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The Best Man and The Bride

Category: Fetish
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“It was your job to get him here on time. You do know, I hope, that the Best Man tradition started as being the bride’s Best Man because he got the groom to the altar. You should never have taken him drinking after the rehearsal dinner last night.”

“I never expected to get so drunk that I’d lose him.”

“Pathetic…” the last comment came from the corner of the tiny bridal waiting room at the old church. Kristy, Carol’s maid of honour, “I bet you aren’t even hung over because you’re still drunk.”

“Got a lil buzz going, yup,” Jerry grinned, swaying slightly. Jerry always assumed that everybody loved Jerry, and mostly he was right.

Jerry was the sort of hearty good old boy that at 25 years old, he had already made millions in sales. When people asked what he did he simply said “I’m a salesman.” When asked what he sold, he answered “a bit of this, a little of that.” Jerry had no deep knowledge of anything except math and people. Marry those traits to undying self-confidence and Jerry was a winner, but the sort who still snuck up on a lot of people.

“I better go tell the minister things are delayed,” Kristy huffed and swept out of the room. Three silent bridesmaids followed her lead, as they usually did.

Kristy was the alpha bitch in this pack. Carol was more the sort of ex-cheerleader who allowed others to be moons to her sun without any particular effort or self-awareness. Both young women were still stunning beauties in their mid twenties, but where Kristy was lean and taut, even her long dirty blond hair contributing verticality, Carol was curvy and trending toward voluptuousness, her strawberry blond coif falling gently just to her shoulders. The sleeveless wedding gown had a built in underwire system that pushed her pillowy tits upwards. Unlike Kristy, Carol had avoided tanning before the wedding, so the well displayed upper slopes of her breasts were their natural almost translucent porcelain while, with just a scattering of freckles scattered across the flesh, were like fairy dust.

Jerry might not have been the first man that day to be unable to resist staring at the sight of those perfect mounds – who knows, maybe Carol’s Dad or the minister had already been unable to resist – but he was certain not to be the last. It was also probably inevitable when Jerry stared an extra second watching Carol breathe, trying to guess whether or not a nipple was about to pop free from the fabric, and if so, would it be the perfect bubble gum pink with a puffy aureola that Jerry imagined when he jerked off at night picturing his old friend’s fiancee stripped naked. Three years of wheeling and dealing had trained Jerry well not to blush, but in spite of that, he felt warmth in his cheeks when Carol’s bold eyes knowingly met his. Her grin accompanied the spreading of that warmth down his throat, through his chest, filling his belly, and finally, surging into his aching groin.

“I saw you watching Kristy’s ass as she walked out,” Carol teased. “You must really have liked it.”

Her eyes were focused on the undeniable bulge in Jerry’s tuxedo pants. She thought about joking how if the groom didn’t appear, tradition also required the best man to marry the bride, but then she realized that her excitement and aggravation had stimulated her bladder. She shifted uncomfortably, wondering where Kristy was. The waiting room was equipped with a closet sized powder room, but her wedding dress was impossible for her to lift up by herself to pee. She would need help. Kristy had made a bit of a scene when they had realized that at the dress shop, but had eventually accepted that as part of her maid of honour duties. Now when Carol needed her, Kristy was nowhere to be found.

“Uh. Jerry…” Carol started hesitantly.

His big puppy dog grin encouraged her.

“Yes, sweetheart?”

“I need you to prove that you really are my best man.”

“After losing your groom, I’m not sure I qualify, but anything I can do to make up for it, I’ll try.”

Carol quickly explained her dilemma. Jerry only half listened, his cock stiffening fully in his pants as he imagined how sweet Carol’s pussy must be. She was too busy blushing and avoiding eye contact to notice.

“… so once it is up around my waist, I should be able to hold it so you can step back out here and let me tinkle.”

Carol giggled girlishly at her infantile choice of words. Normally, she was very mature, but something about the absurdity made her feel young, free, maybe even a bit wild. Her eyes landed on the tray of champagne the caterer had supplied for a quick toast after the ceremony or, as the butch woman had joked, “a touch of courage to go through with the deed.”

