I get into trouble at weddings. I’m not sure why. Maybe it’s the fact that, underneath all the traditional pomp and circumstance, weddings are fundamentally about sex. Perhaps it’s just the alcohol, the music and the emotional effects of my apparently permanent single status.
My dad remarried when I was fourteen, in an intimate ceremony at the historic Old North Church. The photographer, trying to assemble the family for group photos, discovered me in a broom closet, practicing kissing with my hunky cousin Jay.
Not long after I graduated high school, I was one of seven bridesmaids in my best friend’s lavish nuptials. Veronica sewed our gowns herself, in seven different shades of green. Every detail had to be perfect. My boyfriend Phil was invited to the party, but as a bridesmaid I was seated at the head table, while he was stuck next to the guy who had taken me to my junior prom. The frustration was almost too much to bear—speaking for myself, at least.
I know, maybe that’s not an adequate excuse. In any case, Veronica found us behind some bushes in the hotel garden, Phil’s head buried under layers of chartreuse chiffon. She’s still speaking to me. Now that’s a true friend.
Probably my worst misbehaviour occurred at the wedding of one of my male housemates while I was in grad school. He had seduced me one night, then pretended nothing had happened. Okay, I’ll admit I was a bit bitter. The guest list included the ex-boyfriend who dumped me when he found out about my fling with the groom. Both men studiously ignored me. After a glass or two of wine, I snuck off to a motel with the bride’s nineteen year old brother. I was twenty five or so at the time.
I can see you shaking your head. Still, it was fun. He took nude photos. I taught him about blowjobs. The whole experience was a fine antidote to my feelings of rejection. Nothing like a younger guy to keep things lively.
At Jill’s and Dan’s wedding, however, I was determined to behave. I was, after all, a few months away from thirty, tenure-track faculty at a prestigious southern California university. Surely I’d outgrown the urge to mischief that had plagued me at earlier weddings. In addition, the whole scene was a bit intimidating. Dan was an architect. Jill was CEO of a Silicon Valley start-up. Their remodelled Victorian in the Haight made my one-bedroom apartment look like a cupboard.
It was a fabulous setting for a party, though. The actual ceremony took place at sunset in a gazebo in the back garden. A buffet and bar graced the formal dining room. In the front parlour the oriental carpets were rolled up against the walls and a three-piece band played soft rock.
I love to dance, but I literally didn’t know anyone except Lee and Dan. I fidgeted on one of the rosewood and brocade chairs, sipping my Pinot Noir, watching couples flit across the floor and sinking ever-so-gradually into maudlin self-pity.
“Lady in red—come dance with me.” The invitation was accompanied by a hundred megawatt smile. The guy holding out his hand had curly black hair, laughing eyes, and that small, compact build that always attracts me. He was perfectly proportioned for my barely-five-foot stature.
Instant chemistry. My mouth went dry. Lower down I experienced exactly the opposite effect. His navy shirt, open at the neck, revealed a tender throat and a glimpse of tanned chest. Beige trousers hung neatly on his narrow hips, suggesting though not revealing a substantial bulge at the crotch. My fingers itched to explore that promising bulk. My nipples sprang to attention, advertising my arousal to anyone who cared to look.
My prospective partner did look. His frank stare began with my red-painted lips then travelled over my bare shoulders and down the front of my crimson silk sheath. I felt his eyes like hands, lingering on my breasts, sliding over my hips, testing the fullness of my rear. My face felt like I’d spent a long day in the sun. My cheeks probably matched the colour of my dress.
His smile grew even more dazzling. “Well? I’m Mark. Come on, I love this song.”
I let him pull me out of my chair and into his arms. The band, I realised, was doing a cover of Chris DeBurgh’s “Lady in Red”, explaining Mark’s greeting. I’d always found that song a bit sappy and sentimental, but swaying there on the dance floor with Mark, my aching nubs pressed against his chest, his firm hand at the small of my back, it seemed as perfect as he was.
He smelled fresh and clean, bracing as a hike in the Sierras. Underneath, I caught a sultry hint of something more tropical, a musky emanation of his inner heat. I found myself melting, transforming into an inarticulate puddle of lust.
He behaved more or less properly. He held me close, but his fingers did not wander below my waist no matter how badly I wanted them to. He kept his leg well away from the hungry cleft between my thighs. Moisture gathered there and overflowed. A hint of my own randy scent reached my nostrils. I didn’t care whether my partner smelled it as well. I couldn’t hide what I wanted.
I squirmed, trying to grind my pelvis against his. He brushed his lips across my hair and pulled me tighter. The solid lump under his trousers pressed into my belly. Electricity sizzled through me. I felt seared, scorched. With the greatest difficulty, I resisted my impulse to reach between us and fondle his growing erection.
