Nursing the last few sips of bourbon, I stared out of the wall of three-story windows in the hotel lobby. Sparkling snowflakes filled the air outside, drifting lazy and carefree, then swirling frantically, blown by another icy gust until they fell gently to earth, where black, grimy piles of the stuff cluttered the curbs, turning the street into a river of cold, salted sludge.

Who the fuck plans their wedding in Denver in the middle of February?

My daughter, of course. Yeah, sure, the groom's parents lived nearby. Yeah, it was halfway between my ex-wife's house and mine. And yeah, it was exactly two years since they'd met here on Valentine's Day. Sure, it sounds so romantic now, but let's see how big a deal it is fifteen or twenty years down the road.

Polishing off the tumbler, I shook my head, remembering why I loved living in the Old South.

A clamor of loud voices and drunken laughter grew behind me. There was no need to turn around. In her usual blusterous and overbearing manner, my ex was leading a train from the rehearsal dinner to the hotel bar. I looked anyway. Her arm was draped around the waist of the sheepish groom. He was looking back over his shoulder helplessly at our daughter, Kelly, who could only shrug. The rest of the party was in tow, the three lovely young bridesmaids, Kelly's best friends since childhood, and a bevy of stout, young groomsmen circling them like sharks. The groom's parents brought up the rear accompanied by the preacher, who I caught stealing surreptitious glances at the bridesmaid's rears. The parade disappeared into the dimly lit bar.

I felt no perverse desire to be humiliated by my ex, and there was no way I was going out in this weather, so I wandered back up to my room. A movie channel was showing the end of an old classic with Fred Astaire and Audrey Hepburn. I couldn't help but laugh to myself at the ridiculous plot. What could a charming ingenue like Audrey possibly see in such a pathetic old codger?

It was barely ten o'clock, and tomorrow was going to be a long and tiring day. There were a couple of things - unrelated to the wedding - that I would have to do at some point. I wasn't looking forward to either of them. May as well jack-off and get some sleep. Hmm...should I crank up the good old Internet, or should I opt for some decent porn on the hotel TV? Hell, I was paying for all of this, wasn't I? But for some reason, neither sounded particularly appealing. With nothing else to do, I began my nightly routine - brushing my teeth, a little yoga, then settling down with a sudoku puzzle to focus my left brain, leaving my right brain to meander aimlessly.

Kelly was first in my thoughts. Except for her few visits to Atlanta, I had missed watching my little girl grow up. I was proud of her. Despite her mother's best efforts, she had blossomed into a smart and charming young woman. Her fiancé Brian was a good kid, and if she treated him right, I held hope that they might actually make a good life together. Better than Cece and I did.

I hardly recognized her bridesmaids. They were her three best friends since they all started school together. I hadn't seen any of them in over seven years. I mostly remembered the skinned knees, the squealing pajama parties, and the tear-stained adolescent melodramas. It was hard to reconcile the little pixies that spent so much time at our house with the full-grown women drinking, swearing, and carousing at the dinner tonight.

There was Tara, busty and curvaceous. I'd learned from Kelly that she'd married right out of high school, had a baby, and got a divorce, all before she was 20. Melissa - Missy - was the slim and sexy glamor queen, always dressed to kill. She had been the ring-leader, constantly scheming, getting the other girls into some sort of mischief or another. In subtle hints, Kelly advised me to be alert to Missy's penchant for stealing boyfriends, and a few husbands. Then there was Sophie, certainly the cutest and smartest of the bunch, but with a terminal case of shyness. When she was a teenager, she turned away and blushed if I even looked at her. Even at the rehearsal, she could hardly look me in the eye. I grinned to myself. If the rumors were true, the horny groomsmen didn't stand a chance - I'd heard that she batted for the other team.

## ( II ) WARMING UP ##

Without even trying, I had grown erect under the covers. Maybe it was the hormones floating around all of those firm, ripe young women. Or maybe it was just that I was long overdue for a good fuck. Regardless, the tiny little brain between my legs would not be ignored. I kicked off my underwear and picked up the remote.

The pay-per-view selections seemed decent enough. I picked one, and sat back against the pillows for a little video stimulation. The plot buildup was blessedly short, and soon I was stroking myself lazily while fantasizing that I was the well-hung old fart on the video. A svelte, young naked girl was on her knees, swinging on his big cock. She was cute, with long dark hair in a ponytail that whipped from side to side as her head bobbed rhythmically. I felt a little guilty. The girl looked young enough to be in her mid-teens, but I was certain the actress was much older. They didn't allow anyone under twenty-one, right? Besides, according to the preview, her 'mom' would be discovering their shenanigans soon. Lucky guy. How come that sort of thing never happened to me?

