my top-choice editor. My agent doesn't have an in with that publishing house, so I was hoping to meet up with the author to make an impression, get him to recommend me to his editor.
As it turns out, my agent was also in attendance. She was to be part of an agent panel as one of the workshop sessions. Also, she would be listening to pitches from authors looking for representation. I said hello to her when we'd pass in the halls, but I didn't want to keep other authors from having the chance to meet her. She's a great agent, and I would recommend her to anyone. I knew I could talk to her after the conference, so any conversations were just in passing.
Tristan Young was giving his big speech on Saturday night, but he was also presenting two workshops so he was around all weekend. I knew that he would be mobbed with questions before and after his sessions meaning that I wouldn't be able to get near him. I knew that people would surround him at the Saturday night banquet. But I also knew that he would be hosting a table at the other meals, and possibly even hanging out at the bar at night. I was going to do my best to meet him at one of those chances, somehow get an �in' with him.
I dashed into the banquet hall on Friday night and searched out Mr. Young's table. I spotted the sign with his name and made my way through the crowd to the spot. Bingo! There was one empty seat at the table. Then I looked down and saw that seat reserved. It was only then that I realized he wasn't seated yet, and I wouldn't be dining with him that night. I moved to a nearby empty seat at another table and was regaled with the stories and questions of Science Fiction/Fantasy authors excited to be seated with the biggest agent in that genre. Damn. Not what I had hoped for. Not even close.
After the dinner ended, I headed up to my room to freshen up before hitting the bar. One final glance in the mirror and I headed for the elevator. One floor down, my agent, Lisa, boarded. We were chatting about the conference so far when, two floors down, three aspiring authors joined us. They recognized Lisa, and each began giving their "elevator pitches"--those quick summaries of their works that maybe, just maybe, will pique the interest of the agent, making him or her say, "Hey, sounds interesting. Here's my card. Send me the first 50 pages." (They both did well, but knowing Lisa the way I do, I could tell from her voice that she wasn't really interested. It's really hard to watch someone pitch his dream and know that this opportunity just passed him by.)
Reaching the ground floor, we all headed to the bar just off the lobby. It was already packed with conference attendees, as well as anyone else who made the mistake of drinking there that night. Lisa and I veered off, losing our elevator friends. We snatched the tiny table at the back corner, farthest from the bar and therefore not a popular choice. We flagged down a waitress to order some drinks then continued the conversation that had started between the thirteenth and fourteenth floors. We discussed the highs and lows of the sessions and the overall impression of the conference so far. The crowd was growing louder and louder, but we ordered more drinks and planned to stay longer. We started talking about that night's banquet speaker when a voice interrupted.
"Ouch. Rough commentary, ladies. If you're gonna analyze everyone like that, could you maybe skip the dinner tomorrow night?"
Oh no! Tristan Young himself had just called us out for ripping apart a speaker. Not a good first impression.
"Not a chance. We'll be taking notes, and you can meet us down here afterwards. We'll give you our feedback." I was shocked by Lisa's boldness. Yet, it seemed as if she were flirting with him.
Tristan sat down with us, his back to the ever-growing crowd. He joined right in, talking about the speaker, and the dry chicken, and the conference in general. The more drinks we had, the more talk turned to our own experiences with the publishing world and how technology affects books.
Lisa looked at her watch, then at the uncleared glasses piling up on the table. "Looks like we should call it a night. It's a full day tomorrow, and I want to be well-rested so that I can clearly pay attention to that big speech." She nudged Tristan as she spoke.
"Take it easy on me, ladies. I have a hard enough time reading critiques of my writing. I'd hate to hear what you have to say." With that, they all paid their tabs and headed through the crowd to the elevators.
Several other revelers must have had the same thought as there was a large group waiting for an elevator. All anxious to get to bed they pushed their way in when the doors opened. I was pushed up against Tristan when a large boisterous woman entered just before the doors closed. I felt his breath on my neck and felt his body pressed against mine. I was surprised at the feelings that rushed over me, the want, the lust.
