The Dildo - Follow Through

I had her in a rhythm now, as we stood apparently idly in the middle of the show floor: One second on full, one second at half intensity, one second on full, and finally one second at idle. Then repeat. And the occasional potato chip.

The rhythm was accomplishing what I wanted, as her vision, while still fixed on me, was obviously losing focus. She trembled here and there, usually when I had my little co-conspirator humming at full power, but she was keeping it together. She summoned a look of defiance that ebbed away as quickly as she formed it.

And then into the booth walked a tall guy in charcoal grey slacks and a fitted dress shirt, jet black hair that was silver at the temples, and dark green eyes. Oh, and his tie was Lynda's favorite purple.

I instantly laid off the remote, and we spoke to him together. As usual, it was quickly clear which of us would likely handle the customer better. In this case it was me. What was not usual, was that Lynda quite deliberately started to herd me out of the discussion! Puzzled, I backed off. It took me a minute to realize that this guy was just gorgeous, and I had my colleague as horned up as humanly possible. She wanted to talk to him. Maybe just look at him.

Go girl.

But was my already horned up colleague actually as horned up as possible? Nah.

My hand went back to my pocket.

Lynda refused to look at me when I started in on her inner core again. Instead she clasped her hands behind her backside as she spoke to Mr. Dude. It could have been quite the coquettish pose for her. With her shoulders back, I was sure her breasts were being pushed out towards him. But with the boxy, loose suit she wore, the effect wasn't really visible. I was sure of that, because the guy didn't react. Lynda knew what she was doing, but I realized that she was doing it for her own enjoyment. Her hips rocked just a tiny bit, betraying to me what she was feeling down there.

Her hands clasped behind her back also made it easier for her to casually flip me off, without the dude or anyone besides me seeing her do it.

I just sat down in the one chair we had, and pretended to be looking all around. But I was watching.

A written transcript of her pitch would indicate a perfectly ordinary, professional discussion. Nothing out of the ordinary. And that was how it actually sounded at first, too. But regular, rhythmic wobbling of the remote in my pocket swiftly got to Lynda. Her voice, usually so smooth and even soothing, was developing a breathless edge to it.

At first, she seemed simply to be crowding him, closing the personal space between them to a gap that would have been appropriate for a crowded room, not an empty booth. He sure as hell didn't mind. He was a little perplexed, but he didn't mind. I took to ramping up the remote whenever Lynda was talking, and easing it off when he spoke--never full on, nor full idle.

She walked him over to the table where we had our demo computer set up, along with folders and sample reports. She let the distance open between them now, but as he leant over the computer, I realized that was just so she could get a better look at him.

He really was a looker, to be honest. I'm not that way, but I do know what women like. He wasn't rich, obviously. He worked at what turned out to be a boarding school, so he definitely wasn't rich. But he also was the kind of guy who prioritized both his clothes in his budget, and his fitness in his day-planning.

When he bent over slightly to try a few things on the computer, Lynda turned to me and grinned. Then she openly stared back at his ass.

I flipped the remote horizontal and left it there, buzzing hard, while she watched.

After that, I changed to giving it more juice when he spoke, and letting off when she did. She seemed to like that more. A lot more. I even saw her quietly caress one of her breasts when he wasn't looking. I wobbled the remote happily as encouragement for such misbehavior.

You might think that I was getting nothing out of this whole situation, this whole day, but you would be wrong. I was hard as a rock at the moment, and had been off and on since I'd hit the On button that morning. I knew what kind of woman hid inside Lynda's placid exterior now, and watching her near and then back away from a boil, under my control, was delicious.

I was absolutely, positively going to be flying the blue ball express back to New Orleans, and. It. Was. Worth. It.

She was reaching a level of arousal she had not neared at any time earlier in the day, at least in part because I was not giving her much of a break with the remote. Her voice got huskier, and she was almost dancing from one foot to the other as she talked with the guy.

I seriously began to think about backing off the stimulation, because while this was fun, it would probably be a bad idea professionally to make her pop her cork, apparently out of the blue, while talking to the client. Funny, and exciting, but a bad idea.

Fortunately, he was done. I eased off while they exchanged contact information, but then cruelly went back to full blast as soon as he left.

