The Regional Directors' Meeting, Part 3 of ?? (MF,MF,MF,MF)

By Chaz Thain

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WARNING -- This is a work of erotic fiction intended only for readers of a legally responsible age in the jurisdiction where they live. This work may be archived and redistributed, but it may not be sold or changed in any way. I encourage comments and criticism. 
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I confess I searched the Department’s website to find out when the next Regional Directors’ meeting would happen. An old news release provided the answer. They were always in the second week of the month, on Wednesday and Thursday.

The Directors and staff arrived on Wednesday morning flights, met in the afternoon, stayed Wednesday night, met again Thursday, and flew home late in the day.

So once a month there was a chance I’d get a call from one of Debby’s co-workers. And that call might result in anything from a friendly drink to something much more interesting. 

“Most won’t call,” I thought. “They're probably in relationships, happy and faithful.” 

But the occasional exception would be most welcome, I mused. Especially if they’re like Margie.

So I worked hard the day of the December Regional Director’s meeting, making sure I could leave an hour early if need be.

But there was no call from a lonely admin assistant. And there was no call during the January meeting. 

“Too bad,” I thought. “I guess Margie was a one-time miracle.”

The February meeting was on my calendar at work, but I hadn’t paid any attention. It was just an ordinary Wednesday night at work until the phone rang very late. 

I answered with the standard corporate spiel, which was met by silence on the line. 

“Hello,” I ventured. 

“Is this is Mark? Mark -----?”

It was a woman’s voice on the line -- so soft that I had to strain to hear what she said.

“Yes. How can I help you?”

“You’re Debby’s friend from college?” her pronunciation cultured and exact.

“Debby Baines? Yes we’re old friends,” I said, curious.

“This is Showanda Williams,” she said, her voice gaining a little strength. “I work with Debby at the head office.”

“I’m happy to meet you Showanda,” I smiled, my heart starting to thump. “Debby told me she really likes her co-workers at the Department, and you’re all good friends.”

“Just call me Wanda,” she said shyly, “and Debby IS a good friend. She’s the best supervisor I’ve ever had.”

We chatted aimlessly for several minutes about Debby and the company and my city and I realized Wanda wasn’t going to take our encounter any further. She spoke haltingly, and so shyly it was hard work keeping our  conversation going. I glanced at the clock and logged off my computer. I would be home in 30 minutes.

But when I tried to end the conversation Wanda took a deep breath and started anew. She began chattering brightly about some obscure corporate initiative and I quickly got bored.

“Well, thanks for calling Wanda,” I said dismissively. “It’s always great to meet Debby’s friends even if it’s only by phone. Good luck with the rest of the meeting.”

I was on the point of saying goodbye when Wanda blurted, “Margie is a good friend of mine, too!”

I hesitated. 

“I met Margie when she was here for the November meeting,” I ventured. “She’s a wonderful lady.”

I waited, wondering. Maybe this was heading somewhere, but Wanda hesitated again. There was silence on the line.

“Would you consider ... helping me ... the way you helped Margie?” she asked in a tiny voice. “I mean, here ... at the hotel.”

Now it was me hesitating, and she jumped in again.

“You don’t have to,” she chattered. “I mean. If you’d rather not. I understand. It’s late. You probably have a lot of work. I’ll tell Debby you said hi. Sorry to bother you. Have a good ...”

“I’d like to see you,” I said, interrupting her flow.

Silence again, then a faint, scared voice.

“Uh, good. Mm, thank you. I mean. That’s great. I’m glad you can come ...” her voice trailed away.

“Maybe you should give me your room number,” I prompted, and she did. So a few minutes later I was knocking on her door. It opened slowly, and she stayed half-hidden behind it, peering at me timidly.

“Mark?” her voice quavered. I smiled gently.

“I’m glad to see you, Wanda. Can I come in?” She stepped back and opened the door wide, seeming to gain a little confidence. 

I was amazed. Wanda’s timid voice hinted at a small woman. But she was at least 5-feet-10, with warm brown skin and thick hair worn very short. Her height, broad shoulders and long legs gave the impression of an athlete -- or an Amazon.

But her body language spoke of uncertainty, her eyes down and her shoulders rounded protectively.