Three floors up and the majority of riders exited. I was both relieved and upset that I had to move away from Tristan's muscular body. I stood in the corner by the buttons and he was at the back of the elevator. I turned slightly and saw that now Lisa was beside him. The looks that they were exchanging had me instantly jealous. I wanted to be back there with him. I wanted to be touching him. I wanted him to look at me like that, not her. I tried not to watch them as we continued climbing up, people getting off on each floor. I wasn't watching, but I was silently seething. Eventually we reached Lisa's floor. I was hoping that everyone would get off, leaving Tristan and I alone. Unfortunately his ride was ending, too. I watched them get off the elevator and was trying to find the courtesy to say good night to them both. As the doors began to close, Tristan blocked them with his arm. As the doors reopened, his hand found mine.
"Care to join us, Faith?"
YES! I silently screamed. What I found the strength to say was, "Sure. I'll join you."
We walked down the hall, Tristan placing an arm around each of us. I suddenly wasn't jealous of Lisa anymore. That jealousy had now turned to excitement at the thought of being with both of them. My first threesome, my first time to be with another woman. Yes, I was very excited.
Lisa opened her door and the three of us clumsily walked in. I don't think any of us had ever been in a situation like this. And I don't know if we would have been there then if it hadn't been for all those drinks downstairs. I'm not sure, but am certainly thankful for that liquid courage!
It was awkward at first. None of us knew what to do or how to proceed. Tristan was kissing first Lisa, then me, then back again. Whoever was not being kissed was undressing herself and stripping Tristan. We were all down to our undergarments before Lisa and I were brave enough to venture into kissing each other. I don't know why I waited that long in my life to kiss a woman because it was incredible.
We all moved to the bed and lay down, Tristan in the middle with Lisa and I beside, curled up next to him. She and I each had a leg wrapped around one of his legs, and our legs kept rubbing. Her smooth leg on mine made my body tingle. And our hands ... as we each trailed our hands over Tristan's chest, we would touch, our touches lingering longer each time. I think Tristan was eating this up, watching two women discovering our feelings toward the other. I really don't think he minded that we were starting to focus more on each other and leaving him out of it. Yeah, we were still kissing him, still nibbling his nipples, but we were enjoying the other female in the room.
At one point, I straddled Tristan, feeling his hard cock against me (through the fabric of my panties and his briefs). I was grinding against him, watching Lisa kissing him. She stood up and removed her panties, and then it all went beyond any point of return. Lisa straddled Tristan, too. Only she positioned her pussy over his mouth. I was jealous again, this time of Tristan.
There she was, my agent, my friend. Her pink panties laying beside us on the be. Her smooth bare pussy over Tristan's face. And her full tits with hard nipples bouncing as she received pleasure. I began grinding faster, harder. She reached out then, rubbing her hand along my tits. I began rubbing my clit, wanting to rub hers.
I wanted her. Wanted all of this really. I came to the conference hoping to meet Tristan, do some networking. Now here I was straddling him, going to cum at the conference. But not yet. There was still too much playing to be done.
Tristan was grinding up against me and I had to have him. I slid my black thong to the side and shimmied his briefs down. His hard cock looked so delicious. I slid down over him, and then the most glorious thing happened. As I was riding him, Lisa leaned down. Tristan's mouth was still covering her cunt, and now her fingers were rubbing my clit. She was cumming now. Her moans and his slurping and sucking noises made that quite clear. Yes, she was cumming all over his face. She led me to a clitoral orgasm, and his focus was now on me and I was close. Very close.
Just before I came, he rolled me over. He was on top of me now pounding me hard. Lisa pulled my tits out of my bra and began sucking them. Each time she sucked on my left nipple my clit would twitch and throb.
I was cumming. "Fuck me, Tristan. Fuck me. Cum in me!" He obeyed almost instantly. When he pulled out of me, Lisa was right there to suck him clean, my cum and his mixing on her tongue. Her ass was in my face now, her pussy spread. I slipped in a finger. The same parts as mine, but somehow it felt so different than my pussy. I wanted to explore her deeply.