Lynda rounded on me. "You are such a bastard, you know that?" she hissed, not hiding her breathlessness.

"Me?" I said, as if shocked. "What am I doing?" I wobbled the remote, but mostly kept it going full blast.

Her back was to the pathway outside our booth, and her hand pressed against her flat belly, clenching the fabric at her waist. Her eyes almost rolled up into her head, then she glared at me some more. "You are really trying to make me do this, aren't you?"

"You do seem close," I observed idly.

"Fuuuuuck," she growled. She whirled and took our lone chair, her lower body now behind the draped table with all our literature. Her head bent, and her legs crossed at the ankles. Her body twitched arrestingly.

I took a quick look around. It was a quiet part of the day, thank god. I'd have hated to have to head off any visitors and missed what was coming.

Lynda was a demonstrative woman, but being demonstrative right now was definitely off the table. I was absolutely fascinated to watch her as she struggled to keep any outward signs of what she was experiencing hidden.

Well, hidden from others. I could sure as hell tell.

"Wobble it," she hissed.

"Huh?"

"It's best when you wobble it slowly. Don't... ooohhhhh... don't just leave it full-throttle," she growled through gritted teeth.

So I wobbled.

She bent forward, hands pressed into her lap and let out a tiny, quiet, but incredibly long, mewling, rippling sigh. She rocked just the tiniest bit, but I could somehow feel how powerful it was in my own cock from five feet away. Talk about sympathetic vibrations.

I eased off, and her body slowly relaxed. After a few moments, she started to look up at me with a sheepish smile, and I ramped it up again.

Catching her off guard, she actually yelped out loud a little. Her body stiffened, and this time we locked gazes. Her wide eyes glared hungrily at me. I stared back. "God, I want to kiss you so hard," I said quietly.

Her eyes squeezed shut, and her body jerked, despite all her efforts at control, so fast it was more like a vibration.

Then she finally relaxed, or tried to. "Turn it off," she said. I just smiled. "No, seriously this time. I need you to turn it off now. It's starting to... not hurt, but..."

I pressed the button, and the vibrations died.

She slumped. Then she heaved a deep breath and stood shakily to her feet. Shaking her head, she said quietly, "Last night versus just now has reminded me how fantastically superior a real man, especially a good one like you is to mechanical aids."

"Um... thank you?" I said, with a slightly flattered grin. "But you seemed to be doing pretty well just now."

"I may have pulled an abdominal holding that in," she said with a sexy, if fleeting smile. "But I wouldn't have gotten off at all, I don't think, if I hadn't been planning the whole time to, as soon as my heart rate settles, drag you off to one of the family restrooms at the end of the aisle and suck your cock until you beg for mercy."

"Um..." Things were suddenly looking better on the blue balls front. "Thank you?"

The booth was still empty. We looked at each other, and tried not to look like we were bolting.

She went into one of the single-occupant bathrooms first, and I waited about 20 seconds for two attendees to enter the main ladies' room nearby before I followed her.

Thank god the center was very committed to keeping the facilities clean. It looked more spotless in that room meant for parents with little kids and nursing mothers than my bathroom did back home at my condo.

"Lean against the sink," Lynda commanded. She had already pulled a big stack of paper towels out, and put them on the floor in front of me, not because it was dirty, but apparently to protect the knees of her hosiery. She wasted no time yanking open my fly and tugging my boxers down under my balls.

She clearly wanted this to be quick, and I understood why. We had just abandoned our booth in the middle of the day.

But oh, man, was I going to enjoy this.

Her fingertips traced the outlines of my cock, joined intermittently by the tip of her tongue. We might be getting right to it, but she was still going to do it right. If she didn't live 2,000 miles away, I could fall in love with this woman.

I was hard already, but she induced me to new levels of hardness with just those featherlight touches from her tongue and fingers.

"Ready?" she asked, looking up at me with a smile.

"For hours now," I gasped softly.

She smirked, then ruined the expression by slurping my cock between her lips. Her gently brushing fingers wrapped themselves around my shaft firmly, and began an earnest massage.

