Yes, the Groomsman

Thank you, HEY ALL, for your editorial help

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"Hi Judy, I just got home from Mathew's wedding, and do I have a story for you"

I was chatting with my best friend, one with whom I have confided since we were college classmates and with whom I text just about every day.

I was invited to Amanda's son's wedding on Friday, the ceremony was to take place near Shulemberg, in a venue near the bride's family's home, and they had booked a block of rooms for the out-of-town guests.

You know Paul hates these social functions, but I didn't give him an option; I made him promise to accompany me, and I arranged to board the five dogs.

"Do tell; you sound excited, so I know something worth telling happened"

We confide in just about everything, and as much as she is happily married and strictly

monogamous, she gets off on listening to my adventures.

Well, at noon Friday, we were on our way. Paul was sullen but resigned, and a couple of hours later, we checked into the hotel, intending to have a siesta before the ceremony.

You know Paul has to wear a suit and tie to work every day so, to say the least, he was not enthusiastic about wearing one on his days off, but again, I insisted and prevailed.

We arrived to find that this was a colossal affair, probably four hundred guests and a sit-down dinner. I don't know how much this cost, but the bride's family went overboard with the arrangements.

"Was it nice?"

Actually, It was brief and quite pleasant for a wedding. We sat through the

ceremony and then stood in line for some drinks. At the same time, the cortege had the obligatory photographs taken, and we waited to be seated.

Among the entourage, I recognized one of the groomsmen, a tall, good-looking guy from town that I had seen at Matt's house. I believe he trains with him!

"The guy that trains with Matt, I believe I know who you are talking about. They have been friends since high school, and I agree, he is hot."

Yes, I had played eye games with him when I saw him before, and when the bride and groom walked in with their cortege exchanged glances, he recognized me and nodded, and I countered with a warm smile.

"Oh, I like where this is going. You have my imagination primed."

We were seated at different tables, so it was after the dinner that I began to mingle, and by chance, or perhaps not, I bumped into him again.

We exchanged a few pleasantries, and a band began to play as we did. We stood together until after the bride and groom danced, and the rest of the crowd joined in.

You know what a terrible dancer I am, and Paul is way worse, so I avoid these situations. But he didn't give me a chance to back out; he took me by the hand and invited me to a spin.

He is a good leader and made me look like I knew what I was doing. As we danced, we made small talk, and at no point did I feel our dancing was inappropriate.

"This is exciting, don't stop"

Into the third dance, he leaned back and smiled, and as he did, he pulled me close and pressed against me. This was something altogether different, so I nervously looked around, but everyone was lost in their own thing. Emboldened, I brazenly pushed back and, to my surprise, was rewarded by an unmistakable hardness against my tummy.

I looked up, and I mean up because he is quite tall; he grinned and pressed me in tighter. I was floored, flattered by his advance, but a bit nervous because of the circumstances.

When the piece ended, I looked him in the face. I know I was blushing; I mumbled something to the effect of, "thank you, that was nice," and I broke off to go to the table.

"Oh my God, did you tell Paul?"

I chose to not tell him yet and sat at our table, feigning innocence. That was until the second time he walked by, and it became evident that it was not by chance.

"You kill me; how do you manage to get away with this?"

"Well, Judy, I keep my antennas up and my radar on at all times; you never know when the opportunity might arrive."

Later in the evening, I took advantage of a trip to the ladies' room; I took a circuitous route and, sure enough, bumped into him.

"Will you be attending the luncheon tomorrow?" he asked.

He was referring to a smaller gathering for the out-of-town guests at a local restaurant.

"I am," I reassured him, and with my best come hither smile, said, "I hope to see you there."

On our way home, I couldn't help but come clean and tell Paul what had transpired, and his answer was,

"Great, I am glad you enjoyed yourself. Are you planning on running with the ball?""

(And for my readers, you must realize that we are in an open relationship, and we allow each other to explore alternative outlets for our sexual needs)

That night we discussed it and agreed that I would attend alone. The official story would be that Paul overdid it the night before and had a hangover. Should this be wishful thinking on my part and nothing will happen, I would text him, and he will take an Uber to the venue.

"You are bad! LOL"

I was excited, it's been a while since I misbehaved, and this was an unexpected gift. My hormones kicked in, and my mind was on overdrive. I couldn't be sure that something might happen, but I was going to lay down the groundwork just in case.

The event Sunday was a brunch, and while in the hotel, soaking in a tub till I was pink and glowing, I made a few decisions. I put on enough makeup to look sexy but appropriate for the event. I applied a liberal amount of my favorite perfume in strategic places and, after mulling over the options, wore a short dress. I refrained from using a bra because the strap showed, then said Hell, I will go pantie-less.

I checked myself in the mirror, then turned and asked Paul what he thought.

"If your plans are to capture his attention, that outfit will surely do the trick."

I drove to the venue; I might have been running late because I had to park in a relatively remote spot. I then walked in, feeling emboldened.

