The Wedding Pt. 02

"Awwwwwww, SHIT!!!!!!"

It was Kevon. He and the rest of the fellas, including Terry and Jennie, were milling about in the hotel lobby when I returned from my encounter with Lisa in the conference room. I tried to put on a brave face.

"Who you done did it to? Already? It's only six o'clock!!" exclaimed Jennie. (She often slipped easily into Ebonics around us. But she could be painfully proper her professional interactions.)

I'd failed at masking that silly "I've just cum and all is right in the world!" look. There was no disguising my failure to this bunch. They knew me all too well. I decided to fall back onto semantics.

"What're you talking about. I ain't did nuttin'."

"Nigga, youse a LIE. I know that sneaky look. And I know your Judeo-Christian background, too," she rebuked.

"I swear on a stack of Bibles that I have not had...um...intercourse with anyone."

Technically, this was true. Lisa and I had not had intercourse. We'd trotted up to the edge of it. But we hadn't actually done it.

"I know who it is. It's LISA. They been makin' googoo eyes at each other since yesterday," said Teralynn.

"It's not Lisa," I lied.

"Well, who is it, then? We know you've done did SOMETHING. Spit it out, Artie." Jennie nagged.

I decided to flip the script.

"Can I have just a tee-nine-chee bit of privacy on this? You know I'm going to pungle at some point. I swear it's not what you think it is. But I admit it IS something. In fact, Miss Gotta-know-everything Louis, I was gon' pull you aside and ask your advice before I got around to talking. You got a minute?"

Jennie looked at the other members of our group with a big smile. She was going to know the dirt before everybody. This inferred a level of trust between us that superseded my relationship with even my boys. Of course, she felt special. This was my intent, since she seemed to be the most interested in getting into my business.

"Come on, honey. Tell mama what's bothering you. And make it fast. I don't want to miss the party!!" she said while walking me away from our group.

We walked down the foyer towards the conference rooms. I opened the conversation with the mea culpa that I knew was due.

"You were right. It was Lisa. But we didn't have sex." I admitted.

"Oooooh, Artie! Something freaky, hey?" Jennie laughed.

"I...I just have some questions first." I stammered.

"Go. And make it fast. I have some dicks I want to measure and a pocket full of singles to spend."

I ignored her crude comment about the impending bachelorette party.

"OK. Tell me this. Say you wanted to, you know, suck somebody's dick, but you didn't want to come out and say so. What hand signals would you use?"

"OH....MY....GAWD."

"I'm serious, Jen. Apparently I missed the 'I want to suck your dick' class back in school."

"You're saying Lisa was giving you the signal. And you missed it?"

"Yes."

"Artie, I knew you was dumb. But I ain't think you was THIS dumb."

"Thanks. Just show me the signal, nyugga."

"Well, it's a bunch of things a woman will do. She could rub her finger into your palm."

"I know about that one."

"She could reach across you and grip your forearm, you know, and squeeze it, you know, like a pussy squeezes a dick."

"That's one of the signals?"

"Yep."

"I missed that one."

"She could poke her tongue into her cheek and fake like she's licking her teeth."

"I missed that one, too."

"You missed THAT one? Tell me, how did you ever get your dick sucked in the first place? I mean, a five-year-old knows that one."

"Whatever. Go on."

"She could be holding your hand and reach up and squeeze your finger in her fist."

"I thought that one meant she wanted to fuck?"

"That's what it does mean. But it can mean she wants to suck your dick, too."

"OK."

"She can bat her eyes at you and look away."

"Oh man. All women do that."

"All women like sucking dick, is what it means. Don't be dumb."

"Do you bat your eyes at men?"

"I do if I want to suck their dicks."

"You batted your eyes at me freshman year."

"That's different. You ain't picked up on it. That's why you ain't get your dick sucked."

"You told me you didn't suck dicks. Remember? Sophomore year."

"I lied."

"OK, what else?" I asked, now frustrated.

"Oh, Artie. It's a bunch of little things. Sometimes you just have to know."

"She said it was some hand signal she'd given me at the church."

"Did she touch her fingertips against your fingertips and drag her fingernails down your fingers real slow?"

"Ummm, yes. She did."

"Well, there you go."

"That's the thing? THAT? How could I be expected to know that translates into a blowjob?"

"Sometimes you just have to know, Artie. I think she could have just come out and told you to whip it out and you wouldn't have known what it meant."

