6 comments/ 15338 views/ 8 favorites Salamanca Conquest By: legerdemer I owe many thanks to AlwaysHungry, my beta reader, for his incisive but gentle comments and to AirRichard101 for his thorough ant thoughtful editing of this story. Any remaining mistakes are mine alone. I hope you enjoy the story, and I'd appreciate your votes as well as your comments to my entry for the 2015 National Nude Day contest. The story doesn't push any non-con limits, but if this category is not your cup of tea, please read no farther. ~~~~~ As the bus pulled away from the front of the hotel, Genadi just squeezed past the closing door and, rushing down the aisle, sat next to me. Of all the places he could have sat, he sat next to me! Inwardly, I cringed. Outwardly, I smiled as politely as I could. I didn't feel like small talk, and I certainly didn't feel like it with him. The conference was ending in two days, and the organizer had pulled strings to arrange a special tour for us of the University of Salamanca and its library. The bus meandered through Salamanca from the outskirts, swaying gently as tourist buses do, making me sleepy. Resting my head on the window, I let my thoughts drift while we rolled towards the city center. "Hi, Dana. Good to see you again. Your first time in Spain?" Genadi asked, touching my elbow to draw my attention, leaning into me more than strictly necessary. I jumped a little at his voice and touch, although I couldn't exactly find fault with either. "No, actually. I was here about ten years ago, traveling around southern Spain. I loved it... one of my favorite places." "Where did you go?" "Sevilla. Cordoba and Granada, too." "Ah, the Moorish south. Did you go with your husband?" I frowned, annoyed at him for asking and at myself for being annoyed that he asked. "No, alone. I'm not married. It was part of a three-week trip through Spain and Portugal." "That's too bad you were alone, a beautiful woman like yourself." I frowned deeper and turned away from him slightly. What an ass. I hated compliments like that from strangers, or near-strangers. They felt false, manipulative, and, frankly, greasy. Just because we were attending the same conference and worked in the same field didn't make us friends or even acquaintances. I had heard of him for several years, had even read some of his work. Although Russian, he was up-and-coming on the faculty of a university in Berlin. That didn't make us friends, however, and at this rate, we weren't likely to become any friendlier. "I enjoy traveling alone. It's a little more challenging perhaps, but it's rewarding. I love the freedom of it." "It seems... I don't know... lonely," he said, his hand casually brushing my jean-clad thigh. "I rarely get lonely," I said, and with that, moved my leg and turned pointedly away from him, tucking into the window, trying to send him the signal that I didn't want to chat further. He wasn't bad looking, in fact, quite the opposite. Some women would love his dark, curly hair and handsome face, and the smile that hovered somewhere between boyish and wolfish. Still, something repulsed me about the way he looked at me, so predatory, and the way he spoke, as if every phrase was an invitation to bed him. If he had come on less strong, perhaps I would consider being a bit warmer, at least giving him a chance. The conference buses unloaded us all in the plaza in front of the university, the oldest in Spain and third oldest in Europe. It was an imposing, reddish stone building, with intricate ornamental carvings everywhere along the façade, saints alongside gargoyles. The two waiting tour guides split us into two groups. Sure enough, Genadi gravitated towards the clump of people I had been standing with, but at the last moment I wandered over to another group, ostensibly to say hello to a friend I hadn't seen in a while and hadn't had a chance to speak to yet. I smiled a little to myself as the guides led the groups in opposite direction. "Wow, this is impressive!" my friend Ned gushed, looking up at the façade as we were filing out of the plaza, entering the grounds. We meandered through the open corridors of the university, spending some time in the cloister-like Patio de Escuelas. The courtyard was serene, the carved stone arches scalloped in an elegant Moorish design. I leaned on one of the columns, pretending to listen to the guide but daydreaming instead of strolling around the courtyard walkway in a long medieval dress on the arm of some handsome knight... "OK, folks, let's keep going so we have time to see everything before we need to take you back." The tour guide's voice woke me from my reverie feeling restless and a little horny. We soon trooped into the old university library. The walls were lined with books shelved in cupboards fronted by open wire meshwork instead of glass. Armchairs were placed around the room for the comfort of the readers, since books couldn't be taken out of the library. The centerpiece was a large globe dating from the days of Isabella of Castille and Christopher Columbus. A narrow balcony around the entire room gave access to the upper bookshelves. The ceiling soared above