We did not speak. He seemed lost in the music. I didn’t dare open my mouth. I was afraid I would moan. I’d read about pheromones but this was unreal. My whole body hummed with tension, stretched taut from the strain of holding on, holding back. Could I come right here on the dance floor, in public, fully clothed? I wouldn’t have ruled it out.
The song stretched out forever. Gradually I relaxed into Mark’s embrace, allowing him to take the lead. We moved together, each step flowing into the next, like one being. Everything felt so very right. I was high on the way we fit together, the way I responded to his subtlest cue. Effervescent joy leavened my lust. This was something new, something more than just physical.
I peered up at him. His half-smile, the light dancing in his ocean eyes told me he sensed it, too.
Drunk on his closeness, I didn’t even notice when the music stopped. I was shocked when he released me. My first impulse was to grab him, to press myself against his sweet, lean body once again. I couldn’t bear the loss of contact. Only his firm hand on my shoulder stopped me. He led me back to my chair. I discovered that I was trembling.
Mark seated himself beside me. “Thank you—but I don’t know your name yet.”
I was fascinated by his ripe lips and imagining a kiss. It took me a moment to answer.
“Oh—um—Delia. I’m Delia.”
He caught my hand between his. Blood raced to my clit at the skin-on-skin gesture. “It’s a pleasure, Delia.” The sparkle from the cut-glass chandelier overhead reflected in his eyes. “Can I get you a drink?”
“No! No, please, I’m fine.” My other hand was on top of his two. I couldn’t stand the notion of his leaving. I realised suddenly that I was acting uncivilized. Maybe he wanted a drink himself. Perhaps he even wanted to get away from me. “Of course, if you’d like one...”
“No, that’s okay. You just seemed a bit—flushed.” His grin made it perfectly clear that he understood why. I should have been annoyed by his cockiness, but honestly, I wanted him too much.
“Ah—well, it’s a bit warm in here. I expected San Francisco to be cool and damp this time of year.” Right, Delia. Talk about the weather. That’s always a refuge in times of social confusion.
Mark had not released my hand. He brushed a fingertip delicately across my palm. My nipples tightened to the point of pain. “Where are you from?” he asked, tracing a line along the outside of my index finger. I shivered.
“I live in Los Angeles. Santa Monica actually. I teach computer science at UCLA.” I was amazed that I was managing to keep up any kind of discourse. My heart slammed against my ribs and I could feel a dribble of pussy juice inching its way down the inside of my thigh. “Jill was my roommate in college, but we’ve been a bit out of touch. This is the first time I’ve seen her since she moved west.”
“Ah, we’re practically neighbours. I live in Westwood. Junior partner in a law firm.”
A lawyer! I should have known. He was so slick, so sure of himself. But damn it, he was gorgeous.
I made a superhuman effort to pull myself together. Extricating my hand from his, I brushed my damp curls away from my sweaty forehead. “And what about you? How do you know Jill and Dan?”
“I don’t. But my boyfriend Scott—“ Mark gestured toward the dining room, where an athletic blond guy was deep in conversation with Dan—“He’s the best man. I just came along to keep him company.”
For a moment I was sure that the San Andreas fault had finally let go. The earth rocked under my feet. A roaring filled my ears. “Your boyfriend?” I sputtered at last.
“Yes, that’s right.” Mark’s amusement transformed itself into concern as he saw my distress. “Are you alright? Is that a problem?”
I couldn’t look at him. I wanted to sink through the floor. Here I was, creaming over his luscious body and fresh face, imagining that he was my soul mate, for God’s sake, and he was gay!
He cupped my chin and raised my gaze to his. “What’s wrong, Delia? It doesn’t gross you out, does it? The thought of two guys together?”
“No—of course not---it’s just that I thought—I felt—you and me...” I don’t think I’ve ever been so miserable and embarrassed. “I thought you were—interested in me...”
That’s when he kissed me. Wallowing in self-disgust, I didn’t expect the soft brush of his lips against mine, the tease of his tongue flickering across my mouth before he pulled back. I gasped. The fire in my sex flared again at his touch, his taste, the heady scent that swirled around him.
“I am interested. Very much so. I feel like there’s some kind of strong connection between us.”
So he felt it too. “But...”
“I like girls as well as guys. And Scott’s not the jealous type. Come on, I’ll introduce you.”
I was too confused to resist. Mark led me over to the knot of guests near the bar. Scott was regaling them with some story about a boat. He had a deep, resonant voice---the voice of an old fashioned radio announcer, pleasing to the ear. He talked with his hands. His energetic delivery held his audience spellbound.