"You're a lot of help."

"I'm serious, Artie. She came down to breakfast and wedged a chair in next to you. That should have told you something right there."

"You noticed that?"

"I notice everything, baby. Now can I go back to the party?"

"Yeh. I guess."

She scurried off, hot with the latest dirt. When she got back to the fellas, of course, they wanted to know the details down to the last iota. Unsurprisingly, Jennie acted as if she and I had been discussing coupons for a 10% discount on Captain Crunch at Publix. I knew she would do this. If the fellas found out anything, they would have to hear it from me. That's how we rolled in college. That's how we roll now. They pressed her. She stuck her nose in the air and ignored them. They knew the rules..

I sauntered up. They pressed me, too. I just shook my head.

"It'll come out eventually. It ain't coming out now, dawg. Give me a day or two."

I think Eddie knew, but wasn't saying anything. He was matched up with Nicole. For all I knew he and she had their own hand signal issues.

Mike Simpson gathered us all up for the first diversion of the night--a titty bar on Liberty Avenue known for flouting the local lap dance rules.

"If these women don't bust nuts in your pants, your balls ain't functioning properly," he warned.

We all laughed. But again, I wasn't really interested in strange. I wanted Lisa. As far as I knew, we'd be out feting Kevon all night with lap dancers and assorted trollops while the woman who had my nose open (Literally. The scent of her panties was still impressed on my nostrils.) was somewhere across town eating chocolate penis cake and stuffing dollar bills down the g-strings of muscular men whose dicks were bigger than mine. I imagined all sorts of bachelorette party scenarios, all of them bad.

As I was envisioning some muscle-bound dancer ignoring the scent trail Lisa had imprinted on her cheeks and her chin, one of Cynthia's fattie girlfriends came wandering up.

"Artie? Which one of you is Artie?" she queried.

I cautiously raised my hand. She passed me a piece of paper as if we'd known each other all our lives. Then she waddled away. The paper read:

12370317

SHARP.

WTF?

I considered running after her. I had no idea what this cryptic message meant. At first I thought maybe this was a foray from the fattie. But she obviously didn't know me from Adam. She'd had to ask who I was. She was passing me a message from someone else.

Lisa? It had to be!

I searched the crowd of crowing biddies for my bridal party partner. Finally I saw her getting into the stretch Escalade Cynthia had hired for the evening. Lisa paused and looked back. Our eyes met. She mouthed the word "SHARP". Then she bounced into the stretch Escalade.

What did the eight digits mean? Obviously it was up to me to decipher the message.

I took the numbers to mean a time. Lisa had said "SHARP". What was the numeric format? 12:37:03:17? That would be HH:MM:SS:?? format. Why add the 17? What did it represent? This night was not going to end at 12:37. I figured that the debauchery would be just hitting stride then. Besides, I had no way of knowing where the women would be at that time. From what I could tell, Mike Simpson didn't look like the type to schedule any part of his brother's bachelor party at a male dancer club.

For that matter, why wouldn't Lisa specify a place along with the time? She's a Duke graduate. She should know that much at least.

Waitaminute. Maybe she DID specify a place. I looked at the number again. 12370317. 1237? That MUST be her hotel room!! Therefore 0317 must be military configuration for 03:17 a.m.!!

I congratulated myself on my savvy. Surely, the women would be back in their hotel rooms by that time. I wasn't sure the groomsmen would be back by that time, though. Titty bars stay open until dawn. I tell you what--if nothing else happened in this life, I was going to be at the Sheraton at 03:17, on the twelfth floor, come hell or high water.

Having solved the mystery, I happily joined in with Kevon's groomsmen and other assorted buddies for a night of dissolution. We hopped from titty bar to titty bar, hooting and laughing like Neanderthals, foisting Kevon upon the ugliest naked women we could find. There was this one bar where the woman's titties "hung like sleeve of wizard" (in the immortal words of Borat). And we paid this woman to flap her titties in Kevon's face. He was drunk by this time, or he would have fought each and every one of us.

In another bar we paid the dancers to call Kevon up to the stage and grind on him until he was aroused. (These women weren't ugly.) Then they stood him up so that we all could see the poke in his pants. Then they made him moon walk until he fell off the stage into some big redneck's beer. This almost generated a riot until Kevon stood up and ordered tequila shots all around. The redneck smiled a toothless grin and patted Kevon brusquely on the back as if they'd been long lost brothers. We took the redneck (his name was Tommy) to the next two bars with us and had a rip roaring time.