the bookcases, white-washed and relieved only by gold-leafed garlands. The tour guide had pulled a folio to show us an example, and let us roam around to admire the collection. "Are you enjoying the tour?" I nearly jumped at Genadi's voice behind me, his English strongly accented with Russian overlayed with thick German overtones. I had not noticed when his group had entered the library. I could feel his breath on the nape of my neck and his hand casually touching my arm. I tensed, upset at how my body was involuntarily responding to him. "It's the third oldest university in Europe," he said, offering me the most obvious fact about the place we were visiting. I turned to glare at him,bristling at how close he stood to me, invading my personal space in a way I associated more with European than with American men. I moved forward and sidestepped him to avoid stepping back. I didn't want to give him the satisfaction of cornering me. "So our guide told us. It's beautiful indeed. I've not been to any library quite like it," I said, mentally contrasting this one with the Library of Congress and the New York Public Library. "Evocative of the church scholarship that was centered here in those days." "If only women had been given a chance to participate in that scholarship. I appreciate how different the times were, but I wouldn't have liked to live back then, compared to now." I managed to avoid Genadi for the rest of the tour and napped a little on the half-hour trip back to the hotel. * * * * For the gala dinner, I had put on a short, black, edgy little dress with cap sleeves and a stand-up collar. The top of the dress was black mesh, showing just a hint of cleavage, and a zipper ran down the front length of the dress. I chose black thigh-high stockings, seamed in the back, relishing the feel of the sheer nylon as I carefully pulled them on. My chunky-heeled black shoes would be great for dancing-- I was looking forward to the traditional end-of-conference treat of letting our nerdy hair down. As I gave myself the once-over in the mirror, I admired the elongated line of my stockinged legs. The evening was still warm enough that I needed nothing else. At dinner, I spent some time catching up with Mark Tunbridge, an older colleague seated to my left. I did not realize that Genadi had taken the seat to my right at the head of our table. In a break from my conversation with Mark, I had turned to greet my new neighbor when my eyes locked with Genadi's heated gaze. "You look ravishing, my dear." I felt myself blush and looked away. "Thank you," I managed. I was pissed at myself both for blushing and for not coming up with a better retort. Jeez, girl, why are you letting him do this to you? "You look good enough to eat. And you smell divine," he added. I looked down at my plate, feeling the blush deepen, and then turned back to Mark, trying to pick up the thread of our earlier conversation while ignoring the Romeo sitting to my right. Somehow, he made me feel that I had asked for it. Mark sensed my discomfort with Genadi and continued his chatting, his easy conversation giving me time to recover. "Tell me where you are taking yourself after dinner, looking that delicious," Genadi said, a little under his breath, reaching out across the table to touch my fingertips. "Oh! Nowhere special. I'm just going wherever some of the Spanish grad students are taking me. They said we're headed to some dance clubs, so I dressed appropriately." "And everyone here appreciates it," Genadi responded, brushing my wrist with his fingers. "Will you dress appropriately tomorrow as well?" "What do you mean?" "Well, I understand tomorrow is National Nude Day in the U.S. It must be a delightful holiday!" My face and neck heated up even more, and I nearly sputtered. Again, I had no ready comeback, especially with the distraction of his touch. "Genadi, this is not an occasion to embarrass our young colleague," Mark said from my left. "Embarrass? Oh, no, I didn't mean to embarrass her! I truly am in awe of her beauty and sensuality!" Genadi answered. Below the table, I felt his fingers lightly slide up and down my thigh. I was stunned at his gall and tried to pull my leg away, but his fingers slid up, becoming trapped between my legs and dangerously close to touching my panties. Instantly, I opened my thighs to extract his hand, then closed them to block further assault. I stared at him pointedly, but his face remained expressionless except for a placid smile. "She is an exceptionally warm person, I really appreciate her openness," Genadi added to Mark, and I went scarlet at his words. I could feel the warmth radiate between my thighs where he had brushed his thumb on my naked skin above the tops of my stockings. Mark came to my defense again. "Well, this is not the time or the place for such compliments. It is the meeting banquet, after all. You're laying it on a little thick, don't you think? You're clearly making her uncomfortable." "Not at all, just being honest in admiring my beautiful female colleague," Genadi insisted, looking a little shocked at Mark's rebuke. I was still on edge about Genadi, but trying not to