"I do" said Mark in a quiet shaky voice.
"I now pronounce you man and wife...you may kiss the bride," The minister concluded.
Abigail watched Mark's face as it approached her for that all important kiss. She was furious. To say that he looked a little green was a tremendous understatement. The fact was he looked completely sick! Abigail knew that he had been out on his stag party the night before and had told Steve, his best friend and best man, that she didn't want to know what happened, so long as Steve got Mark to the church at the right time and in a sober state. From the look of Mark, Steve had completely failed to comply with these simple instructions. Mark pecked his new bride carefully on the lips and, to the sound of the music, they walked back down the aisle and out into the bright sunshine for the photographs.
Towards the end of the evening, at the reception being held in the Embassy room of the Grand Hotel, Abigail was still being the perfect hostess, looking after her guests as she did the rounds of the tables. She thanked her guests for coming, and graciously accepted their compliments on her dress and appearance. As she indulged in small talk with the guests, she looked around for Mark.
"Where are you, you useless sod?" she thought to herself as her eyes scanned the large room, unable to sight him.
Disengaging herself from the light conversation with an elderly aunt she hardly remembered, she spotted Mark's best man Steve and walked towards him. Steve could see her coming from the other side of the room and could smell trouble. Abigail was a formidable woman. With her heels she stood nearly 6ft tall, and her long blonde hair was now tied in a tight bun on top of her head. The white bridal dress was exquisite. Cut low in the front to reveal a good amount of her well tanned 40 inch breasts, nicely tailored to hug her slim waist and rounded bottom and falling over her legs to a hem just off the floor.
As she neared Mark, she could see that he was chatting to Sue, Abigail's best friend and bridesmaid.
"Bloody hell, Steve," said Abigail as she walked up to him. "Mark was completely wasted at the church. Where is he now?"
"Sorry Abby. I guess we must have had a little too much to drink last night," Steve replied sheepishly with a weak grin. "I think he's gone up to my suite for a lie down."
"Shit. I suppose I'd better go look for him. This is not over yet Steve, I want to talk to you later!"
As Abby stormed off, Steve turned back to Sue to continue their conversation. Sue was really cute, and Steve had been trying to get her alone all night. He was feeling hung over as well and it had taken all his concentration to keep his attention on the conversation and his eyes from straying to Sue's very ample cleavage. It was extremely difficult! His mind kept wondering what it would be like to see her heaving breasts swing deliciously above him as she straddled him and impaled herself on his rapidly hardening tool. As their conversation lulled, Steve made a move. Gently sliding his arm around her waist, he let his hand slide down to her pert behind, giving the sweet cheeks a little squeeze.
"What do you say we continue this conversation upstairs?" he whispered into her ear.
"Well that might be a little difficult. I thought you said that Mark was sleeping it off in your room?"
Steve tried to assemble his thoughts in to a plan. She hadn't said no and that was a start.
"I'm sure we could find a room somewhere up there! Mark booked the whole of the first floor."
"I thought you'd never ask!" cried Sue as, grabbing his hand, they slipped out of the room and quickly made their way upstairs.
Abigail opened the door to Steve's room and peeked inside. All was dark. As she let her eyes become accustomed to the gloom, she could make out a figure on the bed and could hear Mark's familiar snoring. She approached the sleeping figure and gently shook his shoulder.
"Wake up Mark, it's me."
No response. She shook a little harder, spoke a little louder.
"Mark! Wake up you sod! People are wondering where you are."