Wedding Day

TRADITION SAYS THAT it’s bad luck for the groom to see the
bride before the wedding. So, Susan kind of knew it had to be an even
bigger taboo to sleep with him right before it.

But here they were—in their beautiful honeymoon suite, dropping
off their suitcases so they wouldn’t have to bother with them
later. And there it was—the big king-sized bed calling them.
And there was Pat, her fiancé, ready for action, just like he
always was.

And before she could explain to him about tradition, he was tearing
off her clothes and pushing her onto the big bed, where they tumbled
around shrieking, tossing the bedcovers here and there.

Then, when they finally came to a stop, she roughly tore off his
clothes as he fondled and kissed her breasts.

And, the very moment he was naked, he was inside her, thrusting his
small but potent member in and out. She wrapped her legs around his
soft ass and pushed him inside her farther. And he started pistoning
into her harder and harder, with both of them panting with pleasure.

“Oh, I love you so much!” he howled, as he raced toward
explosion.

“Me, too!” she howled back, racing toward her own. “Me,
too!”

And then he came.

Just moments before she could.

She sighed in disappointment, but told herself that it was all right.
She’d do it later on—later that night. She’d do it
for sure.

He rolled off her and immediately hunted for the remote. And found it
by the nightstand. And after grabbing it, he crawled up to the edge
of the bed and turned on the large screen TV in front of him.

“You’re not gonna watch sports on our honeymoon, are
you?” she asked, shaking her head.

“Why not?” he replied, mesmerized by some college
football game.

“Because.”

“Because what?”

“Forget it,” she uttered, with a sigh.

And once again she wondered about her future husband.

Sure, he had his good points. He was nice and attractive. He had a
good job and some money saved. And, of course, he was always ready
for sex.

But he was also a good deal younger than her and was immature, too.
And he was obsessed with watching sports—something she couldn’t
stand.

And, as she stared at him that afternoon, she started questioning
whether she was even in love with him.

Which led to another question.

Why was she marrying him?

Unfortunately, she knew the answer. She knew that she’d be 38
in two months. And she was afraid. Afraid of growing old. Afraid of
growing old alone. And so when Pat proposed after just a few months
of dating, she shook her head and replied, “Why not?”

Okay, so it wasn’t exactly the storybook ending she had dreamed
about when she was a little girl. But she was no longer a little
girl, and had more important things to worry about.

Such as her cell phone, which just rang.

She found her purse by the bed and fished out the phone, and answered
it.

“Where the hell are you?” cried a familiar female voice.
The voice of her friend and maid of honor.

“Sorry, Mind,” Susan replied. “We got a little
delayed.”

“I bet,” Mindy cooed, with a chuckle. “Your gown is
waiting, madam. Would you like for us to bring it to you?”

“No. I’ll be over there soon. Is Karen there?”

“Not yet. But hurry up. My God, you’re getting married in
three hours!”

Three hours.

Susan cringed a bit at the thought and told her friend, “I’ll
see you soon.”

She then hung up and looked at her husband-to-be, who was still
staring at the TV.

“You better hit the shower,” she told him.

“Why?” he replied, half-listening.

“Because we’re getting married in three hours.”

“Oh.”

He stood up, and with his eyes still locked on the TV, quickly
dressed.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“I’ll take a shower at your parents’ place. That’s
where my tux is.”

“Why is it there? I thought you were changing at your father’s
place?”

“Oh, I don’t know. I guess I just figured it’d be
better to change there, you know, with it being down the block from
the church and all.”

“Well, you better get going.”

He smiled at her and rushed to the door.

Then, once there, he stopped and turned back, and smiled. And
uttered, “So, I’ll see you in church.”

“You’ll see me in church,” she uttered back, with a
smile of her own. “Now, go!”

He left, taking his own car, and she jumped into the shower. And,
after a quick rinse—with her mind thinking of a million things
at once—she jumped out and cleared the fogged-over mirror with
a hand towel.

And she looked at herself. She looked at her long brown hair and her
delicate childlike face, and she looked at her small but round
breasts.

She always thought of herself as being kind of plain and rationalized
that this was the reason it took her so long to get married. But as
she looked at herself that day she was certain there was a certain
glow to her and knew that, for at least one day, she’d be
special.

She’d be beautiful.

Suddenly, remembering the time, she rushed out of the bathroom and
hurriedly dressed.

It was then that she saw the remote lying on the bed. And, not
wanting it to get in the way when they came back later that night,
she moved it to the nightstand.

And that’s when she saw Pat’s gold Rolex lying on the
floor on top of the bedcovers, and quickly realized that it must’ve
come off during sex.