Wanda was fully dressed in prim office attire. Her plain blouse had a high collar and long sleeves, while her skirt fell well below her knees. But her conservative clothing could not to conceal her extraordinary body. 

Her maidenly blouse strained to contain an amazing pair of large, round tits that defied gravity with the help of a thick bra. They were at least a D-cup. 

Wanda’s big hips flared out from her supple waist, complementing the size of her chest. And as she turned away I saw her full, muscular ass move without a hint of sag or wobble.

While driving to the hotel I had racked my brain to match Wanda with the details Debby had given me about her co-workers.  

Wanda had to be the one Debby nicknamed The Church Girl. 

The Church Girl was about 30, Debby said, lived with her widowed mother and attended church services, meetings or choir practice nearly every day of the week. She had never been married, rarely dated and had recently had her first cocktail at the girls-night-out with her office mates.

Debby described The Church Girl as pretty but timid -- almost fearful -- around men. And most likely a virgin.   

Wanda had to be The Church Girl and, judging by her awkwardness, I was going to have to take charge or spend the evening waiting for her to work up her nerve.

She stopped in the middle of the room and turned back to face me. But she couldn’t meet my eyes.

“Would you like a Coke or something?” she said, looking over my shoulder at the wall. 

“Why don’t you just sit here,” I told Wanda, pointing to the bed.  She gave me a wide-eyed look, then gained courage and nodded. She sat down, looking at her hands clasped in her lap. 

I closed the curtains and turned off all the lights. I could still see enough to navigate around the room because a thin bar of light leaked in under the door. I waited a few moments for my eyes to adjust, then walked over to stand in front of Wanda.

“Sweetheart,” I said in a low, reassuring voice. “I’m going to do some things you might like -- very slowly. If I do something you don’t want, just say the magic word and I’ll stop. Okay? Will that work?”

After a long pause I could see her head nod slowly, and hear her soft, “Yes.”

“Our magic word will be ... rhubarb,” I said. “Can you remember that?”

She nodded again and I saw a faint smile.

“Okay, ready?”

I saw her take a deep breath, lifting those magnificent tits, and nod yes.

I suppose Wanda thought I would jump on her and start ripping off her clothes. Because she seemed a little puzzled when I started unbuttoning my shirt. But she watched intently in the dim light. 

My shirt came off and dropped to the floor, very slowly. Then I pushed my shoes off my feet and took off my socks. I thought I heard a small gasp when I opened my pants and took them off. Next my underwear went and I was standing naked an arm’s length in front of Wanda sitting motionless on the bed. 

“Give me your hand,” I said gently. She reached out and I took her hand, putting it on my half-hard dick. I molded her warm hand around my dick as it grew longer and harder. I guided her hand along the shaft and head and after a bit her other hand joined the exploration and she felt my balls. I moved a little closer to give her easy access.

“This is the head, or glans,” I said, showing her, “and this is the shaft.”

I quietly named and explained my male parts as her hands moved slowly over me. It seemed to me she was breathing a little harder than before. Then she surprised me.

“Do you have blue balls?” she asked matter-of-factly. 

“No,” I chuckled. “Why do you ask?”

“I was told that if a man gets an erection and doesn’t have a climax, then he gets blue balls and it’s very painful.”

“If I had an hard-on for several hours, and didn’t climax, I might get a mild ache in my balls. But I wouldn’t call it painful.” 

“Should I suck it now,” she asked, startling me again.

“Sucking feels great, but some women don’t like it. So a girl who likes doing it might do it every time, but somebody who hates it might never suck a guy,” I ventured.

“Oh,” she said, sounding relieved. “In college a girlfriend told me sucking was the best way to please a man.”

“Couples figure out what works for them,” I opined. “You figure out your likes and dislikes in bed. Most guys like blowjobs, some girls don’t -- so you look for something you both like.”

“Okay,” Wanda said. “What’s next?”

“I think we should take your clothes off. Shall I do it, or would you rather?”

All the hesitation was back in her voice when she replied.

“Would you mind turning your back? I’m a little shy.”