The host seated us at a long table, and I found the guys' place was across from me and a bit to my right. During the meal, we would make eye contact, the flirting was subtle but unmistakable, and by then, I knew I had my fangs in him. The lunch was very nice, but I found it difficult to concentrate. My mind was undoubtedly elsewhere, and by the interactions, I inferred that so was his. Once lunch was over and the niceties were said, we all began heading our way. I surreptitiously watched him follow me to the car, and once sure we were out of sight, we both crawled in.

We made out like teenagers, and he soon had his tongue twirling against mine. He felt my breasts over my dress, and I felt what I thought was a sizable bulge within his pants.

We went as far as him running his hand up my bare thigh, and as he went up, he fell into a mass of wet hairs that parted to allow his fingers to slip between my lips.

The fierce kissing and his probing fingers led me to explode. I gushed and bathed my dress and the car seat with my juices, leaving me shaking and satisfied but leaving him unfulfilled and with no chance of relief.

Breathless, I told him, "Call me; please call tomorrow" he answered,

"Nothing is going to stop me from doing that."

"Are you going to fuck him?"

Chill, let me finish my story. The next day was not easy, I had a full day's schedule, and he kept interrupting me with his texting. I am not complaining; being showered with compliments and reading about what he had in mind was great for my ego.

I was convinced that we could arrange something for the following weekend. Yet, by four O'clock, I was in an extreme state of arousal with no remedy in sight.

At 4:05, I made the call!

"Can you come by our house this afternoon?"

"I thought you would never ask," was the answer.

I was supposed to get off work at 5:00 PM, yet by 4:15, I was in my car and on my way to HEB (For those not from Texas, our best food outlet). I bought some cheese, grapes, and a bottle of wine and was soon rushing home. En route, I called Paul and told him of my plans change.

"Park your truck in the barn, close the door and make plans to spend time in the guest house. You might be there overnight, so prepare, and you know I love you for this".

"And please, feed the dogs and make sure they go out to pee. I am running late. Sorry, and I am grateful. Thank you for this; I will more than make it up for you later."

I threw my scrubs into the hamper and jumped into the shower stall. I treated myself to a nice hot shower, thankful I had shampooed that morning so I wouldn't have to wet my hair.

I toweled myself off and stood at the closet door, deciding what to wear.

"Hell," I told myself, "The die is set, and whatever I wear is not going to stay on long enough."

So I whipped out a sheer, black, long slip that I had bought on the "Agent Provocateur" website and had yet to try out. What better occasion, I thought.

I checked my watch; I had a half hour to go, so I arranged the table and made the house half organized.

Believing all was set, I broke open the wine, served myself a full glass, and sat on the sofa to wait.

The rush to get home had left me little time to think, but my motor had been purring all day, and I could feel a familiar fullness in my belly. A quick check and a finger running between my lips confirmed that I was ready. Hell, more than willing.

The garage alarm rang, so I sauntered towards to door to see him exit his truck with a bottle in one hand and some flowers in the other.

A promising sign, I thought to myself, he is making an effort and not taking me for granted. I love that.

I met him at the door, and he gave me a long look before he handed me the flowers and the wine saying,

"My God, that is a sexy outfit," which was my desired effect.

After putting the flowers in a vase, I took him by the hand and sat him on a couch opposite our sofa. I sat across him, making sure my slip was loose at the waist, and gave him a good look at what he could look forward to.

We began to make small talk, but soon the pretense was over, and he came and sat on the rug at my feet. He took one foot in his hands and began to massage me, which felt very pleasant after spending half the day on my feet. It felt soothing, but the setting also made it erotic.

We went from a conversation to just trading compliments; his hands had moved to my calves, and either by accident or by design, he was spreading my knees, and the slip was falling to the sides.

By the time he reached my thighs, my head was leaning back, and my conversation had ceased and was replaced by moans. He was kneading my thighs deeply, and I just gave in, relaxed, let my thighs splay, and exposed myself to him.

He had felt me the day before but now would also see my glistening mat of hair. I was blessed with rather large labia, and I knew they would be protruding, spreading, and welcoming.

And as expected, he was soon on his knees, nuzzling me and working his lips toward me.

"Your breasts, your breasts, please show me your breasts he pleaded, and I simply shook my shoulders and let everything drop open.

"I knew he was a good kisser, he had proved that the day before, but I had no idea of the extent of his talents. After kissing and licking my breasts and nipples till I was grinding myself into the sofa, he treated me to his oral skills and skilled he was.

He was not only skilled, but he was gifted with words. I listened to him describe everything he saw and everything he would do to me and soon had me at the edge, gripping his hair and guiding him between my favorite folds.

"Do it! Do it again," he kept asking, and I knew he meant the climax of yesterday's play.

And I knew I would. It was unpredictable, but I had reached that point, and I soon bucked, thrusting against his face. I exploded, gushing and christening my brand-new lingerie.

As I came down from my high, he kissed my lips, thanked me, stood, and began to undress. The day before, I had felt him through his pants but not seen him, so I sat wide-eyed as his shirt, pants, and, lastly, his shorts came down, and I was not disappointed.

