"the wedding debacle"
so, i rewrote the last paragraph, and added another one onto what i had previously, then i wrote part two. enjoy.
"the wedding debacle"
-----
She wants me to say her name in some sort of pleasurable acknowledgement, but for whatever reason, I can’t seem to recall it. Not that it really matters. She gives decent enough head, I guess, and it will do for now. The only problem I can see right now is that someone might walk in. Not that I’m embarrassed about being naked in public, but being naked in public, with your cock in a girl’s mouth, on your wedding day, when the girl is your fiancée’s maid of honor, is a bit touchy, I guess.
I don’t really care, not really, but that’s what they would tell me, I’m sure.
She says something dirty to me - something sexually degrading to herself, which is supposed to excite me. Something about wanting to taste my cum dripping down her throat, vomiting it up, spitting it into the crack of my ass, and slurping it up again, but I’m not paying much attention to her. I never have.
“Yeah baby, do it, cum all over me. I want your hot dripping cum on my face. I want it now.” That’s what she says to me while I balance my checkbook in my head. I’m thinking about the money I lost on the last Braves game last night. I’m thinking how I could go for some Taco Bell. I’m thinking about how I could go for some good head that’s not from this girl, or woman, or whatever.
A knock on the door, and a voice telling me it’s time to say my vows, lets me know I should finish. I do, but it’s only a mediocre orgasm. Hardly worth paying attention to, but the look on her face, a face covered in my semen now, is one of pure satisfaction. She’s given me that look every single time I’ve done it, but I’ve never understood why. I can’t even remember her name, though I’m pretty sure I’ve known her over four year.
She licks all the remains off her face, licking it off her hand, and glares at me like I should be aware of her post-ejaculation, clean-up routine. Like it should show her devotion to me. Like I should be pleased that she would degrade herself.
Like I should give a fuck what she does with my cum. Like it ties me to her in some inexplicable way. Like it matters once its left my cock.
“Ok, you should, um, clean up, I guess, and get ready for, you know, the wedding.” I say like I watching something on a TV that isn’t there.
She pouts, but not in a serious way, just like she usually does, and I ignore it, like I usually do. She cleans her self while I check my tux in a stand-up mirror I find in the corner of the room. I hadn’t noticed the mirror before, though I had been in the room dozens of times for rehearsals. She checks her face as well. Making sure no cum, blackheads, or runny mascara would throw off the overall.
We vacate the room like we’ve been having a pep talk about the upcoming nuptials. Like she’s been reinforcing how much the bride, Elizabeth, loves me. How we are destined to live a long and fruitful life together. Like this isn’t the first day we had ever met, which it is. Like I've never fucked her in the ass, which I haven't.
The idea sounds good as it runs through my head, so I grab her and throw her back in for some intense anal action. I’ll need it to get through the rest of this day. Who cares if I’m late? It’s not like they can go on without me. The wedding planner said so.
………..
I guess the squealing and howling noises Caitlin, the maid of honor, is making arouses the attention of some casual passersby, cause they knock on the door, disturbing my irregular and murderous thrusting motions as she is bent over a couch I didn’t notice before, her face in the cushions, slobbering like a maniac. My first thought is that the pizza guy is here, late of course, but then I realize that its Thursday, so it wouldn’t be pizza, it would be Chinese. Or Thai. I don’t remember ordering anything, though it might be Greek, cause it might be Friday, but that’s such a common occurrence that I almost consider it necessary. I would be disarmed if it were otherwise.
“Leave the food there. Someone will pay for it. Just look around for them.” I say to the door. Then to her I say, “What was your name again?”
This causes her to go wild, like I’m playing some depraved sexual role-playing game. I’ve never seen a human buck like that, and it almost arouses some emotion deep inside, until I remember that I need to get gas tomorrow. My tank is almost empty.
The door knocks again.
“Don’t slow down, I can take it. I want it! Fuck me harder! I love the way your cock feels in my throbbing asshole. Never stop fucking my tight little asshole!” That’s what Caitlin says in response to the door. She gasps for breath, barely able to comprehend anything in the outside world.
