She had heard about the idea of having one last wild fling before getting married. Her friend Wendy who was in her wedding party jokingly suggested it at the bachelorette party.
“Come on, Rebecca, you gotta have one last fling,” she said. “We all did.”
“What!”
She looked at the other ladies at the bachelor party in shock. It turned out, however, upon interrogation, for the most part their “last flings” were extremely PG rated. One girl french kissed a hot guy a month before the wedding. Another let this guy feel her up. Wendy herself gave a guy a blowjob and let him eat her pussy a week before her wedding, she claimed. Only one of them actually fucked someone, and she was divorced now, so it didn’t really convince Rebecca it was a good idea.
“I don’t know,” she said. “I’ve had enough casual sex. I’m ready for a lifetime of drudgery and monogamy.”
But she did get drunk at the rehearsal dinner. And there was that awfully hot family friend, Dennis, who she had always had a crush on. He was like four years older than her, though, so growing up it was never an option. But for some reason he showed up at the Cape Cod resort they had more or less rented out for the wedding. They were family friends from Belmont, Mass where she grew up, the Allens. She was tight with Heather Allen, she was in her grade. Heather got drunk that night and made the mistake of confiding in her, “Dennis has always had a crush on you. He was heartbroken to hear you were getting married.”
“Are you kidding?” Rebecca said. “He never even said hi to me once.”
“Yeah, he was shy,” Heather said. “But he’s still hot for you. Just five minutes ago he told me he thought you looked beautiful.”
She did look beautiful, in her designer rehearsal dinner gown — it was Versace. Her grandmother sprung for it. And her other grandmother Gloria paid for the wedding gown. It was also a designer — Marchesa. It cost seven thousand bucks. Jesus, this whole wedding extravaganza thing was such a colossal waste of money. If she had that cash for a down payment on a condo she would have been happy; so would her fiancé, Gordon. He was a struggling composer in Boston, making money playing clarinet in various chamber orchestras. She was a violinist. They were not going to have a rich lifestyle, that was for sure. They rented a crappy apartment in Little Italy. But they were happy.
Dennis, on the other hand, had moved to New York and gotten a flash job on Wall Street. Somebody told her he drove up to the cape for the weekend in a Ferrari. Jesus. That kind of thing did not impress her. But Dennis did. He was very tall, slender, and had the chiseled jaw thing, along with a curly head of black hair. And his eyes. He had blue-green eyes that just shone like marbles when he looked at you. She was always a bit disoriented, as though his eyes put some kind of spell on her for a second when she saw him.
“Hey Becka,” he said, calling her by her old high school nickname. Hardly anybody called her that. It was Rebecca now.
“Hey Denny,” she said.
“So, great rehearsal dinner,” he said. “I like your husband. He seems funny. How are you doing?”
“I’m drunk,” she admitted. “You could probably take advantage of me if you wanted.”
She couldn’t believe she just said that.
“Where is Gordon, by the way?” asked Dennis, embarrassed for her, probably.
“Oh, he and the groomsmen went bar crawling,” she said. “Didn’t you hear them? They were singing really loudly.”
“Oh, OK,” he said. “I guess the party’s breaking up then. I should head back to my hotel room. Where are you staying by the way? Are you with your fiancé?”
“Are you kidding?” she said. “You know my parents.”
“Oh right, they are pretty strict if I recall,” said Dennis.
Her parents were extremely Catholic. She was horrified to learn that recently they had taken to going to church every single morning. Good Lord, every morning, church?
“They have Gordon and his buddies in another place, a motel down the road. They didn’t even want him in the same building. I won’t be seeing him again until we meet at the altar.”
“Well,” he said. “I guess I’ll be turning in then. I’ll see you tomorrow, Becka.”
“No, please don’t go,” she heard herself saying.
What the fuck was she up to?
“What’s wrong?” he asked, concerned.
“Nothing,” she said. “I just don’t want you to go. That’s all.” They just sat there looking at each other. “Is that so hard to understand?” she said finally.
He sat there, surprised, looking at her for another long moment.
“Um…no…it’s not hard to understand at all. I mean…”
They just sat there. It was so stupid. At this point it must have been apparent to both of them what they were feeling. But neither of them had the nerve to say anything about it.
“It’s such a…nice night,” she said.
“Yes,” he agreed. “I mean, everything about it has been perfect. The food, the speeches, the atmosphere. This is like the best wedding weekend I’ve been on, and trust me…there’s been a bunch.”
“I know,” she said. “I guess it’s the age.”
She was 30. But Dennis being 34 had probably been to even more weddings than she had lately.
“Well,” she said. “Have you heard about this latest thing? I mean, I don’t know if you have heard about it?”
“What latest thing?”