The jazzy music thrummed softly, and the old guy was breathing heavy, growling, "Suck it, you miserable cunt," and similar sweet nothings.

I heard a tapping.

I hit the mute and listened. There it was again. Someone was knocking at my door, ever so lightly.

Quickly turning off the TV, I searched frantically for my whiteys under in the sheets, but couldn't find them. I hobbled to the door, pulling on a pair of old sweat pants.

I opened the door to find my daughter's maid of honor, Sophie, in her usual 'Hello Kitty' t-shirt hanging mid-thigh. She was barefoot, her long, dark hair pulled up in a ponytail, high on her head. Just like the girl in the video, I pondered. I was chagrined to feel a fresh surge of blood rushing into my loins.

She craned her neck around me, peering into the room and avoiding my gaze, asking, "Are you - uh, busy, Mr. Lyman?"

"No, Sophie..." I began, but she had already pushed the door open, ducked under my arm, and plopped onto the hotel sofa.

I closed the door and sat on the edge of the bed, wondering at the unusual late-night visit. "Is everything okay, Sophie? The wedding still happening?"

As usual, she carefully pondered her response. I could almost hear the clockwork in her head, click, click, click. Finally, she shrugged, avoiding my gaze. "Yeah, I guess so. The snow might be a little problem."

She fell silent, her eyes scanning around my room as if cataloging every inane picture on the wall, the lie of the sheets, the pants hanging over the back of the chair. Anything to keep from looking at me.

Searching for some way to break the awkwardness, I fell back on trite. "Well, Sophie, what's up? It's been a long time since we talked. Things going well in your life?"

Not that we'd ever talked much. She was the quietest of the bunch, and hardly ever said a word to me. A twinge went through me when I recalled what I'd done to her mother. Was that why she was here? Did she even know?

"Yeah. Okay, I guess," she said, studying her anxious, fidgeting fingers.

"You're done with school now?"

A long pause. Click, click.

"No, not yet. This fall I'll begin a PhD program," she said, pulling her lower lip between her teeth.

"Wow!" I said, taken aback. I knew she was bright, but she was so terminally shy. "So I'll be calling you Dr. Sophie?"

She grinned, and chuckled, still contemplating the floor. "No, Mr. Lyman..."

"Please, Sophie, call me Chuck," I said. "You're a woman, now."

Her back straightened proudly, and her eyes actually shifted to me for a moment. Her face was beaming.

"Okay, uh, Chuck. Anyway, I won't be a doctor." She thought for a moment, scrunching up her face. "I mean, I'll be a doctor, but not like a medical doctor doctor, but I'll have a doctorate, so people will call me doctor, and..." She suddenly stopped and rolled her eyes. "God, I sound so stupid."

I laughed, and her cheeks grew red. "I'm sorry, Sophie. You sound excited, not stupid. So, what will your doctorate be in?"

"Biomedical engineering," she said.

"Whoa! Biomed? That's awesome, Sophie. You were always the smartest out of all of Kelly's friends."

Her chest puffed out a little more, and the dirty old man in me couldn't resist glaring at the smooth domes swelling her t-shirt, and the little points poking out next to Hello Kitty's eyes. She certainly didn't have those the last time I saw her.

"Where will you go? M.I.T.?" I inquired.

Sophie chuckled again, and shook her head. "Didn't wanna' go there. Too geeky." She gathered her thoughts - click, click - and took a deep breath. "I could stay close to home at Stanford," she said, "and I've been accepted at Duke..." She held her breath, chewing on her lower lip again. "...or I could go to Georgia Tech." She glanced up at me, her eyes glimmering briefly, excitedly.

"You know I live in Atlanta now..." I began.

Sophie suppressed a grin. Staring at the floor, she nodded twice, and I heard her whisper, "Yeah. I know."

"...and it would be great to have you in town. Atlanta's pretty cool. I mean, it's not L.A., but it's got its own charm. Ever visited there?"

She shook her head, nibbling on her lip, and still avoiding my eyes. "Not yet."

I offered, "You should come visit. You could stay with me, if you want...." There was that grin again. "... and I'll show you all the sites. We'd have a blast." I refrained from bringing up the active LGBT community. I didn't want to presume, since everything I'd heard about her partner preference was hearsay.

