Cancel the Wedding

He would grab my hand and move it away. Each time, I waited a few minutes, then moved it right back and started rubbing his belly again. Each time a little lower.

He'd gone from angry to resigned. And now he wasn't even saying anything. I think by now he almost knew what was going to happen. Almost.

He had been hard earlier, probably was still. And now he'd felt my pussy, for a brief second, through my panties, and I knew he couldn't stop thinking about it. He'd had his hand squished between my boobs and was probably thinking about spending the rest of his life with my beautiful sister with her boyish figure.

And, he was probably thinking that he was 34, and in upper management, with an already-flush 401(k) and a boat, and vacation plans to honeymoon for a month in Monaco. I was a little teasing bitch 9 years younger, a little girl playing games and jerking him around. A little girl who worked at a temp agency and leased a car because she was too proud to take her parents' money. And he knew, while he was driving along the Riviera with the top down, the little bitch who gave him a hard-on would be answering phones and drinking bad coffee.

And who would believe the youngster anyway?

Maybe that's what he was thinking, as I slowly, oh-so-slowly, inched my hand down his belly. He more-or-less gave up trying to stop me. Sure, he still tried to pin my arm with his, and grumbled at me. But I took my time and worked my hand lower, a quarter-inch at a time.

Just gently touching his belly, through his undershirt. Caressing it lightly, with my fingertips.

Holding my fingertips on his bellybutton.

Lower still.

Brushing my gentle way down a trail of soft hair.

I slid my fingers another tiny bit and found the top of his boxers.

I waited a few minutes. Then shifted my fingers a bit more. Under the cloth, now.

He was breathing funny. He wasn't moving at all. Obviously he was awake. What was he thinking?

Since he wasn't trying to stop me, I was guessing he didn't want me to stop.

And if he didn't want me to stop, he wanted me to keep going.

And if he wanted me to keep going... I was going to make him wait. And make him crazy.

I slid my fingers a little further under his boxers, barely moving at all now, waiting minutes between each little bitty shift.

Then I went "mmmmm," like I was shifting in my sleep, leaned into him, and stretched out my hand -- and gently, like I was cradling a baby bird fallen from its nest, took his cock in my hand.

He didn't make a sound, but he tensed. Not a movement, but his body was suddenly tight as a spring.

I was so gentle. So careful and slow. I flexed my fingers around him, slow as flower petals closing at sundown. I hefted him like he was fragile. I slid my hand up him like a snail, and back down even slower.

I was raw, hot, incredible sex, but in slow motion. An explosive handjob but stretched out -- it would take days at this speed.

My cock now. It was attached to him, and it was meant for my sister to cherish, but right then, it belonged to me.

He was breathing deeper, and soon he started shifting, as though he was shifting in his sleep! Like he wanted to pretend he was asleep too. Hah.

He started pushing his pelvis one way or the other. In his "sleep." If my hand wouldn't move to the right spot, he'd move the right spot to my hand.

Each time, he just got a gentle squeeze, and then I would sli-i-i-ide my hand away, to his lower belly, or the so-soft spot where a man's shaft meets his balls.

Soon he figured out that he really could move, and I wouldn't stop him or tattle on him. He started sliding his hips gently back and forth.

He could move all he wanted. But could he give himself the pleasure I was denying him? No, that I didn't allow. When he tried it, I simply moved with him. I kept my fingertips in place on his dick as he tried so hard to fuck my hand. He got no sensation. He was just moving.

Finally: "What do you want," he hissed.

I think I'd driven him mad.

"Eric, I just want to make you feel good," I said quietly, in my best pouty-girl voice, nuzzling his neck.

"You have to stop!" he whispered.

"Oh Eric, I know, I just feel like I can't help myself. Just a few more seconds and then I'll stop."

I did not, of course.

"Emily, please, as a friend, I am asking you to stop."

"You're right, Eric. I don't think it's right for us to be doing this."

"Then why are you doing it?!"

"I just don't know why! I'll stop now."

And I withdrew my hand. Patted his shoulder with it, then rested it there and said, "OK, let's sleep now."

Not a word from him. The silence stretched on.

He must have been aching, lying in the dark, his fiancee's sister's body nestled into him, warm boobs pressing into his back, his cock swollen with frustration and need.

I was sure he wanted me. Sure, he didn't trust me. But time was on my side. I had all night.

I let the silence linger.

