My wife and I prefer young lovers. For this, weddings are perfect. Young. Impressionable. Aglow with romance. Desperate not to miss NSA sex.
This was my sister’s oldest daughter’s, who was twenty-five. There’s not much to be done until the mingling that comes after the ceremony, but once there, my wife and I wandered about, for all the world like the perfect twenty-five-year married couple. But we were each looking for the person we’d take to our separate rooms for the night.
I looked from man to man. Two caught my eye. One guest seemed uncomfortable with his (woman) date. But it was the other who held my attention. At five-seven or so, he was shorter than the other groomsmen. And me. More delicate features. I saw he too was looking for his own man.
I introduced myself as the bride’s uncle at the bar. I gave him my go-to handshake, strong and lingering a moment longer than necessary. His lips were soft. I imagined how they’d feel against my cock. Whether his mouth could handle me since I’ve been told by more than one lover that I was “the biggest” they’d ever had. Would I rip his asshole apart? Would he scream? Would I ruin him for a normal-sized man?
He held my grip and put his left hand on my right, saying how pleased he was to meet me. Knew the groom from college. Then he disappeared but I caught him looking my way now and then. Definitely interested. He’d discover what it’s like to feel a real cock. I watched him chat at his table, impatient for his evening to end. And his night to begin.
At our table, I pointed him out to my wife.
“He seems awfully small.”
“I’ve taken smaller.” I had to laugh. “They’re so appreciative.”
She smiled. “Have fun.”
After dinner, he stood near a window, a brandy snifter in hand. He, like the other groomsmen, wore a light-gray suit with a white shirt and cream tie. A carnation boutonniere. He was displaying himself for me. He said “hello again” when I stepped up to him. It was a game. I knew he was mine. Small talk about each other. I told him that my wife and I had separate rooms, and offered to show mine to him.
“That’d be nice. I’d like that.”
We agreed to meet by the elevator on the top floor at ten-thirty. He said he was looking forward to it. He headed to the dancefloor and I returned to my wife, who was over by my sister’s table sitting between her and her other niece, a few years younger than the bride. I walked to her, said hello to the other two and whispered, “I’m in. Or soon will be.” She smiled again, told me I was a bad boy, and resumed talking.
They were among the few still in the dining room when I left to go the dancefloor. There I saw a bride’s maid dangling from the shoulders of my groomsman for a slow number. Oh, girlie, you will be very disappointed. When done, a conga line began and she and him and others wound around, with me getting a Macallan’s at the bar to watch. I’d had a fair amount to drink, but a Macallan’s helps me relax. It never gets in the way of my erection.
Shit, he was handsome. Smooth and natural in movement. His hands seemed gentle on the hips of the woman who was ahead of him in the line, laughing with the rest. I looked at my Rolex. Ten-twenty. I had to get going. As he came around, I caught his eye and gave him a slight nod, which he returned. My wife was there with my sister and niece, and I waved goodnight to her. She blew me a kiss.
The conga line screwed up my timing so I was at the rendezvous point before he came bounding up the stairs. He was a bit sweaty from his dance, but he looked excited too. I told him the room number, and we headed that way. I didn’t care if anyone saw us, and I opened the door with my keycard. I’d prepared the bed, and three open condoms and lube were on the nightstand. He was going to enjoy this. He was going to enjoy me, and I him. I smiled as I held open the door for him and watched him enter. I turned on the light.
* * * *
He closed the door and stepped closer to me, his hand running up my left side. He said, “Separate rooms, my wife is probably doing to some girl what I’m going to be doing to you.”
I smiled at his confidence.
“What’s that?,” I asked.
He kissed my right cheek, his hands around my waist, mine around his.
I’ve been with many men. I’ve never been fucked. I knew he had. He was a top, sure, but not completely. I saw his desperation. Only a true top would notice. I am a true top.
I showed him. I shoved him against the door and my lips took his and my tongue invaded his mouth. I pulled his pelvis close to me and felt his erection. He was big. Maybe that’s why he thought he would do with me as he pleased. Too many fall into the Big=Top Trap. He’d learn. Big is just big.
I pulled away to his panting. “Let’s be clear right now. I’ve got four other room numbers. I like to take fags like you down a peg.”
His hands loosened about me, but mine held him tight.
“Which is why I’m here. Tell me to go, I go.”
There’s a moment when resistance evaporates, and I saw it. His arms were again around me. He tried to pull me closer, but I pulled him. His erection was harder.
“You’ll feel my cock when I’m ready to allow you to feel my cock. Understood?”