“Is everything alright in there? Is anybody hurt?” The door asks. I can almost place the voice, but what comes to mind is a father, but that’s not right cause my father isn’t here. Maybe it’s her father.
“Is that your father? Maybe he wants to watch. Has he ever mentioned that to you before? Think he would be into it, cause, I don’t know, that seems a little perverted to me. ” I say as she complains that I’m not shoving my cock far enough into her rectum to produce some desired effect I know nothing about. “I don’t think I would be into that. What makes you think that’s something I would be into? That kind of creeps me out, you know? What’s wrong with you anyway?” I don’t even care to cum at this point, I’m just trying to pass the time, though for what, I cant quite remember. I could use a drink. Or two. Or a bottle.
“I think you should open the door.” Says the door to us, or really to nobody in particular cause neither of us are paying attention as Caitlin continues screaming in some language that is unknown to me. I think it’s called “girl” but I never bothered to learn that language. English got me by enough, most of the time, and the rest I just ignored as inconsequential. Wait, where am I?
I pull out, bored beyond rational thought, zip my pants, and remember that I need to go back upstairs for my wedding. Caitlin is so out of it that she doesn’t notice until I’ve already opened the door, revealing a man that I’m sure I’ve never met, but looks like something like a deflated Jabba the Hut.
“Hi.” I say, blankly, wishing he would understand that my greeting was just a means to tell him that he’s in my way. That I need to get beyond him, but that he is blocking my passage.
“Is everything all right? We’re waiting for you, upstairs. Elizabeth is getting worried. She needs to know that you’re ok. That everything’s ok.” He says this like a concerned parent, and then I realize that he is a concerned parent. Elizabeth’s concerned parent. He looks questioningly into the room behind me, but all he can see is Caitlin standing there, adjusting her dress, smiling vapidly at nothing at all.
“Oh yeah, I’m fine - cold feet, that’s all.” I say as I think about the drop in the stock market. The new Porsche I bought. The suffering and hunger on the other side of the world. The kid down the street who mows my yard, and the money I owe him for last week. I’m thinking this, but talking about the wedding.
…………..
to be continued...
"the wedding debacle"
-----
She wants me to say her name in some sort of pleasurable acknowledgement, but for whatever reason, I can’t seem to recall it. Not that it really matters. She gives decent enough head, I guess, and it will do for now. The only problem I can see right now is that someone might walk in. Not that I’m embarrassed about being naked in public, but being naked in public, with your cock in a girl’s mouth, on your wedding day, when the girl is your fiancée’s maid of honor, is a bit touchy, I guess.
I don’t really care, not really, but that’s what they would tell me, I’m sure.
She says something dirty to me - something sexually degrading to herself, which is supposed to excite me. Something about wanting to taste my cum dripping down her throat, vomiting it up, spitting it into the crack of my ass, and slurping it up again, but I’m not paying much attention to her. I never have.
“Yeah baby, do it, cum all over me. I want your hot dripping cum on my face. I want it now.” That’s what she says to me while I balance my checkbook in my head. I’m thinking about the money I lost on the last Braves game last night. I’m thinking how I could go for some Taco Bell. I’m thinking about how I could go for some good head that’s not from this girl, or woman, or whatever.
A knock on the door, and a voice telling me it’s time to say my vows, lets me know I should finish. I do, but it’s only a mediocre orgasm. Hardly worth paying attention to, but the look on her face, a face covered in my semen now, is one of pure satisfaction. She’s given me that look every single time I’ve done it, but I’ve never understood why. I can’t even remember her name, though I’m pretty sure I’ve known her over four year.
She licks all the remains off her face, licking it off her hand, and glares at me like I should be aware of her post-ejaculation, clean-up routine. Like it should show her devotion to me. Like I should be pleased that she would degrade herself.
Like I should give a fuck what she does with my cum. Like it ties me to her in some inexplicable way. Like it matters once its left my cock.
“Ok, you should, um, clean up, I guess, and get ready for, you know, the wedding.” I say like I watching something on a TV that isn’t there.