She picked it up, and, as she left the hotel and got into her car,
she decided to drop it off at her parents’ house, as it was on
the way to Mindy’s.

The drive there was short. It took no more than five minutes to get
where her mother lived with her stepfather. And she took this time to
think about her real father—the one who died of cancer when she
was 15. The one who would’ve been so proud of her today.

When she got there, she parked out front. And, seeing Pat’s car
in the driveway, she walked across the lawn and into the white
two-story home, with Pat’s watch in her hand. And she was just
about to call him when she heard voices coming from upstairs. Not
only Pat’s but also Karen’s—her half-sister, who
was home from college just for Susan’s wedding. And, not even
closing the front door behind her, she started up the carpeted steps.

“We can’t do this,” Karen spoke.

“Why not?” Pat demanded.

“‘Cause you’re marrying my sister!”

“Half-sister!”

Shock crossed Susan’s face as she froze at the top of the
stairs, and she thought about saying something.

But for some reason she didn’t. For some reason she softly
continued on, toward her sister’s room.

“Please,” he begged.

“No, Pat—this is wrong!”

“It’s not!”

Susan came to a stop a short distance from Karen’s room. And,
peeking inside, saw Pat, who was wearing nothing but a towel around
his waist, groping Karen’s large breasts from behind, through
her silk bridesmaid’s gown.

“Please don’t,” Karen murmured, with her eyes
closed and her breathing labored.

“This is our only chance,” he murmured back. “Our
last chance. I want you so bad. And you want me!”

“Yes!”

He pulled down her dress just a bit, exposing her breasts, and leaned
down to suck one.

“Oh my God!” she cried. “Fuck me now.”

She started to unzip herself, but he stopped her.

“What?” she gasped.

“Leave it on.”

“But it’ll get dirty.”

“Leave it on. Please.”

He then dropped his towel, revealing his small but potent erection,
and lifted up her left leg while he used his other hand to guide his
member between her white panties.

Moments later, he thrust himself inside her.

“Shit!” she hollered. “It feels so fucking good!”

He moaned in reply.

“Fuck me!” she screamed!” “Fuck me!”

He moved her over a few steps toward the wall, and, as she put her
palms against it, he started pounding her flesh, with one hand
holding her leg up while the other gripped her belly.

“It’s so tight!” he cried. “I never had a
pussy so tight!”

She squealed and thrust backward in reply.

“Do it!” she demanded. “I want to feel your come in
me!”

“Not yet! I wanna keep fucking you! Please!”

“I have to go, Pat! Just come in me! Now!”

He started driving himself into her harder and harder.

“That’s it!” she howled. “That’s it! Do
it! Come!”

“Ahhhhhhhhhhhh!” he howled back, as his whole body
started shaking. And then he plowed himself into her one final
time—knocking them both against the wall.

From there, they slid to floor, completely expended.

In reaction, Susan slowly and silently stepped backward in a daze,
and then turned around and continued out of the house, in the same
exact daze. A daze that stayed with her right until she reached her
car, where she stopped and shook her head. And started crying.

“What a fool I was!” she uttered, feeling betrayed and
plain and old, and knowing at that moment she’d never be Mrs.
Hamilton, or likely Mrs. Anything.

Then, suddenly realizing she still had Pat’s watch in her hand,
she cocked back her arm to toss it into the street.

But something stopped her.

“No,” she told herself. “I’m gonna keep this.
I deserve it.”

She soon got back in the car and drove back to the hotel, to pick up
her things and go.

Where, she didn’t know or care, just as long as it wasn’t
there.

She parked in front of the tall building, and, leaving her purse in
the car, rushed inside the hotel with the watch still in her hand,
and then rushed to her suite, where she thrust opened the door.

And gasped.

For standing by the bed was Pat’s father, who was wearing a
suit, but no pants.

They were actually down by his ankles. And his large and thick
erection was in his hand. And in between the two were a pair of pink
panties.

Susan’s panties.

“Mr. Hamilton!” she screamed.

“Oh, shit!” he cried out in embarrassment, dropping the
panties.

And, seeing a wet towel lying on the floor, he grabbed it and quickly
tied it around his waist. “I—I didn’t think you
were coming back!” he stammered.

“What are you doing?” she demanded.

“I’m so sorry!” he pleaded. “I’m so
sorry. Please don’t tell Pat.”

She closed her eyes and lowered her head, and shook it, taking a long
deep breath.

Then, noticing a chair by the door, she plopped down on it, and
closed the door.

“What a day,” she whispered.

“I . . .” he mumbled.

“Why?” she screamed. “What are you even doing
here?”

“Pat called. He said that he lost his watch. He also said that
he tried to call you but you weren’t answering your phone.”