Not only had Lynda not forgotten how to suck cock well, she had not forgotten how to suck cock in multiple styles. The night before, I had been treated to a soft, if fervent, lingual masterwork, with lots of ball teasing, and firm strokes. This time...

She barely touched my balls, barely caressing them in passing as she pumped me. Her mouth, rather than gently rolling me around inside, tongue wrestling with my invader, instead started bobbing up and down on me in time with her swift hands. I grunted at the sexy ferocity of her assault.

And my had slipped into my trouser pocket. There was the On button...

Lynda popped off my cock with a gasp and looked at me. "I want to tell you to fuck off," she said a little breathlessly, "but that is a marvelous idea."

With that, she sucked me back in and I started wobbling the remote in time with her head's movements. She hummed appreciatively, and the vibrations of that hum just made everything all the much better around my cock.

It was a good thing that I was not trying to hold back my finish, because I am pretty sure my ability to defy the all-out oral assault I was under would have been fairly nil anyway.

"Oh, shit! You are so fucking good," I groaned, still somehow managing to keep the remote pulsing in time with her relentless, magnificent taking of my cock. "Not... much longer," I almost whined.

Lynda let me loose from her mouth for an instant, just long enough to say, "Fuck my face," before wrapping her lips around my glans once more.

Well, that invitation didn't hurt. Somehow, in my lust-ridden haze, I did register that she had at no point actually tried to take me down her throat. I laid a hand gently against her cheek, and started thrusting into her mouth... shallowly.

It still was amazing. Her lips eagerly clamped down around me as I slid in and out between them. Her tongue slicked around beneath my thrusting shaft. And I gave up pulsing the remote, just desperately trying to keep it full bore as my hips jerked eagerly. The vibrator's stimulation was clearly getting to Lynda, ramped up by her own arousal from the blowjob she was clearly relishing. Her moans became deeper, more powerful, even though they were muffled by my invading schlong.

Suddenly, she grabbed my ass with both hands, and yanked my hips forward. Before I could stop myself, my cock plowed back against the entrance to her throat. She instantly gagged, but as soon as I perceived that she was going to hold me there, I lost it.

Letting out an, "Umph!" like I had just been punched in the gut, I felt my cock swell. I involuntarily gagged her even harder as I pushed forward again, and cum surged up my shaft. My hand clutched desperately against her smooth cheek.

The instant Lynda recognized I was coming, she leaned back until only my tip was still embedded in her face. She gulped greedily, while still moaning as I sprayed into her mouth. Some of my offering had to have shot straight down her throat right at the start, and I honestly don't know how much I produced overall. I had most of the day to recover from our early-morning rhapsody, but I really had come rather a lot in the last 24 hours, especially for me.

Lynda swallowed it all. My orgasm, regardless of volume produced, felt utterly overwhelming to me. My legs wobbled, and had I not been able to lean back against the sink to brace my ass, I am sure I'd have fallen. My abdomen felt hollow.

My fucking ears tingled.

I swiftly realized that Lynda was not quite done, however. I still held the remote horizontal, and her hips and ass were wriggling hard as she remained kneeling before me. She moaned more, with higher notes now, as she continued to suckle on my already softening shaft.

I wobbled the remote.

"Ohhhh..." she gasped, and I felt her come. Her whole body quivered, and her mouth and tongue clamped around my cock so exquisitely, I nearly started hardening again already.

I kept wobbling the remote, and her ecstasy extended. She desperately kept my now rapidly collapsing dick in her mouth as she writhed before me, until she at last sank down to her ankles, releasing my cock from her mouth at last. She batted weakly at my pants where my hand remained in the pocket.

"Seriously! Turn it off!" she gasped, breathlessly. "Please. All the way off. Too much..."

I pressed the button.

"Holy shit," she said, grabbing ahold of me to pull herself to her feet. She leaned against me. That was a little fraught, because I sure as hell wasn't a paragon of rock-solid stability myself. But we remained upright together. "If someone had told me," Lynda panted, "that I'd have two of the better, most crazy orgasms of my life... at the convention center today, I'd have thought they were nucking futz."

She fumbled at my soft cock, an action that did nothing to preserve its quiescence. She started to tuck me away, and I swiftly helped her. I was sure clean as a whistle by then.

