2 Girls in University Event
Copyright© 2025 by RNR Lifestyle
Chapter 2
Erotica Sex Story: Chapter 2 - At a faraway university, where I provided technical support for a multi-day event on the topic of artificial intelligence. The university was four hours away by car, and I went alone because no one else at the company was available. The girl who organized the event had an ugly face, but she had a wonderful body (primarily her tits) and was very lovely. I had never seen a girl more beautiful than her female friend; she was moderator of the event, but she had lovers. Finally, I fucked both.
Caution: This Erotica Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Consensual Romantic Heterosexual True Story Cheating Cuckold Sharing Wife Watching FemaleDom Exhibitionism Oral Sex Safe Sex Squirting Tit-Fucking Hairy Slow
Her phone was ringing, and I didn’t even know where I was. She reached over me, turned off the alarm on her phone, and hugged me. Although I slept well, my dick was horribly hard, and when I woke up next to her, her embrace only made it worse. I was very horny, still half asleep, I grabbed her ass and pulled her pussy onto my cock. I moved her ass without any foreplay or anything like that, and I thought I would cum inside her then and there because I couldn’t hold it anymore. She also enjoyed the sudden morning sex, got up to ride me, leaning on my chest, and I also got up with one hand to reach her breasts with my mouth and kiss her nipples. She clung to my neck, panting, riding me more and more wildly. Even during sex in the evening, I had never been as deeply involved as I was now.
“Please tell me beforehand ... I don’t want to have an abortion.”
We were both panting, and I decided to let her know beforehand. I wanted to wait for her orgasm, which she didn’t need much longer to reach, but as she rode my cock more and more wildly, I was getting closer and closer to my orgasm. I leaned back to keep going, and she came completely, moaning and caressing her own breasts with her hand. It didn’t last long, maybe 5-10 seconds. Then she leaned over me laughing, kissed me, and whispered in my ear:
“Please don’t forget to tell me before ... It’s really important. We’re getting condoms for tonight, and you can do whatever you want with me, just tell me before you come...”
She moved her butt wonderfully, twisting and turning, and I moved in and out of her while we kissed. Sometimes she put her breasts in my mouth, and I caressed and moved her butt while doing so. I felt that everything was wet down there, which turned me on, I spread her legs and got very excited, me on the bottom, her on top, and yet we were moving as if we were having sex in the doggie position.
“Now! Now! Now!”
I suddenly yelled, because I felt like I was going to cum. She suddenly jumped off me, turned her ass towards my head, grabbed my cock with her hand, and started jerking it wildly, not only sucking it, but also wildly licking it with her mouth.
““ÁÁÁÁhhhháááhháááháááhááá!!!!”
I stretched out, squeezed her head between my thighs, pressed her butt with my hand, put her pussy to my mouth, and just licked her as hard as I could during my orgasm. It was amazing, she didn’t stop until I came, just sucking hard on what came out of me, and I kissed her clit and ass with all my strength. It lasted longer than hers and was much more intense than the evening, and in the end I could hardly breathe and slowly calmed down.
She gave my cock a few tender kisses, turned around, hugged me, and kissed me wildly.
“Your sperm tastes sweet so good, I love it!”
“Oh my God, how did you do that? It was amazing, but it took all my strength.”
“We have to leave soon if we don’t want to be late ... I love you...”
“I love you too.”
But I shouldn’t fall in love yet. Not only is it too early, but I have to go home in four days and that will be the end of it. Still, I couldn’t say anything else to her. I desired and loved every inch of her.
The lecture hall buzzed with an unusual mix of energy and corporate formality as university students filled the rows, watching a panel of company representatives—managers, HR professionals, and various executives from mid-to-large enterprises—settle in around a table. A blonde moderator steered the conversation, though at this point the gathering felt more like a carefully staged meet-and-greet than a deep dive into anything particularly revelatory. It was day one of three, and the air carried that familiar first-day tension where everyone’s still figuring out whether this will be worth their time or just another obligatory event on the calendar.
The setup itself told a story: companies clearly wanted to be seen engaging with AI, and students clearly wanted to hear what the real world had to say about it. But corporate panels have a way of smoothing over the interesting bits, and this one seemed poised to follow that pattern. Still, there was potential in the room—a chance for genuine insight if the speakers could step beyond the rehearsed talking points. Three days stretched ahead, and this was just the opening act.