show it. He had turned to converse with Anya, his neighbor to the right. She had introduced herself as a Croatian graduate student currently working on her dissertation at the University of Madrid. I couldn't help noticing his smiles to her and his leaning towards her as they spoke. What an ass, I thought, again. She was welcome to him. Outwardly, he continued his conversation with Anya as I continued my conversation with Mark, sharing small talk about favorite places we'd visited in Spain. Underneath the table, Genadi's hand was back on its way up my thigh, his thumb finding the garter and sliding underneath, softly sweeping up and down. His knuckles then pried between my thighs, pushing further up between my legs, as if drawn to the building warmth under my panties. I tried to move my legs to block his hand, but it didn't work. His fingers dug into my sensitive flesh and his knuckles rubbed my pubic mound through the satiny fabric. He could feel, I was sure, the moisture beginning to leak out of my betraying pussy. Annoyed and trying to hide my embarrassment at how aroused he'd gotten me, I pushed back from the table and excused myself for a run to the restroom. As I turned, I saw Genadi nonchalantly bring his hand to his nose, delicately sniffing the fingers, a smile spreading on his face. I clomped out, boiling inside, trying not to knock into chairs or trip on the rug as I strode away. In the stall, I cringed as I realized how wet he had made me. Looking at myself in the bathroom mirror, I adjusted my dress, making sure the zipper was more than decently high and pulling the dress down so the tops of my stockings didn't show. Yes, the dress molded snugly to my shape, but everything was covered. If I couldn't dress nicely to go out without attracting the slimy attention of jerks like Genadi, then he could go fuck himself. I touched up my mascara and lip gloss and, barely recovered from my rage, returned to the table. I joined Mark as he chatted with his neighbor to his left about some of the presentations we had heard and our plans after the end of the conference. After coffee and dessert, everyone scattered, some lingering to chat, others preparing themselves to go out. I looked around for Genadi, wanting to avoid him, but I couldn't see him and sighed with relief. I gathered with a few other friends, old and new, near the front of the hotel. We chattered about the meal and the meeting while waiting to head out for our night of club hopping. We loaded up into a few cars and drove to the center of Salamanca, exchanging jokes and stories. The moon and a few stars shone in the dark sky, the old, mellow rose-stone buildings of the university glowing eerily ahead of us, lit by floodlights. By midnight we were on our third dance club, one finally approved for its hipness by our Spanish hosts. The dive, down a few steps from street level, was appropriately dark except for the disco lights and a DJ spinning a mix of dance tracks. I was drinking whiskey sours and dancing with the rest of our group. We were all drinking, being silly and dancing without caring about partners, not having much in the way of conversation. A few of our senior colleagues had joined us and I was taking turns with the other girls, making everyone feel welcome and young again. The DJ was egging us on, putting on old dance numbers like the "Macarena", Cyndi Lauper's "Girls Just Wanna Have Fun", the Beatles' "Twist and Shout", and a variety of Latin, Europop, and Afropop dance numbers—even pulling the Americans' legs with the "YMCA" song. Dancing had always lured me into trancelike states, when only music and motion counted. It didn't matter whether I danced with a man or a woman, I was alone and into my body, feeling the rhythm course through my muscles and bones, letting my hair swing wildly, feeling the sweat run down between my breasts and between my thighs. I could close my eyes, feel the beat, and forget where I was, and when I opened them again, the beat was drumming straight into my primal, sexual self, pulling me in, seducing me to let go all control. The heat had made me pull the zipper down a few more inches, to the top of my bra—still decent but revealing a few more details of the rounded sides of my breasts meeting in my cleavage. The rhythm sucked me in, taking over my senses and making me lose my common sense. I was startled a few times when, looking up, I saw a steamy stare from a male, focusing on my tits or my legs. I decided, Fuck it—heat was heat, and this was a fucking dance club—it was not the time or place to be shy. The DJ put on something Latin and slower, and I felt hands on my hips and a body behind me rotating with mine. Over my shoulder, I saw Fernando, one of our Spanish hosts for the night, and smiled at him. He smiled back, flashing an open grin as he pushed me away from him, spun me around, and pulled me back in. His legs were brushing the backs of my thighs, his hands were on my waist, and our feet moved in short, rumba-like dance steps. I nestled lightly against his pelvis and our hips moved together with only heated air between us. As my arms entwined above my head, his hands