Carol grabbed a flute, but as she lifted it to her lips she paused.

“My best man shouldn’t let me drink alone.”

Jerry helped himself. They clinked the rims and both chugged back the entire portion rather than daintily sipping.

“Well, now I REALLY need to pee,” Carol laughed, from her belly this time. “I definitely can’t wait for Kristy. If you won’t help me I guess I wet my wedding dress.”

Jerry was lost in the moment watching how Carol’s cleavage had reddened from the booze, how her tits strained the satin bodice, how he imagined seeing her nipples hardening underneath. That last bit, he concluded was likely his imagination. His already swollen cock was stiffer than it had ever been. Carol saying his name jolted him back into reality.

“You going to help me, or explain the puddle on the floor?”

Carol laughed. Jerry was amazed and impressed that she was maintaining her sense of humour when her wedding day was so screwed up. With a shrug he stepped toward his old buddy’s bride to be, silently volunteering for a task above and beyond the call of duty. He watched as Carol turned, her hips perfectly filling the custom tailored dress. His manhood throbbed as they walked quietly to the toilet. He hoped Carol was too focussed on her own needs to notice.

Jerry stood back, admiring how her ample ass flexed under her dress, firm for all of its size. When Carol reached the commode, she turned, seeing Jerry standing a few feet away, his jaw hanging slack. She assumed he was just hungover and embarrassed. Never for an instant did Carol imagine that the best man was turned on by the bride. If she had glanced at his crotch she would have seen that even in the baggy draped tuxedo trousers, Jerry was fully engorged, but her gaze remained up at his face.

“If you bend down, you should have no trouble finding two silk loops just under the hem,” Carol explained. “Tug them up, the bottom of the dress should follow. Once the handles are at my hips, I should be able to manage.”

Jerry snapped back to reality and crouched down. His hands fumbled with the floor brushing hem of the dress long enough that both he and Carol seemed to first hold their breath and then start panting just slightly. Finally, his fingers clumsily grasped the loops and he tugged.

“Oops.” Jerry gasped, as he rose from his crouch, having not stopped when the hem reached Carol’s knees. His fingers brushed past the velvet garter, rising up at least another six inches past the bride’s plump outer thighs as fabric bunched around her waist. Jerry realized he was feeling bare flesh and could not resist looking down, confirming that his buddy’s fiancee had shown up to be married wearing the briefest thong imaginable, barely a triangle of silk covering a closely shaved mound. “Covering” or “mound” might be an exaggeration. The fabric actually barely hid Carol’s puffy labia.

The small room seemed to shrink around the pair as they stood, crowded closely together Carol breathing more heavily, her heaving bosom just inches from Jerry’s excited gaze, his hands resting on her hips.

“I really do need to pee,” Carol reminded him.

“You’ll need to shuffle about six inches straight back and squat,” Jerry analyzed. “Can you pull the quim cover aside yourself?”

Carol swung her arm awkwardly across over Jerry’s. Her fingers grasped the scrap of wet silk covering her labia. She paused, wondering why it was wet. She had not been aware of any bladder leakage yet. Was it possible that she was sexually excited in this silly situation? Her fingers released their grip, but she stopped herself short of raising her hand to her mouth for a taste.

Carol did love her own taste, whether urine or come. That secret was one she had not even shared with her fiance, so she was instantly gratified she stopped short of exhibiting the kink to Jerry, who was an almost total stranger. That thought, however, led to an even kinkier idea – who better to display one’s funkiest dirtiest secrets to but a stranger who lived thousands of miles across the country? Besides, Carol realized if she could barely reach the thong, she would never be able to properly wipe her gash. Jerry would need to help there.

“To hell with it,” Carol sighed, lifting her fingers to her lips. The flavour she realized was not piss or come, but mixed, a salty tang of each.

“What the f…” Jerry breathed, his lips inches away from her.

