I Don't Like Liars

"I'll try to stay dry in the meantime," I managed, wiping him off my lips, but by then he'd whirled away to continue dancing.

Later, Ashlee told me they'd each made over $500, just in tips. Not that I was thinking about that at 12:47 as he sweated above me in my bed, easing that big log into my shamefully tight pussy, both of us staring down between our naked bodies at where he disappeared into my trembling slit. I was already having trouble believing something so thick had made it anywhere inside me. "Aw, fuck!" I gasped for the twentieth time, my head lolling back on my pillow in awe.

He'd arrived about ten minutes before. The "private dance" had not been much of a dance. And he'd gotten hard at once, in spite of the load I'd watched him spew all over the bride's expensive bra. Which impressed me at his age: the guy had to be on the bad side of thirty, but then he worked a job that required a reliable hard-on and copious semen. Who knew what kinds of drugs he took to make that happen?

Not that I cared about any of that anymore once he got me on my back.

He worked it into me steadily, feeling me take him as best I could, and my job was to relax as much as possible. So I planted my soles on my mattress, let my lower body go as slack as I could, and reminded myself how badly I craved that dick, how willingly I was giving it up for him. He knew what he was doing, watching me carefully, pushing in until he heard a gasp or saw a wince and then backing patiently back out, that throbbing vein atop his shaft pressing hard against the top of my vag the whole time. And all the while his eyes glittered hard and dark above me, digging into my mind just as he dug into my cunt.

It was around that time that I decided maybe I should fuck more pros. His coworker Steve had been great too, that time at Meaghan's wedding shower, doing me from behind like a whore. I'd loved it.

He looked down again, calculating, and I could read his mind as he judged how much shaft he had left to stick into me, versus how much he thought I could take, and I saw him nod to himself before he raised those hard eyes back to mine. The rest of his dick inched past my pussy lips, feeling like a Coke bottle, the dull ache snapping a whip behind my brain while the pleasure built fast in my clit. I heard a whimper tear out of my throat, my feet rising uncontrollably up his granite legs so that I could open wide for him, and in the next instant he gave a contented little sigh.

The guy was balls-deep in me.

We stared like that for a few seconds, breathing each others' air while I got used to him, and soon enough I was able to risk a tentative squeeze of my pussy around him. He replied with a powerful twitch, that thing inside me coming back to life, writhing deep like a dragon in a new lair. I loved it, that feeling of fullness I was so seldom able to get, and I let him know by twining my arms tight around his bull-thick neck, my legs scrambling to cling to his hips.

Closer. As close as I could get to him.

He settled between my legs, his weight falling onto my naked body, then thrust once, mightily, deeply, far up into my needy snatch. "Oh yeah!" I crowed, my voice cracking as I felt the lightning bolt sizzle up from my pussy to my chest, then out from there to my fingers and toes. This guy wasn't just fucking my pussy, he was fucking my entire body. And I already knew that when I came, I was going to lose control of every part of me. "Fuck me!"

He didn't need to be told, his hips already churning in a smooth, easy rhythm, not too fast and not too slow, the steady tempo of a masterful fuck. My fingers scrabbled over his skin, seeking whatever flesh I could find, wanting to grasp all parts of him all at once, and all the while he kept plunging far inside me. "Gonna cum?" he taunted me, his voice a low husky growl, and something in that confident face of his made it a self-fulfilling prophecy.

"Tell me," I gasped, knowing I sounded like a cheap slut. "Tell me to cum."

"Cum on my cock," he commanded, and there was no denying that smug curl of his lip when he released me like that, his face and his cock telling me to let go, and to do it now. I probably screamed; I certainly moaned, a low and very undignified sob of need and want and joy, my mind nearly blanking out. For I'd been right: this full-body fuck had become a full-body orgasm, boiling up from beneath my belly in a tickling wave that swamped me even as Kyle kept that sturdy sick in smooth motion.

I was still buzzing, high on sex, when he picked me up like the puppet he'd turned me into, flinging me onto my stomach in the puddle I'd made on my own sheets. I stirred, starting to lift myself up onto my knees for him, because when I guy puts you on your belly it's because he wants to take you like his bitch. But instead I felt him swing that marble-sculpted leg over my hips, hands pressing insistently down beside my spine until my spastic body nested itself in the wreck we'd made of my pussy-damp comforter. "Down," he rasped, his erection a long, hot tube along my butt, all slick with my pussy juice.