His head dropped. He was maybe five inches taller than me, but his head looked at my chest. “I understand.”
“Good. Tell me what you want. Maybe I’ll give it to you.”
“Your cock. I want your cock. Please fuck me. I need it.”
So I gave him what he needed. I saw the condoms and lube. He pulled his trousers down and got on all fours on the bed, bending down with his ass up. I lubed his hole and, naked, I approached him, condom in place. I don’t do bareback.
He pulled his cheeks open. Kneeling between his legs, I put my cockhead against his hole and shoved in to the hilt. I waited. I’d never given thought to my size. It was average, maybe smaller than most of the men I’ve fucked. They all, like this one, begged for it.
I moved in and out, setting off emotions I don’t think he’d ever felt. Being at the mercy of a god. I’m not, of course, but he thought so. He was servicing me with his asshole. Babbling. I increased my tempo. He asked if he could touch himself, and I said “yes” so he adjusted his position.
“You come when I come.”
I was close. His was a nice asshole. I exploded, and his dick burst all over the sheets. I pulled out in one movement and went to the bathroom. When I returned, I got on my back, legs spread. Without a word, he crawled between them and suckled my cock. He was sweet. I let him enjoy me until I was ready. My hands reached his head and pulled it down and he struggled for breath. I loosened, and he gave me head properly. He was good. It didn’t take long till I exploded. He swallowed every drop. I went to take a piss, and when I got back, I lay in bed next to him. I told him to take care of himself, and he ran to the bathroom. I fell asleep.
I awoke with him giving me head. Nice, I-want-to-service-you head. I tapped him to come up.
“Will you please fuck me again?”
He put his head on my chest.
“Do you love me?,” I asked.
It was a strange question, but I wanted his reaction. His head looking at my cock, he said, “More than anything.”
“Do you want me to fuck you again? After this morning.”
“I’ll do anything. Money? I’ll pay you. Right now. A thousand? Ten? I have my checkbook.”
I pulled his head up.
“You call me a ‘whore’ again, you’ll never see me again. Understood?”
He panicked. “I’m sorry. I’m an asshole.”
I kissed his forehead.
“Relax. It’s flattering. How high would you have gone?”
He was calculating, but I stopped him.
“No. You don’t pay me in cash.”
“Anything. Just tell me.”
I was quiet. He got up, bent down, and began paying with his ass.
* * * *
I’d been looking forward to this for weeks. My husband’s niece was getting married. And they were having a large wedding. There’d be plenty of choices of who I would be in bed with that night. To be clear, it wouldn’t be my husband. He’s as gay as the day is long—as am I—and we have an understanding that works pretty well. We have the perfect marriage in all other respects—seriously—but when it comes to sex we lead separate and, for both of us, very fulfilling lives.
As he and I waited for the ceremony to begin, we elbowed and nodded to each other at various candidates. I wasn’t paying much attention at that point, though. I wanted a bridesmaid. I didn’t care if she was straight or gay. She’d be in my bed. I’m not particularly attractive—a tad overweight and sagging—but I’ve never had a problem getting a woman to adore my imperfect body. Add some alcohol and the aura of a wedding, and I thought I could have my pick of any of the bridesmaids. As always.
Today, though, there was one who was off-limits. My husband’s other niece, the bride’s younger sister. I’d known her since she was a toddler and liked her and thought she was gorgeous but that’d be wrong. No. I’d get another. During the ceremony I decided which one. She was a little chubby and short with big tits but had a wonderfully round face. One of the bride’s college classmates I assumed.
After the ceremony, I went to the four bridesmaids, and my niece—Nadine, the bridesmaid, not the bride—introduced me. When I kissed the chubby, short one I ran my tongue along her neck and felt her shudder. This was going to be too easy.
That settled, I went to enjoy the festivities. I watched my husband try to pick who he’d be spending the night with. We had separate rooms, of course. What was the point of a wedding if you can’t spent the night fucking someone you’d just met and would never see again? He and I both enjoyed the chase, the capture, and the fucking. And he found one. That man, a groomsman, would be in for a surprise when he discovered how big my husband’s dick is, not that it mattered to me in the slightest.
So, as I say, I was set to enjoy things. The pictures. The dinner. The dancing. For convention, though, I skip the dances lest our—my husband’s and mine—story be blown.
As I left the Ladies’, Nadine was waiting for me.
“Can I have a word?”
She led me to a spot away from the crowd by a window draped with curtains.
“I see how you’re looking at my friend.”
“The one who was next to you during the ceremony?”
I had no idea where this was going. Was Nadine warning me off?