Mark stood next to his lover, waiting for the other man to finish. Scott was significantly taller than Mark, with a more rugged build. I wondered whether the difference in stature was a problem when they were in bed together. Then I found myself wondering who played the more active role. The mental questions, and the images they evoked, made me wetter than ever.
Finally Scott delivered the punch line, to much appreciation. Mark tapped him on the shoulder. “Scott, baby, there’s someone I’d like you to meet. This is Delia.”
“Charmed, Delia” said Scott in that deliciously low voice. I found myself believing him. His hand as he shook mine was cool, with roughened skin. My pussy tingled. He didn’t have quite the effect that Mark did, but he was definitely handsome, with the chiselled features of the Marlboro man and the build of a wrestler.
“Delia’s a computer science professor,” Mark continued. He rested a casual hand on my shoulder. I squirmed at the effects of that slight contact.
Scott’s smile was slower than Mark’s but equally broad. “Computers! I can barely manage to get my email,” he quipped. “I run a fishing charter service out of Marina del Rey.”
“How interesting.” I cringed at my own stupid response, but what could I do? The only thought in my head was how much I wanted to tear Mark’s clothes off.
“Maybe Scott could take us all out to Catalina some time.” Mark smoothed over the awkward pause. “Delia’s from LA, too.”
“I’d be delighted. Any friend of Mark’s is a friend of mine.”
Not exactly a friend, I considered saying, but Mark spoke first. “So have you seen the rest of the house, Delia? It’s fantastic. Scott and I are staying in the turret room. Amazing. Come on, we’ll give you a tour.”
Alarm bells started to ring. Not again! I wasn’t a horny teenager anymore. I didn’t want to make a fool of myself again...
“I don’t know--“ I began, even as Mark took my hand and pulled me towards the stairway. “I’ve hardly talked to Jill.”
“Don’t worry. We won’t take long. Anyway, you’ll be at brunch tomorrow, won’t you?”
“Yes, but...” It was useless, though. We were already at the first floor landing. Mark’s figure above drew me like a magnet. I watched his butt shift under his slacks as he climbed and knew I’d have no peace until I saw those full cheeks naked. Scott was one or two steps behind me. Despite his orientation, I could swear I felt his gaze lingering on my ass.
By the time we reached the third floor I was panting, and not from the exertion. Mark threw open the door. I had no time to appreciate the canopy bed or the view out the curved window. Even before Scott flipped the bolt, Mark was on me, hands groping at my tits while his mouth devoured mine.
All his suave self-confidence was gone. There was nothing but raw hunger. He plunged his tongue into my mouth, forcing me to open, taking me over. His force, the power of his need, made me weep. Meanwhile he pinched my nipples through the silk of my dress. The tiny pains sparked like lightning along my nerves. My pussy clenched and shuddered with each strike.
I felt the air stir behind me. Cool hands drew my zipper down my back, past my waist. The same hands slipped inside the loosened sheath to cup my bare breasts, stroking and kneading the swelling flesh. Calloused fingertips twisted the sensitive tips. Pleasure raged through me, snapping me into an arch that pushed me against Mark’s hard body.
I ground my pelvis against his, drunk on his funky scent. He nipped my earlobe, then sank to his knees, crumpling my skirt to expose my soaked bikinis. With a growl, he tore away the wisp of fabric and buried his face in my cunt.
He ate me with a fury that drove every thought from my mind. Tongue, lips, teeth—I couldn’t tell what he was doing exactly, and I didn’t care. All I knew was that it was incredible, exquisite, overwhelming. He drove me to the top faster than I would have believed. My clit rang with brazen peals of pleasure. He was a stranger, yet every gesture was perfect, exactly what I needed, what I wanted.
For the second time that day, I thought the earth cracked open. Mark’s mouth hurled me from a breathless summit into a long, delicious fall. I would have collapsed to the floor but Mark gripped my thighs, still licking my pussy as the shudders wracking my body died away.
I leaned on his shoulders to steady myself. Mark sucked at my aching clit, then poked his tongue deep into my cleft and I started to climb again.
This time I was a bit more aware. Mark nibbled my lower lips then bit down on the swollen bead at the apex. I felt Scott moving behind me. He parted my rear cheeks and lapped gently at my back hole. A million volts shot through me, a brilliant flare of pure pleasure. My body was utterly consumed.
I don’t know what happened to my mind. I’m the sort of person who’s always thinking, worrying, analyzing. For once, for a short while, that inner babble simply went away.
