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I’d been to Miami Beach before, but this was different. It was better. It was October, my favorite month, and it wasn’t the sort of heat that makes people want to jump in the water. The days were short and there was mild, refreshing sunshine and breeze that made me want to get up early and walk the boardwalk. But after that, I had to attend the conference.

Social scientists, as we like to call ourselves, descend from time to time in swarms to convention centers for mutual support. I’d tell you what we discussed, but you wouldn’t understand. Instead, I’ll tell you that I was sitting in the front row, where I could see that one of the ladies sitting at the dais had really gorgeous feet and shoes that displayed them rather brazenly, or so I thought. The image stayed in my mind through dinner and a couple of cocktails at the hotel lounge, and followed me right up into my room. I gazed pensively at the blank TV set for a moment, and then the image of her feet arose once more in my mind. I sat on the edge of my bed and felt an erection stirring in my slacks. That seemed more compelling to me than anything that might be on television.

I stayed right where I was and removed first my right shoe, then my left, then my socks, and then I stood up and eased my slacks and briefs down so that my cock sprang free. I looked out the window and saw a darkened courtyard. There was nothing to stop me from kicking my slacks and briefs aside, and slowly stroking my cock.

I wanted to make it last. I was thinking of the woman’s feet and what treasures might be hidden above them, as I gripped myself with just the deliciously right amount of pressure, and moved my hand up and down. I was beginning to lose myself in the act, my hips moving upward as my hand moved down the length of my cock, when my eyes detected a slight movement in the darkness outside. I froze and peered out the window.

In the room across the courtyard I could make out a woman. Her skin was quite dark, making her blend into the shadows, but her eyes gave her away. They were watching me.

I blushed and grabbed my pants, heading into the bathroom as if that had been my intention all along. I closed the door and considered finishing myself off in there, but the embarrassment of being seen had sort of taken the wind out of my sails. I put my pants back on and went out to watch TV, and kept my eyes away from the window. I didn’t want to acknowledge that I had been seen jacking off.

The next morning I tried to put it behind me and participate in the conference in a normal way. But each time I encountered a black woman, of which there were many, I couldn’t help but consider whether she might be the one that was privy to my guilty secret.

That evening, I hit the lounge again after dinner, and had a few tequila shots with a beer back, which is what I drink when I wish to be “feeling no pain.” Feeling pleasantly sloshed, I made my way back up to my room. I had taken off my jacket and was about to hang it in the closet when I became aware of a light flashing in the courtyard. I hung up my coat and went to the window to see what was the matter.

The light flashed again, and I realized it was coming from the room across the courtyard, the room from which the woman had seen me last night. Someone was turning the room light on and off. Except that now the light in the room was left on, and the woman was there, looking at me. She was a Rubenesque woman with a little mop of dreadlocks. She waved at me shyly and smiled. When I waved back, a little hesitantly to be sure, she walked around her bed and stood facing the window. Then she took off her skirt.

This was unexpected. The room light was behind her, and it was difficult to see what she was doing. I saw her white teeth flash in a mischievous smile, and I could see that she was pulling her panties down around her ankles as she sat down on the bed. She parted her knees, and I could also see her hand travel up to her crotch and make subtle movements there. She was masturbating.

I was transfixed. I desperately wanted to be able to see what she was doing more clearly. urfa escort Why didn’t she turn on another light? I thought I might be able to communicate to her by example. I turned on the table lamp by my own bed so that I was brightly illuminated. She didn’t seem to get the message. I could see her teeth as she smiled a smile of voluptuous pleasure. Her hand was moving more actively. I tried to think of other ways to suggest to her that she ought to turn on another light. Maybe it was the tequila talking, but I took down my pants and began to stroke my cock, looking back at her. With the table light on, it was as if I was on stage in a night club.

My mystery friend clearly appreciated the show I was putting on. I watched her smile grow wider and her hand pick up its tempo. My message was not getting across, though — her table light stayed off. Her dark hand, and her dark pussy, were veiled in shadow.

What to do? I was drunk and horny. I had an appreciative audience. I took off my shirt, and abandoned myself to the sensation of my hand on my cock. I felt the excitement mounting until I spurted a generous amount of semen all over my chest. I looked across the way to see my new friend smiling and applauding silently. Then she resumed her own efforts and a minute later it looked like she had a powerful orgasm of her own. She looked up after a minute, waved at me, and then turned off her room light.

The next morning I felt somewhat relieved. My guilty secret was now a shared guilty secret, and considerably less embarrassing for that. I had a productive day at the conference, and then went out and hit the night spots with some friends from St. Louis. I got home late and went straight to bed.

