The Wedding Guest

Weddings are strange events as they bring together groups of people who have little or nothing in common with each other to celebrate the joining together of a couple that even some of the guests may barely know.

I have been to the weddings of cousins who I last met before puberty, where it has been so long since we last met that we didn’t recognise each other.

Similarly there are the work colleagues; these can be just as bad. A collection of people who only have work as a link, that’s a pretty tenuous connection and once you add partners then the mix is even more unfamiliar.

It does have one distinct advantage. At a family wedding where cousins of either sex are not always obvious then you could end up snogging or worse (better?), a blood relative. I’m not of hillbilly stock so that has never appealed to me. The works wedding brings together strangers who can part of strangers so if you do hit on somebody then … well no cousins and hopefully no repercussions.

Denise was only part time at the library, a mousy little girl who rarely mixed, so it was something of a surprise when I received an invitation to her wedding.

I have to honest and say that my first inclination was to politely refuse, and then I saw that the venue was at the Heights, only the plushest hotel in the city. I had been looking for an excuse to spend an evening there and mousy Denise had provided me with the opportunity.

So I accepted but only after booking a double room for the night. I had a great plan of a re-run of our wedding night (minus Jeff’s intervention). I even checked out a rather sexy nightdress together with a new evening outfit including a gorgeous set of undies. Men never quite understand that undies are more than just sexy; they can make you feel so feminine.

The one thing that I hadn’t checked (showing how single minded I can be) was Charlie. Now most husbands spend their weekends with their wives and families but Charlie had one of those jobs that occasionally kept him away.

Charlie works for an IT company and despite his easy going nature he is apparently a killer project manager and so is in real demand. In fact I know that he’s good at his job, we met when he was installing a new computer system in the city libraries but that’s another story.

So of course the weekend of Denise’s wedding Charlie just had to be going ’live’. I sat and listened to his explanation, which was an honest and good one, and none to quietly cursed him for how he’d ruined my plans.

Of course if I’d been honest it was my fault, but I have never accepted the blame if I can find a scapegoat. Charlie has become my favourite scapegoat, a fact made worse by the crazy way that he happily accepts the blame and thus negates my anger.

I scowled my way through a team meeting and then face Chrissie’s cross examination. Chrissie is my confidante and because she has that sort of mind, believes that everything has a sexual cause.

I told her my problems of a decent cup of coffee which I made her buy as an exchange for the info. She looked mildly disappointed which was her own fault.

“No chance of Charlie getting the weekend off?”

“He’ll get a 10k bonus if everything goes according to plan.” I confided. “I wouldn’t even think of asking him, that sort of monies to much to ignore.”

“Cancel?” She suggested.

“I don’t want to.” I whinged.

“Alright, come with me and Tom and snuggle up to a vibrator.” She had to bring sex into it. “You do have a vibrator don’t you?” She probed. “I could lend you one?”

“After where you have put it … fuck off.” I laughed.

So I went to the wedding with Chrissie and her husband, Tom’s cool and on a few occasions we have made a foursome (not that type), Tom and Charlie get on, I like that as left to his own devises he’d never leave the house.

We drank, danced a little, drank some more. I wasn’t the only single woman there, but I didn’t appreciate the girlie dance circles. I’d given up on those at university.

A couple of guys tried to hit on me, but they weren’t anything and I wasn’t stupid enough to start anything in the middle of the reception, besides, neither of them hit my button and if you don’t hit that then you don’t hit anything else. I am selective.

Eventually Chrissie and Tom cleared off, by the look on her face I guessed that Tom was in for an active night, lucky cow. I downed another drink and was about to wander off to a big and lonely bed.

“Buy you another?” The voice was cool and calm and very masculine.

I looked up and wasn’t disappointed. The voice belonged to six foot of Latino male, mid twenties, slim, dark eyes and air and very very fuckable, somewhere between my legs a bell rang.

“Bacardi breezer.” I offered my empty glass; if he could have understood symbolism he’d have been perfect.

He returned with the drink and seated himself besides me. I wondered briefly if anyone had noticed how I was been hit on by a gorgeous hunk.

We exchanged first names, I was Paula and he was Carlos, very Latino, in passing I wondered which side of the wedding he was on, bride or grooms. Also I hadn’t noticed him before; there hadn’t been that many guests.

We traded trivia and he brought in another round of drinks, then the band started playing slow numbers, the type where you dance touching.

Carlos looked at me. “Can we dance?”

I did hesitate but only to glance around the room, there was hardly anyone left and nobody who I recognised.

“Why not.” I said, switching on my brightest smile.

In my heels I was about five seven so we almost danced face to face. I can dance it was something my mother had insisted upon when my sisters and myself were kids. Carlos could cruise, he moved well but you’d have been challenged to recognise the actual dance. Still it didn’t matter, we moved around the almost deserted floor without standing on each others feet or tripping up.

I was impressed that the dancing had been dancing and not a furtive attempt to grope me, that impression lasted until the final dance, when the band leader dimmed the lights so far that it was almost lights out.

