The Wedding Party

Michelle, loud and proud in her nakedness, was livin' la vida loca. Brian watched her wriggle and gyrate in Candy and Maurice's embrace - the tasty fresh-caught filling to their enchilada. He saw her boldly reach into Candy's corset for some pecho and then he smelled Erika creep up from behind and felt her knees grind against his thighs. "I Gotta Feeling" came on, and something stirred in him . . . but for who? Michelle? Candy? Erika? Maurice? Heather? . . . Al!

Heather's wrap dress unfastened and unravelled in a shimmering chiffon stream. Wearing only her brand-new bustier and back thong, she strutted her Gypsy Rose Lee legs and booty. She lay down on the floor and splayed herself open. Voulez vous! Candy drew her fingers across the lacy textures and seam-work of the lingerie. Was she quality-testing the product? Or lusting for Heather? She crawled between Heather's legs, dragged her cheek across her sculpted cleavage, and then sunk her face into Heather's hourglass tummy as though she were settling into a pillow at night.

Like a dog in heat, Al dropped to his knees, lifted the layers of Candy's white ballroom gown, fingered her to find her wet, and then tickled her crotch doggy-style with his dick. Candy crawled away from his hard-on, while Al scurried four-legged to follow.

Michelle spread her legs and pointed to her clit - an invitation to anyone who wanted to lick her cunt. Maurice jumped out of his clothes. Wearing only his crucifix and Montreal Canadiens thong, he beelined for her, but Candy got there first.

Performing for Brian, Erika slid her hands down Maurice's torso and pulled down his thong. The show continued as Maurice helped Erika off with her shoes, stockings, one and then the other, the buttons of her shirt, her bra, and finally her thong. She cradled and pinched her breasts with one hand and, inviting some audience participation, stretched the other out. Al yelled over, "Go for it man!" but Brian just watched. Erika kneeled and took Maurice's cock into her mouth. Teasing Brian with her eyes, she licked, tongued and sucked. Transfixed, Brian forgot to swallow. The bitch knew what she was doing.

Maurice lay down next to the Schellenbergers and kissed Heather. Whoa Silver! Heather had never threesomed before, and this scene: "Exotic French Guy Does the Postie" was her wildest, wettest fantasy.

When Maurice stood up to reach for a condom, Heather marvelled at the smoothness of his chest and the precise stencilling of his armlet tattoo. Her body froze as he pulled on the condom, and her pulse raced as his hands, fingers and teeth peeled off the lace and elastic of her lingerie. His light touch tingled between her thighs, and the sensation intensified as the strokes became slippery under her full wet bush. Slowly maneuvering his slim hips between her legs, he pushed his dick inside her. She turned to Al who was cupping a massive erection, and she noticed a bead of cum form on its tip.

With a barely perceptible curl to his smile and a devious twinkle in his eye, Maurice pulled-out, but Heather wanted more . . . she wanted it all. Planful and in control, this man, who was not her husband, studied her face and explored her body. He touched her clit . . . and then he stroked and released, intensified and softened, expertly mastering and controlling the ebbs and flows of her response, until a tidal wave of greedy, powerful orgasms engulfed her." Fuck me! Harder! Faster! Longer!" she screamed.

Alone on the floor, Erika massaged her clit. Frantically edging to climax, her throbbing cunt opened and beckoned, when, like in a dream, Brian lay down beside her. They locked eyes and held their gaze. Sprawled on the floor, her fingers rubbing a million miles an hour, Erika came. And then, time stood still, as Brian's warm breath caressed her skin and his head sank heavy into her embrace. At Last, crooned Etta James out of the speakers, At Last.