The panel discussions unfolded with a peculiar honesty that cut through the usual AI enthusiasm, though not in an especially compelling way. HR representatives lamented the perpetual shortage of talented developers—a complaint that’s been echoing through conference rooms for years, now with “AI expertise” added to the wish list. Managers vented their frustrations about hallucinating models that couldn’t be trusted with anything important, while other executives admitted, with varying degrees of sheepishness, that despite pouring substantial time and money into AI initiatives, they hadn’t seen much return on investment in their actual business operations. It was refreshingly candid, if somewhat depressing.
The irony wasn’t lost on anyone: here were company leaders positioned as experts on AI’s transformative potential, essentially confessing that the technology remained more promise than practice for them. Self-driving trucks came up as an example of what’s theoretically around the corner, but even that felt distant and abstract compared to their day-to-day struggles. The presentations lacked spark—just a series of well-dressed people articulating problems without solutions, painting a picture of an industry caught between hype and reality, spending heavily on something they hadn’t quite figured out how to use.
By the time the afternoon break arrived, the lecture hall had begun its quiet exodus. Half the students disappeared during the intermission, and the blonde moderator—who’d called at evening—looked visibly distressed as she surveyed the thinning crowd. By day’s end, only about twenty people remained scattered across rows that had been packed that morning. It was the kind of slow-motion abandonment that speaks louder than any feedback form.
The panel seemed to sense the energy draining away and pivoted to personal anecdotes, perhaps hoping relatability would salvage attention. Someone shared how his wife now relied on ChatGPT for daily meal planning, asking what to cook for lunch and receiving recipes in return—a story that landed with the enthusiasm of watching paint dry. These weren’t the insights anyone had shown up for. The gap between “AI will transform everything” and “my spouse uses it as a glorified cookbook” was almost comically wide, and the remaining audience members surely felt it. What had started as a corporate showcase of AI expertise had devolved into scattered testimonials about domestic convenience, while three-quarters of the students voted with their feet.
Behind the scenes, the event felt even longer than it looked from the audience. Managing the sound equipment meant watching the same uninspiring presentations from a technical vantage point, with nothing to do but ensure microphones worked and levels stayed balanced—a front-row seat to boredom. The organizer occasionally held my hand, a small gesture that provided some comfort and, more practically, helped stave off the drowsiness creeping in as executives droned on about ChatGPT lunch recipes.
On stage, the moderator’s anxiety grew more visible with each break as she scanned the emptying rows. University students simply didn’t return—they’d slip out during intermissions and vanish, leaving behind a lecture hall that felt increasingly cavernous and awkward. I watched her worry about it, knowing this mass desertion would probably spark difficult conversations later about what went wrong. But that wasn’t my problem to solve. My job was keeping the sound running, and as the audience evaporated and the presentations stumbled on, I was grateful that the responsibility for salvaging this event rested firmly on someone else’s shoulders.
The clock mercifully struck three, and the presentation limped to its conclusion. Students who’d stuck it out bolted for the exits with the urgency of people who’d lost an entire day to something that hadn’t delivered. The moderator wrapped things up with the company representatives, maintaining whatever professional composure she had left, then made her way over to where we were stationed. The distress that had been building all day finally broke through—she was genuinely upset about the mass student exodus, and now she had a new problem on her hands.
Students at the university system had started posting online, and the reviews were brutal. The invited speakers were being called completely stupid, accused of having zero knowledge of actual research or development, dismissed as corporate types spouting nonsense about AI without understanding it. It was harsh but not entirely unfair—the gap between what students expected from an AI lecture and what they’d gotten from HR managers complaining about talent shortages was enormous. The moderator stood there processing this double failure: empty seats in real-time and scathing criticism online. For someone who’d put effort into organizing the event, it must have felt like watching something collapse from both ends at once.
We ended up in the cafeteria for coffee and sandwiches, a quiet retreat after the day’s disaster. The moderator seemed to need the decompression, a chance to process everything away from the empty lecture hall and the harsh online commentary. As we sat there, I wondered how much she picked up on—the organizer’s hand finding mine under the table, the way she gravitated toward sitting close to me. These small intimacies weren’t exactly hidden, but they weren’t announced either. She gave no obvious sign of noticing, though it’s hard to say what registers when someone’s mind is elsewhere, replaying a professional setback and probably dreading whatever post-mortem meetings awaited her.
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