Wedding Day No. 07

What is it about a wedding?

Here I was, absolutely faithful for 15 years now, but the temptation was so great I was pretty sure that before this night was over all of that faithfulness would be in the past.

I had tried, I had honestly tried to avoid this. But well, dammit, I'm an assman and this was a truly world-class ass.

Now, don't get me wrong. I enjoy a nice breast, large or small, perky or saggy, just like any other man. I like women's faces, pretty or plain doesn't matter. I like them all. I like legs, even chubby legs with cankles and chubrub. Ditto arms, whether a swimmer's trim arms or gramma's arms with those sexy bags of fat under the upper arm, I like them.

But for me, it's a woman's ass that matters.

I can accept a trim little ass on a skinny swimmer or runner, or that sexy ass that's kind of lost on a fat girl. But if you really want to get my attention, it takes an hourglass or, yet better, a pear.

And the woman who had been assigned to be my escort at my son's wedding, since my wife was home nursing her arthritis, was definitely a pear with a world-class ass. More to the point, she was old enough to be near age-appropriate for my 75 years, with the interesting lines and wrinkles on her face and around her eyes, not to mention those sexy soft pads on her upper arms. Now I'm not some silly kid with big ideas about love at first sight or some such bullshit. But what I definitely felt was lust at first sight.

It had been a near thing, but I made it to the rehearsal on time, albeit barely as I pulled into the parking lot of the outdoor venue as the wedding party was getting organized.

My son, evidently already a few beers into his day-before celebration, greeted me with a bearhug and, "You're LATE!"

He walked me to the porch of the house where everyone would be staged up for the ceremony.

And he introduced me to Audry, Meg's, his bride-to-be-tomorrow's aunt. She had been dragooned into being the substitute for my wife for the ceremony and she didn't seem happy about it. She wasn't hostile, but I had the definite impression she would have rather been taking care of her niece.

She's a tall woman, right at my own 5'10" and I figured she'd top out a bit over 6 feet if she wore any heels at all. She was blonde, and pale eyebrows and blue eyes suggested she was a natural blonde. She had the look of a woman who believed she was plain but worked hard to do her best with what she had. Her hair had obviously been to the salon lately, and her face was a bit overly, but expertly made up. Designer glasses framed wide-set eyes. Tiny ears were hidden under the mass of that honey-blonde hair. A small, straight nose was centered over a tiny mouth with classic cupid-bow lips.

I can't say she was pretty, but she was attractive.

But that didn't matter as I continued looking.

It was a warm day and she had on one of those dresses, a combination of what I think of as a "sundress" and a "beach dress." Maybe a "shift?" I'm not very clear on the nomenclature for women's clothes. It was a bright pattern, yellows and blues predominated with green vines and leaves holding flowers together and patches of bright red highlighting things. Wide straps held it up but then it was pretty shapeless all the way to her feet which peeked out under the bottom hem.

She seemed to be pretty small breasted, at least there was no big rise at her chest, just a small bump. But those hips and that ass, those hips, and that MAGNIFICENT ass, pushed the material of the dress away so that at her feet the dress covered a much bigger circle than at, oh, say, her waist.

She was NOT smiling as I looked up, finished my quick inventory, and met her eyes.

"Take a picture, Phillip," she said, and there was no humor at all in her voice, "It lasts longer."

So I did. I grinned, pulled my little Samsung flip phone from my pocket, opened it, and took a picture.

She finally smiled at that.

"Okay," she said, the smile real, "I probably deserved that."

My flirting skills were rusty, I'll admit it. My wife, number three if you're keeping score, was a jealous redhead and I didn't want to trigger her anger. She's a big woman and, well, if we're being honest here, her spankings hurt. So I walked the straight and narrow. But she was the best part of a thousand miles away, at home, nursing her arthritis, and I was here with this woman with the MAGNIFICENT ass.

So I flirted.

I put on my best boyish grin, the one I used to practice in the mirror, stepped close, putting my hand lightly on the deliciously soft skin at the back of her upper arm, brushed it very gently, and said, "You did. Now mind your manners."

Her eyes got big and then she giggled softly.

Okay, you can fill in your own dialogue. It was a story as old as Oog, the pre-Neolithic Revolution caveman finding Oogla, the pre-Neolithic Revolution cavewoman, attractive, hitting her on the head with his club, and dragging her into his cave for a night of love. I didn't use a club, but I did make my interest obvious.