ran slowly upward from my waist, his fingers curling around my torso. They glided smoothly under my breasts, where he lingered and brushed his fingers upwards along their sides for a few seconds, then pulled his hands to my back and returned them to my hips. His casual caresses were all part of the dance movements, but the whispering touch of his fingertips sent pinpricks of heat to my pelvis, and I started to melt against his chest. It was as if he had issued a tentative challenge to see how far he could go. When he twirled me to face him, his eyes spoke of a game he would push farther with the slightest encouragement from me. The song changed to something faster before I could respond. Running his palm along my waist as if hating to let me go, Fernando stepped away slightly, and we rejoined the group dance. One of my older colleagues took my hand and we did a modified Western swing step, twirling and swaying to the beat and to the appreciation of those around us. We then slowed down to a waltz in time to the next song. A few more people left and the dance crowd had thinned, but a few others had walked in as well and sidled to the bar to get their drinks. High on the beat, I kept dancing, not caring with whom. Fernando had stepped closer again and we exchanged increasingly intimate looks as we danced to the now mostly Cuban and Brazilian tracks the DJ was spinning. Fernando had a lean, lithe body, the smooth olive skin of many Spaniards with dark brown eyes rimmed by thick black lashes. His hair waved around his face, a touch unruly, just brushing his shirt collar. He must have been about my age, maybe a year or two younger. Our hands lingered together and we swayed closer into each other, our bodies making contact longer. He led me firmly, expertly, inducing me to relax even when I didn't know the steps of a particular dance. As he pulled me into his chest, I felt the heat between us, his arms crossed over mine, the skin of his forearms below his rolled-up sleeves rubbing against my nearly naked arms. Perspiration beaded on my brow, neck, and chest and I saw the same on him when we faced each other. The music swept both of us up and we had eyes only for each other, concentrating on the swirls and swoops and the beat of the drums. We moved together as if our bodies had known and danced with each other for years, sinking into the rhythm, smiling and laughing with sheer joy at the physicality of the moment. When our dancing, by chance, brought us closer to the tables ringing the dance floor, I found myself looking straight into Genadi's strained and grim face. His humorless eyes followed me and I couldn't help shivering. When the song ended, I pulled Fernando toward the bar on the opposite side of the room with the excuse that I was hot and tired, needing a rest and a mineral water. We stayed there, exchanging small talk, while I tried to avoid looking in Genadi's direction, yet feeling his eyes still on me. I told Fernando that it was time for me to head back to the hotel, but he didn't need to go with me. He looked around for his companions and found a few were still there. "I have to give rides to my friends," he said, nodding his chin towards a couple of girls and another guy, still on the dance floor. "Are you sure you can't wait a while longer?" His tone sounded hopeful, but my mood had plummeted. "I'm sorry, Fernando, I need to be up early to pack before the last session. I can't miss the talks tomorrow." "Let me go with you to find a cab. It's much too far to walk back to the hotel. Especially in those," he said, nodding at my shoes. I was thankful when he led me up the stairs to the street and waved down a cab that was passing in front of the club. He gave the driver directions in Spanish before turning to me. "Here you go! Lucky really, there aren't many cabs in Salamanca this time of the morning. It's not that big of a city." "Thanks a bunch. I had fun dancing with you!" "Will I see you tomorrow? Are you spending any more time in Salamanca, or are you heading back to Madrid?" "I'm scheduled to take the bus back to Madrid and staying there a few days." "Why don't you take my number and my e-mail? I'd love to show you around Madrid after we get back. I'm driving these guys back there after the meeting, but we need to make sure all the meeting gear we brought from Madrid is cleaned up and packed away. Please, really, give me a call." Salamanca Conquest "Here's my e-mail as well. I'd love to get together!" Since we had nothing to write on, I had him write his number and e-mail address on my hand with his pen and wrote my e-mail address on his hand in return, laughing the entire time, then got into the cab. Running up behind him, Genadi slid into the cab beside me. "Wait, I'll go back with you." To the cabbie he said, "I'm going to the same hotel, is it OK? Do you mind one more?" The cabbie shrugged his acceptance, clearly not comfortable speaking much English. I felt trapped. Neither of us said anything, and I looked out of my side window, anywhere but at him. I was keyed up, on edge. "Is Fernando a longtime friend?" he eventually asked. "No, I just met him a few days ago, at