Carlos tried to kiss me and on about the third attempt our mouths met. I have probably said that I like kissing and Carlos could kiss. Somehow the hand that had rested in the small of my back found its way to brush against my boobs and then my bum in the space of the kiss.

“You are beautiful.” He murmured into my ear.

It was nice of him to say so, but I know that I’m not beautiful, just pretty, and I wasn’t putting up much of a fight, yet. It was reaching the point that either we went somewhere or just parted as friends.

The dance stopped and the lights, after a ten second pause, sprang back into life. It was almost dazzling and we made our way back to our table with spots in front of our eyes.

There was that awkward moment, the one where each waits for the other to say something, sometimes this kills the moment and to avoid this, I speak. I normally expect the man to take some of the initiative but Carlos seems a bit tongue tied.

“I have a room booked.” It’s about as obvious as you can get and if Carlos can’t understand the implication then I’ll be better off cuddling the spare pillow.

His face widens and he displays a set of perfect set of teeth. “There is no one waiting for you?” He glances towards my wedding ring.

“Tonight I’m single.”

I’m not going to say that I wasn’t excited, I was in control and the squishy feeling I had between my legs didn’t drive me to mouth rape him in the lift.

We were both adults and knew what was going to happen so there was no need to act like excited kids. We did kiss in the lift but we kept our hands away from the obvious places. I do have a fantasy about fucking in a lift, but in one of those glass ones that travel up and down the outside of the building.

Still as we reached my floor I couldn’t resist having a little groin level squeeze. He wasn’t John Holmes (remember him???) but neither was he the proverbial midget, there was more than enough to keep me amused, there was just the simple question, did he know how to use it.

We made it to the suite in silence. After all we knew nothing about each other so short of discussing fuck techniques there were nothing to say.

I was wearing a clinging black dress that almost reached my knee’s, showed off my butt and made the most of my boobs. As it was so clingy I opted for a soft bra and thong as I felt that a VPL wasn’t done at a wedding.

I flicked off my shoes, instantly shortening my height by the better part of three inches, and made for the refrigerated bar. I’d bought a decent bottle of wine with me and it would be chilled top perfection. I was also making a statement, this wasn’t a rip my knickers off quickie.

Carlos was still in his jacket and looking around him like a spare part.

“Not staying?” I said with what I hoped was a teasing smile in my voice. “Take your jacket off and your shoes (I hate men walking around in shoe’s, it’s like they aren’t staying) and relax, we have all night … don’t we?” I experience a slight fear, has he got a wife and five kids waiting for him? I have plans for the night and not the next twenty minutes.

“All night, we have all night.” He grins and flicks off his shoes.

I experience a delicious shiver, one that starts in my throat, moves through my nipples and ends on the tip of my clitoris, it is that good. I pour the wine and hand Carlos his, another, you don’t just fuck me statement. There’s another of those laboured silences and I just begin to wonder if he can string a sentence together

I have pampered myself with the suite and privately hope that Charlie never sees just how much one night has cost, apart for the usual facilities there is a small balcony and we found ourselves out there.

The night is still warm, it is mid summer which could bring day time temperatures in the nineties and even now you could sit outside in comfort.

Nothing has happened between us, we having been playing a game of tease and opportunity and now it seemed that I had presented him with an opportunity he couldn’t resist.

Carlos stood behind me, so close that all I had to do was sway backwards and my butt was pushing into his groin. A nice experience and Carlos responded by stroking my bare arms, before planting a kiss on my equally bare neck, another nice experience. He kissed me again and this time his hands stroke my boobs. I shiver and not through the cold. Another kiss and now my bum gets the same treatment. He’s methodical I’ll give him that.

I try to turn around but Carlos wedges me against the balcony, so short of throwing me off the dam thing Carlos has the bright idea of screwing me from the rear. Well it isn’t my preference but it’ll do for a start, satisfy a man’s fantasy and he’s putty (I hope not) in your hands. I feel my dress being slowly worked up my thighs; I give another wriggle of encouragement.

Charlie says that my laugh is almost musical, I don’t know about that and he’s never said what instrument but knowing Charlie I reckon it’ll be something light. Anyway I start to laugh, softly as Carlos’s hands ease my dress up and over my buttocks. I hope that he appreciates the view. I’m wearing a dark thong and I guess he’ll only discover my underwear by touch.

I keep wriggling and resolve to say nothing unless he tries to bum fuck me, there is no way he or anyone else is going near my arse.

“You are beautiful.” He murmurs. There he goes again. Why do men insist on telling you things that they think will flatter you when you’ve already signalled your availability? I would much sooner be told that I have a great arse than I’m beautiful.

I wriggle my arse again and grind backwards until I feel a very hard lump pressed against my buttocks. “What’s that?” I laugh. I’m tempted to reach behind and have a more substantial feel but why should I, this is Carlos’s play.

At last hands on my buttocks and then between my cheeks, I open my stance and feel his fingers as the trace a route along the entrance to my slit, he has sensitive fingers and no sharp nails. You men have no idea how sensitive a woman is between her legs. He pulls the thong aside and a finger slides over the opening to my sex, it’s joined by another.