She lowered her voice. “I don’t really know her. She’s one of my sister’s friends. But I’d rather you took me to your room instead.”
To say I was shocked would be a massive understatement. My look gave me away.
“I’ve been with a lot of girls and a fair number of women your age. We’re not related by blood and I’d like the chance to see what you’ve got.”
With that, she turned and walked away. I’d no idea she was gay. I must have shut down my radar when I looked at her. Now I realized all the signals she’d given. Not only was she gay, she was a top. The sly bitch. Did she know the same has often been said about me? As I watched her ass, I agreed. She wasn’t a blood relation. I’d just married into the clan.
My God. This would be a once-in-a-lifetime thing. A young, succulent woman I truly loved sharing my bed. Forget the chubby one. She’d have to take care of herself. I was taking care of Nadine. I hoped she didn’t know just how well I would take care of her.
When she was sitting with her mom, I sat next to them.
“I like your suggestion.”
Her mom looked up. “What suggestion?”
“She made a suggestion about how I should do my hair next time.”
“I like it the way it is.”
“Yeah, but a change might do me good. I’ll see you on the dancefloor.”
I slipped a paper on her lap. “Eleven. Room 403.”
* * * *
I was in her room. Where I’d long dreamed of being. As my lips reached hers, I felt like an equal with another woman. Her back was against the door and her hands on my ass. All my thoughts of taking her evaporated. I needed to be naked in her bed now.
Fuck the striptease. I shed my bridesmaid dress. She, in a shimmering gown I’d watched all evening, did the same. We didn’t stop to notice our carefully-chosen lingerie. She ripped the covers from the bed and we, naked, were upon it.
I pulled back to notice her body. She was embarrassed, seeking to cover her pussy. She was hardly attractive. I’d gone to bed with many who were prettier, including older women. Her tits were nice, but she had a bit of a paunch. Wrinkles encased her eyes and her neck with some sun blemishes. Yet her physical attraction was undeniable. I could feel how she attracted them like flies.
I pushed her hands from her pussy. It was very nicely trimmed, with an airstrip. I could see it glisten.
It was clear that she, too, liked to take control. I pulled back to her and kissed her lightly and all thoughts of control vanished. I don’t know if I’ve ever had a woman make love to me, really make love to me, but I knew she would. I don’t know where it came from. I’d never said it to a woman. I told her, “I love you,” and we both knew it wasn’t like a niece loves an aunt. She was my equal as a woman.
She ran her hand across my cheek. “I love you, too.” She pushed me on my back and moved down.
“Oh, shaved. I like that.” I spread my legs as she straddled my face. My hands held her up slightly so I could admire her pussy. I rarely admire another’s pussy. She was on her knees, letting me, waiting for my lips to touch hers before she went down on me. I couldn’t imagine my pussy looking half as wonderful as hers did. Finally, tentatively, I let her lower herself and my tongue ran slowly along her labia. I heard her moan as she lowered her mouth to me.
As I was embarrassed by how inadequate my pussy looked to her, I was embarrassed by how inadequate my tongue was compared to hers. I had trouble concentrating on her as with just a tongue she did things to me I’d not even fantasized about when I masturbated. Again and again she brought me close and backed off. Soon, I gave up eating her and she moved her hips to my side to allow herself to fully enjoy me. All the flies she’d snared over the years surely died happy.
I don’t know how long it was. Hours. Days. My whole lifetime. But without using anything but her tongue I burst into the loudest orgasm of my life. I’d done it to lovers. She was doing it to me.
I must have fallen asleep because it was dark when I realized someone was in my bed and then realized it was my aunt. She was asleep next to me and I remembered it was her bed. I went to pee. I was a horror in the mirror. When I returned, she was up and the light was on.
“I didn’t take care of you,” I pouted as I got in next her. We were both naked, our bodies facing and arms around one another.
“I don’t think what we did was wrong.” She kissed my forehead. “Others won’t agree. Do you?”
I thought. “We’re adult women.” She kissed my forehead again.
“Good. It’s our secret. Let’s get some more sleep. We need to meet the family for brunch downstairs at nine.”
She turned the light off.
“We’re lovers. Just ‘Marie.’”
“Marie. I meant what I said.”
“So did I.”
“No. You don’t understand. I love you. I never want to be with another woman.”
She turned the light back on. Stared at me a moment.
“Here’s what we’ll do. If you tell me that in one week, I will give you, and only you, my body forever. I’m old, fat, and ugly. But if you still want me, I promise to love you and only you from now on.”
With that, she turned the light off and wrapped her arms around me after I turned and we were again asleep.