And she turned out, when she wasn't scowling at me and pissed off about something, to be fun. She was bright and witty. Quick to laugh, quick-witted too, with a wisecrack to match my best. We drew sharp looks from the guy who would handle the ceremony, I later learned a friend of my son's, and that gave us both a bit of the giggles.

I guess I wasn't too rusty.

By the time we had been through the instructions and started the walk-through, Audry's hand on the crook of my arm was squeezing very lightly in that way a woman has that lets her man know that she's interested. We did the walk, second in line behind the mother-of-the-bride escorted by my ex's new husband. We sat and watched as the rest of the ceremony unfolded, sharing little wisecracks and giggles, drawing a sharp look from my ex which made me giggle even more.

When we stood to go back for the second, and I hoped the last, walk through I laid my hand lightly low on her waist, guiding her in that way we men do with our women, both guiding and claiming, and she didn't pull away.

The combination of soft, warm waist and the wide shelf of her hip against the edge of my hand sent a tiny electric jolt from my hand to my groin and I was surprised to feel myself getting hard without chemical assistance.

And, I was VERY aware that she made no attempt to remove my hand.

The second rehearsal went off without a hitch. Audry and I even remained quiet this time.

When Stephen, my son, had walked Meg, his bride, back down the aisle, finishing with a deep dip kiss we all applauded.

"Okay, crew," Stephen said, always on stage my boy is, "Dinner is at Randall's Restaurant with service starting at 7:00. See you then," and with a flourish, he picked up Meg and marched out of sight.

I laughed and said, "That's my boy."

Audry laughed and said, "That's my niece."

"Soooooooooo," I said, "can I give you a ride?"

"I have my car," she said, "I'll follow you."

"I'm not at the hotel," I said, "I have an Airbnb downtown."

Her smile said it all.

"Okay," she said.

So I hunted down my son, surrounded by his posse, and exchanged silly pleasantries, while Audry was wrapping Meg in a big hug and saying something very softly in her ear.

I walked her out to her car, well, actually, her truck, a big Ram 2500 with Hemi proudly displayed on the fender. I whistled approvingly and said, "I'm jealous."

She laughed and said, "Big girl. Big truck."

I admired the view as she climbed up into the big truck and then buzzed down the window.

"Which one is yours?" she asked.

"You'll know," I said.

I walked to my car, well, my midlife crisis incarnated in steel, a 1975 Fiat 124 Spyder.

I got out my cellphone, entered the address of my rented abode into Google Maps, and waited while the program thought. When the little blue arrow appeared, pointing up a blue line I was ready.

I pushed the top back and down, started the engine, and carefully, the parking lot was on a grass field and that car doesn't have a lot of ground clearance, made the circle, and back on the driveway, waved at the big truck as I drove past slowly, careful since this part of the driveway was still gravel.

She honked and I could see her laughing as the big truck started moving. No need for her to be careful, she simply drove forward, bounced once in the little ditch that lined the road, and then pulled in behind me.

The little car was, in a minor miracle, running well, and I enjoyed the twisty three-mile lane that led up to the house where we would get my son wed on the morrow. The radio was playing my "All About the 50s" playlist from my Amazon Music app, and I was singing along lustily with Dion and the Belmonts as they whined about the problems of being a teenager in love and then with Bobby Darin warning the world that "Mackey's back in town."

I followed the blue line through the maze of streets that is the old river town where my kids had grown up and finally found the proper house number on the proper street and pulled to the curb.

She pulled in behind me and in my rearview mirror, it looked like a big red cloud had just settled in. It was a BIG truck.

But I got out, reached into the back seat, and pulled out my hanging bag and suitcase.

I set my bags down and walked back to the truck.

"Ummmmmm," I said.

"Oh, God, I misread," she said and reached for the truck's door handle.

I chuckled and said, "You misread nothing, Audry. I was just going to ask if you're sure."

That smile made her truly pretty for an instant and then she had her arms around me, pulling me against her, and my hands were on her back, right where that glorious ass blossomed.

The kiss was a good one. We both knew where noses went and, well, there was a LOT of pent-up energy in it.

Finally, she broke the kiss and we embraced.