At 02:45 I realized that the bachelor party wasn't going to end any time soon. We were drinking and dancing with strange, naked women. Kevon didn't look any worse for wear. He seemed to realize that Cynthia wasn't about to tolerate such behavior going forward. Why not get it out of his system now?

I gave not a flying fuck about any of these wayward slatterns. I could still feel Lisa's hot breath suckling at my spurting penis. No other woman would do. I discreetly made my excuses, stepped outside and hailed a cab. At 03:10 a.m. I was standing outside the door to Sheraton room 1237. I didn't dare knock. Almost certainly Nicole would be in the same room as Lisa. Discretion was key. This was the longest seven minutes of my life.

I put my ear to the door. I heard a series of faint 'oooohs' and muffled groans. Through the peephole I could see that the lights were on inside, but little else. I quickly looked away. Maybe Lisa was inside, looking out, and might catch me peeking in.

You know how, when you're anticipating something badly, and you're nervous? Sure enough, I found I had to pee. I'd just peed twenty minutes before. This was nervous pee. It was agonizing. But I didn't have time to run downstairs to the lobby bathroom. 03:17 was moments away. Nothing was going to move me away from that door.

At 03:17 on the dot someone on the other side of the room 1237 door began to turn the knob in a manner calculated to arouse the least suspicion to people in the room. I knew then that I'd deciphered the code properly. The heavy hotel door eased open. Lisa peeked out. Seeing me, she ushered me inside. The lights were on in the room as was the television, which I could see was the source of the 'ooooohs' and 'ahhhhhhs'. Apparently, the sisters had been watching a porn flick.

Lisa whisked me into the bathroom--first door on the left. I heard Nicole's voice from around the corner. She was in bed.

"Don't stink up the bathroom. And shut the door behind you. I don't want to hear your plopping turds."

Sister talk.

Lisa rolled her eyes, embarrassed. In the next instant her tongue was in my mouth and she was groping at my belt. We were in the bathroom now and the door was closed. I ran my hands down to her vagina and found no underwear to block my access. She wore a green NY Jets jersey and nothing else. I was thrilled to find a silky thatch of pubic hair that proudly exclaimed, "I'm a grown ass woman, you hear me?"

My erection impeded her ability to get my pants down. She really was in a hurry. I helped her unbuckle my belt and stepped out of my pants. I, too, was in a hurry. Freed from its constraints, my cock pronged upward, a pillar of stone again on the precipice of eruption.

Lisa grasped my dick with two grateful hands. She raised one leg and pointed him into the heated pool of sticky between the folds of her labia. I briefly felt the brush of her pubic hair. And then I was inside her.

Nothing, absolutely NOTHING beats the feeling of that first journey up the vagina of a beautiful woman, especially if her ardor matches your own. Lisa's soul-wrenching groans of passion in the hotel conference room paled in comparison to the lustful moans she emitted now. She trembled almost audibly. As I probed deeper into her core I could tell she was already in the midst of a titanic orgasm. Her clit throbbed against my shaft.

"Don't...cum...in...me." she managed to eke out.

Fuck that. She should have said that when she dragged me into the bathroom. My jizz was already massed and ready to fire. What was I going to do? Pull out?

I came inside her. She felt me erupt. Instead of pulling away, she pushed forward, basking in the sizzle of my powerful eruption. We embraced each other tightly. Our pubic mounds merged in a pressurized cauldron of sweat, semen and female effluent. We struggled to breathe, gasping and snorting.

I don't know how long we stood there in the embrace of St. Jizzius. It was a swoon unprecedented. I'd never experienced the like. I just know that when I came back to reality my dick was rock hard inside her again. I opened my eyes to see a weak smile grace Lisa's lips by way of acknowledgement. We were past the surge of initial lust, where premature capitulation was acceptable. It was time to fuck. And fuck we did.

