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At a conference far from home, beneath fluorescent skies,
Where minds collided, thoughts would roam, and knowledge wore disguise,
I met a woman, sharp and kind, with silver in her hair—
A grace in years, with searching eyes, and intellect laid bare.We spoke of Europe, rain, and snow, of papers, labs, and light,
Between the talks and networking, we shared the day and night.
Yet something stirred beneath her calm, an ache she couldn’t hide,
A shifting dress, a shallow breath—was something wrong inside?She brushed it off, “I’m fine,” she said, “just waiting on the break.”
But when I offered help with lunch, she fled with breathless quake.
Back again, the smile returned, her tone was smooth and sweet,
A Cola Zero in her hand, her mood once more complete.The afternoon brought signs again, her form began to strain,
And when I asked if I could help, she grinned through slight refrain:
“Well, maybe so—depends on you,” she teased with sultry grace,
A mystery in her gentle laugh, a blush across her face.At dinner later, drinks in hand, we caught a glance or two,
She stepped to me with quiet words, and secrets bleeding through.
Her truth was strange, yet intimate, it struck me like a flame:
She’d taught her body how to give—with none to call by name.No children born, no partner known, yet still her breasts would swell,
By will alone she’d found a way—her story hard to tell.
I stood in awe, desire mixed with questions deep and vast,
A part of me intrigued, afraid—unsure how long it’d last.That night I turned beneath the sheets, her voice still in my head,
Of tenderness, and aching weight, and words she’d softly said.
Next morning, silence met my eyes, until I leaned in near,
“You don’t need to avoid me now—your need is nothing queer.”She smiled and asked if that was “yes,” I danced around reply,
Still caught between the thrill of want and reasons not to try.
But evening came, the drinks returned, and courage found its name,
An empty glass within my hand, I stepped into the flame.“What’s your room?” I whispered low, “This glass—it’s not for show,”
She blushed among her colleagues’ talk, and nodded soft and slow.
An hour passed, no words exchanged, just glances, breath, and air,
Until I stood inside her room and met her waiting stare.“Are you sure?” she gently asked, and giggled through the pause,
Then shed her top, lace black as dusk, with neither shame nor cause.
Her breast revealed, engorged, alive, a beauty full and wide,
I searched her face, my thoughts aflame, she calmly stepped aside.“I’m a doctor,” she assured me, “no worry shall remain,”
And all my doubts dissolved like mist beneath a steady rain.
What followed then, for days to come, in stolen breaks and time,
Were moments rich with primal care—intimate, sublime.She led me where I’d never gone, through softness, heat, and trust,
Through bonds unspoken, deeply drawn, beyond the mind’s first lust.
And though it started with surprise, with conflict and unrest,
I thank her still—for waking me, and stirring in my chest.I really enjoyed reading this! Sultry and poetic – what a great combo. I hope to read more from you!
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