Four Weddings 03: The Aunt

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This is one of a set of four 750-word stories, each told from the perspective of a different wedding guest. The order: Uncle, Groomsman, Aunt, Waitress. The first two are Gay Male and self-contained. The last pair are Lesbian and are also self-contained.

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 casino oyna had a problem getting a woman to adore my imperfect body. Some alcohol and the aura of a wedding, and I’d have my pick of the bridesmaids. As always.

During the ceremony I decided which one. She was a little chubby and short with big tits and a wonderfully round face. One of the bride’s college classmates I assumed.

The “I Do”s done, I went to the four, bubbling bridesmaids, and introduced myself as the Bride’s aunt. 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. The fucking. And he found one. That man, a groomsman, would be in for a surprise when he discovered how big my husband’s canlı casino 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. And then the plumb bridesmaid.

She was at the table next to ours for dinner, and my seat was perfectly positioned for me to study her. She was innocent and I found my eyes focusing on her lips as she ate. Close enough to see her tongue clean her upper lip periodically. I doubt she knew what she was doing and certain she didn’t know what she was doing to me. When she laughed, which was often, I found myself staring at her bouncing cleavage like a schoolboy with a voluptuous teacher. I was getting moist.

The plates were cleared and coffee served. The Waitress, who I hadn’t noticed earlier, poured. Her mouth was close to my ear when I thought I heard, “We’re thinking the same thing,” and I was shaken from my trance. As she poured coffee for the person to my left she whispered, “Maybe we can share her.” That I knew I heard.

I kaçak casino turned to look at her, but she was moving around the table as if she’d said nothing. Bitch. About my age. Thin and tall, with short black hair. Unlike my bridesmaid, she had no tits. I couldn’t see her face as she walked from our table.

Perhaps she’d not said anything. She couldn’t have. My husband tapped my wrist, and said it was time to head to the dance floor. I said I needed to use the Ladies’ and headed that way, carrying my clutch. As I returned and headed to the dancefloor, the Waitress approached me.

“I believe you may have dropped this.” She handed me a slip of paper and walked away. When she was gone, I opened it: “If you’re interested in a real woman, text me your room number and time.” A cell number was included.

Again I didn’t get a god look at her. I put the slip into my clutch and went to meet my husband. I looked at my plump bridesmaid. Young and round. Innocent. What I live for. I started to approach her between dances. I’d whisper my room number in her ear, blow lightly on it, and watch her nod. Then I’d tell her when.

Yet I stopped. Too easy. I turned back and stepped to the side. I pulled out my phone and the slip and I sent the text.

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