“I must’ve been in the shower.”

“He had a lot of things to do,” he added.

“I bet,” she replied.

“Excuse me?”

“Nothing. Go on.”

“He was busy so he called me and asked if I could check the
room for the watch. So, I stopped at your parents’ house while
he was in the shower and your sister got me the key.”

“That still doesn’t explain what you were doing—with
my panties!”

“I . . . I don’t know if any explanation can
suffice. It was inexcusable. I just hope it doesn’t ruin your
wedding day.”

“No worries there,” she cried. “It’s already
ruined!”

“What? What’s wrong?”

“Pat!”

“What about him?”

“I caught him! I caught him fucking my sister!”

“What?”

“On my wedding day!”

“Oh, my God. I can’t believe it. Are you sure?”

“I think I know what fucking looks like!”

“What are you gonna do?”

“I don’t know,” she said, shaking her head. “But
I gotta get out of here!”

She jumped out of her chair and ran toward her suitcase. And after
grabbing it, rushed toward the door.

But, just before she got there, the handle broke off, and her luggage
collapsed onto the floor.

In response, she just stood there motionlessly.

And then started crying again. “Everything is shit!” she
howled. “I’m shit!”

“No, you’re not,” he uttered, matter-of-factly.

She turned back to him, tears in her eyes, and looked at him. He was
a bit taller than Pat, and, even though he was in his early sixties,
he was also more muscular. And more handsome, too.

And, without thinking, she rushed up to him and put her arms around
him. For, at that moment, she just needed someone to hold. Even if
that someone was a pervert.

Seconds later, he reluctantly and gently put his arms around her.

Eventually she stopped crying and broke their embrace, and whispered
to him, “Why were you doing that, Mr. Hamilton?”

“Chuck.”

“Why were you doing that, Chuck?”

“I’m sorry.”

“Just tell me why.”

“Well, my wife died some years back.”

“I know.”

“I haven’t been with a woman . . . a long time.
And even before she died she was sick. I . . .”

“I don’t understand. You’re a handsome man. Lots of
women would be interested.”

“But, you see, I’m not interested in them. I don’t
know how to explain this, but I loved my wife. I really, really loved
her. There was never anyone else. I never even thought about anyone
else while we were together. And, I had never met a woman since who
could compare . . . until . . .”

“Until what?”

“Until you.”

“What?” she mumbled, pointing to herself with an
expression of shock—an almost greater shock than what she had
experienced when she entered the room.

“You remind me a lot of her,” he continued. “I’m
sure you remind Pat, too. You kinda look like her. But it’s
more than just that. You carry yourself the same way. You have the
same strength. The same smile. Yet, you’re your own person.
Unique. Unique and special. Don’t let anyone ever make you
believe you’re not.”

Feeling herself about to cry, she hugged him again.

“Oh, Mr. Hamilton,” she murmured.

“Chuck.”

“Chuck. That was the most beautiful thing anyone has ever said
to me. If only I met you earlier.”

She then pulled her head back a little and looked into his eyes, and
saw that he was crying a little. And she leaned over and gently
kissed him on the lips. And he gently kissed her back.

And soon she could feel his erection pressing against her belly
through the towel. And she couldn’t help but remember how large
it was.

“We can’t do this,” he muttered.

“Why not?” she replied, rubbing her hand along his
length.

“You’re marrying my son.”

“No, I’m not. Never.”

She dropped his towel, and, after tossing Pat’s watch by the
side of the bed, started stroking Chuck’s member.

And then fell to her knees.

“Don’t,” he softly pleaded.

But she put his whole erection into her mouth anyway, where it got
somehow even larger, and she was surprised to discover just how sweet
it tasted.

She started moaning—her moans being even louder than his.

“Please, stop,” he cried. “It’s been so . . .
I can’t . . .”

She took him out of her mouth and gently stroked him, and uttered,
“This is the biggest I’ve ever had.”

In reply, he lifted her to her feet and smiled, and told her, “This
was supposed to be your big day. Please let me try to make it so.”

He then started slowly undressing her, delicately, much like the way
a parent undresses a child. She tried to help, but he just wouldn’t
allow it.

“Your day,” he whispered.

She smiled and let him continue. And, once she was naked, she let him
sit her on the bed, right before he dropped to his knees and sank his
tongue in her.

It felt so good, especially as it had been so long since someone had
done that to her. Years. Well before she ever met Pat.

And what made it feel even better was knowing that this was no
foreplay for him. She could tell. She could just tell that he was
enjoying it. That he was gaining something from it, too.

She soon gripped his head and pushed him even farther into her.

