Wednesday, February 3, 2016

The Trip of Small Cocks: The Colleague

This is not one of my old posts, but one by Pervertically Virtuous
In the process of recovering my own old posts via email I discovered some of hers. Like me, her old accounts have been terminated, and she seems to have disappeared from the internet. This is a damn shame since I consider her one of the best sex bloggers I've ever had the chance to read and follow. I'm reposting her old posts as a historical archive, and if she ever returns to blogging I'm happy to hand them back to her. 
To be clear: the copyright on this work is hers, and remains with her - I didn't write it and I make no claim to it. (FYI: some links in this post are dead)

Pervertically Virtuous posted: "For Part 1, see The Trip of Small Cocks: Couchsurfing Host #1. I've been going to professional conferences for years now, and I've never - ever - hooked up with someone from the conference. I've hooked up with people while traveling to conferences (every"

recovered post on Pervertically Virtuous

The Trip of Small Cocks: The Colleague

by Pervertically Virtuous
small-cock-blond
(this is a stock photo, not the person mentioned)
I've been going to professional conferences for years now, and I've never - ever - hooked up with someone from the conference. I've hooked up with people while traveling to conferences (every single time), but they were never one of the conference attendees. Given who I am, how is this possible, you might ask?
To some extent, this is because I am acutely aware that mine is a relatively small professional community and unleashing my level of sluttiness on it is bound to step on some people's toes and burn some bridges. But that, of course, requires a level of self-control that I don't necessarily posses when it comes to hot men. So mostly, I've been prevented from adding colleagues to my list of sex partners by the sheer lack of hot straight men at these conferences - they are all old, gay, or way too geeky for my taste.
This West Coast conference was no exception. I'd been scanning attendees carefully over the course of the three days, and there was nothing appropriate. (Well, there was this one cute undergrad, but there was something off about him, and it would've been a bit too inappropriate, with me now being a PhD and all.) So when that good-looking, soft-spoken, well-dressed guy chatted me up after an interesting talk we had both attended, I automatically assumed he was gay. I had noticed him before - blond, a little taller than me and fairly small-framed, but seemingly in great shape with an attractive, angular face and a 2-day scruff. My gaydar was showing 'likely gay', but you never know.
He was together with a girl with a stunningly gorgeous face who I assumed was nothing more than friend.They were both grad students who had heard my talk the day before, and seemed very eager to chat. It turned out we had a mutual friend/colleague that we were both planning on going out with that evening.
"Is Mike gay?" I asked my friend when I ran into her later in the day.
"No. He's bisexual," she revealed.
Wow, a unicorn (sort of). This might turn interesting.
When the conference ended for the day, about 12 of us all went out to dinner. Mike sat far from me and so we didn't really get a chance to talk. But he was among the six or so people who after dinner decided to continue and hit one of the nearby gay bars. Although, funnily enough, he was the only person who the patrons of a gay bar might be interested in; the other five of us were women.
Nonetheless, everyone was enthusiastic about it. The girls got drinks and went to dance or smoke cigarettes on the patio, and Mike and I stayed at the bar, chatting. He seemed mesmerized by me, wanted to know everything I was willing to share about my life, personal and professional. And I was happy to share. We talked for a long time when the cute girl who I met him with (and assumed was a friend) came over to order another drink.
"So Sam," Mike said as he put his arm around her, "PV is actually in an open marriage. Maybe you should talk to her about your situation."
And she did. I did not see that coming, but turned out that Sam was in a marriage she was trying to open up, but her husband was having some serious jealousy issues and they were taking things very very slowly. Sam and Mike had met a couple of years ago at their first conference and they were instantly attracted to each other, but she was being faithful and not doing anything more than some heavy flirting.
"I would love to go home with both of you tonight, for example," she complained. "It's really frustrating that I can't."
I wish she could've too. She seemed like fun. But there was nothing I could do about it. All she could do, really, was dance and cop a feel or two while dancing. So we hit the dance floor. The music was awfully cheesy and I was perfectly sober, but went along with it. The three of us started dancing, grinding all over one another, touching, groping, kissing. As she was getting progressively more intoxicated, she was getting more forward and had we not had clothes on we would've probably fucked right there and then.
When time came to go home, we dropped her and the other girls off at the hotel, and Mike and I were left wondering what to do. After getting kicked out of the couchsurfer's place earlier that day, I had left all my stuff, packed up, in my friend's hotel room (where there was only one bed that my friend was currently using). Mike was sharing a one-bedroom apartment with two other girls, and had only the living room sofa at his disposal. We decided it was best to try his place. After picking up my stuff from my friend's hotel - this was the last day of the conference and everyone, my friend included, was leaving town the next day (except me).
We walked into the apartment and started ripping each other's clothes off immediately. He was incredibly passionate, which I loved, and he was in great shape, which I also loved. And then the cock came out. I did not love the cock. I couldn't. It was small, about the size of couchsurfing host #1's. At least it was very hard, as hard as a cock could possibly get.
We tried fucking on the sofa, but it was too narrow and uncomfortable. We tried to pull it out, only to discover it wasn't a pull-out couch. So we tried to make it work as it was. It took a bit of effort, but eventually we both had an orgasm.
Sam was presenting at 8 AM the next morning. We both agreed we absolutely had to go to her presentation. I already felt a little bad for fucking the guy she's been wanting to fuck for two years now, but couldn't. The least I could do was make an effort and show up to her talk. So we set the alarm for two hours later and went to sleep as best as we could on the tiniest sleeping surface I've ever shared with another person.
We woke up exhausted, but still horny, we had barely scratched the surface of our desire the night before. We didn't have much time, but we had to do something. So I stayed lying on the sofa facing up, and he brought his cock up to my mouth while straddling my chest. He was practically sitting on my chest and fucking my mouth slowly. That was quite hot and I could deep throat him effortlessly, so I slid my right hand down and started rubbing my clit. This was a quick and easy way for both of us to cum. We were both getting close, and it was only a matter of time.
And then he farted. Right in my face. Just slipped out. It was just a little fart, nothing overly gross, but we both heard it, and after a few seconds, both smelled it. We tried to ignore it initially and just keep going, but it was impossible, and his rapidly dwindling erection was evidence of that. So we laughed and decided to take a break.
That was definitely a first - someone farting in my face while I'm sucking his cock. Yep, never happened before. But of course, shit happens during sex and it's no big deal - I, of all people, know that very well. So I did my best to convey that sentiment and ease the awkwardness he must have felt as much as possible.
We showered together, got dressed, and went to Sam's talk half-brained. As soon as that was done, we went promptly back to his apartment and - his two roommates finally gone - fucked each other's brains out on the big, comfortable bed.
That was the last day of the conference and everyone was leaving. Except me. Instead of going back to NYC as soon as the conference was over, I had decided to stay an extra day, then continue my West Coast trip to see some old friends in another city. The problem was, I wasn't quite sure I had a place to stay for that night. My last chance was a couchsurfer guy who a few days earlier had tentatively agreed to host me that night but I hadn't heard from since. So, suitcase in tow, I got in a cab and headed over to a bar on the beach where the last remaining conference people were hanging out before their late afternoon flights. There I was to wait for Couchsurfer Host #2 to call. If he didn't, plan B was to get on an evening bus or train to my next destination that night.
That beach bar was where I was to run into Small Cock #3. In a way I could not have anticipated in a million years. Stay tuned...
Pervertically Virtuous | February 3, 2014 at 10:26 am | URL: http://wp.me/p3F90k-yv

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