There was a long silence, while she mulled over her response. Click, click, click. I'd learned years ago to just give her time.

"What about...I mean, won't your, uh, wife, or your girlfriend - I mean, shouldn't you ask her?"

"I haven't re-married, Sophie. Don't even have a special woman right now. I guess I never really got over that whole thing with Cece."

Sophie looked at me directly, perhaps the first time in years. "Do you still love her?"

I laughed out loud. "No, no, Sophie. That ship sailed a long time ago." After I drove it into your family's wharf, I neglected to mention.

She abruptly moved to the bed, and sat on the edge only a few inches from me. Her eyes still watched her fingers playing nervously with each other. "What did you mean, you never got over her?" she asked.

It was my turn to stop and think. I wasn't sure how much she knew about the events surrounding our divorce. "That's a hard one, Sophie. It hurt. A lot." After a few seconds, I added, "I guess she left me with trust issues where women are concerned. I haven't found anybody who I could believe in, someone who wouldn't do all the mean things she did. Some women can be conniving and spiteful."

Brows raised, she nodded her agreement.

I had never really thought much about it, but hearing myself say the words left my eyes misty.

We shared a minute of quiet. Finally, I asked, "So what brought you here tonight, Sophie? You look like you want to talk about something."

Her lower lip tucked in between her teeth again. The Sophie Machine was churning at full steam. Click, click, click.

In a tiny voice, she said, "I'm sorry, Mr. Ly...uh, I mean, Chuck. Gosh, that's going to be hard to get used to," she giggled.

I gave her a comforting smile. When I laid my hand across her twiddling fingers, she started with a tiny gasp, and her deep brown eyes looked up at me again with a fixed stare. It seemed meaningful, but I couldn't ascertain what was spinning in that little wind-up mind of hers.

"I'm really not like this all the time, Chuck. Sometimes, my mind gets so cranked up, like the neurons are firing faster than I can process them. It happens -- it happens at certain times. Around certain people." Her anxious eyes fell back toward the floor. "I'm sorry if I seem so dumb to you."

"I've never thought you were dumb Sophie," I told her. I gently stroked her rose-tinted cheek with the back of my hand, and she leaned into it, closing her eyes.

So she was shy only around some people, she'd said. Was I one of those people? Was it because of what I had done? No, that was just my self-incrimination talking. Sophie had been like this nearly as long as I could remember. She still hadn't explained why she was here. Maybe she'd come to talk about Kelly and the wedding schedule. Or maybe she wanted to tell me about something else that was going on. Perhaps my ex-wife? I remembered Cece's arm around the groom's waist, and I knew how she got when she had a few drinks in her.

I appealed to Sophie, "Please don't ever be afraid to talk to me about anything, Sophie. I promise, whatever it is, I will help if I can, and I'll keep it just between the two of us, okay?"

She looked up at me again, and her expression seemed intense, searching my eyes as if for some hidden meaning.

"Y'know, Sophie," I said, "sometimes it's better if we don't think about things too much. Just let it all come out, and then we can try to make sense out of it together."

The corners of her mouth turned up, and she nodded slowly. Almost to herself, she whispered, "Yeah, you're right."

Then she pounced.

She leapt on top of me, wrapping her arms around my neck as she knocked me backward. She straddled me, holding onto my neck for dear life. Her mouth found mine, mashing our lips together frantically. Totally overcome by the sudden assault, I did what any red-blooded male would do - I kissed her back. Our wild searching for lips gradually melded into something slow and sensuous. Tongues entered the fray, tasting each another. She wore an intoxicating scent, vanilla and other spices. She relaxed, stretched herself out top of me. Her legs wrapped around my thigh, rubbing herself on it, her own thigh kneading my hardness. My dick twitched hungrily.

An unbidden memory popped into my consciousness. A shy little dark-haired 6-year old was running into the house screaming, blood flowing out of her mouth because she'd lost a baby tooth on our swing set. Shit.

I pushed Sophie off me and sat up, trying to find my way out of the daze.

"Wha - what's wrong?" she asked. Her eyes grew despondent. "Oh, God. You're mad at me. Oh, God, I'm sorry, Chuck. I didn't ..."

"No, Sophie," I shook my head and took hold of her hand, chuckling. "I'm not mad. I'm just...have you been drinking, Sophie?"

"A - a little. A couple glasses of wine with dinner." Then it dawned on her. "Oh, you think I'm just doing this because..."

"Why are you doing this?"

"Don't you know?" she asked.