The following day was the final day of the conference. After the concluding panel, I grabbed a quick meal and headed up to my room. I had been there about 30 minutes when I heard a knock on the door.

I opened it, and there was a dark-skinned woman with dreadlocks standing there. I thought I recognized her as the woman from across the courtyard. She was wearing a cranberry-colored suit and was carrying an over-sized handbag. She also had an ID sticker like mine, identifying her as a participant in the conference. “I hope I’m not intruding,” she said with a Caribbean lilt in her voice, and her eyes crinkled with a merry smile. I was thinking that she must be from one of the islands.

“No, come on in,” I said, feeling a small twinge of trepidation.

“Thank you,” she said, closing the door behind her. “You do recognize me, don’t you?”

“I believe I do,” I replied.

“I had a nice time… communicating with you the other night,” she said, “and since this is the last night of the conference… I was hoping we might try it again.” She looked at me uncertainly, but then flashed the merry smile again. My own hesitation began to fade.

“Well,” I said, “would you care to discuss it over a drink?”

“Why, certainly,” she replied. “I brought this.” She reached into her handbag and extracted a bottle of champagne that looked cold, followed by two plastic champagne glasses. She set them on and end-table, and then offered me her hand. “My name is Vivienne,” she said.

“Andre,” I replied. “Here, allow me,” I sat down and opened the champagne, then filled the two glasses.

Vivienne seated herself next to me and accepted a glass. We clinked the two glasses, which was somewhat unsatisfying because plastic doesn’t clink well. Then we each took a long drink.

“This is a new experience for me,” said Vivienne. “When I first saw you the other night from across the way, I was intrigued. And maybe a little inspired.”

“I didn’t think anyone was watching,” I said, perhaps blushing a little. “I’m not normally an exhibitionist.”

“Oh, but I found it very exciting!” said Vivienne. She had an appealing, musical voice. I was beginning to like drinking champagne with her.

Vivienne continued. “We’ll probably never see each other again,” she said, “and since we’ve already seen each other… well, you know… what balıkesir escort could be the harm in doing it again?”

“Well, if truth be told,” I replied, “I really didn’t see you very well. You were in a shadow.”

“But tonight I’m here. And you can see just as much of me as you like!” she said with a meaningful grin, and reached for the bottle to re-fill both glasses.

We each drank our second glass in silence. I would catch her eye from time to time, and she would give me a shy but reassuring smile. When she finished her second glass, she asked, “May I show you my tits?”

“Yes,” I said, and glanced nervously at the window. Around the courtyard there were numerous rooms where the lights were on, and the inhabitants could see us clearly if they chose to look. Vivienne followed my gaze.

“Don’t worry with the curtains, man,” she said with a grin. “Like they say, you only live once.” And with that, she rose, laid her suit jacket on the bed, and began to unbutton her blouse. It was soon apparent that she wore no bra, and that her breasts were quite large. She revealed them with obvious pleasure, hefting them in her hands to display them to me. Her nipples were the color of espresso beans; she pinched them and watched my reaction. Then she said, “Why stop now?” and undid the clasp on her skirt, allowing it to fall to the ground. She stepped gracefully out of it. Now she was clad only in a thong, fishnet stockings, and pumps, looking delectably slutty.

“How do I look?” she asked.

My mouth was suddenly dry. “You look really good,” I more or less croaked.

She parted her thighs. “Just look at my panties! They’re wet.” They were, indeed. There was a big stain along the most interesting part. “Watch,” she said. She ran her finger along the wet zone, and then pushed the fabric inside herself a little. It came out glistening with her juices. Then she rubbed herself sensually through the slippery fabric. “Do you like it?” she asked.

I was transfixed. I nodded mutely. “Would you like to see more? Shall I take them off now?” I nodded again.

Vivienne pulled an armchair over from its position by the window, and positioned it by the bed, so that she was close to me, but also fully visible through the window. I made a decision not to look out the window to see who might me watching. Vivienne slipped her panties down, let them fall to the floor, and then stepped out of them. Then she seated herself and threw one leg lewdly over an arm of the chair, putting her cunt on display. She flashed me a wanton smile and said, “I’m going to play with my pussy. May I see your cock?”

It seemed only fair. Besides, my cock was already rock hard, and feeling oppressed by my trousers. I hastily removed my clothing and positioned myself near Vivienne on the bed, my cock straining skywards. She cooed, “Ooh, your cock is nice, I like it. Would you touch it for me?”