this meeting," I admitted. "He's a very nice guy. Smart, too. He did a really good job on his presentation--he's about to defend his dissertation." "Back at the club, you acted as if you had known him a long time. So you don't have a blanket policy against intimate encounters with near strangers." "What is your point, Genadi?" "It's just that you've been avoiding me the entire meeting, as nice as I've tried to be to you. I was wondering why." "I don't have to explain myself to you." "I'm sorry, you seemed to like my attention. Your body certainly did." "Seriously, Genadi?" It was a stupid thing to say, but I was much too tired to think of anything better. I was relieved to see the cab had just pulled in front of the hotel. "We need to pay. I have it." "No, no, let me." He paid the cabdriver and we got out of the cab. As I started to walk away to the hotel entrance, Genadi took my arm and held me in place. "Dana, why are you pulling away from me? You've been flirting with me, playing hard to get, the whole time we've been here. And after all that you act like a bitch in heat with Fernando!" "Excuse me? I have certainly not been flirting with you, Genadi! I've been trying to be polite. Let go... I don't want to... not with . . ." "Don't want to what? Don't want to play with a man, instead of a boy?" he scoffed. "He's hardly a boy! He's nearly got his Ph.D., for god's sake." We had been standing in the middle of a walkway surrounding the hotel, close to the dense hedges surrounding the buildings, and now he pulled me closer to him. His touch was insistent, heated. I tried to pull my arm from him. "Do not pull away, not now that I know how much of a flirt you really are. How much you want to screw." "Genadi, please..." It was past three in the morning. Aside from the occasional window leaking out slivers of light between drawn curtains, the whole place was dark and shuttered, no foot or car traffic anywhere. The hotel was on a private road, a tourist resort priding itself on its privacy, but it was too private for me. I looked around, trying to decide what to do—to scream and cause a scene? To try to outrun him? To give in? He didn't give me time to decide. He pulled me against him, smashed his lips into mine, and forced his tongue into my mouth, diving in deep to seek out my tongue. He held me tightly -- he was much stronger than I had given him credit for -- his hands pressing up and down my sides between my shoulders and my waist, finally pulling my neck up to his mouth, kissing me with enough suction to leave a mark. I felt sparks wherever our skin touched. My body was betraying me. I felt an urgent, sweaty need and had trouble distinguishing my own building heat from his. "You've been making me crazy, Dana. Fernando is a boy compared to me. You need something different, something else, a man to show you..." "Show me what? I don't want you to show me anything! Let me go! Let me go now!" He held on to one wrist, letting me back up a step. Strangely enough, I didn't run, didn't try to pull farther away from him. His eyes, intent, were boring into my own. "I want to get to know you," he said. "I appreciate you, your intelligence, your humor. But I also appreciate your body. What's wrong with that? Tell me—why does Fernando attract you so much?" I wondered the same thing, comparing them to each other. Not so different in height, Fernando was somewhat taller, thinner, sleeker, more of a biker's body, while Genadi was more solidly built, with broader shoulders, a wrestler's physique. Genadi's pale skin was covered in a sprinkling of softly curling dark hair on his arms and at the neckline bared by the shirt he wore. He was a good-looking man in his own right, although his face was now strained with barely controlled frustration and anger, his jaw muscles twitching, the vein in his neck pulsing. His thumb swept back and forth over the pulse point in my wrist, and I realized once more that, whereas I was angry before, he was arousing me now. I didn't want that, I didn't want to give in to him. I didn't think I wanted to give in to him. "I bet you are wet for me now ... like you were earlier, at dinner." "Let's say that's true; how do you know I'm not wet for Fernando?" I spat out, ignoring the truthfulness of his words. He worked his jaw. "Don't play with fire! You've got me completely heated up, Dana. I want to show you how a man makes love to a woman, and you're welcome to compare that to how a boy does it later." He pulled me close in to his chest and pressed his mouth on mine again, taking my lips urgently, his tongue invading my mouth, probing deep and hot. I wanted not to respond. I wanted to bite down on his tongue. I tried to pull away, moaning my protest at his invasion. His heat seared and everywhere he touched me flared in sexual need. My body wanted him while my thoughts were repulsed by his advance. With one hand holding my wrist, his other reached around behind me, slowly smoothing the material of my dress against my ass. Tugging sharply, he pulled me into his hips. He ground me against his pelvis, his shaft hard and long in his jeans. "Genadi..." "Feel me, Dana. I know