Seducing Blue

 

First Kindle Edition: May 2015

Story:  6056 Words

Miss Blue travels halfway across the country to attend a writer's conference, where she is met and hosted by an online friend, whose motivation and morals may not be what she's expecting.

 

Steve is cool, calm and collected, and he has a plan.  With three days to work his magic, he intends to make the gorgeous MILF his. 

 

Will he succeed in his machinations? Will she fall under his seductive spell? Is Miss Blue the quiet innocent that Steve is counting on?

 

Warnings: This story contains teasing, wild accidental exhibitionist sex, and blowjobs so good you could write a college thesis on them. Not to mention deflowering the hottest woman on campus.

 

FMF, First Time, Oral, Exhibitionist

Chapter One

“How did it happen? Really? How does it ever happen?” I laughed, holding court in the pub, regaling the guys with my latest conquest.

 

“C’mon, Steve. The real scoop. And don’t make an hour long epic out of it,” one of my droogs pleaded.

 

“Hey, a gentleman never tells,” I reminded them.

 

“That’s why you’re going to give us all the details, right?” Billy asked eagerly.

 

“I am a bit parched,” I said. “Don’t know if my voice will stand up to the whole, incredible, unbelievable, zipper-busting tale.”

 

Our latest drink du jour, Captain Morgan Black and A&W root beer appeared miraculously before me. I took a long sip, dragging it out, while they all leaned forward, eager to live vicariously through my adventures.

 

Half the glass emptied, I wiped my mouth, slowly put down the mug, and gazed around at them, holding each one’s eyes just long enough to establish the link. I gave them a slow grin.

 

“It’s pretty hard to believe−nothing leaves this group, right?”

 

They all nodded eagerly. I had them;- retty hard to believe - tor. iously allowed me to share her gift-story ts being an unreliable narrator. I took that concept a now it was time to deliver.

 

“It started simply enough, on a forum for writers. Writers of Erotica.”

 

My gaze flitted across my audience, feeding off their attention. I love to tell a story.

 

“You see, she wanted to get better, didn’t even realize how good she was. There’s a lot of ways to improve, you understand, but what good are most of those, if you don’t end up with the hottie in your bed. Am I right?”

 

Their quick nods were the reaction I was looking for.

 

“So, as a kind, generous friend and potential mentor, I encouraged the lovely lady … let’s call her ‘Blue’, to attend a writing conference. Out of town of course, we didn’t need any ‘accidental’ encounters with friends and/or family to get in the way, if you get my drift.”

 

“No!”

 

“Of course not!”

 

“Yeah!” answered the chorus.

 

Satisfied with their response, I took another drink, set my glass down, leaned back in the chair, and began.

 

“It started on a Friday …”

 

 

Chapter Two

It started on a Friday. She had emailed me her itinerary, and I picked her up at the airport. The conference was in my backyard, after all. I lived about three miles from the venue, and, as a friend, I’d offered her the guest room−purely platonic you understand−to reduce her expenses. After ponying up the airfare, and the cost of the conference, even with my member discount, it was getting pricey.

 

We’d never met, you understand. She was just a faceless abstract. Words in a forum. Well, more than that, of course. Like I said, it was a writing forum, for writers of erotica. I mean, hell, the place where we all posted our stories was called Writerotica.  Of course, as a … supportive  member of our exclusive club, I’d read everything she’d written, every post, every comment, and naturally every story.

 

I could sense she was nervous, while riding from the airport to the conference. How can you blame her? Traveling several hundred miles to stay with someone she didn’t know, not really. I mean, I do my best to keep the tone friendly and not overly aggressive. Don’t want to scare any potential playmates off, you know. But my size and demeanor alone can be somewhat intimidating. I’m certain she didn’t expect a six foot one, two-hundred and ten pound bronzed cowboy. Even if my only steed for the weekend was the 560 horsepower Mustang we were traveling in.

 

So I played it cool. Avoided getting too ‘handsy’, cracking the joke or two, and of course, listening attentively to every word she said. That’s the key you know. Listen. If you don’t learn anything else, learn this. Listen like you care. And mean it, or they’ll sure as shit know if you don’t. So I listened and learned.