I had no problem with that, either. As I began to stroke my cock, I took a good look for the first time at Vivienne’s pussy. Her fingers were creeping seductively around it, probing for a moment inside, and then teasing it outside. Her pussy lips were the same espresso color as her nipples, and the crevice between them gleamed from the juice that was beginning to well up there. I yearned for a closer look, say, from an inch or so away, but I was not certain what Vivienne’s rules of engagement might be for this rather unorthodox encounter. The idea crossed my mind that she would not want me to block the view of a larger audience outside the window.

As I continued to stroke my cock, getting more and more worked up, I remembered that I always bring a halogen reading lamp for working on the road. I said, “Just a moment –” and fetched it from an end-table. I plugged it into a wall outlet and placed it on the floor before her, aiming it so that it shined brilliantly on her pussy. Vivienne was unmistakably pleased by this development. She scooted forward in her chair, putting her cunt more in the spotlight. She said huskily, “Yes, can you see my pussy good? trabzon escort Do my pussy look nice?”, as her fingers began to move more urgently, spreading an abundance of glistening juice all around her swollen pussy lips and clit. Every alluring detail was illuminated. It was a mouth-watering sight.

“Yes,” I said. I began to stroke my cock in earnest, with my gaze riveted on Vivienne’s cunt.

“Andre,” Vivienne gasped, “do you remember how you came the other night… and you spurted all over your chest?” I nodded. “Would you do that again… on mychest?” As she spoke, she moved her left hand in an agitated fashion to and fro between her nipples, pinching them. Meanwhile, her right hand was working her cunt now with a steady, urgent rhythm.

I groaned, “Yes, I’ll do that.” I rose to my feet and approached her, being careful not to stand between her and the window. I saw how her cunt was swollen and leaking juices everywhere, and the sight was so arousing that I just couldn’t take it any more. I felt my orgasm approaching. “Vivienne!” I began, and then I was erupting all over her tits, her belly, and her face. Her eyes closed for a moment in bliss, and then she began scooping up my cum with her fingers and feeding it to her mouth, while smearing the rest of it on her breasts.

After some time had passed, Vivienne smiled at me and said, “Ooh, that was nice. Thank you so much, Andre.” She looked hesitant for a moment, and then she put her panties and skirt back on, and began to push the armchair back toward the window.

Whatever the rules were, I was now prepared to break them. My cock was already hard again. I caught Vivienne by the waist, bent her over the chair so that she faced the window, and roughly pulled her panties down around her calves. Then I lifted her skirt and entered her from behind. The sensation was exquisite. Her cunt was so wet, and she squeezed my cock with it gloriously as I plunged it repeatedly inside her. I looked at the window and I could see the reflection of her ecstatic face and cum-smeared tits. I also saw a number of men and women watching intently from rooms on the other side of the courtyard.

Having cum once already, I was in no hurry to cum again. I fucked her relentlessly. She moaned and cried out, “Push di cock nuh bwoy!” I glanced again at her reflection in the window . Her face was taut with arousal, but it looked like she was systematically making eye contact with each of the persons in the other hotel rooms. I saw that one of the men was jacking off, and then I saw a blond woman attacking herself urgently with an over-sized dildo. This latter spectacle put me in the mood to cum again, and it seemed to have a similar effect on my partner. It looked like she and the blond woman were staring each other down, and I felt Vivienne’s body begin to tremble and then spasm. The blond woman threw her head back and arched her body. I felt a wave of juices welling up in Vivienne’s cunt, which moved me to greater heights of arousal.

I threw her across the bed and buried my face between her thighs, lapping up her sticky fluids as I savored the sensation of her swollen vulva and clit on my lips and tongue. Vivienne moved her hips lasciviously, rubbing her cunt against my face. I thought to myself, Vivienne, whoever you are, I have never tasted anything so sweet and hot as your beautiful cunt. Then I mounted her, plunging my cock deep inside her. She embraced me with a laugh that was joyously bawdy, and began to move her hips to meet mine. Our fucking soon became more urgent. Vivienne arched her back and used her hands to thrust her big tits into my face, whispering hoarsely, “Suck them, suck them.” I moved my mouth restlessly from one nipple to the other, teasing them with my tongue and crushing them between my lips. I slowed the pace of our fucking just a little, eliciting a little moan of frustration from Vivienne, as I attacked her nipples voraciously. She whispered once more in my ear, “Suck them!” But then she did something with her cunt that I cannot describe, something so magical that it caused me to shout to the heavens as I ejaculated forcefully into her mysterious depths.

I have to say that in the past, I never looked forward to these professional conferences. But now that I have developed a collegial relationship with Vivienne, I never miss the opportunity to attend one, and my colleagues at work are quite impressed with my enthusiasm for the job.

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