“Well, I mean if you’ve been to so many weddings you must have heard something about it. The latest thing, apparently, is that the bride to be nowadays is….”
“Is what?”
“Is allowed one last fling before the big day.”
“She is?” he said, raising his eyebrows. “I had not heard that. But, hey, I’m very…supportive of the idea.”
“You are?”
“Yes.”
“Would you care to support me in this regard?”
“Um…you mean…”
She nodded.
The next thing she knew she was in his room and they were making out on the bed. They had made sure to say goodnight to each other and parted the emptying gathering separately. Then she made her way down to the second floor of the hotel and knocked on his door. He opened the door and started kissing her, pulling her into the room.
“You have no idea how long I’ve…” he said.
“Me too,” she said. “I’ve always liked you.”
And then, oh God, it was really happening.
She couldn’t believe it, she was really going through with it. Her mind slipped into a kind of state of shock, where she was astonished at every moment as it was taking place.
He’s kissing my neck…it’s really happening…I can’t deny it…he’s kissing down my shoulders, and now, he’s really slipping my dress off my shoulders. Really? Is he really in the process of taking my clothes off? I guess he is. Even though I’m getting married tomorrow to someone else. How can this be happening? Maybe I should stop.
“Oh baby,” she heard herself say out loud. “I don’t think I’ve ever been so horny in my life.”
“Me neither,” she heard him say.
And that kind of gave him some inspiration, she guessed, because suddenly he ripped her dress all the way off. She heard a great tear. How was she going to explain that to her Grandmother, this Versace that cost her a fortune? It was ripped! What if she ran into someone, as she made it back to her room later, what if someone saw her? Maybe she wasn’t going back to her room later. Oh God, but what if someone came to her room looking for her, like Kelsey, her maid of honor? Maybe she wanted to give her some last minute inspiration? Oh shit, what was she doing?
She was taking her bra off.
He was having a little trouble so she helped him. She ripped the thing off her back.
And now I’m showing him my naked tits. This guy who is definitely not my husband to be. This guy who is totally hot. I guess I should really enjoy it. I’m never, ever, again going to be with another guy who is totally hot and not my husband. I should really savor the way he looks at my tits. I mean, they are nice sized. And my nipples are extraordinarily thick. His eyes are like bulging out of his head. He looks like a boy on Christmas day about to open his presents. Am I his present? I guess I am. I am making myself a gift, and I am presenting that gift to him. My gift is my boobs. Have them, dude. Have them, they are yours. It’s so nice to give your boobs away. I mean, I gave my boobs away to Gordon long ago, so now every time he looks at them it’s not like Christmas Day. It’s like months after Christmas when he’s already grown tired of his toys. But my, this dude Dennis is really enjoying his toy. He is sucking my nipples, one at a time, very democratically. He gives equal time to each of them. Then he steps back and looks at them both adoringly. He lifts them up from the bottom and observes them lovingly.
“Very nice,” he said.
“Thank you,” she said. “Now may I see something of yours?”
And very quickly he removed his pants and his briefs. His cock was rock hard. And it was nice.
Oh shit. I am touching another man’s penis. And I am liking it. This is like Christmas for me now. This is my big toy. This eight inches of cock. I like it so much. Alright, it’s much bigger than Denis’s. But that’s not the point. It’s new. This is all new and fresh. And I am really eating it up.
I am literally eating it up, now. As I put my mouth on his cock and begin sucking on it. He is moaning like crazy. He can’t believe he’s getting a blow job from the bride. He must feel like quite the stud. Then again, he is quite the stud. He’s no classical musician working for peanuts for some crappy chamber orchestra. Oh shit, why aren’t I marrying a rich stud like this dude? I know why. This isn’t me. I’m not about this level of intensity. I’m about something much calmer.
“God I love your cock,” she heard herself scream.
What if someone hears me from the next room? They would recognize my voice. Oh who gives a shit? I’m a very calm, mellow person who is having the intense experience of a lifetime. It’s fucking good. But I couldn’t handle this type of thing on a daily or even monthly basis. Maybe once a year I could have sex with a guy as hot as this. But oh shit, what’s he doing…”
He pulled his cock out of her mouth suddenly, saying, “Don’t make me cum baby. Not yet!”
And he lay her back down on the bed. And he removed her pantyhose. And then he started pulling down her panties.
Oh god! I think I’m going to come before he even touches my pussy. Just the way he pulls my panties down. Has any pair of panties ever been pulled down so slowly? I can see it there, the tuft of hair slowly emerging between my thighs as he tugs them down, taunting, teasing me. And really enjoying the view.
“That’s so damn pretty,” he said, because now he could see the top of her pussy. He put his finger on her clit.
“Oh! No! No! Jesus!”