"That is hot, you slut. I envy you"

He is not shaven, and I loved that. He has a stump that rises from that nest of hair, he looked thick, menacing, and I wanted it. He knelt with his knees on each side of my thighs, rose, and worked his cock between my breasts.

"You feel soft. Yesss, do this," he said as he began to slide his cock between my breasts and treat me to the pre-cum coating his knob.

I knew he was enjoying this, but I had reached the point where my body needed it, craved to be filled, to feel penetrated and distended.

"You have me wet now. I think Andrew is in for a treat when he comes home; continue."

"Please," I begged. "I want, no! I need you inside me" so there, with no effort to move to the bedroom, he lifted and spread my thighs; I slipped my hand down, rubbed his moist head between my lips, which were far from needing more lubrication, and then, with our eyes flicking from our faces to between my thighs we watched him slowly disappear inside me.

Once he bottomed out, we paused and adjusted to that beautiful feeling of becoming one. And then slowly, tentatively began a slow sensual dance. No rush, gentle but thorough. Sliding slowly out, dragging my lips out till he reached my entrance, and then slipping in to probe my front, back, and sides in a torturing way.

He is good, very good, and his girth adds to my enjoyment. I feel he is adjusting me to his thickness, owning me, making me his. The best feeling short of love.

I was nearing that point again and made it known to him, but he withdrew, and as I begged him to continue, he said.

"The bedroom. I can do better in bed."

So to the room we ran, I lay down, spread, and beckoned him, but he had other plans. He rolled me on my tummy, flat. Then lifted my hips and placed a pillow below me, and with my thighs together, he knelt over me, spread my cheeks, and entered me wetly.

He was in complete control, I tried to spread, but he wouldn't allow it, and I soon learned why.

He was hard as steel, and he began to churn, to rotate in circles inside me, hitting every corner, every crevice, massaging my entire insides till he had me whimpering and asking not to stop.

"Sorry, I am not going to last long this first time," He said

"I don't care. I am ready; I am ready. Cum with me; cum with me. Breed me, own me!" I kept screaming, thankful that Paul wasn't there to hear that because he might have had trouble digesting it.

It started gently, but then we both lost it. We thrashed like animals, probing me as deeply as possible to feed me his seed, and I thrust back and milked with my vaginal muscles as to absorb every drop.

We came like two animals in heat. The rest of the evening would be fantastic, but this first encounter was unforgettable. At least to me.

We basked in post-coital bliss and then began to caress each other. Now, less desperate and going about it patiently, he explored me thoroughly, touched, probed, kissed, and nibbled. He rolled me on my back and began to worship me. He left no fold or crease unturned or unexplored. He got to know me intimately and retook me to the summit of that rollercoaster, from where we plunged simultaneously, our juices soiling my sheets and leaving every evidence of the fun we had for Paul to see.

Once the time to say goodbye, we traded promises to do this again soon, and he took off, leaving me in bed as limp as a wet rag.

I texted Paul, who in minutes, joined me and loved me while we shared the story of my date.

"I am so happy for you. Do you plan on seeing him soon"

"Yes, Judy, but I expect it to be in a week or so when we have recovered," was my answer.

It was not to be! Not a couple of hours had gone by when he texted,

"Expect me tomorrow. I canceled my morning appointments, I don't have to be at work till one, and I am hoping your husband is at work."

I turned in bed and handed Paul my I phone.

"You got to be kidding me," he said, "Is he serious?"

"I think so, and here I thought I had milked him dry. I am not sure if I am up to it, though, I am a bit sore."

"The next day? Again? Wow, girl, you must have made a good impression."

I think I did because, at not quite nine, the phone rang. I saw the caller ID and thought,

"My God, this is for real."

I answered the phone with some trepidation, and I heard his voice,

"I hope you are ready because I am on my way."

Paul had left a bit earlier; I looked around, the bed was still a mess from last night, and I hadn't even brushed my teeth. Give me a few minutes, I said, jumping into the shower with my toothbrush.

The hot stream of water woke me up, but as I was to soap myself, it was like Ouch! We overdid it last night. I get wet easily, but I thought applying some lube I bought on the internet was prudent. "Tasteless and as close to natural lubrication as possible," read the label.

With no time to get dressed, I fired up some coffee and put some cinnamon rolls in the toaster oven. In no time, he was in the house, skipping formalities and breakfast; he was soon kissing me. Our tongues swirled while he slipped two fingers inside me, finding and massaging that magical place, the one with the texture of a Peach Pit, that is the source of so much pleasure

He kept it up, and before long, I had reached that point and was adding yet another mess to my bedsheets.

"I am going to have to throw away these sheets I thought to myself."

I can't really describe all that went on except that we added a few pages to the Kama Sutra, and he proved that a fifty-year-old pussy can be pretty resilient.

"Wow, that sounds exciting, and now? What's next?"

Well, come noon, now exhausted, spent, and fulfilled, he was ready to leave when he said,

"Tomorrow?"

"Oh My God, you two guys have fucked more these past four days than the bride and groom"