When he'd let down his guard I put my hand back on his belly.

"Emily! Come on!"

"I'm just getting comfortable. I'll fall asleep better this way. Then I won't bother you!"

"Just --" He paused. "Just stop doing things, okay?"

"Mmmmmm," I said into his shoulder, as if I were falling asleep.

Sixty seconds later I had his still-just-as-hard penis in my loose grip and was giving him a gentle jacking. Polishing a delicate vase. He didn't know what to say. Especially after the on-and-off teasing I'd been giving him before, even my soft, slow stroke must feel great.

"Emily, if I move your hand away again, you'll just move it back, won't you?"

And now he was rationalizing. That seemed like a good step to me.

"Oh, I'm sorry, Eric, I must have fallen asleep. I guess I started again." I kept stroking him as I said that.

A pause.

I tilted my head up and brushed my lips against his ear. I let him feel my breath. I knew he could hear the moist sounds of my mouth, so quiet they were barely there, as my lips parted and I just barely closed them on his ear.

He swallowed hard. I could almost feel the pressure building in his guts.

Tip of my tongue, touching his earlobe. Nudging it a millimeter while he felt my breath.

His own breath shuddered out of him. His cock flexed in my hand.

"Is there something you want from me?"

"I just like making boys happy, I guess."

"Well -- why did it have to be tonight?"

That was actually a surprise. I moved my hand slowly up and down while I thought about what that question meant. I think he was saying he'd thought about having sex with me before. Or wanted to have sex with me after he was married.

Either way he was even more of a jackass. And either way that was good news for my plan.

"I just can't help myself. You're like a dream, Eric, you feel so good to me."

"I need you to stop. But I know you won't. And I can't get up. I need to sleep."

"I'm sorry, Eric, when I get sleepy, I just don't know what I'm doing."

"What do you -- what do you need to get this over with and be done?"

And there was the bargaining. Perfect.

"I just want to make you feel super good, Eric."

He exhaled sharply. "If I let you do that, will you stop?"

"Ooh, yes," I whispered. "I just want you to be happy."

A pause. "I don't know what the fuck you're playing at." My finger traced slowly up his penis's topside, the soft ridge of a tube. He snorted. "Okay, then, yes, do it," he said.

I think he thought I'd jack him off quickly.

Instead he got more of the same. My warm hand, stuffed into his boxers, working his cock in slow motion. I had all the time and patience in the world. I had all night and I would use it if I had to.

Up and down, inside his underwear. A grope sliding up to the tip, then a dancing tickle back down. Sometimes I would just touch his balls with all five fingertips, tickling their underside, or caressing him with the lightest squeeze. Sometimes I would lift my hand off him entirely for a little while, only to bring a finger or two back down to play with him some more.

He was moving a little, sometimes shifting his body side to side. From his breathing I could tell he was angry -- lovely! Probably angry at me, of course, and angry at himself for letting things get to this point.

After a while he hissed at me, "why aren't you going faster? What are you doing?"

"Hmmmm?" I mumbled, like I was half-asleep.

"Why are you just playing around? Aren't you going to -- you know --"

"Oh Eric, I wouldn't want to do that," I whispered. "It'd be wrong to make you spill your seed. You don't want that, do you?"

He was surprised by this twist, like he was surprised by everything I'd done tonight. "Emily..."

He hesitated. "I want you to spill my seed. I want you to grab my dick and jack it. You know how to do that, right?"

"Of course I could, but Eric... I have to stay in control for both of us." I had laid his cock on his belly and was petting it like a cat. "You wouldn't want to spill your seed right before your wedding. That's a sin, a really bad sin."

"I want you," he said, patiently, "to lose control."

"Eric, I really shouldn't. If I lost control, I'd just go crazy" -- here I gave his dick a hard squeeze -- "and I just can't help myself when that happens! I could do anything!"

He was gritting his teeth after that squeeze. I'd gone right back to the fingertip caresses. "Well, Emily. What would make you lose control?"

I paused, like I was thinking. I pulled out the whispery shy-girl voice again. "I guess... I go all gooshy when a boy says he likes me. Do you like me, Eric?"

It must have killed him, but he said it. "Emily. Yes, I do like you. I like you a lot right now."

"Oh, Eric! Do you really mean that?"

"I like you so much, Emily. You're really special to me. You're my special girl. I like you so much."

"Ooooh... Eric! That makes me feel so good to hear you say that!"

