As I stepped to the podium, I looked back at Blake who was standing next to the curtain, just out of sight of the crowd. He was looking at my ass. And when I walked back toward him, after receiving the award and stumbling through my acceptance speech, he was gawking at my tits. He had made no secret of his desire that evening. On the drive. In the receiving line. At the bar. His eyes and the bulge in his pants were aimed at me with laser intensity.

I knew he appreciated me for other reasons. He had been my career’s biggest cheerleader, and when news of the award showed up in my inbox, he took me in his arms and twirled me around our apartment and then insisted that we get dressed up and go out to celebrate.

But ever since I had slipped on my sequined, silver evening gown, with a long slit up the side and spaghetti straps barely holding the fabric over my double-D boobs, he had had only one thing on his mind.

As I walked past him near the curtain, I brushed his crotch and leaned in to whisper in his ear.

“How will you congratulate me?”

He grabbed my ass. A stage hand with a clipboard looked away. In that moment, I knew there was no way we were going to make it home before one of us tore into the other.

Blake is sexy as hell. Gorgeous blue eyes. Big lips. Broad shoulders. Narrow waist. And a long, thick cylinder of manhood that takes up too much room in my thoughts most days.

At the reception, Blake stood next to me and chatted politely with professors and dignitaries. He looked handsome in his tux. I asked him to fetch me some water, just for the thrill of getting my way. I was the center of attention and admiration that night. Also, I wanted to watch him walk away. The muscular rump was only half hidden by his tuxedo jacket.

He came back without water and explained, a little too conspicuously, that the bar was restocking but that if I was feeling flush, we should go sit down to rest. I saw the look in his eyes when he said that, and the left corner of his mouth turned up. I agreed that would be best and extracted myself from a conversation. A rickety older gentleman from the State Department nodded at my breasts as we said goodbye.

Blake took my hand and led me to an alcove just down the hall from the ballroom — a sort of corner of the hotel hallway with a small seating area. He politely indicated the couch. I sat, my high-heeled feet killing me, and put my head back with a sigh.

Then I realized that Blake wasn’t taking a seat next to me. He was kneeling in front of me.

He wriggled my slim gown up over my hips, exposing a black, lacy thong. I lifted my ass off the couch to help him, but I also whispered in alarm, “Blake! We’re gonna get caught!”

He smiled at me and I knew the look in his eyes. Hungry. Torrid. Devoted. When Blake gets like this nothing can stop him from reaching his goal. I knew from his eyes that his cock was hard inside those tuxedo pants. I had a strong urge to unzip him. Instead, I made a half-hearted attempt to scoot away and giggled, “This is a bad idea.”

Blake ignored my protests, and slid a finger inside my thong. I shuddered and my heart seemed to jump forward, toward him.

He pulled the thong aside and kissed me exactly where and how I like to be kissed. Blake knows his way around my vulva. He has visited many times, learning more about my body with each study. Eager, he dove into my snatch with his beautiful lips and strong tongue. I felt his square, stubbled chin between my pussy lips and his tongue probing me. I gasped and protested again, but he flicked his tongue over my clit, knowing that would take my breath away and shut me up.

I put my hands on his head, a caress of gratitude for his service to my cunt. He moaned in acknowledgement, causing tiny vibrations that spread through my open crotch.

Just then, I heard the ballroom door open. A man’s voice. Clearly speaking to someone on a phone call. Footsteps. Blake didn't stop. Surely he had heard the man? I started to pull my hips away, but then I heard another door. The men’s room in the hallway. The voice disappeared inside.

I breathed a sigh of relief just before having my breath taken away again — this time by Blake’s finger which slipped into my sodden twat. He fingered me fast, rubbing my g-spot, knowing he could drive me right to the edge that way.

I looked down at my handsome date. Fully dressed in evening wear. A bow tie tight around his neck. The shining heels of his patent leather shoes on the carpet behind him. I pressed his head into my crotch and grinded against his manly jaw. He fingered me deeper, pressing against my cervix, and sucked hard on my swollen knob.

That was too much for me. I lifted my ass off the couch and arched my back and shrieked. Blake rode my cumming cunt hard into my climax. I shuddered and gasped and completely forgot we were in public — right out in the open in a hotel lobby.

When I was able to catch my breath, I opened my eyes and saw his handsome smile, glistening with my juices.

And then I saw the girls.

We must not have heard them come out of the ballroom over the sound of my climax. They rounded the corner and stopped, staring, agape, at the scene. Blake on his knees. My bald, dripping pussy open wide for all to see. The four of us seemed frozen in time.

They were lovely things. Shapely and smooth and dressed in gowns that showed their curves. One, the blonde, seemed to be reaching instinctively to touch herself. The other, a curvy Latina, bit her lip.

I thought of pulling my dress down. But there was no hiding now. I smiled at the girls. Blake did too. The Latina pulled her purse around and reached inside. I was afraid she was going for her phone, to snap a photo. But she pulled out a white plastic card. A room key.

All three of us girls scanned one another’s shapes, assessing the opportunity. Blake turned his cum soaked face to me as if asking a question. I smiled and nodded my assent.