"What?" He didn't listen, though, his hand trailing over my asscheek, then savagely down below the crack, right along my taint, his thumb hooking my slit almost cruelly. "Jesus!" I wailed, another little orgasmic thrill stunning my body, but he paid no attention: by then, he was pushing his cock sharply downward into the little gap at the top of my thighs, where his hand still chiseled down. "You're killing me," I huffed, feeling an unfamiliar friction as he forced his dick between my clamped thighs.

Ah, I understood all of a sudden, he's going to do me prone. I'd seen that in pornos, but never dreamed I'd ever want it, let alone do it. But all at once I realized I wanted it, and badly, from this stud whose body held me pinned so firmly down that I couldn't even dream of moving. I rested my head on my pillow, panting.

"You've got a great ass," he observed, oddly conversational even while he entered me, his thick cockhead probing through my sweaty crotch and then up and forward, nosing into a vagina still quaking with the fading force of my orgasm. "You into spanking?"

"What?" There was too much going on, my mind still locked in pleasure as my body tried to make sense of what he was doing, and I wasn't into playing Twenty Questions. "Just put it in," I managed, guttural, needing that dick back inside me.

He laughed. "Okay." His groin solid against my butt, Kyle drove downward between my thighs, this time only half his cock getting up me. But it seemed to be enough for him, and it was definitely enough for me. His motion now was all slithery, a close, raw undulation on top of me, the drag of his mushroom head against my lips tossing branch after branch onto the fire he'd kindled in my libido, both his hands kneading my asscheeks like they were made of play-dough.

Goddamn, this was raw. Powerful. Passionate. I lay there and let him have me however he wanted, driving in again and again until I felt him speed up and lose that metronome rhythm he'd been drilling me with. I heard a muttered "fuck!" from up above me, his cock barely making it out of me before he started pumping hot, thick cum all over my butt, then far up my back as he rode himself through it with his shaft in my asscrack like a hot dog in a bun. We were both giggling by then, delirious, smearing each others' sweaty flesh.

He straddled me for awhile after that, trawling his low balls through his puddled semen, making pretty patterns all up and down my spine. He seemed amused when I asked him to take a picture of that, like a child's finger-paint masterpiece in a very adult setting, and I saved it on my phone for a long time after that.

* * *

I gave Kelly a couple days after she got back before I called her to finalize my move. My thumb moved over my phone as I strolled past Harborside Book & Tea, the windows frosted with fake snow that shone with the lights from the tree they'd stuck right up front. I moved down Shore Road through a tunnel of tinsel and holly, my phone trilling in my ear as the call went through. She picked up just before her voicemail did. "Yeah?"

"Welcome home. You all fucked out yet?"

She laughed. "You know me. I'm always game. It was a great time."

"Back to work now, though. When did you want to come over to help me move, Kel?"

Her pause worried me a bit, but when she sighed it was the kind of sound that said she was just distracted. Not the kind that said she was planning on backing out of my move. "Just call Aaron. Figure it all out with him. You have his number?"

"Nope. I've only met him, like, three times. And he's yours, anyway. Why would I have his number?"

"So that you can call him about shit like this without bothering me," she snapped, my phone chirping as she sent me his contact info. "Just remind him who you are. He's got a shitty memory."

"Thanks, Kelly." She hung up without a reply, the little bitch. I mean, sure, they were doing me a favor and I was grateful. But that didn't mean she needed to treat me like I was her servant. She'd changed. She clearly thought it was an achievement to land a husband, something that set her apart from the rest of us. She was forgetting that I'd been there and done that, and so had a bunch of the rest of her friends. I'd landed a husband too, and then un-landed him. So had two of her other bridesmaids, though one had since gotten remarried.

She'd learn, maybe. Who knew whether she and her devoted, allegedly large-cocked Aaron would make it?

I called him after sticking him into my contacts, under Kelly's Stud (Aaron). His voice sounded wary, that mix of suspense and curiosity that people use when they have no clue who's on the other end. "This is Aaron Raff. Who's calling?"

There were two basic ways I could go with this. I could be Professional Tara, like I was when I used the phone at work, or I could just be Tara. And Tara could be fun, and flirty. So that's what I started with, figuring I could always go back to Professional Tara if Aaron proved to be a stick in the mud. "Hi! It's Tara Jordan. I was in your wedding."