A moment went by, as his most sensitive places kept getting stroked into overdrive by my barely-there hand.

"Emily... is there... anything else that might make you lose control?"

"Well..." I pondered. I rested the heel of my hand right on his cock-head and idly played with his pubic hair.

"I am a woman after all... when a boy plays with my boobs I just can't help myself. It makes me so excited."

"Is that what this is about?" He snorted again. Then slowly turned on his side -- I kept my hand loosely touching his tool -- and faced me. "I'll play with your fucking boobs. You just tell me what you like."

He slid his free hand up my T-shirt and started touching me. I have to admit he was a good lover. Or maybe I wasn't used to older men. Even in the middle of a vicious cock-tease he was still able to focus on making me feel good.

I stroked him gently and loosely as he caressed my big boobs. From the look of that slut he'd fucked before, he liked tits big. And with his comment earlier, I was thinking he'd been wanting to play with my rack for a while now. Fucking asshole. I thought of my sister and how much she needed to get away from this guy.

I made sure my breath was hot on his face and in his ear as I whispered my encouragement. "Oh, no, Eric, don't play with my boobs, you're going to get me excited and I won't be able to help myself. Ooh, no, that feels so good. Oh, I love it so much Eric. I'm so happy you're playing with my boobs. You're getting me so hot!"

"Fuck yeah," he growled under his breath. "You got a nasty mouth on you. Just keep telling me what you want."

"I hope you like squeezing my great-big girl-boobs. Ooh, yeah, pinch me there, just like that. Oh, no, no Eric, you're going to make me lose control of myself. Ohhhhh, you're making me feel like such a sexy girl. Keep petting my big soft breasts. Ooh... you feel how hot I am?"

I was playing it up, of course. But he was turning me on. It's true. My nipples were standing up now as he pinched them and rubbed his palm over them. My whole body was feeling the heat. He kept coming back to tweak and rub each nipple, and I do like that. Every once in a while he'd squeeze my boob hard, or twist a nip, and I'd have to work on keeping my breathing steady.

I let him do that for a while, and I still just kept sliding my hand up and down his cock, so slow, nice and gentle, while I whispered into his ear like a porn star about to have six orgasms. "Ohhh, Eric, oooooh, so nice, play with me more, oh I can't stand it Eric, you're making me so excited," and so on.

Finally I made a ring of my thumb and middle finger, a ring that held this fucker's wiener nice and loose, and started stroking just the head, up and down, nice and slow. It wasn't much stimulation I guessed, but enough to let him feel the burn and get him ramped up a little more.

After a minute, "Emily --"

"Ooh, yes Eric?"

"Are you losing control?" He sounded far away, like he was working to keep control himself.

"Oh, Eric, it feels so good, you playing with my boobs... you're making me crazy... but don't worry. I know I have to stay in charge and not make you spill all your boy-seed. You wouldn't want that, I know. I'll help you Eric, I'll help keep you from sinning..."

I don't think there was a chance that he bought any of this anymore. He knew I didn't care about "sinning" and he knew I was playing some kind of game. He didn't know quite what the game was yet. But he was a man, in fact, a horny, randy billygoat of a man, and he wanted to keep playing.

"Do you need me to get you hornier, Emily? Does precious little Emily need a big strong man to make her go crazy?"

"Ooh, yes, yes-- I mean no, Eric, I could go crazy so easily, and make you lose your seed without knowing it! You shouldn't start rubbing my pussy!"

He immediately slid his hand down and started rubbing me fast, up and down, over my panties. I did jump. It did feel damn good. But that's not what I was here for.

"Oh Eric! No! Oh, you're making me feel so good!" I barely kept my voice down to a hot whisper.

I spread my legs, as much as I was able on my side, to give him more access. He slipped his hand inside my panties and his bare hand was giving my pussy a good rubbing. I was already moist. I found myself squirming a little with how good it felt, but I focused on what my hand was doing in his shorts, and just kept touching him as slowly and loosely as possible.

He, on the other hand, was starting to lose his shit. He was breathing fast, and so tense, and was even twitching. It turns out guys love to play with girls' pussies. Who knew, right?

"Eric, am I your special little girl?"

He squeezed his eyes shut. "Yes Emily. You're so special to me."

"How much do you like me?"

"Oh God. I like you so much. So, so much. I, I really like you."

"Oh Eric. Do you like the way your special girl's pussy feels? Do you like my wet pussy?"