you'll want a taste of me. Let me take you." I couldn't help shuddering, feeling the bulging need of him pressing into my stomach. He pushed my dress up my thighs and ran his fingers along the skin above my stockings, up to the crotch of my panties, sending tingles to the folds beneath. His light touches teased and my pussy responded instinctively, against my every conscious wish. His hands with their long and elegantly tapered fingers settled in the dip of my waist, and with quick, deft movements, he pushed the wet panties down along my thighs as far as the fabric would go. He grabbed a fistful of my hair and tilted my chin up, holding me in place. I gasped, but didn't scream. Why did I not try to escape and run? He held me there, backing off just enough so that he could pull down the zipper of his jeans with his other hand. Shivers went up my spine as I felt his tongue probing deeply in my mouth, moving inexorably against my teeth, my tongue, sending spikes of pleasure and shame into my very core. "I will have you, I will have you, and I can promise you that you will like it!" He guided his cock into the slippery valley between my legs, sliding back and forth without entering me, only teasing, stopping occasionally and resting the swollen head of his penis at the sloppy dripping entrance of my cunt. With a last effort to resist, I tried to buck my hips backwards, away from his cock. He moved his hands to my waist and I felt his hip bones grind against me, rubbing his cock higher and deeper in the cleft between my thighs. "Take me in, Dana! Soon you're going to be screaming with pleasure, as you're fighting it." When he tightened his fist in my hair again, my scalp screamed with thousands of little pinpricks. My cunt was feeling delicious pressure, shamelessly pushing forward, gripping his shaft harder as if in a tight sheath. He backed up a bit and then pushed himself into me, smoothly entering me as deep as he could go. I was so sopping wet that there was no question of discomfort. There was only pleasure and need spreading through me, radiating outwards from my cunt to my gut, my chest, my neck. I heard myself gasp, a gasp of surprise and pleasure and fulfillment, my cunt full of his slick, thick, meaty rod. "Genadi, please, I beg you!" "You beg me to do what? You want more? Funny, that's what I want too! To penetrate you completely, to make you feel as if my cock will impale you and come out of your throat!" "Nooooooo! God, no! Please, leave me alone!" Yet in truth, I no longer wanted that, as much and as convincingly as I said it. "Dana!" He buried his cock deeper in me, stretching me, rubbing insistently over the rough patch in my channel. He reached my cervix repeatedly and sent me into the uncontrollable spasms and quivers of a climax, my neck stretched backwards, chin up, scalp aching. He buried his head between my chin and shoulder and I couldn't help but bend my head toward his silky soft curls. His mouth was against my neck, grazing it with his teeth, sending both pain and pleasure upwards and downwards. He had let go of my waist and held me only by my hair and with his cock, but now he pulled down the zipper of the dress and roughly freed my breasts from my bra, the nipples swollen and throbbing painfully. He bent his head, taking one of the nipples into his mouth, rolling it between his lips, biting down on it, sucking the nipple and the areola, pulling insistently. As he backed off the first nipple, he ran his tongue down into the deep cleft between my breasts and up to the other nipple, giving it the same care as the first one. While laving my nipples, he thrust into me with long, smooth movements, sinking his cock ever deeper. As his head was bent to my breasts, I managed enough energy to look around. I was hardly able to keep my eyes open, my lids heavy with lust. I let my head loll back, feeling myself liquefying into the sloppy viscous fluids bathing his cock, smearing the inside of my legs. My hips and pelvis ground into his, ignoring my own sense of shame, all reluctance on my part evaporated into sheer wantonness. He pulled out of me briefly and stepped behind me, kissing my neck and pushing my dress down off my shoulders to my waist. I was now fully exposed to the hotel walkway. My breasts filled his hands as he cupped his palms underneath, lifting them and pinching each nipple between his fingers. Between his lips and teeth concentrating on my neck and his hands concentrating on my breasts, I was lost in sensation, my head forward, eyes closed, hair falling over my face. He bent his knees and re-entered me with one smooth thrust from behind, my heels making the fit between us nearly perfect. I felt him stiffen and lengthen even more as he thrust into me. I moaned as his cock filled me, his flesh scraping against my sensitive internal nerve endings. "Dana?" Fernando's voice was filled with confusion and disbelief. I forced my eyes open, seeing a look of mixed shock and disgust on his face. I wanted to communicate with him that I didn't want this, didn't want Genadi, that I was being held and fucked against my will. Yet, I also realized what Genadi and