The shyness I knew about, so I turned and faced the window and listened to the faint rustlings as Wanda undressed and got into bed. More than that, she used something to block the light leaking under the door. Now the room was truly dark, like the deep woods on a cloudy night. 

“I’m ready,” she finally whispered, so I turned and groped my way to the king-sized bed where I got in on the empty side. Wanda lay there tensely with the covers pulled up to her chin. I scooted to the middle.

“Do you like to kiss?” I ventured.

“I LOVE to kiss,” she confided. “But I’ve never done too much. Kissing gets me too excited and I’m afraid I’ll lose control.”

“Isn’t that what tonight is about? Losing control? Or at least giving up enough control to get something else you want?”

Wanda was silent, considering.

“How about if you take the next step,” I said. “Come over here and kiss me as much as you like. I promise I won’t even touch you.”

After a moment’s hesitation, Wanda moved slowly until she was lying on her left side, facing me about a foot away. She was just an undefined shape in the darkness. I heard her take a deep breath before leaning towards me and finding my lips with hers.

Yes, Wanda liked to kiss. After the first tentative peck, returned by me,  she soon was pressing harder and slowly entered my mouth with her tongue. My tongue fenced with hers, then I briefly sucked and she gave a low moan. My tongue followed hers into her mouth and she whimpered.

Then she lost it. Keeping her lips on mine, Wanda rolled me onto my back and straddled me, her warm weight trapping me beneath her. Her kiss was now a full-on assault, eager and determined. She moaned and grunted and whimpered -- clearly feeling the effects of our tongue-fucking. I gave as good as I got while we explored each other’s lips and mouths.

Some time later she broke our kiss and sat up, gasping.

“I know it’s wrong to use the Lord’s name this way. But all I can think is, ‘Oh my God!’ “

“Didn’t God make men and women for each other?” I asked. 

Her answer was to lie on me full-length, her weight pressing me down. And we resumed kissing -- now gently, now hard. It was torment keeping my promise. I was wild to grip her muscular butt and explore the rest of her magnificent body. My throbbing dick rubbed the inside of her thigh and sometimes brushed her coarse pubes.

Eventually Wanda began to calm. Her motions slowed and her kisses became less insistent, more gentle. She slid off me until she was snuggled under my left arm, her head pillowed on my shoulder. Her hand stroked my chest.

“There’s so much I don’t know,” she whispered. “My Father died when I was young and I have no brothers. Mother just doesn’t like men. She doesn’t trust them.

“My friends all know how to get men to like them, date them, do what they want,” she sighed. “They’re married, with houses and kids. 

“And then there’s me.” She was silent for awhile, her breathing calm.

“Then there’s me with no man, no house, no babies,” she continued. “I always wanted babies. But you can’t have babies if you’re afraid of men.

“Sure, you can have a baby on your own,” she said, as if I’d contradicted her. “Maybe a woman can even raise a baby without a man. But if it’s a girl maybe she’ll be afraid of men. And if it’s a boy maybe he’ll end up running the streets, getting in trouble.”

I realized then that she was crying very quietly. I kissed her forehead and stroked her shoulder. After awhile she sniffed and gave a quick laugh.

“You thought you were getting a woman, but you got me -- a female nothing,” she said bitterly.

“But you’re NOT nothing,” I said emphatically. “You’re just a woman with a problem. You know what you want, but you don’t know how to get it. You know you need to change, but you don’t know where to start.

“I think you’re going in the right direction. If you’re afraid of something and don’t know anything about it, then you face your fear and force yourself to learn.

“Isn’t that why you’re here, with me, in this bed?” I concluded.

She was silent, so I kissed her forehead again and continued lightly stroking her arm. 

“I’m not afraid of you,” she whispered after awhile. “Something tells me not to worry ... .”

I felt her turn her face up to mine.

“Everything WILL be all right, won’t it,” she whispered, and it was a statement of fact, not a question. She stroked my half-erect dick.

“Mother says a woman who has sex before she marries is a whore. But I don’t believe that anymore. You probably guessed ... I’m a virgin. I think -- I hope -- a woman can be virtuous without being a virgin.  

“You’ll help me won’t you Mark? You understand, don’t you?”

For an answer I put my hand on her cheek and kissed her lips, long but gently. 