And her head started swaying and her eyes fluttered, and she could
feel herself about to explode.

“You’re gonna make me come,” she gasped, her body
shivering.

He picked up his pace in answer to this—over and over he
swirled that tongue over her, until finally she screamed out,
“Ahhhhhhhhhh!”

At that same moment, she fell back onto the bed, desperate for air.

And still that tongue kept digging into her.

“Please,” she whispered, caressing his cheek. “I
want to feel you inside me. And I want you to come, too.”

In reply, he lifted his smiling face at her, and, after wiping it,
took off his shirt and tie and jacket, and slowly moved himself over
her.

“Do it now, please,” she begged, gripping his back.

He entered her, and she gasped, shaking all over. Nothing ever felt
so good.

Nothing ever felt so big.

Then, he put his arms around her, and, while kissing her, started
moving his massive erection in and out of her. She dug her nails into
his back and wrapped her legs around his hard ass, and drew him in
even farther. It was almost as if she were milking his body.

“Ohhhhhhhhh!” she cried, in between his kisses—kisses
that were everywhere at once.

He started moving faster, and she could feel his body shake and
quiver—to her touch alone.

““Ohhhhhhhhh!” she cried again. “It’s
so good. You—you’re so—you’re so good!”

He held her tighter and tighter and moved faster and faster.

“Come!” she whispered. “It’s okay. Come.”

“Not until you do!” he cried. “Not until you!”

She turned him over on his back and, sitting up, started thrusting
herself on top of him.

“Please!” he begged. “Don’t take your body
away! Please!”

He reached up and grabbed her, and forced her breasts down to his.
And quivered. And shook. And gripping him back, she slammed her body
onto him, over and over, before crying out, “Almost!”

In response, his thumb soon found her spot, and he started rubbing
it—with her hand moving it along.

“Noooooooow!” she yelled, leaning back. “Do it
now!”

He rose up to his waist, taking her with him, and shot everything he
had into her. And, feeling his warmth charging into her womb, her
powerful climax became even more magnified. She screamed and howled,
and desperately held onto his sweating and convulsing body.

And then she whimpered, much like a beaten animal.

Finally, their ecstasy subsided. And he fell back onto the bed. And
she fell on top of him. Completely expended.

And for a long while they stayed just like that. Exactly how long
neither of them knew. Or cared.

“I think, I think I love you,” she finally muttered.

“I don’t think,” he muttered back. “I’ll
never think again.”

And then she saw it.

The remote. On the nightstand.

And, while she wasn’t certain why she did it, she rolled off
him and picked up the plastic device. And offered it to him.

“You wanna watch sports or something?” she asked.

“I hate sports,” he replied.

“You do?” she murmured, her voice breaking.

He tossed the remote onto the floor and took her hand. “What I
want is you,” he said. “I want to hold you.”

She took him in her arms, and felt him quiver and shake, just as he
had when they were making love. And he caressed her and kissed her
and whispered, “Please don’t take your body away from me
again.”

“I won’t,” she whispered back. “Never.”

Then, the door opened.

“Oh, my fucking God!” a voice screamed.

Susan and Chuck turned to the doorway and saw Pat standing in the
threshold, wearing a tuxedo and a look of shock.

“What are you doing?” the groom added. Then, he turned to
his father and uttered, “Dad?”

Seconds later, he spun to Susan and cried, “How, how could you
do this to me?”

“Don’t you even start!” she cried back.

“Have you forgotten we’re getting married?”

“Have you?”

“What? Susan, everyone’s been waiting for you. We’re
supposed to be married for chrissakes!”

She looked around, and seeing Pat’s watch on the floor, she
reached down and grabbed it, and threw it at him. And screamed, “Why
don’t you just go marry my fucking sister!”

“What . . . what are you talking about?”

“I know all about you two.”

“Look—I don’t know what she told you, but I—”

“—You fucked her, goddammit!”

“She’s a liar! You’ve got to believe me! She’s
been coming on to me since we met!”

“You stupid fucking asshole—I saw you two! I saw you
fucking!”

“You what?” he gasped, leaving his mouth opened.

She jumped out of bed and ran at him screaming, and knocked him onto
the floor in the hallway. And then slammed the door closed.

And, for a moment afterward, she paused, trying to collect herself
before turning back to Chuck.

When she finally did, he was smiling at her. And he told her, “You
know, I always thought he was something of a dipshit.”

She smiled back, and, when he opened his arms, she ran back and
jumped onto him. And kissed him and held him tight.

And realized right then that she just might become Mrs. Hamilton
after all.

###

If you enjoyed this story, you might also enjoy The Sexual Awakening of Barbie O., available on Kindle and Nook for only $0.99.