Animal grunts brought me back to myself. I was stretched out on one half of the bed, which rocked like a boat at sea. Mark was beside me, naked, on his hands and knees with his butt in the air. His erect cock bobbed against his belly, sleek and proud, the rosy bulb dripping pre-cum onto the spread. With his lightly-furred chest, his tanned back and his lean, strong limbs, he was every bit as beautiful as I had imagined.
Mark’s eyes were screwed shut. His forearms and thighs bulged with the strain of holding his position. Scott knelt behind him, ramming his much larger cock deep into Mark’s ass.
The blond man gripped Mark’s hips. I could see fingernails digging into bronzed flesh. Scott thrust with steady power, pulling partway out then burying himself to the hilt. Each stroke wrung a groan from Mark’s throat. The force made Mark’s balls tremble and his cock sway.
It was, without question, the hottest thing I’d ever seen in my life.
The lust that I’d felt earlier boiled again. I wanted to take Mark’s cock in my fist and jerk him off while Scott fucked him. I thought about wriggling underneath so I could swallow him. I propped myself up on my elbow so that I could see Scott’s condom-wrapped cock, gleaming with lube, sliding into Mark’s stretched hole. I watched Mark’s face each time Scott filled him, those full lips twisted in pain and ecstasy.
I sank my fingers into my cunt, stroking in time with Scott’s rhythm. It didn’t matter that I’d come twice already. I was hungrier than ever. Scott’s breath came faster and I knew he was close. I was, too. Then I realised Mark’s eyes were open. He gave me a knowing grin.
“Scott, baby—pull out.”
“What?” The other man was momentarily confused, but smiled when he saw me with my hand in my honeypot. “Ah, Delia!” His enormous cock pointed straight at the ceiling. I quivered at the thought of what Mark must feel with that huge organ in his ass.
“Hand me a condom, hon,” said Mark. Scott flipped him a foil-wrapped packet. Mark smoothed the latex down the length of his erection. His cock was not a monster like Scott’s. It was in perfect proportion to the rest of his neat body. Perfect for a petite woman like me.
I didn’t need instructions. I flipped onto my back and opened my thighs. Mark’s cock was pure delight sliding into my drenched pussy. Supporting himself on his arms, he set a steady pace, stroking in and out. Each thrust took me higher. I didn’t need to tell him what to do, how I liked it. Somehow he knew. As I wrapped my legs around his waist and drew him in deeper, I felt that I knew what he wanted, too.
All at once, the rhythm changed. Mark released his breath in a gasp. I understood that Scott had plunged his cock back into Mark’s bowels.
Now Scott was in control. He nailed Mark. Mark nailed me. I shook helplessly underneath them, simultaneously fucked by two beautiful men who didn’t mind one bit that I was a hopeless slut.
We came together, all three of us. Scott stiffened and ground his cock into his lover’s butt. Mark yelled so loud that I’d be surprised if someone downstairs didn’t hear us. I felt his rod pulsing inside me, hot and hard, giving me everything he had. Something surged up inside me, something sweeter and stronger than lust. My own climax was smooth as silk, an effortless tumble rather than an arduous climb. Unlike the other orgasms, I didn’t lose track of my mind. I was wonderfully aware of where I was, lying sweaty and satisfied under the weight of my two lovers.
We lay tangled together for a while, sharing lazy caresses. Nobody seemed to feel the need to talk. Eventually, Mark headed for the bathroom. Scott sat up and stretched. I gazed in admiration as his penis. Even flaccid, it was impressive.
He noticed my attention and gave me a devilish grin, looking for a moment very like his boyfriend. “I meant it about Catalina, by the way. We’d love to take you out sometime soon. Oh, and I don’t know your plans, but we’re driving back to LA tomorrow after the brunch. You’re very welcome to catch a ride.”
“Thanks, Scott. I might take you up on that.” There was an awkward silence. “You don’t like girls yourself, do you?” I asked finally.
“I prefer men, I admit. But I love Mark. And I like you, Delia. You’re someone special. I’ve known Mark a long time. I’ve never seen him want anyone so much.”
Warmth spread through me, starting in my chest and flowing outward. I looked at my hands, suddenly embarrassed. “Thank you. That means a lot to me.”
The door squeaked as Mark returned. “What means a lot?” He glanced from Scott to me, laughter in his eyes. “What are you two plotting?”
“Nothing, silly,” I pulled Mark into a fierce kiss. “Scott has just agreed that, occasionally, I can borrow his boyfriend.”
“Sounds good to me,” Mark murmured, nuzzling my neck. “Excellent in fact.”
My nipples peaked and my pussy dampened yet again. I realised that this might be the last wedding I’d have to worry about.