Grooms Confession

It was a strange combination of emotions I felt as I lounged on the beautiful beach, my new bride in the chair beside mine, separated only by a table holding our tropical, umbrella-laden drinks. Guilt, sure, that was in the mix. Disbelief that we were really here, that we'd actually managed to tie the knot after all these years and a few struggles along the way. Vivid memories of my wedding day and the glorious honeymoon since still tingling on my skin. But it was my growing cock that finally got my attention, and caused me to reach for my journal to make my confession.

Why did I feel the need to hide my erection from my wife? After all, we'd been fucking like bunnies for the past two days, exploring every position known to man, plus a few new ones, since arriving in this tropical paradise. She was a beautiful woman, I thought to myself as I watched her, the wind gently blowing through her hair, her skin just a bit more tanned than the day before. And after all was said and done, we really were in love, and I was genuinely happy to call her my wife. Problem was, it wasn't her I was daydreaming about at just this moment.

I chuckled to myself as I picked up my pen and began to write in the journal. When Lindsey bought me this leather-bound volume, I doubt she realized the type of story that was about to fill its first pages. Luckily, I knew I could trust her not to read it.

"What is it, honey?" My chuckle must have awakened her, as she turned over to sun her back, untying her bikini top to leave her back exposed as her tits pressed into the lounge chair.

"Oh, nothing. Sorry to wake you, Lindsey. I'm just going to write a little bit." She smiled and closed her eyes once again.

OK. Time for the confession. It had been driving me crazy, and I knew I couldn't tell anyone, so at least I could get it out of my system by writing it down. As much as I'd enjoyed myself with Lindsey over the past few days, I was terrified that I'd call her by the wrong name in the heat of passion - that was how much the fantasy was still playing over and over in my head.

See, I'd been unfaithful. And while I was still technically single at the time, it was so close to my wedding, and it was such a hot little encounter, that the guilt was starting to build. Or was that just my cock growing again... Jeez, OK, here goes.

To give this little tale the proper frame, I'll have to back up to about a week before the wedding. Lindsey, my long-time girlfriend, one of my best friends in life, had turned into - and I'm not exaggerating here - the medusa of wedding planners. It was all there. The crazed hair, the possessed look out of her eyes. She was quite literally driving herself insane - not to mention those around her - in search of the perfect wedding.

And she'd given me just one task. I was supposed to arrange the music. And since family and friends were already covering some of the responsibilities - her cousin would play the piano, my aunt was selected after several rounds of auditions (not kidding) to sing the wedding classic, Shania Twain's 'From This Moment On' - all I had to do was hire somebody to provide some additional prelude music. A harpist maybe, Lindsey had said, or maybe a flute player.

Two days before the wedding, she called me out. Even though I knew - well, until I looked into the crazed girlfriend gaze - that I had things under control. Still, she was sure I was going to screw things up. "So, you've just called this one girl? Did you even tell her our budget? Don't you want to hear her play first?"

No, I didn't want to hear her play first. I don't even really like the flute. And I was fine with limiting the comparison shopping to just one person - this young flutist had described to me that she was conservatory trained and had lots of wedding experience. But Lindsey wouldn't let me leave the room until I promised to call her back, so I agreed.

Her name was Clarissa, and her wedding experience showed when I got her on the phone again. She could see right through my phone call to the stressed bride-to-be, and openly teased me.

"So, I suppose this is the one thing she asked you to do, and now she's saying you can't even get this right?"

"Yup, that's about right. How'd you guess?"

"Believe me, I've seen this before. Don't worry; I'll make this real easy for you. My fee is $1,000. I'll provide all the music you'll need, but you can definitely let me know if there are any special requests. If you can just confirm the address of the church, I'll reserve the afternoon on my calendar.

"Um, so, you said $1,000? Forgive me, but that seems kind of high?"

"Well, I'm one of the best flautists in town, I'm willing to play any music you put in front of me, and you're hiring me on just two days notice. Frankly, you're lucky to get me to commit."

Her confidence embarrassed me. After all, with what we were paying for frilly ribbons and flowers, we could certainly compensate a musician fairly. Somehow, I decided that a feeble attempt at risqué humor was the best way to express my appreciation. "Yes, of course you're right. I just hope there's room in that fee for special requests from the groom?"

After a moment of silence, she upped the bar on risqué. "For that, I'd charge $1,500."

I gulped, quietly I hope, and managed to carry on a few more moments of silly banter before getting off the phone and moving on with my day. Saturday finally arrived, after several trips to the airport to pick up family and friends, a few bouts of momentary cold feet, and several more encounters with the wild beast that was my one true love. It was in the back hallway of the church, as I was catching my breath from all this craziness, that Clarissa came up to me and introduced herself.