On impulse, Carol offered her fingers to Jerry, not saying anything, just rotating her thin wrist so her finger slid along his lips. He instinctively opened his mouth slightly, tongue flicking past his teeth to sample the taste.

“You’ve heard of the scent of a woman, well, this is the taste.” Carol laughed from her belly.

“Your husband will be a lucky man – if he ever turns up,” Jerry replied.

“If I didn’t know better, I’d be starting to think that you lost him on purpose.”

“Yeah, so I can help you pee.”

“I can’t hold the panties,” Carol admitted.

Jerry moved decisively, his hand moving quickly, never dropping the hem of the dress. Two beefy fingers grasped the side string of the thong. With a tug, the underwear was torn loose.

“You don’t need those panties under this dress anyway.”

“I guess you’re right, not like they covered much,” Carol giggled. This made her tits jiggle, so that the upper edge of the aureole shifted into view as she settled toward the toilet, her chest settling below Jerry’s gaze.

Jerry squatted as Carol sank, so he could keep his grasp on the hem, holding it around her waist. As he shuffled his feet back, his groin was hidden, but not before Carol noticed that he had a very impressive bulge in his trousers. The loose fabric did not disguise the fact that the best man was also better than the groom when it came to the size of his equipment. She was shocked to find herself checking out the best man’s manhood. Still, she rationalized, this was definitely one fucked up wedding.

The new position lowered Jerry’s face to within an inch of Carol’s bosom. She could feel his breath warming those blushing surfaces.

Carol relaxed the muscles that had tensed to hold her bladder. She felt the warmth of the urine flow through her before it splashed into the toilet. She had held it so long that there was no trickle, no stream, just a rush. After all the build up, Carol was done almost as soon as she started.

“Um…you’ll have to wipe me,” she shyly whispered.

Jerry chuckled, his chin hair almost tickling Carol’s chest. “Nothing to be shy about, my dear, I am after all your humble servant, your best man.”

Carol rose a couple of inches. Her left hand grasped the side of her wedding gown, allowing Jerry’s right hand freedom to move. Without glancing away from Carol’s chest, Jerry found the toilet paper and grabbed off a handful. He pressed the ragged mess against Carol’s labia.

“No, Jerry, you need to rub.”

‘But not like you rub your cock,’ Carol wanted to add, but she still had boundaries.

Jerry wiped vigorously, not stopping when the residual drops of urine gave way to a fresh creamy gush of a different sort of fluid. He did not stop even when the paper disintegrated into a ball of scraps that he dropped into the bowl. His fingers traveled up and down the bride-to-be’s labia, massaging the swollen flesh.

“Oh my god, please, please, stop,” Carol groaned, wanting to push his hand away but instead she pulled herself closer. Sliding her hips forward toward him as much as she could without falling off of the seat.

Carol gasped as one fat finger entered her while simultaneously, a thumb flicked her clit. She dimly registered that the best man’s fingers were working her wet cunt, roughly exploring the sensitive flesh of her soaked slit, bobbling her clit in a figure eight pattern. Her brain was drunk on hormones, numb to reason. Her body was alive with desire. She knew she should resist, protest, stop him. Instead, she felt herself lean back, her head smacking the drywall behind her, her eyes rolling back, dreaming of him finding the nerve to finally kiss her, imagining how his lips would feel on hers, his tongue thrusting into her mouth. Her heart tried to jump out of her chest, the blood in her veins felt like fire. Everything was perfect, even if the groom had gone missing.

Jerry’s left hand released her gown, moving to pop her right tit free from the constraint of her bodice. Carol sighed at the free feeling of air traveling over that sweaty flesh. Fat fingers pinched her nipple while he sucked her left nipple into his mouth. She had not even been aware of his finger deftly pushing that side of her gown down. The swirl of his tongue around that sensitive flesh made her hips jerk as Carol panted for air. Carol shivered in ecstasy, arching up toward Jerry, forcing his hand deeper into her cunt, until he was almost fisting her, that thumb still twisting her pearl, provoking a climax to course through her body, the ceiling fading out of focus.