I flex my hips in answer to his probing and a low soft moan escapes my closed lips. I forget my resolve and reach behind for his cock, a fumble and a tug and I’ve got my fingers wrapped about his dick, its big enough and hard enough which says everything.

“Put something on that.” I grunt.

“Si!” He grunts back.

The sensation of a dick sliding into you can’t be described; you’re being violated and worshiped at the same time, the pain is real and physical, no matter how lubricated you are, it still hurts. But that isn’t what you remember; it’s the sensation of joining, your body and your lovers, together.

Carlos doesn’t waste time, a minute after my suggestion he’s buried deep inside me. “So good.” He cries and I agree. I rotate my hips, screwing his dick and he cries out, for an awful moment I think he’s coming, but he doesn’t. He just carries out pounding me, I’d never say that his technique is subtle but it works.

“Uhh! … Uhh! … Uhh! … Uhh! … Uhh! … Uhh! … Uhh! … Uhh! … Uhh! … Uhh! … Uhh! … Uhh! …Ahhhhhhhhhh!” That’s me, grunting to match the beat of his dick. He lasts for ever, or so I think. “Ahhhhhhhhhh!... Ahhhhhhhhhh!... Ahhhhhhhhhh!... Ahhhhhhhhhh!...” Now I’m going into overdrive, the moment when my body stops listening to me and has its own agenda. Carlos gets the message; he bangs into me even faster and is swearing (I think) in Spanish. I don’t care as suddenly I’m screaming into the night sky as my orgasm starts.

Carlos carries on but not for long, he starts to shudder and then I can feel him begin to pump his sperm into the head of the condom. It triggers a second, smaller orgasm of my own. I have always found a man’s moment exciting and Carlos is no different to the rest.

He starts to stoke my bottom, still muttering in Spanish.

“I don’t understand.” I breathe. “Speak English.”

“I was saying that you have a great butt.” He’s still stoking me whilst his dick is quietly slipping from me. As it does Carlos tries to finger me again.

“Easy, a girl can get sore, and why don’t you let me up.”

I don’t bother with the nightdress, after all Carlos has already fucked me so why try and be coy and romantic. We both know what’s expected for what’s left of the night. We fuck twice more, this time in bed, once with me on my back and once more from the rear. Carlos proves to have a hard dick and very little imagination and even less small talk.

Still when I awake in the morning I’m disappointed to find him gone and forgive me but the next thing that I did was check my purse. It hadn’t been opened and my cash, cards and personal details are all in situ. I have the suite until mid-day so decide to pamper myself some more. I order the five star breakfast (screwing makes me hungry) and then shower whilst I waiting for it to arrive.

It’s a glorious morning and I eat breakfast on the balcony. The moods only spoilt by the maid turning up to clean the room and change the sheets. I let her do the latter and she promises to leave the rest until after I have left. She has only removed the sheets when I receive an unexpected visitor.

“Got a cup for me?”

I jump out of my seat, Charlie is in the doorway, and he’s unshaven and dishevelled.

“What’s wrong?” He smiles. “I thought you’d be pleased to see me … how was the wedding?” He pulls up a chair and helps himself to my coffee.

“Wedding was fine … I thought you were tied up all weekend.” My minds racing, trying to think if any evidence of Carlos is left. The condoms are flushed away, the beds now changed. I can’t think of anything but the thought that only a couple of hours ago I was being screwed by Carlos makes me shiver. I was that close to have been discovered.

“Things went real smooth so I went for it, worked through the night and here I am, tired and hungry.”

I order another breakfast and then we chat, about the wedding, the bride, his project, though I don’t understand half of what he says. He says that he needs a shower and I leave him to it, thankful that Carlos had decided to sneak out on me; there is just the chance that he’ll come back but I try to forget about that.

Charlie returns looking fresher and holding up the fancy nightwear. “Is this yours?”

“Of course, unless I have an invisible girlfriend.” I say lightly and then spot the serious look in his eyes. “I bought it for the weekend, for us. I haven’t worn it yet, didn’t seem right, not without you.”

He tosses it towards me. “Try it on and how long have we got the room for?”

I trip inside the room, draw the curtains and exchange the dressing gown for the nightwear, complete with matching knickers. “Come in.” I call.

The curtains billow and Charlie appears, he smiles. “You look gorgeous … now the room?”

I pull a face. “Until mid-day, less than an hour.” I have an idea what Charlie is thinking and it’s alright by me.

He makes a brief call. “Now we another twenty four hours.” He grins as I fold into his arms.

We couldn’t stay in the room all that time and the maid had to make the bed (we’d fucked on the mattress). We made our way into bar, Charlie went to order and I crossed to one of the display windows. A waiter was cleaning the table. It wasn’t until he turned towards me that I realised it was Carlos, he worked here.

I almost fainted. He just stood there and Charlie drifted over armed with the drinks. We stood a frozen tableau and then Carlos muttered something and fled.

I started to breath again. If Charlie noticed anything he didn’t say so. After the second glass I started to relax and plan the night ahead.