He hesitated. "Third one from the left?" he guessed.

He hadn't really known any of us bridesmaids, other than his own sister. Which was fine, since Kelly hadn't really known the groomsmen. Well, time he met me then. I smiled and let myself off the chain. "You're helping me move after Christmas. I'm the only bridesmaid whose tits fit properly in the dress."

He paused again, leaving me in a lot of doubt for a few seconds about whether I'd have to get boring all of a sudden, but his answer made my smile turn into a smirk. "That doesn't narrow it down. I don't remember any nipples on the altar."

I arched an eyebrow. "I assure you, there were definitely nipples on the altar."

"Well, but I think they were covered. Still. I think I remember who you are. It's nice to chat with you. What's on your mind, Tara?"

"Just setting up a time for you to come move my shit out of my apartment. Kelly told you I'd need your truck for a few hours?"

"I think I remember something about that."

"Yeah. Well. I need your truck for a few hours. Your arms too, probably. For the lifting and stuff."

"Good." I could tell he was smiling. "Because if it's a hug you're looking for from my arms, I'm off limits. Kelly would kill me."

I felt a distant buzz in my pussy, a sort of alarm that tended to go off at unpredictable times. With unpredictable men. "Only if she found out," I volleyed back.

"Fair enough," he chuckled. "I'm off that whole week between Christmas and New Year's, and it's not supposed to snow. Well, I mean, I'm always on call, but I don't have to go into the office at all."

"On call? What are you, some kind of doctor?"

He laughed this time. "Hell no. I'm in real estate. So I know my way around town, which is why Kelly volunteered me to help you move."

"That, and you have a truck. But you're free the whole time?"

"Yep."

"So I can have you all week?" I joined in his laugh. "Nah. Kelly's coming over to help too, so I guess whatever day works with her schedule."

"Yeah, she's working that week because she took off for the honeymoon. So I guess you should call her."

"I did. She told me to call you. And remind you who I was. Said your memory is shitty."

"For some things, yes," he agreed, "but I remember that third bridesmaid. So if that was you, well, then hell yes I remember you."

The buzz spread up behind my belly, but it didn't really get any stronger. This was, after all, my best friend's husband. My lying best friend's husband. That made me think about what she'd said about his penis, and my mind coughed up a quick segue. "I definitely remember you," I blurted, trusting my instincts.

He laughed again. I could feel him getting more comfortable on the phone. "Well. I was the groom. So I'd hope you would."

"No no. I mean I remember you from the Lake. A couple months ago?" I began to swing my legs off the end of my bed, another sign that I was enjoying the conversation. I'd done that even in high school, talking to boys. I thought again about my vibrator, used recently enough that it still glistened on my bedside table.

"The Lake. Oh! At Ray Peak? Ashlee's birthday party?" He paused again, and I knew his mind would be going through his mental photo album of the people who'd been there. "That was a huge crowd. You were there?"

"I was." I let him wait, then gave him a hint. "Cropped green tankini. I was the really good waterskier."

"Oh. I was on the grill most of the time."

"Yes. Too bad, too. I could have taught you to waterski." I was sensing that this should end, the conversation having its own lifespan. That's what had always given me such a reputation for wittiness: I knew when to shake loose and come back later. "Look, do me a favor? Figure out a date and time, then call me back?"

"Sure." He yawned. "Only, I thought you were going to keep me all week."

"Nah," I grinned into my phone, my brain working fast, "it's too cold for waterskiing. We'd get bored."

"There's nothing else you're good at?" He seemed in no mood to hang up, which I knew gave me the upper hand. He was a good flirt, though.

"Nothing you should know about, Aaron." I let that smoulder for a few seconds, then sighed. "Listen, I'd love to chat, but I've got shit to do. I'm off. Call me back?"

"Absolutely."

"Good boy." I thumbed him off from there, because you always leave a man with a little hint of mystery to chew on, then flopped myself back on my bed.

It didn't take me long to reach for the vibe. I'd liked Aaron's energy. It was the kind of thing I could get used to, I reflected as I switched it on and shimmied my panties down.

* * *

My phone rang the next day, but Kelly's Stud was not who came up on the caller ID. No, it was my landlady, reminding me I'd better be out by the end of the month. The cunt had the temerity to start the call with "Merry Christmas!"