"What is it about a wedding?" she breathed, her lips brushing my ear.

I chuckled and said, "I don't know, but let's find out."

So we walked up the little sidewalk as I had expected to with my wife. Well, if I had been with Paula I would have had to make two trips, the second to get her suitcase. With Audry, it was a single trip and she carried her own oversized purse.

I entered the code into the fancy digital lock and we went in.

It was like we had rehearsed it.

Bags hit the floor with solid "thumps," and we were in each other's arms.

"Easy," I said as her badly trembling fingers started fumbling at the buttons on my shirt, "there's no hurry. I'm not going anywhere."

Her smile was an odd combination of frankly meeting my eyes and shyness.

"Fat girls don't get asked much," she said, "so we get anxious."

I laughed and said, "I ain't going anywhere, Audry."

I kissed her again, standing there in the front room, barely inside the front door.

It was a good kiss, full of promise but not as frantic.

Her breath caught a little as my hands found her hips and began bunching the material of the sundress/beach dress/shift thing.

As I worked it up slowly we held each other eyes, exchanging little kisses, until I felt the hem at the bottom of the dress.

"Arms up," I said softly. She smiled and lifted her arms straight up over her head.

She giggled when I kissed her armpit. She was one of those women who deposited fat in very specific areas. One of them was her upper arms and I liked the warmth and softness that gave her armpit.

I finished shucking the dress up and off and then theatrically threw it across the room to lay, crumpled in the corner before turning to look. This time it was deliberate, slow, and thorough.

And she was worth looking at.

Her bra and panty set was a peach color, lacy with little opaque panels at her crotch and nipples. It looked good against her pale skin. Her breasts were small and from the hips up she looked like she was still an athlete, maybe one of those women you see at the gym from time to time walking around the track or working on the elliptical machine.

Her hips, though, didn't just flare or even spread. The jutted out, almost as if her top half, the athlete, had been grafted from just below her belly button onto a woman at least twice her size. These were truly shelf hips and I thought I could literally put a beer on them and it would stay.

She smiled, arms still over her head, and did a slow turn.

I goddam near swooned.

I mean, seriously now. I've seen bubble butts. Hell, I've married two women with very nice bubble butts. But this was beyond bubbles. This was beach balls that protruded straight out from her lower back.

Her hips might be shelves but this gorgeous ass was a fucking table. I couldn't just set a beer on it. I thought I could probably set the twelve-pack there. Maybe even a case.

It was a breathtaking ass and just looking at it took my breath away. Even with the peach-colored French cut panties, I could see enough. The two hemispheres were deeply cellulite-dimpled and actually hung a little of their own weight. You've heard of the pencil test? You know, the one women use. If you put a pencil under your boob and it doesn't fall out you fail. For her, her gluteal sulcus, you know, that line where a woman's ass meets the top of her thighs wouldn't pass the pencil test. Hell, I don't think it would pass the beer can test.

It was a gorgeous, spectacular, breathtaking, wonderful, BEAUTIFUL ass. I wanted to drop to my knees and do a motorboat between her cheeks.

Her thighs were appropriately scaled to her ass, thick and soft with deep cellulite dimples. At her knees, though, below the soft bags of fat-filled skin that almost covered her knees, her calves were slender and her ankles almost delicate, tapering to very long slender feet with tiny toes and small nails done in bright red.

She finished her slow turn and faced me.

"Well?" she asked.

I dropped to my knees and prostrated myself before her.

"I am not worthy," I said into the floor and she laughed.

I saw her feet as she stepped forward to stand over me.

"Arise, servant," she said softly, "and serve me."

I started to get up but as I made it to my knees she put her hand on my head.

"I'm overdressed, don't you think?" she asked.

Which made for an interesting dynamic. I was actually thinking as I worked the panties down. No silly thong for Audry. These were high-leg cut, full panties. But I had long been aware that being clothed while I got the woman naked put me in a position of power. And yet, here I was, fully clothed still although I didn't plan on staying that way, while Audry was in only a bra after I got the panties down, and yet she was the one with the power.

And I realized I liked it.

I worked the panties past thick thighs and knees and then they just dropped past slender calves.

And I buried my face in the deep crease of her belly button since it was right there, centered on the big roll of her belly where those glorious hips and ass blossomed from her body. It was warm and soft and she giggled when my tongue probed.