I come like crazy just from the first touch. That has never happened to me before! Jesus. Gordon has to eat me for like half an hour before I cum. But Dennis. What did he do? He did something with his thumb. He moved it really fast over the top of my clit. And shit! I think I’m still cumming.
“My God what are you doing!” she cried.
“Just a little trick I learned in a whorehouse in New Orleans.”
Oh he is a slut, isn’t he? This stud has been with thousands of bitches. But I can tell he’s really enjoying this, because he’s never been with a bride the night before a wedding. This is as special for him as it is for me. His eyes are as lit up as mine are. It’s like there’s a bunch of birthday candles flickering there inside his eyes. It’s his special night! He’s celebrating. With my pussy.
“Do it baby, do it!” she encouraged him.
Then he rips my panties right in half. He doesn’t want to take them all the long way down my long legs. He just tears them to pieces.
“Oh I want to fuck you so bad!” he cried. “I’ve always wanted to fuck you!”
“Then why didn’t you, idiot?”
“I don’t know! But there’s no time like the present.”
He climbed on board ship. And he put his cock into her pussy.
“Slowly! Please,” she begged.
This thing is huge. I’m worried.
“Don’t worry baby,” he said, and he slowly put it in a couple inches. That really filled her up.
“Jesus!” she said out loud.
Then he pulled it out and put it back in about three inches. She’d never felt such friction against her folds. As he pushed deep into her, she threw her head back and let it all happen.
“Fuck me baby!” she screamed. “Fuck me hard!”
“What happened to slow?” he laughed.
“Fast and hard!” she heard herself scream. “Come on, give it to me!”
He starts really railing me now. I put my ankles over his shoulders and I can really feel him all the way in me. My butt is up off the bed. I feel his hand going back there.
“Yeah,” she said. “Put a finger in that ass! Come on!”
“You are one kinky bitch,” he laughs. “Fucking me the night before the wedding. And now you want it in your ass.”
“Not that cock,” she said. “No way. That is way too big. Just a finger. Or two.”
He laughed again.
“Oh my God,” he laughed. “I should be marrying you. I want a kinky bitch like you for a wife.”
“I’m not like this with Gordon,” she said. “I’m very respectable. Now fuck that ass.”
He put his finger in there and slid it around the inside of the rim of her asshole deftly. He knew what he was doing here too.
“Very nice,” she complimented him. “Now quit fooling around.”
And ram. He rammed two fingers deep in there as he fucked her. It was like all the breath went out of her.
“Ahhhhh! Yes,” she cried. “I’m cumming!”
And I cum as he fucks me and fingers me. Then he turns me over and fucks me from behind. Now he can really focus on fucking the ass with his fingers as he fucks my pussy. It feels like he’s using three fingers now, really filling me up back there as he fills me up in front. I put my hand down there and rub my clit and it’s like we’re having a little orgy down there. The ass, the cunt, the clit, everybody’s busy.
“Tomorrow I get married,” I say to myself. “Tonight I get fucked!”
I cum again. Then I get on top of him and ride him through the prairie of my own debauchery. I can really control the strokes now, up and down, up and down, in just the rhythm my pussy needs. Yeah, he was pretty good, but nobody knows me like I know me. I do it just right against that stiff pole. I grind my pelvis down into his. And woof. I’m cumming again.
“Holy shit baby,” I say. “Holy shit!”
“I’m cumming too,” he says.
He cums deep inside me. I feel a ton of cum going up in me. And I keep grinding down on it as he squirts.
Afterwards I close my pussy real tight with some muscle moves I learned in a book about female yoni control. Now his cum is trapped up there. And I’m not going to release it until just the right moment. God I hope it doesn’t dry up. What do I have, about twenty hours until our wedding vows? I hope his cum can last up there. I’m sure it can. I’m providing it with a nice moist environment.
“That was delicious,” I tell him, and we kiss each other deeply and long, lying next to each other on the bed, embracing each other deeply.
“I will see you tomorrow as I walk down the aisle,” she said. And she put her rippled clothes on and hustled back to her room. Nobody saw a thing.
As she walked down the aisle with her father, she looked straight at Dennis there in the tenth row, aisle seat. He puckered his lips in a little kiss to her. She smiled. But she did not kiss him back.
She looked at Gordon, there at the altar. He looked good. She was ready to be his wife. To have a nice, calm, relaxed and friendly life. She was ready to let go of her passion and need for wild things. She was ready to be a wife.
“I do,” she said, when the priest asked her if she accepted him as her husband.
She finally relaxed her pussy. She felt something warm and wet start to run down her thigh. It hadn’t dried up! It was still up there — Dennis’s ejaculate. She turned in the direction of Dennis in the tenth row and puckered her lips for a kiss.
Then she leaned in, and let Gordon kiss his bride.
-THE END-
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