Carol was practically laying across the toilet seat, her wedding dress bunched around her waist but she was long past caring. All she was aware of was the heat of Jerry’s beefy body so close to her in the tiny powder room. His fingers did not stop stroking her cunt, his mouth kept exploring her cleavage, moving from one nipple over to the other, licking the dew from the valley in between.

He looked so good standing there, staring hungrily down at her. She wanted to reach up and take his hard cock in her hand. She wanted to lick him all over and fuck him all at the same time. There was something infinitely better about the idea of doing it with the best man rather than her plain vanilla husband to be. Jerry had touched her pee stained hole, something her conservative fiance would never have considered. She and Jerry now shared this deep, dark secret.

She decided then that she was past the point of no return, put all thoughts of her fiance, of the wedding that they were waiting for, out of her mind.

Carol did not even think about what she was doing as her hand seemed to travel of its own will to unzip his pants, but once her fingers drew his stiff organ out into the air, she allowed herself to think that she could not even remember ever having wanted something so much as she wanted to feel the best man’s cock fill her sloppy wet cunt. She knew she had never been as full as that cock would make her feel, and if the wedding ever finally went forward, she might never have the chance again.

She sat up a bit and also dragged Jerry’s groin closer, hungrily licking his erect cock while he swiftly managed to push his pants and underwear down, to free his cock, though that meant she had to let go. They locked eyes, but only for a moment, before he returned his gaze to her tits and she locked onto his cock.

His analytical mind quickly calculated that the sloped ceiling in the powder room would make fucking uncomfortable, if not impossible, so he cupped his palms under Carol’s armpits and lifted her off the toilet. His cock popped loudly out of her mouth, provoking a fresh burst of laughter. Neither of them considered the mess being made of her wedding gown as they staggered toward the ‘fainting couch’ thoughtfully tucked under a window. Carol sprawled back against the one arm of the antique, her arms akimbo, one foot still on the floor, the other stretched out on the cushion. Jerry approached, his one eyed monster pointing straight out under his bulging belly.

Carol leaned forward, dropped her jaw and swallowed him whole, her tongue wrapping around his shaft, until it gripped his root like a python capturing its prey. Her fingers kneaded his dangling balls in their sack. Her fiance had balls the size of walnuts. Jerry had ripe plums. With each motion of her fingers, his shaft seemed to swell more inside her mouth, though she wondered how that could be possible. In addition to her fiance, Carol had several prior lovers. Jerry already dwarfed their girth. If his cock got any fatter, she feared that it would more than fill her cunt, it would be too fat. She decided that it was too late to worry about that, bobbing up and down a dozen times until she felt a spurt of precum on her tongue.

Jerry toyed with Carol’s tits, cupping them, lifting them like trying to select the ripest melon, then dropping them only to caress both nipples at once, thumbs flicking nubs in stereo, then grasping, tugging. She wanted to scream in pain, but with her mouth full, there was no sound, just a surge of electricity from her nipples to her clit.

Carol collapsed back against the couch as another series of orgasmic waves wracked her flesh. She felt badly about letting Jerry’s fat cock plop out of her mouth. Her hubby to be was not half the lover that their best man was. A feeling of guilt at this realization was swallowed whole by the back arching spasms flooding her body.

She looked up at the fat prick dangling just in front of her face, the head a violent purple shade, looking as big as a baby’s fist, leaking a drop of fluid off the tip, the shaft almost too fat around to fit in her fist, as rigid as an iron bar.

As the orgasm ebbed, Carol licked the droplet of precum off Jerry’s tip, gently sliding her hand along his length. She was tempted to keep going, to lavish his flesh with kisses, to lick all around that silky outer layer of skin that remained soft even when a cock got totally engorged, to feel Jerry’s great gobs of goo smack against the roof of her mouth and flood her throat, but she knew they had limited time, and knew also that she needed him to fill her, not just with his flesh, but with his seed. If she swallowed a load, he might not be up to the more essential task.

