since then, I’ve thought of that day. Often, while I’m having sex, I imagine the face of the groom’s best man.
The groom and best man were dressed in top hat and tails.
When the best man looked at me as we walked down the aisle, I’m sure I blushed the colour of peaches.
He was gorgeous.
I’d never met him before on account of him having flown in especially for the day from a diplomatic posting in Texas.
He had a square jaw and cute eyes. His face had a perfect symmetry and his eyes looked intelligent and warm at the same time. Even though the groom was tall, his best man looked down on him by a good few inches.
I forgot to pay attention for the whole service. All I could think about was the gorgeous man who was holding the ring.
*
C ornelius was his name. Con for short.
We were introduced when we arrived.
As soon as I knew who he was, I checked out the dinner table. It was a pretty weird set up for a reception and the bride and groom were sitting at a table by themselves up front. It had to do with keeping some of the relatives apart because there was some kind of bad blood or other. Anyway, it worked in my favour.
The names on the table cards had been beautifully hand-written in blue ink. I noticed that Con was supposed to be sitting between Marianne and her brother. When I was sure that nobody was looking, I did a little switching around.
When we sat down to eat, it was me who got to sit next to Con. Imagine.
I knew I’d done the right thing.
He made it clear as the consommé that we were served that he was interested.
While the father of the bride gave his speech, I felt Con’s hand on my thigh. I tried to pay attention to the talk, but I was so flustered I could barely sit still.
I felt my skirt being gathered up until it was just over my knees and then Con’s fingers slipped in-between my thighs.
He had the touch of pianist. If felt like he was wearing velvet gloves.
His movements were subtle and he slid his fingers up towards the prize I was all too willing to present to him if he had the courage to make an attempt on the summit.
My legs shook with pleasure and the fire between my legs burned wonderfully brightly.
Unfortunately for me, as soon as he brushed my mound, the father’s speech was over and we had to stand for a toast.
There was definitely a wobble on my side of the table.
Con’s speech was tremendous. He used a Powerpoint presentation that was full of old photos and his one-liners had us all in stitches.
The best part was the way he kept looking in my direction, as if he was telling the story to me and to me alone.
It was during the first dance that Con made his next move.
He came over, took me by the hand and pulled me from the dance-floor and into the room where the wedding presents had been displayed. The door was supposed to be open so that guests could parade by and see the tokens of their wealth during the evening.
As soon as we were in there, Con gave the old wooden door a push and slammed it shut.
He leant me back into the carved oak panels and pulled my skirt and crinoline up to my waist.
I went to help him and reached down to undo my suspenders.
“No,” he said with the dark-treacly voice of his. I melted and let him do everything he wanted.
What he wanted was to lick my tongue and to screw me senseless. He managed on both counts.
He thrust hard into me with the urgency of a man who knew his moment could be over at any second.
I was at the height of pleasure, and I think he was too, when someone at the other side pushed the old metal handle down and tried to open the door.
“Wait a minute, I’m just coming,” Con called. I heard the catch in his voice as he pumped harder and faster and then exploded inside me without him making a single noise.
He had a tight hold of my buttocks and dug in his nails as he came. The pain was a delight and my own orgasm flowed through my body like the Niagara Falls the newly-wedded couple would be visiting on their
The groom and best man were dressed in top hat and tails.
When the best man looked at me as we walked down the aisle, I’m sure I blushed the colour of peaches.
He was gorgeous.
I’d never met him before on account of him having flown in especially for the day from a diplomatic posting in Texas.
He had a square jaw and cute eyes. His face had a perfect symmetry and his eyes looked intelligent and warm at the same time. Even though the groom was tall, his best man looked down on him by a good few inches.
I forgot to pay attention for the whole service. All I could think about was the gorgeous man who was holding the ring.
*
C ornelius was his name. Con for short.
We were introduced when we arrived.
As soon as I knew who he was, I checked out the dinner table. It was a pretty weird set up for a reception and the bride and groom were sitting at a table by themselves up front. It had to do with keeping some of the relatives apart because there was some kind of bad blood or other. Anyway, it worked in my favour.
The names on the table cards had been beautifully hand-written in blue ink. I noticed that Con was supposed to be sitting between Marianne and her brother. When I was sure that nobody was looking, I did a little switching around.
When we sat down to eat, it was me who got to sit next to Con. Imagine.
I knew I’d done the right thing.
He made it clear as the consommé that we were served that he was interested.
While the father of the bride gave his speech, I felt Con’s hand on my thigh. I tried to pay attention to the talk, but I was so flustered I could barely sit still.
I felt my skirt being gathered up until it was just over my knees and then Con’s fingers slipped in-between my thighs.
He had the touch of pianist. If felt like he was wearing velvet gloves.
His movements were subtle and he slid his fingers up towards the prize I was all too willing to present to him if he had the courage to make an attempt on the summit.
My legs shook with pleasure and the fire between my legs burned wonderfully brightly.
Unfortunately for me, as soon as he brushed my mound, the father’s speech was over and we had to stand for a toast.
There was definitely a wobble on my side of the table.
Con’s speech was tremendous. He used a Powerpoint presentation that was full of old photos and his one-liners had us all in stitches.
The best part was the way he kept looking in my direction, as if he was telling the story to me and to me alone.
It was during the first dance that Con made his next move.
He came over, took me by the hand and pulled me from the dance-floor and into the room where the wedding presents had been displayed. The door was supposed to be open so that guests could parade by and see the tokens of their wealth during the evening.
As soon as we were in there, Con gave the old wooden door a push and slammed it shut.
He leant me back into the carved oak panels and pulled my skirt and crinoline up to my waist.
I went to help him and reached down to undo my suspenders.
“No,” he said with the dark-treacly voice of his. I melted and let him do everything he wanted.
What he wanted was to lick my tongue and to screw me senseless. He managed on both counts.
He thrust hard into me with the urgency of a man who knew his moment could be over at any second.
I was at the height of pleasure, and I think he was too, when someone at the other side pushed the old metal handle down and tried to open the door.
“Wait a minute, I’m just coming,” Con called. I heard the catch in his voice as he pumped harder and faster and then exploded inside me without him making a single noise.
He had a tight hold of my buttocks and dug in his nails as he came. The pain was a delight and my own orgasm flowed through my body like the Niagara Falls the newly-wedded couple would be visiting on their
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