Resistance Thwarted

The off-white minivan swerved a little as it negotiated the college driveway.

"Sorry about that," muttered the kid who'd volunteered to chauffeur Baldwin.

The controversial author and speaker had himself been a student just four years earlier. He was about halfway through a campus tour. Earlier appearances had been met by youthful protesters, waving slogan-scrawled placards and blocking traffic. There were usually a couple of news cameras present - which surely stoked spectacle - and there was, occasionally, even property destruction.

"But the buzz from the underground says this time, the protesters will try a different tack," said Baldwin's assistant.

The author dispensed with the notes he'd been reviewing. "New in what way?"

"They want to embarrass you in the middle of the whole thing. They figure you can challenge them in substantive argument, y'know offer superior logic. But once people ridicule someone, it's hard for them to be taken seriously, again."

The minivan slowed as it neared a milling gaggle of protesters. They sighted Baldwin's approach and began chanting.

Baldwin began to look away. But a cute Taiwanese girl caught his masculine eye. She was classically voluptuous. Jiggling beneath her powder-blue blouse were generous, pointed bosoms that jutted provocatively. Black, sheeny tresses cascaded over her shoulders. And her glossy red lips, which were at the moment contorted in sneering chant, appeared plumpish and tender.

When she spun to display her "Ban Baldwin" sign to new arrivals,

he noted her heart-shaped derriere. Skin-tight blue jeans strained to contain its magnificent swell.

Within seconds, the alluring young woman and her fellow students were in the rearview mirror.

"Are you expecting disruption?" An out-of-breath reporter asked.

Baldwin continued walking toward the lecture hall. Several cameras followed him. But he ignored both reporters and protesters.

Inside, he put his notes in order. He stepped onstage. It wasn't a terribly large room, but it was filled. Many expectant listeners. A few cameras in back of the listeners.

Two skirted tables had been set end-to-end, onstage, with a table-top podium and mic in the center.

Baldwin introduced himself, welcomed the crowd, and launched into his standard address. It was a mainly routine economic dissertation, though sprinkled with his unique political observations that had long stirred controversy.

During his presentation, he considered the audience. Most listened attentively. A few, here and there, muttered asides to companions.

Then, Baldwin saw her. She was lovely. He could see that, despite her sitting halfway back. That she had intended to make his campus arrival fractious was irrelevant.

Because she was lovely.

He returned his attention to serious matters. For several minutes, he outlined a proposal for international financial relations. It was a rather dry subject. But the niche listeners were nodding along.

And, increasingly, his sporadic interjections of political perspective drew claps and cheers. Those clearly annoyed the magnetic mystery girl. At each outburst, she screwed up her cute features.

On Baldwin went. He articulated theories and philosophies his listeners appreciated. Some leaned forward, eager to maximize the benefit of attending the event.

He peered down at his papers. And then he saw her, again. Closer.

Now hidden behind a curtain at stage left, the five foot, four inch natural beauty smiled. Winked. And unbuttoned her blouse's top buttons.

Fleshy grandeur was bared when she bent forward. She piroutted in achingly measured revolution. Her hips rose and dipped as saucy seducers. Her scarlet smile was wide, her gleaming teeth perfect.

Of course, Baldwin had to pretend to not notice her and continue his speech. Which he did.

He was relieved to see, when he again glanced offstage, that she had left. The apparent plan had been to distract him. But he had proved superior.

His self-congratulation, though, ceased when he felt a hand on his thigh. Violet perfume rose to his nostrils. She had crawled under the tables, unseen by the listeners thanks to the skirting.

He struggled to maintain composure. It was difficult. She unzipped his slacks' fly, and stroked the hardness her offstage antics had inspired.

Baldwin knew a competition had begun. She hoped to ruin his address, to make him the object of ridicule before his admirers, news cameras, and the whole world.

Online clips of his shaming would surely go viral. He had no option but to try to ignore the blowjob to come.

She was in no hurry. She loved her task. Running her slick tongue up and down the length of his shaft in maddening slow motion, the anonymous strumpet whispered wanton bliss from the back of her throat.

Audience members marveled at Baldwin's erudition. They were unaware that he was receiving the best oral sex of his life. Its exquisiteness, already of sublime rank, was made all the more titillating by secretive public circumstance.

From time to time, he stole a glimpse at her bobbing head. Her blouse was spread open, offering a wonderful view of spectacularly swinging breasts. Her dainty nipples had grown stiff with turgid excitement. Sweet and profoundly ladylike passions compelled her to bold initiatives.

She was devoted to her mission. Twisting her pretty face, she left lipstick streaks along the way. Occasionally, the young woman raised back, swirling the tip of her tongue and tormenting him with delicious fingertip play.

Baldwin's legs trembled. His hands gripped the podium as he told of weighty matters, his knuckles growing white.

Holding back the primal, guttural grunts that churned within him was not easy. But he withstood the attempted disruption. He finished his presentation.

Some departing audience members wondered why the illustrious speaker remained at the podium. But soon, they were all gone.

Now liberated, Baldwin snarled his fingers in the would-be disrupter's soft hair. Time to free the internal savage. He thrust forward repeatedly in rough demand. Her muffled squeals sang of her feminine joy at his sudden animalistic ravishment.

Baldwin reached down, massaging one of her swaying breasts. So supple. The skin was silken. A nipple stood tall in eager ecstasy.

He gripped her slim head between his strong hands and forced its dirty progress at deliberate speed. Again and again, the triumphant speaker poked at the back of her defenseless throat.

When Baldwin released her hair, the young woman's unashamedly earthy mouth-love took on still greater urgency. She squeezed his buttocks with all her might. Her head became a blur, and her smeared lips were puffy with sexual arousal.

The mystery charmer with the splendidly bouncing bosoms dove in enthusiastically for the most ardorous deep throat womanly possible. Hot strings of her saliva flew in all directions.

Baldwin could finally hold it back no longer. He clenched his eyes, grimaced, and shot charge after steamy charge into her velvety throat.

And, after his tumultuous emissions had subsided, the two remained in intimate posture. Her chin was adrip. Rivers ran into her cleavage.

The wet, warm embrace of her elegant mouth was a comfort Baldwin wanted to feel as long as he could. Her shameless tongue caressed his shaft as it grew flaccid.

He looked down into her half-lidded, long-lashed brown eyes. He had won. She had lost. But she didn't mind. She had gained something tremendous she hadn't expected.

They both had.

Back in the now-departing minivan, Baldwin gazed through twilight at the remaining protesters his vehicle passed as it left.

She had rejoined them. Their eyes locked. She gave a little wave. Their secret was their private bond.

end