"Nice to meet you, John," was her cheerful greeting. It was her beautiful face and hot body I noticed first, before seeing the flute in her hand and realizing who she was.

"Oh, you must be Clarissa. Thanks again for being here. Hey, stay here, I'll get your money now, so you don't have to wait for it after."

"So, will it be the $1,000, or the $1,500?"

I couldn't tell from her smile whether she was just continuing our banter from the other day, or seriously suggesting something. I froze, not about to be the one to make a first move with a stranger on my wedding day. Even though I wanted to, with every ounce of my being. Here was a 20-something hottie, with perfect tits and long legs on display beneath her silky dress, her blue eyes looking up at me suggestively, on the very day when I felt I was, at least symbolically, giving up my freedom. Wouldn't I be crazy to pass this up? Wouldn't I be just as crazy to do it, in a church beginning to fill with family?

She glanced quickly up and down the hallway, grabbed my hand, and led me into the nearest room, closing and locking the door once we were inside. She set her flute down on a table, pressed a finger against my lips before I could speak, and in one smooth motion she unzipped her dress and let it fall to the floor. Before I could really comprehend my unbelievable luckiness, she pressed herself against me, turned her head upward, and whispered in my ear.

"You look nervous, John. Maybe I could help you with that? One thing you might not realize about the flute is that it teaches wonderful breath control. Not to mention that I'm used to using my lips to make beautiful music."

"Oh, god, Clarissa," was all I could whisper back, as her hands found my bulging cock. When I made no move to stop her, she quickly unzipped my suit pants, freed me from my boxers, and dropped to her knees, looking up at me eagerly as she began to stroke me to my full size. As soon as her lips joined her fingers, it was obvious that this would be the best blow job of my life. Every touch was perfect - her fingers gentle but also able to apply pressure, her mouth sloppy wet but still tight.

After a few moments, she was taking my full length into her mouth with each stroke, and I grabbed her hair in a ponytail to encourage her movements. Was it just talent? Anything to the whole flute thing? Or, had she gained experience at such a young age by performing on lots of soon-to-be husbands as part of her 'fee' for playing at their weddings. It was a filthy thought, but it turned me on like crazy.

I reached down and began playing with her breasts - perfectly shaped, about 34C - and before long had worked them free of her bra. She moaned as I pinched her nipples, then pulled away from my cock, pressing her tits together so that I could fuck them for a few moments. My mind was still racing with thoughts of this otherwise upstanding young musician who turned herself into a slut for weddings, and I pounded into her chest.

Before long, I wanted more, and hoped that she'd go along. She seemed to read my mind, looking up at me with her big blue eyes and whispering, "You want to fuck me, don't you?"

"Oh, yes, please!"

"You can fuck my tight little pussy if you promise one thing. I want you to cum in my mouth."

"No problem, works for me!"

She stood up from her knees and I spun her around, pressing her against the locked door. By this point, there were obviously more people in the church, as I could hear many different voices, some tantalizingly close. Much as I probably should have been worried that we'd be caught, somehow I was just driven on harder. I forced Clarissa's legs apart, placed my hands over hers, keeping her pinned against the door, and plowed into her in one fast motion.

She gasped, but quickly joined me in my fast fucking pace, forcing her hips back into mine with each thrust. I hadn't been with anyone but Lindsey for years, and Clarissa's tight pussy was absolute heaven. I nibbled on her ear as I pounded into her, and we both began to struggle to keep our panting and moaning quiet. At one moment, I heard footsteps approach and stop just outside the door. I stopped my thrusts, enjoying the feeling of her pussy muscles clenching around my cock as we waited for the footsteps to begin again in the other direction. I'll never know who that person was, or if they suspected what was happening in the locked room.

When they finally did leave, Clarissa giggled and pressed against me once again. I fucked her harder and faster than I had before, for a few moments more, before pulling out, spinning her around once again, and giving her shoulders a gentle push to encourage her back to her knees. I stroked myself, moving closer and closer to orgasm, as she knelt below me, pinching her nipples and occasionally massaging her clit. She was moaning in pleasure by the time I shot my load into her wide-open mouth, filling it completely with hot, sticky cum. By the time my colossal orgasm was over, she had bits of my spunk in her hair, on her chest, and she barely managed to swallow all that had landed in her mouth before some dribbled down her chin.

I helped her to her feet, helped her back into her dress, and said all I could think of, "Thank you." We took some time to get completely cleaned up, and then left the room separately. Less than an hour later, I was saying my vows. And there you have it. The confession. Might have to keep this journal locked up, much as I do trust my new wife.

"Hey, Lindsey," I said gently, rubbing her shoulder to wake her from her sunbathing slumber, "ready for lunch?"