I was never much of a dancer. I can bust some free-style moves on a nightclub dance-floor should the occasion call for it, but when it comes to slow dancing with a partner, I have two left feet. So when it came time for Chris, the best man, and I, the maid of honour, to join the happy couple and dance together to the “Wild is the Wind” by David Bowie, I was petrified.
I didn’t know Chris all that well, and prior to the wedding rehearsal we’d only met socially once or twice, but he seemed like a real nice guy. Though he wasn’t traditionally handsome, he had a really powerful charisma about him, and I found myself rather attracted to him. Today he was dressed to the nines in a dapper tuxedo, and I had struggled to keep my eyes off him all through the ceremony.
As he led me onto the dance-floor, I whispered anxiously, “I’m not good at slow dancing. Go easy on me.”
He flashed me a huge grin, lowered his mouth to my ear and chuckled, “Thank god for that. I’m useless, too. I was afraid I was about you disappoint you dreadfully. We’ll just have to sway back and forth and hope for the best!”
I relaxed a little. At least if I was about to suffer public humiliation, I wasn’t going to be alone! He pulled me towards him, put his hand around my waist, and we rocked gently in time with the music. Despite a few trodden-on toes at first, we managed to fall into a rhythm, and were able to look up from our own feet and to look each other in the face. My insides fluttered when Chris’ brilliant blue eyes met mine, and I couldn’t stop myself from staring at him dreamily while Bowie sang sensually in the background.
As other couples joined us on the dance-floor, Chris drew me in closer, and I could feel his warm breath against my neck. I closed my eyes and lost myself in the rhythm of our bodies, feeling less self-conscious of the watching faces now. Our hips were only millimetres apart, and I could feel the heat radiating from him. When his hands slid down to the upper part of my bottom and pulled me in closer to his body, I was surprised, but delighted, to feel the tell-tale signs of his growing erection.
I wasn’t sure if this state of arousal was inadvertent on his part, perhaps simply a natural physical reaction to our closeness, but my hips seemed to respond entirely without any input from my brain, and I found myself pressing myself firmly against him. It was a subtle move, and no one watching would have picked up on it, but Chris (or Chris’ cock, at least) noticed immediately. I felt him nudging harder against me, and his hands moved lower until they were practically cupping my backside.
As we swayed there together, Bowie’s voice disappeared and the DJ put on another, more up-beat track. I’ve never been more disappointed to stop dancing in all my life. Chris seemed to be feeling the same way and, as we parted, he looked deep into my eyes with a sensual grin.
“If you wanted to,” he murmured into my ear, “we could continue our own dancing practice elsewhere.”
I felt a deep pulsing low down in my belly, and replied, “I’d love to.”
We swept out of the reception looking for a quiet hideaway, and we walked briskly up and down corridors, opening up doors and cupboards looking for somewhere to secret ourselves. We were fortunate to find a janitor’s closet in a hidden alcove that looked to be fairly out of the way, and giggling, we shut the door behind us, turned on the small lightbulb that hung from the ceiling, and Chris propped a large steam-cleaning machine against the door in case anyone came knocking. It was dingy, but it would do for an emergency, and my loins were telling me that this was certainly a code-red, four-alarm fire.
Chris pulled me in for a kiss, and it was hot and passionate. His tongue danced over my lips before sliding into my mouth and meeting my own, and I lost my fingers in his hair as we fumbled and writhed against each other. I could feel he was fully hard now, and his tumescent prick jutted at the front of his dark trousers. I moaned against his open mouth, “Do you have a condom?”
He reached into his pocket and, as if by magic, the familiar foil packet appeared.
“You always so prepared?” I asked with a smile. He grinned widely, and lowered his head to my throat.
“I confess I slipped to the men’s room a little earlier, when I saw you looking so fine in that damn dress. A bit of wishful thinking at the time, but by god I’m thankful for it now.”
I pulled the satin skirt of my dress up around my waist and exposed my underwear to him. Though I hadn’t been expecting to get lucky at this wedding, I had at least worn some sexy knickers, and I was suddenly thankful that the dress my friend, Annie, had chosen had a long skirt, as it meant I hadn’t needed to wear pantyhose. As I watched Chris’ eyes grow heavy-lidded with desire, I gave a mental thank you to Annie and her penchant for long-line skirts.
“You look even finer out of that dress,” he murmured, as he unbuttoned and unzipped his trousers. “Or, half out of it, at least.”
We fell together roughly, urgent and panting, and when his hand slid up the inside of my thigh and caressed me over the crotch of my lacy panties, my whole body quaked. I was desperate to feel his hand on my bare flesh, his hard length filling me, and I opened my legs wider and hooked one up around his upper leg. He grabbed my bottom with both hands and ground himself into my hips. I felt one of his fingers slide into my knickers, stroking my wet quim back and forth and I moaned, “Oh god, Chris, fuck me.”