"Know what?"

Bang! Bang! Bang!

Someone was pounding on my door.


I jumped off the bed and ran to the door. My first thought was that it was Sophie's dad, with a gun. I yelled through the door, "Who is it?"

A deep, sexy voice replied softly. "It's me. Let me in."

Fuck! Cece!

"Just a minute! I'm not dressed."

"Nothing I haven't seen, touched, and tasted," she cooed.

"Hang on," I shouted.

Fuck. I should have known this was coming. I looked around the room for a hiding place and settled on the armoire, pointing Sophie toward it. She ran and quietly hid inside, closing it behind her.

I opened the door a crack. My ex-wife was wrapped in a fluffy white nightgown, but still wore her expensive diamond earrings and necklace from dinner, the ones that her wealthy new husband had bought for her.

"What do you want Cece?"

"Hi, Chuck. I want to come in. Are you...alone?" She peeked around me like Sophie had done.

"Yes, I'm alone, but this isn't a good time." Frankly, it was never a good time to be around Cece. Especially when she was like this.

"I won't be long. Unless..." She shoved the door open and swaggered in, standing in the middle of the room, her eyes scanning for anything out of place.

I could smell the alcohol. That wasn't good. When Cece was drunk, no cock was safe.

"You've been drinking." I said.

"Yes," she said, her voice low and silky. Swinging her hips suggestively, she took two steps toward me.

"What do you want, Cece?" I repeated, standing my ground, arms crossed.

"Oh, I thought maybe we could celebrate our daughter's nuptials. You know, for old time's sake."

Just as I figured. Every time she got hammered.

"What about Mark? You remember him - your husband?"

"Oh, he's no fun. He went back to the room and fell asleep."

"Cece," I said firmly, "I'm not going to help you ruin your marriage."

"You had your share of fun, honey, remember? Who was it who fucked my best friend?"

Fuck! Did Sophie know about that? Before I realized what I was doing, I glanced over her shoulder at the closet. It was cracked open. Fuck, again! Fortunately, Cece was too toasted to notice my blunder.

"It was only once, Cece," I said tiredly. "And remind me who was the first to trash our vows? You're not going to drag me into this quagmire again."

"Don't worry, honey, there are no lawyers here, and I'm not wearing a wire." She spread the robe open and slipped it back, hanging over her shoulders.

My mouth dropped open. She was right. She wasn't wearing a wire. Except for the jewelry, she wasn't wearing anything. Her pale, smooth breasts dangled invitingly, those fat pink nipples begging to be suckled. Her belly was trim for a woman of her age - she'd been keeping up with her workouts - and her pussy was shaved now. How many times I'd enjoyed that talented pussy. Her swollen pink lips were noticeably spread. I guessed she'd been playing with herself already.

Cece took another sexy step toward me, letting the gown whisper to the floor. "Remember our honeymoon?" she said, and in one swift motion she dropped to her knees, jerked my sweat pants down my thighs, and swallowed half my dick.

I'd forgotten what a superb cocksucker my ex was. Holding onto my butt cheeks for leverage, she bobbed noisily on my erection, wet and sloppy, moaning as though she had a clit on her tongue. Just like the girl in the video, except the girl wore a silver stud in hers. Cece rolled my balls in her palm, and I entwined my fingers in her blonde hair, my hips starting to thrust as I felt my sap rising. With all of the excitement that Sophie had stimulated, I wouldn't last long.

Sophie? Fuck!

I looked at the partially open closet door. I couldn't see her, but she had to be watching us!

"Stop it!" I shouted, forcing myself to step backwards, pulling my dick out of Cece's mouth with a loud 'pop'. I quickly pulled my sweats up. "No, Cece, this is not going to happen. Not with me, it's not. Not here, not now, not ever."

She stood and bent to kiss me, but I turned my head so her kiss landed on my cheek. She grabbed at my hard shaft again, but I pushed her hand away.

She picked up her gown. In a singsong voice, she said, "You don't know what you're missing, Chuck."

"You're wrong, Cece," I replied. "I know exactly what I'm missing."

I held the door open for her. With her robe hanging over her arm, naked as a jay, she strolled down the hall, swinging her hips.


I closed the door, leaned back against it, and took a deep breath. When I opened the closet, I was shocked to see Sophie squatting, her 'Hello Kitty' panties around her knees, one hand clutching her breast and the other shoved between her legs. She looked up at me and grinned, her face and neck an aroused shade of red.

"Um, sorry you had to see that," I apologized.

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