I made love to her belly button for a while, captivated by the softness and warmth of her belly roll, that big soft apron that gave her modesty even with her panties lying on the floor.

But, well, I'm an assman.

So I put my hands on her hips and used gentle pressure to turn her.

Well, to try to turn her.

She didn't move.

"Oh, Phillip, are you more interested in my ass than my front?" she asked, looking down at me, smiling a gentle, almost motherly, smile.

I smiled back, put that pressure on her hips again, and said, "Please."

Her smile spread.

"You're sure?" she asked.

I laid my cheek on her belly and looked up at her, trying my best for puppy dog eyes.

"Please," I said again.

"Oh, Honey," she said, patting my head, "be my guest."

She turned then and with a grace and flexibility, I wouldn't have thought possible on someone her size, bent and laid her palms flat on the floor.

And there it was. Jesus, it was huge and round, the crack of her ass, her gluteal cleft if you're interested in the nomenclature. made a straight line to the bag of soft fat that marked her pussy. God, both of the clefts were SO deep. But it was her ass I wanted right then.

I began kissing it, covering every square inch of skin with soft, dry, butterfly kisses.

When I spread her cheeks they were heavy enough that she had to lean back for balance against the force I had to apply. But it was worth it.

I kissed my way across the thick skin, her cheeks rubbing causing a chub rub just like between the tops of her thighs. The skin there was tough, from the rubbing, but I could tell from her reaction as my tongue caressed that it was still very sensitive.

I applied more pressure and opened the darkly stained tunnel that led to her anus, the tiny puckered opening that, besides her clitoris, I knew was the most sensitive spot on her body.

It was stained, very dark, but I was happy to note, it was also very clean. I'm an ass man. I think a woman's ass is the most beautiful thing there is. But that doesn't mean that I'm into scat or even anal sex much. But I DO love an ass and love exploring ALL of it.

I traced that dark tunnel with my tongue, enjoying the tension in her body while she still managed to hold her ass relaxed, leaving herself welcoming to me.

That gorgeous ass was SO big that when I released her my entire face was buried in it.

I liked it.

Oh, hell, I LOVED it.

And when she jerked when my tongue finally found that tiny rosebud she giggled and turned and joined me on her knees.

"Okay," she said, taking a deep breath and looking, I was pleased to see, a little disheveled, "that was special."

She giggled and wrapped me in an embrace, awkward the way our knees were touching making us lean forward, and then pushed me to arm's length.

"Anal is okay with me," she said, "if that's what you want."

She kissed me then, a gentle kiss, and added, "But it's not my favorite."

I smiled and kissed her, harder than she had kissed me, and said, "No, Audry, when we make love I want to be able to look into your eyes. But I DO love admiring that spectacular ass."

She giggled again, a sweet sound, and holding my eyes she did the double-jointed thing only a woman can pull off, unhooked her bra, and tossed it to join the panties in the corner.

For all of her size, especially from the waist down, she was a small-breasted woman. When I peeked later I saw her bra was a 40A. Her breasts had fallen badly, a mass of deep stretch marks, with very large, very tan areolas with small nipples. They looked tasty so I tasted them. Her areolas tightened quickly, hardening against my lips, and her hand cupped the back of my head, pulling me against her.

"You know," she said softly, stroking the back of my head as I suckled, "I was a slender girl until my son came along."

I managed a "mmppffff."

She giggled and said, "He left me these," she jiggled the breast I was nursing at," and these, "she slapped her hip hard enough to make a loud slapping sound.

I released her nipple and leaned back, grinning at her.

"If I ever meet him," I said, grinning my absolute BEST boyish grin, "I will thank him profusely."

I stood quickly and offered her my hand.

"Come on, toots," I said, "I'm taking you to bed where we will make sweet sweaty monkey love."

"Is it love?" she asked, taking my hand and standing with my help.

I kissed her then, standing there in the front room, my hands slowly tracing her back down to cup that fantastic ass and then back up.

"Yes," I said softly, "it's love. I don't just fuck, I make love."

Her smile changed then, and her eyes overflowed.

"You know something?" she asked, kissing me very gently.

"What?" I asked, kissing back just as gently.

"I believe you," she said, wiping a tear away.