Bitch.

She did tell me she'd leave the service door open so that I could load my shit into Aaron's truck from back there. "What day will that be, Tara?"

"I don't know. I haven't nailed it down with my friends yet."

She paused just long enough for me to read her mind, that dark and loathsome space where people like me were just assholes. "I can hardly leave that door unlocked all week."

"I'll know in the next couple days. I'll call you."

"The 'next couple days' is Christmas, Tara."

"Yes," I snapped, "and yet? Magically? The phones work over Christmas. So I'll find out, then I'll call you." I hung up without waiting for more; there was nothing more she could possibly say to me.

I'd find out whenever Aaron called me back, and she could wait until then. If that didn't leave enough time for her to get her precious service door unlocked, then Aaron could just use his reputed massive cock to pry it open. The thought made me chuckle, at least.

* * *

He called me the day after Christmas. I could hear Kelly in the background, which made the low-grade flirtation all that much more exciting. "Hi there, Aaron. How's it hangin'?"

"Good." He sounded a bit more subdued, more guarded with his wife in the room. "How about Thursday? Kel says she can get off for half the day."

"It usually takes her even longer to get off," I cackled, "but that's not the point." He did not laugh, but I told myself he wanted to. "Cool. Morning? Afternoon? I'm game for either."

"Hon? Morning or later?" I heard Kel's sour reply, and then Aaron hopped back into my ear. "She says we'll be there at one."

"Awesome." I stirred, my legs swinging again. "So. Did you remember me? From the Lake?"

"You are, indeed, the third bridesmaid from the left. I got to look at some of the proofs from the photographer." He definitely sounded quieter now.

"And I was right? My tits fit into the dress?" I loved this. I always liked flirting; it was so much better with this guy. I wasn't sure why. He took his sweet time answering, the low mutter of their TV in the background.

"I mean, yeah, the photos all looked great," he told me, carefully noncommittal. I reminded myself that she was listening to his side of this; there'd be no mention of nipples from him today!

But from me? "No nipples, though. Sadly." I laughed, hearing nothing from him in return. "I was thinking it'd be better if you had some pics of me at the Lake, but like you said, you were grilling most of the time."

"Most of the time, yeah." Kelly was loud in the background. It almost sounded like she was on the phone with someone else at the same time.

"So. Yeah. No tankini shots of me. Unless I texted one to you?" I perked up at once, loving the naughtiness of that possibility. I hadn't even realized I was baiting the hook, let alone throwing it into the water; yet, there it sat. Bobbing. Ready. "Want that?" I pressed, listening to my treacherous sense of fun, my legs swinging wildly. "Want a picture of me in my little green swimsuit, Aaron?"

He waited a few seconds before answering. "That sounds interesting."

My heart thudded, that familiar warmth spreading out once more from my vagina. "Yeah," I drawled, my voice low and confident, "you do want one. Maybe me bending over or something?" Without waiting for his response, I steamrolled on. He'd be thinking of my ass now. "The other bridesmaids didn't look as good as me."

"Nope." He sounded carefully indifferent again, but it came out immediately.

"We all knew you were staring at us. You and all the other groomsmen." Yes, they had been, but why not? We were all young and hot, the bridesmaids' dresses skimpy up top. Of course they'd been looking. "Two of them paired off and fucked. Want me to tell you which ones? Or do you want to guess?" This was untrue, as far as I knew, but that didn't matter. This wasn't about his friends hooking up with my friends; this was a game now, founded on his new wife's lie. About his penis.

I wasn't really interested in Aaron. I couldn't be. Was I?

I hadn't even known his name before two months ago, and then I'd helped marry him off to my best friend, and now here I was on the phone with him, talking about boobs and sex. And he was going along with it. I cleared my throat. "If you guess which ones did it, I'll tell you."

The wait took awhile this time, a few dreadful moments of silence before he spoke once more. "Maybe later?"

"Definitely later," I cooed. Without realizing it, I'd started to cream my panties. "So. Thursday." In the background, Kelly's voice rang out forgotten, saying something about a sofa.

"Oh! Yeah." His voice sharpened; I could almost see him sit up straighter in his chair. "Almost forgot. You need to let me know how big your couch is so that I'll know how to configure my truck bed."