“I do understand,” I said, finally.

“Then make love to me, Mark ... anything you want. I have so much to learn.”

So I kissed her and our mouths made love until the breath was hissing in and out of her nostrils. Her arousal grew each time my tongue languidly explored her mouth, or I sucked on her lower lip. She sighed passionately  whenever our lips parted. Her free hand was on my dick, sometimes stroking sometimes gripping painfully.  

I took a breast in my hand and marveled at its size and firmness. I found her nipple and began a rhythmic pinching motion. It quickly sprang up and became hard, so I rolled it between my fingers like a pencil. Wanda gasped.

I grasped her nipple tightly between my thumb and forefinger and pulled it straight out from her chest. Then I shook her breast back and forth hard, the weight of her big tit stretching her poor, abused nipple. She gave a deep groan. I shook her tit again by the nipple and she threw her head back and cried out, “AaAAHH!”

I rolled Wanda onto her back, captured her other nipple in my mouth and began suckling. I bit down briefly, but hard, and she responded by grunting, “UUF,” and thrusting her chest up, mashing her tit against my mouth. 

My hand slid over her mound down between her muscular thighs to find a thick mat of coarse hair already soaked with her juices. She reflexively clamped her thighs together, trying to deny me. But when I kept pressing she suddenly relaxed her legs, spreading her solid thighs wide. 

My middle finger found her hole and dove deep. I began sliding my finger deep into her, raking the inner walls of her vagina as I pulled out. The palm of my hand rubbed up and down against the wet softness of her pussy lips, while the heel pressed the top of her slit where her clit lay hidden in dark pink folds.

I was sucking her nipple hard, pulling it into my mouth and holding it there while pulling my head away until the weight of her breast pulled her overstretched nub out with a pop. Then I took her nipple in my mouth and flicked it quickly back and forth with my tongue. She was writhing under my assault.

“I CAN’T,” she gasped.  “I ... I ... No ... ungh, ungh Ungh!”

I forced her breast and her pussy to send alternating signals of pleasure to her brain, focusing first on one then the other. Wanda’s hands were on my head, pulling my mouth against her full breast and swollen nipple. And her hips were thrusting rhythmically up to meet my spearing finger, now two fingers.

It took awhile. Longer, I think, than it would for a knowing woman. But she had never had her her nipples mauled, her dripping pussy fingerfucked, her hooded clit rubbed. Her cortex had to learn to interpret those sensations, to understand the pattern, to see the crest before her and realize she would soon reach it.

Her breathing became shallow and quick, her hands gripped harder and her hips thrust faster, with less coordination. The rich, musky smell of her sex filled the darkness and her deep groans echoed from the walls. She was teetering on the edge ... and then she went over.

“AAH!” she shouted sharply, taking a deep, shuddering breath. “AAH! AAH! AAH! AAH! AAAAAAAAAHHHH!!!”

A spasm wracked her body and she held her hips suspended above the bed for a long moment, only her feet and her shoulders touching the mattress. Then her hips slammed down on the bed and she put her face against my shoulder. Wanda screamed a low, hoarse cry of primitive pleasure.

“OOOOOOOHMMMMMYYYYYGOOOOODDD!”

“Ugh! Ugh! Ugh! Uuugh!” she grunted, her hips thrusting again as my hand rubbed her pussy and my fingers thrust deep inside. She reached up and pulled me down for a kiss.

“Ugh! Ugh! Ugh! Uuugh!” her cries were muffled as my tongue thrust into her mouth in time with my fingers fucking her pussy.

“Ugh! Ugh! Ugh! Uuugh!” I could taste salt tears on her lips. “Ugh! Ugh! Ugh! UUUUUUUNNNGH!” She came and came, her powerful body shivering and convulsing.

We laid together in silence for a long time afterwards. Wanda was motionless except for her ragged breathing and an occasional twitch as her body returned to normal. I left my fingers inside her, my hand cupping her crotch, while my other hand stroked her shoulder gently.

Later her kisses let me know she was ready for more and I maneuvered her onto her back and knelt between her widespread legs. And she surprised me again. 

“Wait,” Wanda said, “I want to see.” 