"Shit. I -- I like you, I like your pussy. Fuck."

"Ooh, Eric. You're so much older, that gets me so excited. Do you feel how wet you're making me?"

"Fuck... yeah..."

"And you're such a sexy man. You're making my pussy feel so good."

"Tell me what you want, Emily."

"Oh Eric! I can't lose control but I'm so confused. Maybe if you pulled my panties down you could touch me some more..."

He pulled them down, but only partway down my thighs. Now he was touching my naked skin all over, my dewy pussy lips, my hairy mound, the insides of my thighs, all over and all around, but kept coming back to my pussy of course. He would try to get his finger inside me, but with my legs held together by the panties, he didn't have the angle.

"I don't want to lose control and give you a hard fast stroking Eric! I just couldn't let myself do that. But... maybe... you could pull my panties all the way off, so you could put your fingers up inside me? Your fingers feel so sexy, I want them sliding into me. That would get me so excited, but I think I just might be okay if you did that..."

The bed creaked as he sat up, pushed the covers all the way off us, grabbed my panties, and stripped me bare below the waist. He stared at my body for a second as I gently pinched the thickness of his shaft between thumb and finger. Then he grabbed my T-shirt and helped me take it off. Not even a hint of protest when I slowly slid my hand back into his boxers.

He looked my body over for a little while. I guess he could see me okay in the dim moonlight. Large, full breasts topped with rubber-hard nipples. I have a nice waist. My hips have a good silhouette and I think I have good legs. He took it all in, staring long at the dark patch of hair between my legs, and then carefully took his boxer shorts off.

He got up on one elbow, and I spread my legs, sliding the near one between his thighs and lifting the far one up against the wall.

I think he thought this was the game. To stroke each other off the night before his wedding. He thought his baby sister-in-law was a horny brat who wanted his cum so bad she had to trick it out of him.

The bed creaked more, but now he had one hand with open access to my fully exposed cunt, and the other, resting on the bed, playing with my one boob. He squeezed it and rubbed my nipple as he slowly slid his middle finger all the way up inside me.

I looked right at him and only said "oh, Eric, I hope you don't make me lose control of myself" as he started masturbating me. I was furious at him, I hated him, I had every intention of ruining his life. But god dammit, his finger sliding in my wet pussy was feeling good.

Soon he had a second finger in me, and started going faster. Then faster still, really working my cunt over. I was mostly avoiding his cock right now. I held as still as I could and just kept gently fondling his balls, as he finger-fucked me, hard and nasty. I was wetting up real good and we could both hear the quiet squishing noise he was making in me.

He was pumping his hand so hard, to slide those fingers in and out of me. His hand slapping into my crotch like he was working a tiny little boxing bag. The bed shook, he was working so hard. In the cold air I bet he was working up a sweat.

I just laid there, serenely, barely moving at all. Inside my tummy was turning loops. I wanted to moan and rub my clit and suck his cock.

Instead, I was perfectly still. Like I was waiting for a bus. When I wanted to reward him, I started caressing that hot swollen penis like I was absent-mindedly patting a dog. Then I would go back to gently massaging and pulling at his balls. I held my legs wide open for him, and breathed naturally, and all that finger-fucking didn't get me to move a muscle.

We were looking right into each other's eyes. Him concentrating on my face, like he could make me go crazy by act of will. Me with my eyes wide and dreamy, looking innocent and helpless.

But we were about to see who was helpless.

His fingers were slamming up into me. He was playing me like a guitar. A guitar he was strumming really fucking hard and really fucking fast. Oh, shit it felt good.

"Eric, I... I... thank you for not talking dirty to me... I can't help myself when a big strong man tells me he wants me, and tells me what he wants to do to me. If you did that I might cum and squeeze you so tight that you'd cum too... If you told me what you really wanted..."

I didn't have to finish the sentence. Which was good because I was a little out of breath. It actually was taking some effort by this point to not squeeze my fist and jack his cock. Holding a hard dick was feeling really good to me and getting me hot.

He learned forward. A hoarse whisper. "Emily, I... want to... fuck you." Well, that was a start.

"Ooh, Eric, no, don't tell me... I can't help it... I'm going crazy..."

"I want you so bad. I want to stick my dick inside you and... fuck you real good."

I leaned forward and put my face right up to his, head tilted back, my lips almost touching his lips. I felt his panting breath, and he felt my whisper as I said: