The first of my friends to get married, Russell, did so when I was a senior in college, and he married a wonderful girl, Vickie, from a small town in North Carolina, where the wedding was.
Vickie told me before the wedding that she was setting the stage for me and her former roommate and good friend to have a good time. She thought we'd be perfect, and even sent me some photos of her in a bikini at the beach. Wow!
She had been a finalist in Miss North Carolina the year before, winning the swim suit competition, but coming up short in the talent. Vickie commented that her best talent was not appropriate to the Miss America competition. Well, now, that only increased my interest! Vickie had shown her friend some pictures of me and told her lots about me, and she was very interested and looking forward to meeting me.
If there was ever a sure thing, this was it.
The arrangements in the small town could not have been better, for my buddy's dad, a wealthy physician, had reserved practically the whole motel for everyone in the wedding and had barbecue and beer provided, as well. He knew we were all poor college kids, so everything was paid for. All we had to do was get there.
I pulled in to town in my old convertible late Thursday afternoon before the Saturday wedding, and just about everyone was already there congregated by the motel pool. It was great to see so many of my old friends, and Vickie introduced me to her friend, who was wearing the same bikini as in the photos. She looked even better in person. A stunning beauty.
We started chatting and although we were getting along fine, I just didn't sense any sexual chemistry. Vickie took me aside and said she'd recently fallen head-over-heels in love with a pro golfer, so it seemed he'd made his ace in the hole with this beauty. Damn! Plans with the "sure thing" had gone awry.
That evening at a party I met another of Vickie's college friends, Diane, who happened to be sharing a room with her in-love-with-the-golf-pro friend back at the motel. She, Vickie, and Diane had all been suitemates for several years in college. Diane and I hit it off right away, and she was certainly a cutie.
Of Italian descent, Diane had a huge white smile, short and thick brown hair, and large brown eyes. Standing about 5'2", she had medium-size perfectly-shaped boobs with dark nipples and practically no areola, a slender waist, and hips and ass that we would today describe as being like Jennifer Lopez'. Rather large, but round, meaty, and firm.
We got better acquainted over the next couple of days, and it was quite apparent that she was my girl, at least for the wedding. My jealous old friends talked about what a big butt she had. Personally, I loved her butt, and certainly got familiar with it out at the pool kneading suntan oil into those fleshy buns. And I didn't notice THEM making any progress with the other girls in the wedding party. They were just jealous.
Well, the night of the wedding looked like the evening Diane and I would consummate. Mr. Golf Pro was supposed to come in town to spend the night at a swanky downtown hotel with Ms. In-Love--my original date--which meant Diane and I would have the motel room to ourselves. (I was in a room with 3 other guys, so that wasn't an option, and the motel was at full capacity.)
The reception over, we all went back to the motel, got out of our wedding clothes, and put on comfortable stuff and continued partying. Ms. In-Love was still expecting Mr. Golf Pro, so she stayed in her room waiting for him while Diane changed. After I re-dressed and knocked on their door to get Diane, Ms. In-Love must have thought it was her man, for she flung open the door wearing a sheer nightie that left little to the imagination.
Either because she was drunk as a skunk or was pissed or maybe both, she didn't seem to care that I was getting an eye full of her fabulous body. She mumbled something and stomped over to the phone as Diane appeared from the bathroom, explaining that Ms. In-Love had dressed to surprise Mr. Golf Pro, and that my knock was identical to his.
