The Adult Story Hub

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By John B. (no address)

I don't know what you remember of that evening. You get a faraway look in your eyes and there is a little smile that curves the corners of your mouth when there is any reference to it.I can tell you what I witnessed (and did), but after all, this was your night, so the story will be the definitive sense, whenever you choose to tell it.
I suppose you were expecting another typically dreary evening with the stuffed shirts when I invited you to my department's annual party. The bland handshakes, the bland talk, the typically rich food that the middle-aged denigrate and then overeat.
I am glad you let me help you shop for clothes. I love your body, as you know, so I made a point of searching for clothing that clings and smooth fabric that feels good under my hand. You look good in most anything, but less is more, so I planned to get you into something as small as I could. And playing with you in the dressing room at the department store was a bit of fun, aside from the satisfaction of helping you look good.
I had to take a step backward when you opened the door of your apartment. I flushed with delight. A little black dress with pearls, but with you in it. Your ass curved and your breasts swelled delightfully.The flaring skirt was short enough to show most of your legs, all the way to the middle of your thighs, and the top cut low enough so your breasts were well exposed but still within the standards of (what passes for) taste in Southern California. I was happy to see you weren't wearing any stockings, only sandals, for the evening was quite warm. You looked gorgeous.
I wanted to make love to you right there in the hall, but I settled for caressing the cool inside of your naked thigh and kissing your neck. Did you notice the teenage boy (you know which one I mean) across the hall open his door to watch us? I saw the door close but not click shut, so I think we were scrutinized for a while longer. He must have gotten a good look at what was under your dress, cause I lifted it up more than once. The silk panties I picked for you were worthy of showing off, I thought, so I raised your skirt to let your admirer have a look.
Did I go too far, there in the doorway? When I got hard I just had to feel my cock against you.You made those little sounds of pleasure that arise involuntarily when you get turned on, so I figured I could forge ahead by pulling down the front of your panties and slipping my fingers through the damp forest that is your pubic hair into your (by now) wet love spot.When I struggled to unzip my own pants with one hand, I guess you saw the virtue in restraint and called off any more play.
However, taking you to the department function in such a state of arousal was part of my plan, although you didn't realize it until later.
You seemed mildy surprised at seeing the dimly lit, tree-shrouded restaurant.Not the salmon-house banquet room this time. Fat fronds of great, rubbery plants hung down above the walk and slipped over our hair as we entered the hidden door. Inside, the light was so dim it took a couple of moments for our eyes to adjust. It was just as humid inside as out, so I suspected this was one of those dens that was open to the sky, somewhere back within it's corridors.
A pretty hostess led us downward through a musty hallway, (a tunnel really) into a large round room, ringed with tables, still darkly lit, where the rest of my co-workers stood sipping drinks and smoking. You remarked to me that the walls of this cavernous place seemed to be carved out of the earth. Vines hung down from darkness, and I could make out stars when I looked up.
Instead of the usual sounds you'd expect: classical music or jazz, I discerned an almost inaudible drone, slowly undulating but never quite ending. The effect of the whole place was not eery, but protected, private and sensual.
Here's when you may have gotten some looks you didn't expect and heard some comments made to me that you may not have understood. Like, "Is she the one you mentioned?," and "Oh, thank you for bringing her, Tommy," I remember you giving me a quizzical look when Sally Moore, the cool, dark-haired professor of linguistics, came up to you a bit too close and looked right into your eyes saying, indirectly to me, "Tommy, you deserve tenure. And I deserve a treat."
Did I get you drunk? I can't answer that. I was not above the act, but I think you wanted to be drunk anyway, so I didn't push you too hard. It's very easy to drink more vodka than one intends, so I just didn't hold you back. You might accuse me of trying to subvert your sexual soveriegnty, for taking away your power of choice.
We ate, we drank, the droning music was turned up and people danced closely. As my fellow academics fell under the spell of the place as we did, we began to see hands roving over breasts and between legs.Long kisses. Couples: students and faculty, men with men, women with women, groups clustered in dim corners.
You started to teeter a bit in your chair. Friends of mine came over to meet you.Steve, the English Lit TA, sat between us and passed his hand up your thigh and beneath your dress. You smiled at him and didn't make a move to stop him, although he explored there for a couple of minutes.
I remember Chris and Dan, the gay couple who work at the department office, sitting on either side of you, telling you intimate jokes at which you laughed deliciously. The mood of the room became dreamy, like opium must make you feel. Clouds of smoke and humidity, the smell of sensuous perfume and perspiring bodies. My head was beginning to spin a little.
Aaron Devoe, the tall, slim academic dean whom all the straight women and the gay men wanted to fuck but whom few had, came to our table and deftly slipped his right hand into the top of your dress then gently released your left breast.He caressed the nipple very gently between his thumb and forefinger while talking into your ear. I believe you had your right hand down the front of his trousers.
I watched you cross the room (when you got up to pee) as Donna Jackson, the reserved but lovely black administrator whose slender waist and full breasts I always admired, wrapped her arm around your lower back and pulled your hips snugly to hers. She talked with you like that for several minutes, slowly smoothing the fabric over your bottom.
I was glad that you were welcoming all advances equally and with pleasure. You even made a wry understatement to me at one point. "Friendly group, Tom."
You were in the restroom for a good while. Then Sally Moore and you emerged together, holding hands. Your dress was twisted around your waist, and neither of you were wearing lipstick any longer. There was a startled look on your face. She pulled back on your arm before releasing you to the larger room. You stepped toward her. The two of you kissed langorously for a whole minute, toungues deep within each other's mouth, tight in each other's arms.
I knew the rest of the night was going to be more than fun for both of us.