[FM], [FM] Sandrine, the shy French girl, or The night I was king of the conference | 2016

This is a repost from another account that got shadowbanned for some inexplicable reason. If it gets love there's more where this came from.

Also, this is just part 1, because the app is telling me I can't post this many characters (did that change?).

I work in in a creative field as a consultant, and I've reached a fair amount of success, to where today, a couple years shy of 40 I make very good money, work on global projects and travel a lot. It's a little hard to relate to for me, because all I do is just make stuff up, putting words on paper basically is it.

A couple of years ago I had to go to a big conference with a client. This one was at a big beach resort in Italy, the kind of place that was built to look beautiful in pictures, but that after just a few years of use is a little depressing in reality, where the materials just don't age well, and the staff have gotten tired of exactly the type of big-group events that this conference represented. I, being part of the "global team" was there to present to another 150 or so representatives from around the world. Most of the people in this smaller group I knew, but a few were new. Among them, a French girl, Sandrine. She was a few years younger than me, right around the 30 mark, lived in the UK, and had the cutest French accent. She made a reserved, very professional impression - she was new to the client and probably didn't feel all at home with the weird premise of spending almost a week at this resort in the middle of nowhere with all these "super important" people.

There was something about her that I just liked. She picked up on my subtle sarcasms about the situation we were in with a slight smile. She was pretty in a "good girl" way, neat, shoulder length, pitch black hair that framed a smooth, pale, oval face with big, intense, dark brown eyes and some freckles. A quirk was that her upper lip was quite thin while the lower one much fuller, but her pale skin made her lips glow dark red, even with the minimal makeup she was wearing, and her smile, while rare, really glowed. Her strict, tasteful on the verge of boring, business attire hinted at a thin waist and a solid round ass at the top of her long legs. Over the first day after we got there I got that vibe a stolen glance here, a bigger-smile-than-the-joke-warranted there gives you, and I wanted to find out more.

Over the next couple of days, I learned that she lived with her boyfriend, took her job and career very seriously, and that my dry ironies could make her laugh. I got the sense that my boyish Harry Potter meets Orlando Bloom face, and full head of wavy hair got to her, so I started making sure that my shirtsleeves were rolled up, showing off my climber's forearms, and to be in her field of vision for the long waiting hours, listening to monotonous talk over soul-killing powerpoints. Whenever we ended up next to each other, I took every chance to whisper little comments, with increasingly risqué jokes about the people around us, like the tramp stamp that peeked between the trouser and sweater of a lady client, or the perversions of overweight older men at the conference that I dreamed up. Every one got her giggling in the cutest way, which in turn got me tingling with anticipation, and when I could feel that familiar swelling in my groin, I made sure to subtly provide a view of my bulge. Feeling her eyes wander, I just wanted to grab her and turn her bad, but even though I was pretty sure she was feeling it too, her restrained personality made me careful. After all, it was good fun to just think of her fantisizing about me.

The second to last day before everyone was leaving was my big day, with three major presentations in front of the audience. Presenting ideas to big crowds is quite a rush, that really can make you feel like a rock star, all eyes on you and only your eloquence between you and getting to do the project, as well as a big chunk of change. I managed to do really well, and the applause made me feel like a king. Between the presentations and buses leaving for the big closing party planned for the night at a separate beach, we had a few hours. I did that backwards "let's get outta here" nod at Sandrine, and met her outside the hall. "We're having drinks before we leave. Go get ready for the party and meet me at the bar outside.", I told her, still high from my performance. At first she just smiled, but then added an awkward "I'll see if anyone wants to join." She was probably starting to worry what might happen.

I was quick to change, as I just had to get into a fresh white shirt and my suit. Still, she showed up at the bar right after my first sip of beer, in a light blue 50's style dress, with a tight top, almost prudish décolletage, and a wide, knee-high skirt portion. She looked like a doll, and the way the top hugged her waist and her bosom, showing off her pale freckled skin, glued my eyes to her. She sat down at an angle to me. What followed probably looked very innocent to an onlooker, but my god it was intense. When my eyes didn't meet hers, they were tracing her body or watching her gaze wander over me, as we were passing innuendoes in a chat about life, love and just anything.

After a while, people started showing up, and we drifted into the professional mingle, before we got on the bus. At the "fancy" beach bar where we ended up, I got stuck chatting with the clients, who were quite excited with the success of the day, and my boredom combined with the high from the day led to a lot of drinking. I lost track of Sandrine, and after a while, they set up a DJ system and started playing Euro dance, crazy loud. The absurdity of the situation, a bunch of 150 or so middle-aged execs jerkingly dancing on a random beach, and my drunkenness on top of that, felt surreal. After a while I spotted a group that looked really out of place. They were much younger than everyone else, and they looked like locals. Among them was a very hot girl, about 20 or so, with long curly hair and all dressed up, who met my gaze and kind of lingered, and in my slightly high-on-life state I just walked right up to her and blurted "Hey, you're really pretty!" over the loud music.