I must look like, Genadi offering my swollen breasts to the night air and any passers-by, squeezing the nipples between his thumbs and forefingers, our hips moving together in unison. We were in an embrace that spoke only of mutual lust and carnal fulfillment. Nothing in my body's stance now spoke of the reluctance I had felt earlier. As the telltale throbs that sent Genadi's semen spurting deep inside me began, my own body responded, undulating helplessly with the contractions of my own orgasm, my moans resounding loudly in the quiet, fragrant night air. "Hey, Fernando, how do you like your friend? She's ready for Nude Day!" Genadi punctuated his sarcasm with a laugh. Beside Fernando were his three friends, the two women who had danced with him earlier and his friend, Eduardo. The women were trying to avert their eyes from us while Eduardo smirked, frank lust shining in his own eyes. In what seemed like minutes but must have been no more than ten or twenty seconds, the women pulled Fernando and Eduardo away with some exhortations in Spanish, neither of the men able to take his eyes off me or Genadi. As he entered the hotel, Fernando gave me one last look, full of disappointment, shaking his head slowly. "Don't! Please don't! Don't judge me!" I pleaded but he had already disappeared into the hotel by then, and couldn't possibly have heard me. Genadi's softening cock slid out and he stepped in front of me again. " You were hot, Dana, turned on shamelessly, no reservation. I think you received as much pleasure as you gave, don't you? Aren't you happy to have let me fuck you?" With that, he kneeled in front of me and buried his nose and mouth between my thighs, forcing me to spread them wider apart. He pushed his tongue into my cunt now oozing out his cum. He lapped and sucked deeply, cleaning out our blended juices, sending new shivers up my spine, breasts, and neck. He sucked until there was nothing left and I nearly screamed at the sensations emanating from my hypersensitive pussy. Then he stood and pressed his mouth on mine, making me taste him and the evidence of his lust and violence upon my body. I was spent and resigned to my body's demand of his and the feelings of shame mixed with satiation. He took one step back while still holding me and pulled his zipper up. He then drew down the hem of my dress and smoothed it, and hoisted me into his arms. Not letting me walk on my own was a good idea --I could barely stand. My mind flashed back to feudal times, the exercise of a lord of the manor taking advantage of the droit de seigneur with the young, innocent bride of one of his knights. Salamanca seemed to have imbued me with these images dating back hundreds of years, the floodlit yellow-white walls of the old university still glowing on the hill. I felt like the debauched bride being carried back to her bedroom, dismissed after the lord had had his fun with her. I was hardly aware of my surroundings when Genadi stopped in front of the door to my room. How did he know where I'd stayed? He must have followed me. "Where is your key, Dana?" I drew the plastic key card out from its hidden pocket and handed it to him. As he stepped through the door and briefly looked around, he put me down on one side of one of the beds. Luckily, my roommate had left the conference early, having to return home for some family emergency. Genadi stretched me out, undressed me to my stockings and underwear, then pulled the blanket on top of me. * * * * I awoke disoriented and dry-mouthed, with a throbbing alcohol headache. I was ashamed as I remembered the heat my body generated at Genadi's touches and Fernando's shock, seeing us entwined and fucking in the open on the footpath of the hotel for everyone to see. I skipped the last session of the meeting and packed slowly, furious, embarrassed, and crying. What now? What could I say, either to Genadi or to Fernando? I went as early as I could to the buses being loaded for the trip back to Madrid, handing my suitcase to the bus driver to stow in the hold underneath. Then I hid in the back of the bus, using my headache as an excuse not to talk to anyone. I didn't see Fernando at all. Genadi managed to get on the same bus, but sat a few rows in front of me. He chattered with yet another young Spanish graduate student, keeping her entertained with jokes in fluent Spanish throughout the trip. Shortly after we entered Madrid, making our way towards the city center and the drop-off point, Genadi walked to the back of the bus where I was sitting and leaned in close to my ear. "When are we going to see each other again, Dana? I understand you'll spend a few more days in Spain. I am so looking forward to fucking you, and soon. I would be more than happy to, if you really want me, little one." His tongue made a quick swirl around my earlobe, dipped quickly inside, leaving his moisture behind in my ear. As he drew back, I felt my own moisture seeping between my thighs. He returned to his seat and draped his arm on his neighbor's shoulders, cupping his fingers around her upper arm, and sweeping it with slow, deliberate strokes. What an ass, I thought, rolling my eyes.