We started slowly, with quarter insertions metastasizing into half insertions before finally becoming full insertions. We could see the helm of my cockhead trembling at the furry entrance to her pussy before disappearing again into her pinkness. We crashed into each other violently as befit two people who'd thought of nothing else for two days. I gripped her ass and rocketed my dick into her. She snarled her approval, encouraging me to thrust harder and deeper. I was certain that the thwacky sound of our intercourse could be heard in the outer hotel room. I tried to temper the pace, but this only seemed to anger Lisa. When I slowed down she ramped up the velocity and steam of our conjoinment. If we'd been alone I'm certain that she would have been screeching her joy to the rafters. She struggled to rein in her passion. I loved it. The silky feel of her cunt thrashing up and down my pole was an opiate unrivaled. She came repeatedly. I dunno how to describe it. Wait, yes I do. It felt as if she'd wrapped a silken, pink ribbon about my dick in a peppermint spiral. She massaged my pole between this ribbon for a bit. Then she snatched the ribbon tight at both ends, causing my cockhead and my balls to balloon from each end of the tether. There's no better feeling in the world. Each time she essayed this move she crumpled asunder under the embrace of a crippling orgasm. The sudden expansion of my pud inside her seemed to send Lisa into paroxysms of delight. I didn't want her to think me weak, so I endured her orgasmic tremors for the sake of stamina. Let me tell you, I was in agony. I wanted to cum so bad!!

After four iterations of this peppermint spiral I could take no more. I came inside her yet again, and this time I dosed her up with a blast of jism that rocked her moorings. She shrieked so loudly that I was sure Nicole would barge in to look after her. After all, Lisa was supposed to be alone. People who are sitting alone on a toilet ought not be shrieking. Nicole made no move to look in on her sister.

We stood together in that bathroom as this latest orgasm crazed about us like heat lightning, clasping each other tightly. We were bonding emotionally and sexually. It was clear that our carnal appetites were well matched. Too, we enjoyed each other's company. I kissed her tenderly. In the mirror I could see that she'd sucked several purple hickies into my neck while we were fucking. They looked like bruises. I smiled. I hadn't had a hickey since high school.

My penis softened by degrees. Both of us were sweating profusely. Ever so often one of us would be overcome by an unbidden spastic tremor, leftover reminders of the explosive orgasms that had encumbered us moments before.

Finally, my cock slipped from her vaginal grasp along with no small amount of semen. These plopped to the floor on sticky white strands. Lisa looked down at her dripping vagina, almost embarrassed at the natural function of gravity. She caught some of my dripping cum in her hands.

"What time is it?" she deflected.

I looked at my Tissot.

"It's four o'clock!!" I expostulated.

We'd been at it for almost forty-five minutes.

"Baby, you gotta go!" she stammered as she washed her hands in the sink.

I struggled into my pants, heedless of the semen dripping from my cock. I grabbed her and planted a big juicy one on her. We kissed and kissed. By and by my penis began to rise. She felt it harden and pushed me away.

"Stop," she smiled coyly.

I took this opportunity to lift her Jets jersey that I might drink in her nakedness. I uncovered her vagina. Her pubic hair was smashed and in disarray, but I might have known she'd shaved it into the perfect shape of a heart, with the upper dimple encompassing her clit and the lower v-section dovetailing into her taint. It occurred to me suddenly that a heart takes its shape from a woman's vulva.

I lifted her jersey further to gaze upon her breasts. Again, perfect. Not too big, not too small. Black nipples centered perfectly atop apple-shaped tits the outline of which could be seen from behind, if she raised her arms. I felt like Tom Hanks in the movie 'Big', where he encounters breasts for the first time. I was, again, transfixed.

Lisa allowed me to intoxicate myself with her loveliness. She held no false modesty. She knew that this first impression of her nakedness would follow me around for life. She let me get a good, long look before pulling her jersey down.

"C'mon. We can do this again tomorrow. Right now I've got to get you out of here."

She peeked out the bathroom door. The lights in her hotel room were still on. The television still whined with the sibilant moans of copulating couples. I gave her a knowing glance. She ignored me. She eased the hotel door open with one hand and summoned me out with the other. As I passed she reached up and gave me another soulful kiss full of tongue. Finally pushing me away, she flashed me another glimpse of her pussy, then closed the door behind me.

I slipped out of her hotel room and eased out into the hall. Downstairs I found an empty lobby. I asked the night desk clerk to call me a cab.

The cab arrived shortly. I hopped in. Only then did I realize how drained I was. I was exhausted. We arrived at my hotel. I paid the cabbie and stumbled upstairs to my hotel room. I fell into my bed fully clothed and didn't crack my eyelids again until noon.