College Roommate - Wedding Roleplay

This is the fifth installment of my "College Roommate" series. The first chapter was published about sixteen years ago, and the subsequent chapters at wildly erratic intervals since.

***

I drive in my battered hoopty 1995 Toyota Avalon, rust and duct tape holding together the remnants of the original sheetmetal, away from UT Austin toward the address Chivas gave me miles outside the city. The skyscrapers get replaced by apartments, then single family homes jammed together, then higher end houses with larger yards, further and further out in the burbs. I figured she must live in an apartment, since she gave me a code to get through a gate, but this is looking less and less like somewhere student-grade apartments would be located.

I have a What The Fuck moment as the Little British Lady in The Box, aka the LBLTB, as I call the GPS app on my cell phone, steers me to a gated entrance way out in the exurbs, with ridiculously nice houses on the other side of the meticulously tended landscaping in front of The Reserve at [name redacted].

Fuck. Musta got the address wrong.

I punch in the gate code Chivas gave me, and the gate swings open.

Hunh.

I drive into the development, gawking a bit at what must be multi million dollar houses, the sort of place you might expect to see Teslas and Mercedes and Range Rovers in the driveways. Until you had the epiphany that The Quality park their cars inside their ubiquitous three or four bay garages, not outside on the driveway, or god forbid, on the street like common ruffians and proletarians.

"You have arrived at your destination" the LBLTB announces.

I drive my beater car up a longish driveway with interlocking grey pavers instead of plebian concrete, to a beautifully landscaped two story house. Well, more like a mansion. The car engine diesels a bit when I try to turn it off, then finally stops with a shudder.

I get out of my car, watching the property values all around me depreciate from my ride. I feel kinda bad in advance about the engine oil that is gonna slowly drip onto the otherwise pristine driveway, as I walk towards a really nice front door that must have cost many multiples of what my piece of shite car would sell for, assuming anyone else was desperate enough to buy it.

***

I slide on my sexy mesh bikini panties with little black hearts, then look in the full length mirror in the master bedroom of my house in the Texas Hill Country.

Nice booty, I tell myself.

Some guys might find it too big or too brown, but Harry has told me that "too big a booty" is an oxymoron. And yesterday, while we ate chocolate from a sampler pack, he licked his fingers and said he liked dark chocolate best. Absent the adorable crinkling of his eyes - and the fact that he is * almost * as smart as I am - one might have assumed there was no double entendre intended. Well, that and the fact that we were naked at the time and literally smelled like sex and candy, which might have been a parody moment if it had been 1997, rather than a more civilized year where Marcy Playground was justifiably relegated to the oldies stations.

Oh. Right. Probably shouldn't answer the door when Harry arrives wearing just panties. Hmmm. Phrasing? Fine. "... wearing just panties, when Harry arrives." Happy now?

Though I wouldn't put it past him to show up buttnaked except for panties, cause he's confident in his masculinity. Arguably, a bit TOO confident.

I put on the matching black mesh bra with the teeny hearts. It's a little tight - it's hard to find lingerie for breasts as big as mine, since some fashion designers seem to think anorexic runway models are in the middle of the bell curve for body shapes, rather than the thickness that most men crave. There's a reason math textbooks talk about Bell Curve distributions, not Bell Stick distributions.

Next, I put on an elegant Little Black Dress, aka an LBD, that treads hard on the line between appropriate attire for a cocktail party, versus understated lingerie. Demure enough to use when opening my front door for Harry for the first time, but sexy enough to let him know the grand tour of the house is likely to end in the bedroom.

I'm in the master bathroom dabbing perfume under my ears when the doorbell rings. My little nutjob Corgi, Buddy, loses it as usual whenever he hears a doorbell, and sprints maniacally out of his little red bed in the corner of the bedroom, then skids into the hallway to the front door, barking his fool head off the entire time.

I follow him at a more leisurely pace, some butterflies from having Harry over for the first time, but on the exterior the epitome of calm. Be the Buddha.

"Oh, hush, you little ankle biter," I tell Buddy as I approach the door. He glances back at me, then resumes guarding the Alpha Female of his two dog pack by continuing to bark like he's two hundred pounds of pure muscle instead of eighteen pounds of concentrated weirdness.

I open the door. Harry is looking backwards at my neighborhood - said neighborhood currently badly sullied by his rusted hoopty car parked in my driveway - like he was wondering if he had the wrong address. What, he thought I lived in the 'hood?

"What?" I say. "You thought I lived in the 'hood?"

He turns to look at me. "Fuuuck, you look hot."

Hmm, deflection. In an exaggerated Tejas drawl I say, "I'ma gonna tell my momma you thought I lived in the hooood", drawing the last word to two, mebbe three syllables.

"You gonna tell your mom I think all Black folk are poor? I just thought you were a broke ass college kid, same as me."

"Do you know me? I tell my momma ever' damn thang. She's gonna looove this, Pervert Boy."

Harry grins, like being called a pervert is affirmation. Actually, considering that just prior to our first date, as I walked in the partially open door to his dorm room, he was being buttfucked by his moderately gay roommate, "pervert" is a reasonably accurate summation. That, and some of the things he did to me later in the date.

Buddy, wonder of wonders, has stopped barking and is sniffing Harry's ankles, like he smells another dog, or Harry just smells trustworthy. Harry stoops, offers Buddy his fist to sniff, as if he's already figured out that he's dealing with a rescue dog that might have been slapped prior to me adopting him and could perceive an open hand as a threat.