“I need you to fuck me. We don’t have time for a blow job first. Kristy might come back any time,”

“Fuck, yeah” was Jerry’s answer, though a little voice in the back of his brain, or maybe little devil on his shoulder, was already wondering if she might be convinced to blow him at the reception. He touched her shoulder, shifting her back, sliding sideways to climb on top of her.

“No,” Carol realized,” you’re too fat for missionary. I want all your cock filling me.”

“Doggy style?” Jerry proposed.nq

“Not in this dress.”

Carol rose, took Jerry by the obvious handle. She pressed herself against a wall, dragging him forward.

“Lift the dress again,” she ordered.

This time, Jerry did not hesitate, or bother with silk handle, roughly gathering fabric and pulling it to Carol’s waist. Once that was done, he took two handfuls of her ample yet shapely ass and lifted her to the perfect height for standup fucking. Without even pausing, he pushed forward, squishing her against the wall, his cock piercing her folds effortlessly, sliding up into her.

Carol’s shoulders provided excellent leverage against the wall, so she thrust her hips out, and down, grinding herself against his groin, feeling his cock pulsating within her walls. She reached between their bodies and found her clit, thumping it as his fingers pulled her buttocks apart, shifting with each thrust, until a finger tip eased into the valley of her asshole. She gasped when he violated her anus, pushing past the sphincter forcefully, not teasing or easing his way. When she thumped back against the wall, his digit slid fully inside her back entrance. Carol was no anal virgin, but she usually needed lube and a lot of coaxing. This time, she found herself wishing that it was a cock up her ass while the best man filled her cunt fuller than any man ever had, or likely would again.

The extra lift positioned Carol’s tits just below the level of Jerry’s chin, so he bent forward, awkwardly at first, but quickly adjusting to a comfortable angle to stimulate that expanse of flesh. He began simply by licking as much of the skin as his tongue could reach, circling around each nipple to tease it, but never quite even flicking it with the tip of his tongue. He then buried his stubbled cheeks right into the valley, blowing a loud raspberry on Carol’s breastbone, making them both laugh, ignoring the risk of discovery, beginning another climax for Carol.

Carol’s orgasm exploded up her spine into her brain when Jerry clamped his teeth roughly around one nipple, only to immediately release it and ravage the other. He was thrusting his hips harder now, slamming her against the wall. She thought she smelled plaster dust shaking loose. Jerry was also lifting Carol’s body, his strength impressive given her size. He was dropping her loins onto his rigid pole, burying his sword to the hilt in her glove with each repetition. Her cunt hungrily was trying to enclose his cock, wanting to milk it.

“I need you to come in me,” she begged.

“But, what about your husband?”

“Fuck him,” Carol laughed, blowing her breath into Jerry’s ear.

“He doesn’t fuck me half as well as you do. I bet your seed is ten times as potent as his. If he ever shows up in time to go ahead with the wedding, I’ll just make sure that I fuck him tonight so that if you knocked me up, he’ll think it is his. If you do get me pregnant, I hope I have a boy who will grow into a virile man like the bull I am fucking right now.”

Carol growled then and bit Jerry’s earlobe. Her arm slid down Jerry’s back, lifting the tail of the morning coat he had never removed, snaking into the best man’s ass. Carol provoked Jerry’s prostate. That was all that it took to trigger the explosion of semen up from those gargantuan balls, out the rigid throbbing shaft, through the angry head and out the bulging slit into Carol’s womb. Her back arched upward, making him stagger slightly, still holding her safe as she climaxed yet again, her belly tightening, her thighs clenching around him. Once he recovered their balance, Jerry stood frozen as his bag pumped itself dry, ever muscle tensed, cock motionless inside Carol’s walls, where her muscles got busy greedily trying to milk every single seed from his body.

At that precise moment, the door to the waiting room creaked open. Kristy stepped into the room, the other bridesmaids still behind her.

“Carol, we found him, he’s ready as soon as you…” Kristy managed to say before gasping in shock at the sight before her.

Just before she fainted, Kristy heard Carol howl, “Jerry, you really ARE the BEST man!”

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