Like most men, Tristan collapsed shortly after Lisa cleaned him off. He lay there watching as she and I explored. My fingers, two of them, were so deep in her. I was thrusting and twisting and enjoying making her moan. And when she came ... just feeling her pussy tightening around me, well ... I was tingling again. She must have known, because then she was between my legs. Her face was buried inside of me. I swear she climbed right in. I've never felt a tongue so deep in me. For being a beginner at this, she sure knew what to do. I came on her tongue. Twice.
Tristan was still laying there watching. He had taken off his briefs and was stroking his cock, hard again. Lisa hopped off the bed and rummaged through her suitcase. I was pleased when she pulled out a Rabbit, one that had the strap-on capabilities. I grabbed it from her and she helped me strap it on. It felt awkward at first, but when she got on all fours in front of me, I knew just what to do.
Feeling empowered I thrust that vibrating dildo into her wet pussy. I'd never felt so turned on. Grabbing onto her hips, pulling her ass against me, watching her muffle her screams in the pillow. Watching Tristan stroking to the rhythm that I was thrusting. The vibrations of the Rabbit. I was cumming. She was cumming. Tristan had the first drops of cum, and then he was shooting his second load onto Lisa's ass. Pulling out of her, I leaned down and licked her juicy cheeks.
What I did next shocked me. I swiped my finger through the cum remaining on her ass. Using it as lube, I pressed a finger firmly against her ass, against that puckered opening. The more I rubbed, the more she relaxed until I slipped in almost effortlessly. I had never been on the receiving end of anal pleasure, and I'd never given. I was moving instinctively. I reached around with my other hand and began alternating between her pussy and her clit. She was cumming again and her ass was taking my finger deeper. She came hard and her body just convulsed and shook until she collapsed.
The three of us were spread out on the bed, kissing and touching and giggling from the excitement. Moving from one body to the next.
"So, Tristan ..."
"Yes, Lisa?"
"You wanted us to take it easy on you when we critique your speech. Do you want to hear our critique of this?"
Tristan laughed, then looked a bit afraid of what she might say.
"We need to discuss." Lisa ripped off her bra and mine. We knelt on the bed, our tits pressed together. We kissed deeply and passionately. When he was hard again from watching, Lisa took her turn riding him. And as she rode, she said, "We concur that you give a great presentation."
None of us slept much that night. Maybe a few minutes of dozing to recharge while the other two played. Solo play, twosomes, threesomes. Everything was done that night, every possibility, every orifice filled. And we did it all again Saturday night.
And Sunday? We all made plans for the other conferences we would attend!
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Submitted by:
Paige
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Rating:
20 ratings
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 Four Strangers in the Night |  Bottle Shock, Part Two | | Bottle Shock, Part One | | Alone, Yet Together | | Girls' Night | | The Unexpected Guest |  Turn Off the Lights... | | Vegas, Baby! | | Dinner and a Show, Part Four | | Dinner and a Show, Part Three | | Dinner and a Show, Part Two | | Dinner and a Show, Part One | | Dinner Reservations | | Mrs and the Mistress, Part Five | | Bath Time | | Juicy Jeweler, Part Three | | Juicy Jeweler, Part Two | | Juicy Jeweler | | Mrs and the Mistress, Part Four | | Mrs and the Mistress, Part Three | | Mrs and the Mistress, Part Two | | Mrs and the Mistress | | Brazilian Waxes | | 'Great Story' | | Shared Studio Space | | Rendezvous | | The Movies | | The Lap Dance | | Early Morning Chat | | A Day of Boating | | The Library | | The Amazing Accountant | | The Coat Room | | The Mind Eraser | | Personal Memoir: The Fitting Room | | Living Room Picnic | | Saturday Morning Alone | | Friday Afternoon | | The Interview |
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