"Harry, this is Buddy. Buddy: Harry."

Pettage ensues.

"Well, c'mon in... it's not like I have a butler to screen my gentlemen callers. Well, caller. Singular. Seeing as you're my boyfriend and all."

***

I follow Chivas inside her mansion, wondering WTF she does for a living to afford all this, while watching her magnificent big booty sway invitingly.

She looks over her shoulder at me, her gorgeous black eyes sparkling from the lights from the black metal chandelier in the two story tall entryway. "So, you want the grand tour?"

"Sure," I say, staring at the hardwood floors, high end furniture upholstered in understated oatmeal and beige colors, and brightly colored abstract paintings that are clearly originals, not prints.

"Let's start with the master bedroom." She leads me into a huge room with a two story tall ceiling, flooded with natural light pouring through three banks of windows overlooking a deep garden backed by a green belt, no neighbors in sight. It has what at first glance appears to be a smallish bed, until I realize it's actually a Cal King dwarfed by the size of the room. The bed sports three layers of decorative white and pale green pillows, in front of four functional light gray king sized pillows. The usual wretched excess of pillowage that most women love.

Chivas is looking at me with what appears to be an uncharacteristically shy, uncertain expression on her beautiful face. "Umm... how would you feel if I proposed some... intimate... role playing today?"

"Uh... sure. I take it the remainder of the tour has been temporarily postponed?"

She sorta bites her lower lip. "It... it might be a bit much. I wouldn't blame you if you bolted and ran for the hills..."

"OK, now you've got me intrigued. Just blurt it out."

She hesitates for a moment, then says, "How would you feel if we role played it was our wedding night?"

"Oh. Sure. Why not?" I crinkled my brow. "You had me kinda worried for a moment there, like you were gonna go all psycho on me, and then we'd have to move bodies later. Or something."

"No worries, it's not like I've got a minister and a wedding dress stashed in the closet over there..."

I shrug, reassuringly.

"... that you know of."

I stare at her deadpan expression, trying to parse out if she's joking, then laugh. "Sounds like fun. Let's do it."

She opens her night stand drawer and takes out two platinum colored rings, one with diamonds on it. "I do, however, have these... props. Just to set the mood. Hold out your hand."

I look into her beautiful eyes, looking for crazy. Not seeing it - granted, I have a long and checkered history of not picking up on red flags - I hold out my left hand, and she slides the plain band onto the fourth finger. Then she holds her right hand out flat, offering me the diamond ring on her palm. It's got a pretty damn big rock on it. Of course.

I take the ring.

She holds out her left hand. "Now me." She's looking into my eyes with an adoring look, like I'm the greatest thing since sliced bread. I'm not really used to that look, but damn, it feels good.

I slowly slide the ring onto her fourth finger, for a fleeting moment wondering if this is a Another Red Flag Moment I'm Not Picking Up On, aka an ARFMINPUO. Said acronym sounding kinda like something her Corgi might bark out. At least the 'arf' part.

Nah.

"Now kiss me."

I lean forward and comply. Her pillowy lips are soft, and I get a jolt of adrenaline when her tongue slides between my lips and wiggles against mine. I get a bit hard.

She puts her fingers on the spaghetti straps of her LBD, and slides them toward her shoulders. The dress falls to the floor, revealing incredibly sexy black lingerie with little hearts covering her ample curves. My heart hammers.

"You like?"

"Oh my fucking god, you look sexy."

She wraps her arms around my neck, and I inhale her lovely perfume. "Do you trust me?"

"Yes."

"Will you do exactly what I ask you to do?"

I stare into her eyes, searching for hints of ARFMINPUO, but all I can see is her adoring me. Her wanting to please me.

"Yes."

She picks up one of the non-decorative gray pillows, and drops it on the ground. "Get on your knees."

I kneel on the pillow, wondering what's going on in her wicked mind...

She pulls her panties down a bit. "Now, put your nose against my pussy, and inhale."

I obey. Ohmygod, her pussy smells soooo good. Musky and dark. Her pussy hair is trimmed, but still there, tight black curls that tickle my nose.

"Lick me, baby. Lick your wife's pussy."

I lick her black labia and clit, causing her to jolt and buck her hips into my face.

Suddenly, I knew what I wanted more than anything.

"Chivas?"

"Mmmmmmmmm," she explains, grabbing my hair and shoving my face back into her pussy.

"You wanna get married?" It comes out as, "Mwhoawnnagumrrduh?" what with her holding my face against her heavenly smelling musky V.

"What did you say, sexy?"

She relaxes her grip on my head enough that I can repeat, this time with proper enunciation, "Wanna get married?"

"We're already roleplaying that, baby."

"I mean, get married. For real. 'Cause I'm madly in love with you."

She stared down at me with those gorgeous black eyes.

I gave her another lick to give her an incentive to answer in the affirmative.

Tears welled up. One slid down her cheek.

Buddy, apparently thinking the incipient deluge of tears was a sign I was abusing the Person Who Makes Kibble Magically Appear in His Bowl, chose that moment to lose his gotdamn mind and bark furiously at my face.

My mind was hamsterwheeling at Chivas' silence. Was she trying to figure out how to let me down easy? Or was that a 'maybe', because Too Soon In The Relationship? Or too stunned at my admittedly odd, and possibly wildly inappropriate timing and setting, to say 'yes' immediately?

Or just distracted by that damn cockblocking Corgi?