"Go," she said, pushing me toward the door. "I've got to fix my face first, and we shouldn't be walking out of here together anyway."

I looked at her. Yeah, the face-fucking at the end had brought on the inevitable tears, and her eyes were a dripping black mess. She looked beyond glorious. We shared a smile, and I slipped out of the restroom.

My momentary fear that there would be two wide-eyed little kids and a horrified mom waiting outside was fortunately not realized.

There were actually customers in our booth as I hustled back to our, you know, job. I apologized that both my partner and I had had a simultaneous call of nature (okay, we didn't quite manage simultaneously), and got to work seeing how I could help them.

It was actually a good meeting. This show, which had been feeling like a bust for most of the time, was starting to really bear fruit on the last day.

As the prospects wandered off down the showroom floor, Lynda reappeared.

Briskly, she held out her hand. "Quick give me the remote. I don't want to forget it at the end of the day," she said, looking around.

I reached into my pocket, but instead of taking out the small pink disk, I pressed the On button again.

"Very funny," Lynda said to my placid grin. "But I took it out this time. My knees won't take any more of that." I pouted a little, but I had not intended to really go after her again, even had she left that glorious little bean inside her. "Besides," Lynda went on, "the last major seminar ends in ten minutes, leaving us two full hours before we pack up to make some headway."

And make headway we did. We don't actually need to eventually transform very many attendees to customers to make a trade show worth it, and in those last two hours, we identified four more really good opportunities. With what we had accumulated over the entire show, between the two of us, Freida, and Desirée, it had been a good show.

Things definitely tailed off toward the end, and the two of us, like most other exhibitors, began to get a jump on tearing down our booths. Show services would collect our cases and ship them back to our corporate headquarters later that night, once everybody left, but we would have to pack everything for them before we could leave.

"What time is your flight out?" Lynda asked with elaborate casualness.

I looked at my watch and grimaced. "In three hours," I replied sourly. I'd been worried about this flight ever since I'd gotten my ticket from the corporate travel agent and called to complain... to no avail.

"Wow. We've barely started packing! It's going to be tight for you, even if we cut corners and get a little sloppy..." she trailed off. Sloppy was not our corporate way.

Of course, 'sloppy' could be taken in a number of ways.

"That comment sounded tragically promising," I said with a rueful grin. Lynda just snorted. "Worse. My ticket is for the last flight to Nola tonight. If I miss it, I spend my Friday late night at an airport hotel, instead of back home in the French Quarter with my buddy Rick."

"Ouch," sympathized Lynda. "I've got almost four hours from now, so I've still got a decent chance. Though it is also the last flight of the day for me too."

"We better hurry," I grumbled. She agreed.

We both picked up the pace of packing. The show was officially over, and despite a few stragglers still wandering around, neither of us was remotely interested in trying to pick off a last chance customer. We worked smoothly together to take down and fold up the big banner, arguing only briefly about how it should be folded. I acquiesced and folded it her way.

Damned if it didn't fit in the case better...

We mostly avoided looking at each other.

This had been a thing. And it was done. And the question of whether it would be a thing again, the next time we were in the same town, was a question we each seemed content to leave for that day to discover. Now was about finishing all this packing, finding an Uber at this time of the evening, fighting rush-hour Denver traffic for the thousand mile journey from downtown to the airport, fighting TSA (in Denver no less) at the end of getaway day, and hoping for late departures for once.

I had nothing but a puncher's chance of making my flight. Lynda had a little better than that. I was considering telling her to bail, make sure she made her flight, and I'd finish the packing on my own.

I reached for the JD Power award plaque that went to every show, just as Lynda did the same. Her hand clasped the top of the little prop, and mine closed over hers.

We froze. It was a long, static tableau as we stared carefully at the award and not at each other.

"You know," Lynda said, "that Westin right inside the airport is pretty nice..." she didn't quite look at me.

"That's actually true," I said, not quite letting go with my hand. "There are worse places to get stuck if we somehow don't get this all packed up in time..." Then I did let go, straightening. "Listen, I'm thirsty," I said to her with a grin. "Let's go have another leisurely warm beer at the snack shop. I'm sure we will both have plenty of time to come back and finish packing. We won't miss our flights, will we?"