She pouts, but not in a serious way, just like she usually does, and I ignore it, like I usually do. She cleans her self while I check my tux in a stand-up mirror I find in the corner of the room. I hadn’t noticed the mirror before, though I had been in the room dozens of times for rehearsals. She checks her face as well. Making sure no cum, blackheads, or runny mascara would throw off the overall.
We vacate the room like we’ve been having a pep talk about the upcoming nuptials. Like she’s been reinforcing how much the bride, Elizabeth, loves me. How we are destined to live a long and fruitful life together. Like this isn’t the first day we had ever met, which it is. Like I've never fucked her in the ass, which I haven't.
The idea sounds good as it runs through my head, so I grab her and throw her back in for some intense anal action. I’ll need it to get through the rest of this day. Who cares if I’m late? It’s not like they can go on without me. The wedding planner said so.
………..
I guess the squealing and howling noises Caitlin, the maid of honor, is making arouses the attention of some casual passersby, cause they knock on the door, disturbing my irregular and murderous thrusting motions as she is bent over a couch I didn’t notice before, her face in the cushions, slobbering like a maniac. My first thought is that the pizza guy is here, late of course, but then I realize that its Thursday, so it wouldn’t be pizza, it would be Chinese. Or Thai. I don’t remember ordering anything, though it might be Greek, cause it might be Friday, but that’s such a common occurrence that I almost consider it necessary. I would be disarmed if it were otherwise.
“Leave the food there. Someone will pay for it. Just look around for them.” I say to the door. Then to her I say, “What was your name again?”
This causes her to go wild, like I’m playing some depraved sexual role-playing game. I’ve never seen a human buck like that, and it almost arouses some emotion deep inside, until I remember that I need to get gas tomorrow. My tank is almost empty.
The door knocks again.
“Don’t slow down, I can take it. I want it! Fuck me harder! I love the way your cock feels in my throbbing asshole. Never stop fucking my tight little asshole!” That’s what Caitlin says in response to the door. She gasps for breath, barely able to comprehend anything in the outside world.
“Is everything alright in there? Is anybody hurt?” The door asks. I can almost place the voice, but what comes to mind is a father, but that’s not right cause my father isn’t here. Maybe it’s her father.
“Is that your father? Maybe he wants to watch. Has he ever mentioned that to you before? Think he would be into it, cause, I don’t know, that seems a little perverted to me. ” I say as she complains that I’m not shoving my cock far enough into her rectum to produce some desired effect I know nothing about. “I don’t think I would be into that. What makes you think that’s something I would be into? That kind of creeps me out, you know? What’s wrong with you anyway?” I don’t even care to cum at this point, I’m just trying to pass the time, though for what, I cant quite remember. I could use a drink. Or two. Or a bottle.
“I think you should open the door.” Says the door to us, or really to nobody in particular cause neither of us are paying attention as Caitlin continues screaming in some language that is unknown to me. I think it’s called “girl” but I never bothered to learn that language. English got me by enough, most of the time, and the rest I just ignored as inconsequential. Wait, where am I?
I pull out, bored beyond rational thought, zip my pants, and remember that I need to go back upstairs for my wedding. Caitlin is so out of it that she doesn’t notice until I’ve already opened the door, revealing a man that I’m sure I’ve never met, but looks like something like a deflated Jabba the Hut.
“Hi.” I say, blankly, wishing he would understand that my greeting was just a means to tell him that he’s in my way. That I need to get beyond him, but that he is blocking my passage.
“Is everything all right? We’re waiting for you, upstairs. Elizabeth is getting worried. She needs to know that you’re ok. That everything’s ok.” He says this like a concerned parent, and then I realize that he is a concerned parent. Elizabeth’s concerned parent. He looks questioningly into the room behind me, but all he can see is Caitlin standing there, adjusting her dress, smiling vapidly at nothing at all.
“Oh yeah, I’m fine - cold feet, that’s all.” I say as I think about the drop in the stock market. The new Porsche I bought. The suffering and hunger on the other side of the world. The kid down the street who mows my yard, and the money I owe him for last week. I’m thinking this, but talking about the wedding.
…………..
to be continued...