What happened next was completely unexpected, as she just flung her arm around my neck and started kissing me. It didn't take me much to go with the flow, but luckily I was sane enough to pull her to the side where we weren't right in the center of attention (after all, this was a professional setting). In the corner where we ended up I felt her hands running through my hair, down my chest, all while she was thrusting her tongue into my mouth. I felt her body through the thin fabric of her tight dress, and god she felt good. Before long I was grabbing her hair and she was grinding pretty heavily against me. I realised that even though we were mostly out of sight, what I was doing was completely out of line. "Want to go down to the beach?" was the second thing I said to her.

Walking casually with her through the crowd was exhilarating, guys in ill-fitting suits gaping at how hot she was, while she just followed me blindly. Thinking back, I can't really believe it actually happened. By now it was pretty much pitch black outside, and just a short walk got us to the beach chairs they had laid out for the day business. Looking back to the party, I judged no one could see us, even though we were just 50 meters or so from a group sitting in the sand. I tried chatting a little, but her English made that nearly impossible, as well as how she was tugging me closer. The kissing was so good, she responded to every move almost like we were dancing, and as I slid my hands over her body she pressed herself into me at every moment. She was wearing a wrap-around dress, and moaned as my hand slid under the fabric, over her skin, cupping a taut breast through her sheer bra. Feeling her stiff nipple running under my thumb got me kissing my way down her neck, taking her smooth skin into my mouth. I pushed her dress and bra to the side, and finally got her nipple between my lips, pressing it playfully with my tongue against my teeth, and I could hear her gasp and how her breathing got heavier. By now I was rock hard and had very little self-control left, so I pushed one of her legs off the chair, spreading them, got my free hand up to her panties and just slid under them. I could feel a downy patch of hair as my fingers traced their way down and slid into her pussy. She was so wet that I could slide my fingertips freely and explore all of her, gently squeeze her swollen clit between my fingers as I slid them back and forth in a slow rhythm.

More than anything in the world just then, I wanted her in my mouth. So I looked up at her just as I let a finger slide inside her, slowly pulled it out and put it in my mouth with a smile. She just stared at me and said something to the effect of "no one's ever done that" in her broken English. I had heard that eating pussy is frowned upon in Italy before, but had dismissed it as a macho thing to say more than a reality. Obviously that got me even more eager, so I hooked her panties with my thumbs and lifted her hips while I slid them off. A quick look around made me a little nervous even though no one seemed to be watching us, but at the same time just more excited. I stopped to just take in the beauty of her little bush of thin light brown hair, and how she was open and glistening with wetness in the faint light, before I sank my lips over it, taking all of her pussy in my mouth. Feeling her labia against the sides of my tongue, how her wetness trickled over my tongue, as I licked her from her opening up between her swollen lips, her swollen clit sliding over my tongue, got me into what felt like a trance. There was just my lips, her taste, my tongue in all the universe. My rhythm came naturally from pushing against her moving hips, trying to get her deeper into my mouth, and I wrapped my arms firmly around her thighs so my hands could feel her smooth stomach, pulling her against me. Looking up at her face, seeing what I was doing to her, was heaven.

"Heya, mate!" suddenly broke the spell. A Brit that I'd worked with the last few years was just a couple steps behind us, and as I looked up at him I saw a slight grin across his drunken face. "Hey! How are things mate?" I cockily replied, turning back to the girl. He sauntered on back to the party, but I was back in reality. I wanted so badly to make her orgasm, but now she was embarrassed, and we moved down into the sand, hiding behind the chair between us and the party. "You taste crazy good", I whispered before I kissed her, tracing a finger between her breasts down over her dress. Being on the slightly damp sand made moving around harder, so repositioning myself back to what I was doing was less than elegant. For the first time I heard her giggle. I finally got her back in my mouth, and again felt her taste take me over. But now the fucking sand started getting in my mouth, more and more with every sweet long stroke. I tried controlling it, but it quickly got very uncomfortable, so I had to try and spit it out, saying "Want to go back to my hotel?" I'm not sure she understood, anyway she looked a bit devastated, and sat up. After we'd straightened our clothes as best we could, we walked back to the party, with me clumsily trying to convince her to leave with me. She just said "no, no", suddenly shy, and pulled away toward her friends. That was probably for the better, as I realised I had no idea how we'd be able to leave the place with no taxis anywhere near and the bus not leaving for at least another hour, plus I felt a weird drunken sobriety setting in from being yanked out of the moment.

Back at the party, once I started to get back in the mood courtesy of a new stiff drink, knowing I had pussy all over my face, being able to look over and see her with her friends in the distance and lick my lips to taste her again, I felt radiant. I danced and drew a crowd, smiled and joked, got more "mistake" touches from the girls (and, um, ladies) around me than ever before. When it was time to get on the bus, I finally found Sandrine, and fell into a chat like we'd just left each other. On the bus, next to her, it was so easy to push the jokes home, light that smile of hers, unflinchingly tell her how hot I thought she was while my eyes met hers. My hand found her thin, muscular neck, and I played slowly with her hair as we small talked our way back to the hotel. In the lobby, I got my key first, turned to her and said "Come to my room?" I could see a flash of hesitation in her eyes, before she just said "Yes."

Edit: rest of the story in comments below, 4 pets total. Sorry about the messed up order.