 

Late Friday, after a half-day workshop, the conference was holding a meet-and-greet with the visiting speakers, agents, and authors. As part of the group hosting the event, and a five-time attendee, I scored us tickets for the late night open bar with our celebrities. I took Miss Blue around to schmooze, playing up my access and relationships. Not too much, no, that wouldn’t do. Didn’t want to look like a dick.

 

No, it was casual. I introduced her to our top celebrity, an author of some renown, and left her there chatting once she had his attention. I figured I made out both ways, letting her meet the master, and introducing an attractive woman into the ring of motley hanger-ons surrounding his Horrorship. I knew she’d be fine, once the bugger starts talking about himself, nothing could deter him, and he had a lovely new audience.

 

I handed her a spiked drink, nothing illegal, that’s not my style. Just strong. Real strong. It was her third, and she barely noticed, all of her attention fixated on our keynote speaker.

 

I knew how these things worked, and dragged her away before she could become a nuisance. We mingled, met a couple of my favorite agents, a few of the featured guests, and of course, some of my buds, always eager to sing the praises of a fellow in hot pursuit.

 

Now Miss Blue, she started so laid back, easy going, you know, the MILF next door. By the time I’d fed her the fifth drink, she was a little wobbly, and smiling to beat the band.

 

So did I roofie her? Drag her upstairs to a room I’d just ‘happened’ to reserve, just in case? Did I have my way with her, every way imaginable, repeatedly?

 

Hell no. That’s for amateurs. I was still laying the groundwork for the rest of the weekend. Slow and steady, that’s my motto. Once she got a little fuzzy, giggly, I took her upstairs to the suite. I could see she was confused.

 

“I think we’ve both had a little too much to drink, tonight,” I explained as I keyed open the suite door. “Your room is over there,” I pointed, my other hand at the small of her back, guiding her. Not on her elbow, not with my arm around her shoulders, or around her waist. Especially not on her inviting ass. No, the small of the back. Intimate, without being overt. Trust me on that one. It makes all the difference in the world.

 

“Why don’t you call home and give hubby an update? Let him know you’re safe and sound. Fill him in, while I retrieve your bags from the car.”

 

Charming and disarming. Still laying the groundwork.

 

–—*——

 

“What’s that?”

 

A skeptical droog had mumbled something about my mother’s heritage.

 

“Yeah, I know, I’m a sneaky son-of-a-bitch. So what? Are you gonna keep interrupting, or do you want me to finish the story? Maybe our friends would prefer to hear about the time you played spin-the-bottle with your cousin, again.”

 

The skeptical one shook his head, amidst the glare of his fellow audience.

 

“I didn’t think so. Now where was I?”

 

–—*——

 

She was lying on top of the bed, her shoes off, her clothing a little twisted, her blouse pulled free from her skirt, which had somehow climbed halfway up her thighs. Nice thighs. Alright, more than nice. I knocked on the side of the open door softly, finger to my lips for silence, and deposited her bag on the little metal suitcase stand. Then I backed out of her room, and retreated to the other end of our suite to put my belongings away.

 

When I returned to the living area, she was walking around, examining the place. Barefoot, her shirt untucked, hair sexily mussed. Her toes were polished, each little piggy carefully tended, and I knew she’d done that in expectation of having them examined closely.

 

Good girl.

 

Did I pounce? Hell no! I offered her a night cap, discussed the next day’s events, and chatted for a few minutes before wishing her a good night.

 

Feigned disinterest. That’s the ticket. You have a woman alone, in a room, far from home, and she’s tipsy. Do you kiss her? No! Not even a peck on the cheek. Hands off. You want her to wonder what’s going on. Why didn’t you try something? What did she do wrong? Wasn’t she attractive (of course), wasn’t she sexy (hell yeah!), what’s the deal?

 

No kiss. Not even a hug. Let your eyes hold hers, glance at her lips, then back to her eyes. Hold it, make her look away first. Look her up and down. Back to the eyes, then tell her goodnight, and you’ll see her in the morning.

 

I set the alarm, ordered breakfast in the room, and reviewed my book pitches for my meetings with the agents the next day. It was mostly going through the motions, I already had my agent, but it was good to keep the skills honed.

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