She leaned over and turned on the bedside lamp. My God she was beautiful lying there, her arms and legs outspread to welcome me! Her big tits moved with her aroused breathing and the coarse clump of black hair in her crotch parted to reveal the glistening pink of her inner lips. Her hands helped me guide the head of my dick into the mouth of her vagina.

“Will this hurt?” she asked, a little of her timidity returning.

“Maybe,” I said. “Want to stop?”

“NO!” she said fiercely, meeting my eyes. “I WANT IT!”

So I pressed the head of my dick into her wet warmth and gradually leaned forward. She lifted her head to watch. The first inch or two was easy, then her passage became tighter. Very tight. Luckily she was dripping with pussy juice and I gradually slid deeper and deeper on her lubrication. Finally I could go no further, my crotch pressed hard against hers, my full length buried in her tight, wet warmth. Wanda was panting rapidly. 

I decided to speed things up. With one quick motion I withdrew until only the head of my dick was inside her. While she was still gasping at that sensation I slammed back down, burying my dick in her sheath. She cried out, wide-eyed. So I did it again and again and soon I was fucking her in a quick, steady rhythm -- each deep thrust answered by a throaty grunt from Wanda as her hips rose to meet mine. 
  
“OHMYGOD!” she gasped as the wonderful scent of her pussy once again filled the room. “OHMYGODOHMYGODOHMYGOD!”

I began making a quick little upward rocking motion at the end of each thrust, stimulating her clit. She started giving a little whimper each time. I was fucking her hard enough to make her big tits quiver with each stroke. 

Slam. Slam. Slam. It was glorious. My dick felt as hard and big as a pile driver as I rammed into her over and over. Now her whimpers and groans were continuous and getting louder. I called her name and here eyes met mine.

“You’re a woman!” I growled, fucking her steadily. “A big (SLAM) beautiful (SLAM) sexy (SLAM) wet (SLAM) fucking (SLAM) lovemaking (SLAM) WOMAN! (SLAM)”

And she began to come, her eyes locked on mine, her mouth fixed in a wide 'O’ of uncontrollable pleasure.

“AAAAGGH!” she wailed in time with my thrusts. “AAAAGGH! AAAAGGH! AAAAGGH! AAAAGGH! AAAAGGH! AAAAGGH! AAAAGGH!

She pulled me down on top of her, crushing her tits between us as I continued to thrust inside her and she continued to answer my thrusts with her hips.

“OH! OH! OH! OH! OH! MY! GOD! I’m THERE! I’m ... I’m ... ungh! ungh! ungh! Ungh! UNGH! UNGH!

It was wonderful feeling the climax rack her body. I distinctly felt her pussy sqeeze as her inner muscles milked my dick. A few more thrusts and I suddenly jerked myself upright, pulled my dick from her pussy and laid it spurting on her belly. 

“AAAAAAGGGHHH!!” I groaned in my climax. “AH! AH! AH! AH! AH!” 

Jet after jet of thick, milky sperm splashed across her broad waist as far as her tits, pooling in her belly button. She watched, fascinated, as I squeezed the last dribble out of my throbbing dick. Then she reached out curiously to catch a drop on her finger. She brought it to her nose and after sniffing it, licked it off her finger. I lay down on top of her, my sperm a warm sticky layer between us.

We laid there a long time in silence, Wanda’s hands stroking my back, while our breathing returned to normal. Finally I rolled off her and we cuddled face to face, our arms intertwined. My leg pressed high up between hers, her pussy fragrant, warm and sticky against the top of my thigh. Her eyes were closed, her expression relaxed and satisfied. I drifted off for a minute, exhausted.

“Mark,” she  whispered. “Are you awake?”

I murmured yes, barely conscious.

“I don’t feel like a whore, Mark,” she said quietly. “I feel powerful and so sweet at the same time.” 

I opened my eyes and grinned tiredly. 

“Let’s do it some more,” she smiled, and I rallied to the task.

End Part 3

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WARNING -- This is a work of erotic fiction intended only for readers of a legally responsible age in the jurisdiction where they live. This work may be archived and redistributed, but it may not be sold or changed in any way. I encourage comments and criticism. 
------------------------------------------------------------------ 