A Wedding Day

Pete was a gorgeous guy who had his pick of women. I fact, he

usually picked more than one of them. This may not seem like a problem to

some, but I’m sure his wife wouldn’t have been to happy to find out. as

for me, I was more limited in opportunities. But I knew I would never

have to worry about ‘picking’ again was I was soon to have my own wife.



Her name was Michelle, and with an unlimited pick of women, I

would have chose her. She was beautiful, soft, and sexy. I wondered how I

had landed a girl whose medium-length blonde hair glowed in the sun,

whose face captivated the eyes of every man who beheld it, whose breasts

turned heads with their side-to-side bobbing as she walked. She was

incredible, and soon to be my wife.



Michelle had told me something of Pete, and the only time they

had ever met. It was at a party, and Michelle told me she knew the

instant she saw him she was going to fuck him. (This was when we first

met, before we started dating. I don’t think I could have handled this

after I fell in love with her.)

“I wasn’t the prettiest girl there.” she had explained to me.

“So I knew I would have to be the most aggressive.” I don’t think any man

could resist her aggression.



Michelle continued. “I went into the bathroom, and was going to

tell Carry (her best friend) about him. Her first words were ‘Oh my God!

Did you see that babe!’ My answer was ‘Hell Yes! Oh how I want to fuck

him!” Carry smiled at me and told me she saw him looking at me, or more

specifically, my breasts.”



At this point, I too looked at her tits. She caught me. “It’s Ok.

I know I have large breasts. Anyway, in the bathroom I undid the top

buttons on my blouse, to show off some cleavage. I had to redo the last

one because my bra was showing. Carry stopped me. ‘Take off the bra,

Michelle.’ I paused, then agreed. I was sooo excited I might have gone

out there topless. I took off my shirt and bra, noticed Carry staring at

my chest jealously, then put my shirt back on. I only buttoned just more

than half of the buttons. I practiced my leans, knowing what move would

hide my assets, what moves would create cleavage down past my breasts,

and what lean-overs would grant Pete a perfect view of my breasts,

nipples and all. I then went to conquer.”



She went on. “I don’t think Pete looked at another girl the rest

of the night. Then again, he didn’t look at MY face much, either. We

played cards with some other people, and slowly the crowd dissipated.

Soon we were playing Blackjack, just the two of us. We were playing for

fun, but I knew everytime I leaned over the table to pick up the cards,

he was having some EXTRA fun. I started losing, badly. He joked about

needing someone good to play with. I offered to raise the stakes. He

asked how. I said, name his stakes. He smiled, looked directly at my

rather uncovered breasts, and said, ‘They’ve been staring at me all night

long.’ Then he looked at me. ‘If you lose… I get to feel your breasts.

If you don’t accept my stakes, I’ll find someone else to play with.’ I

agreed.”



I listened to her tell me the story, my swelling cock telling me

how I could arrange such a game! Michelle continued. “He dealt me a 10. I

said ‘Hit.” He dealt me a 4. I said ‘Hit.” He dealt me a 6. I said ‘Hit.’

He dealt me a queen. I said ‘Feel.’ I ran my fingers down my breasts,

ready to open my blouse for him. The someone popped in the room and said,

‘Pete, your wife is on the phone.’ He looked very disappointed! So did I.

So DID I! I was gone before I came back.”







That’s where the story ended.