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At Happy Hours and after more than they should drink, the three women confessed in detail to their time in bed with those Italian guys. "He kept going and going, that's why I was so sore," Fran explained.

"You were sore the whole month," Connie kidded her friend.

"What about you, Connie? Do you want to explain why your lips were always raw?"

Constance Turpin blushed, but after another Cosmo described what she did to Giovanni.

"I don't think I'd ever do that," Gladys made a face. "Be honest, Connie, did you like it?"

"Girls, I loved blowjobs. I tried fucking, this was so much better. I can't wait to be with a man again."

Over the next few years, the trio spent three or four weekends a year in Chicago. Their colleagues at school thought they were going to a play or a concert and enjoying dinner at fabulous restaurants.

Oh, they ate or got eaten, but it wasn't in a restaurant.

Sometimes they got lucky; sometimes not.

Ironically, when one got lucky, they all got lucky. And when they hit a dry spell, they all hit a dry spell.

Their first trip to Chicago was shortly before Thanksgiving. It was an international architect's convention. They were able to get three rooms in the same hotel as the architects.

Friday night after checking-in, they went to their rooms, took quick showers and then made their way to the hotel bar. They were dressed in cocktail dresses; cocktail dresses that fifty-plus-year-old women would wear. Connie couldn't hide her humungous tits, and Fran and Gladys' dresses were shorter than they usually wore, and both dresses were low cut on top.

"Ladies, this is a gold mine," Fran smiled as they found a booth in the crowded bar. Most of the architects, all men, were standing.

It didn't take long before three middle-aged men came to their table, "mind if we join you?"

"Not at all," Gladys squeezed closer to Connie. After introductions and an offer by the men if they'd like another drink, there was switching places in the booth. "I'm Sheldon from Shaker Heights, Ohio," said the man now sitting next to Connie, and staring at her cleavage.

"Jamie from Boston," said the red head with the funny accent, sitting next to Gladys.

"Harley from Oklahoma City," said the third man, almost sitting on Fran's lap in the crowded booth.

The bar was noisy, and it was Jamie, who suggested, "I was lucky enough to get a suite. Why don't we go up there? It's quieter and we can talk."

An hour later, Connie was the first to leave Jamie's suite. Sheldon and she were on a couch in a lip lock. "My room is one floor up, why don't we go up there?"

Rather than the elevator, they took the stairs. Sheldon followed her, staring at her big ass. He was 5'9" tall and thin. Connie, as you know was taller, and probably outweighed him.

As soon as they got to her room, his hands were all over her titties. "I saw you staring at them; I just knew you wanted more than to just look."

"I do," he said, feeling her up.

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