He grabbed the waistband of my underwear and yanked it down, while I pulled the neckline of my dress down a little and ran a hand over my breast, teasing the nipples through the satin fabric. I wondered if he could see how hard they were beneath the material. While I rubbed at my nipples, Chris cupped my pussy with his right hand and began to flick his middle finger over my clitoris, and slide it in between my damp labia. As I moaned and teased my breasts even more vigorously, he penetrated me up to his knuckles and thrust in and out a few times.
“You’re so wet,” he murmured, as he bent his head to kiss me. “So wet and juicy…..”
I let my head fall back and my knees buckled slightly as he fingered me. I moved my hand from my breast down to his cock, and I could feel him pulsing and throbbing in my hand.
“Oh god, Rachel,” he moaned as I stroked up and down his shaft firmly. “God, I wanna fuck you, baby.”
“Do it,” I panted, impatiently. He pulled his hand from my cunt and brought it up to my mouth. I licked and sucked on his fingers while he watched me with hot lust in his eyes. When I’d cleaned my own wetness off of his fingers, he tore open the condom packet and rolled it up his member swiftly. I opened my legs wide, propping one foot up on a metal mop bucket, and he positioned himself between them. After giving my clit and my slit a few strokes with his prick, he slid his full length deep inside my pussy, and my whole sex thrummed in ecstasy. He was long and girthy, and fit perfectly inside me. I could already feel him pressed against my g-spot before he’d even started thrusting, and knew that once he really started fucking me, he was going to be hitting that sweet, spongy spot at just the right angle.
Chris gripped my hip with one hand, and my ass cheek with his other, and started to move. Slowly at first, he thrust deeply, languorously, and it felt so amazing that my eyes started to roll back in their sockets. He was so good, and this whole wonderfully naughty scenario was such a wild turn-on. I moved my hips in time with his. Though I still had one hand holding my dress out of the way, I could still place the other on his butt-cheek, and I used it to urge him harder, and deeper inside me.
His thrusts started to increase in pace, and my hips kept up with his rhythm, to the point where I was practically bouncing up and down on his hard cock, moaning and shrieking as he pounded into me again and again. I could feel the liquid arousal spilling out of me and dripping down his shaft, down my thighs and all the way down the insides of my legs. Chris, meanwhile, was gasping a litany of filth, “ Oh fuck, yes,” “Oh god, your pussy feels so good,” “You like this cock, baby?”, and “I’m gonna make you cum so hard, Rachel.” Whereas I, on the other hand, was so far into the bliss of my approaching climax that I couldn’t even speak.
I pulled my skirt up under my arm as far as I could so that I was able to lower my hand to my clit and I started rubbing furiously in firm, brisk circles. Oh god, yes, that was it, that was it! Chris was hitting my g-spot vigorously every time his prick pushed inside my inner walls, and now with the added stimulation on my clitoris, I could feel the orgasm starting to peak.
“Oh fuck, Chris. I’m cumming,” I squealed, and explosions of colour exploded and danced behind my closed eyes. He kept pounding into me, riding me through the climax as my body shuddered and buckled, the most sublime pleasure twisting me into odd shapes and angles.
A second orgasm seemed to rise immediately out of the first, and I had to pull my hand away from my pussy, as the sensations were so overwhelming. Chris, however, kept fucking me hard, and the motion of him inside me made the orgasm sustain and echo like the reverb effect on an electric guitar. Everything seemed to hum and vibrate, and as Chris grunted and came hard with an animal growl, I could hear and feel the blood rushing in my ears and the sweat dripping down my back.
Chris bowed his head to my neck as his orgasm subsided, his hips twitching every few moments as another contraction gripped him.
“Holy shit,” he murmured against my skin. “That was amazing.”
“Hmm,” I sighed in agreement, as he kissed me gently on the mouth and pulled out of my dripping sex. He removed the condom while I found a roll of paper towel from which to pinch a few squares, and after handing some to him, I took a few sheets to wipe the fluids from between my legs. The used condom wrapped and pocketed in his trousers, helped me tidy my hair and smooth down my dress before we headed back to the reception.
Just as Chris wheeled the steam-cleaning machine away from the door and went to turn the handle, the door flew open suddenly. Standing there before us were the bride and groom. Their furtive and giggly demeanour changed as soon as they saw us emerging guilty from the janitor’s cupboard. Obviously it didn’t take Sherlock Holmes to figure out what Chris and I had been doing in there. The four of us stared at each other awkwardly for a moment in shock and surprise, before Annie shrugged and gave me a huge grin and a wink.
“Chris,” she asked, turning to face him with a mock-stern look. “If you and my maid of dis-honour here are finished fucking in the broom cupboard, do you think my husband and I could borrow it for fifteen minutes?”
