We almost didn't go. One of our kids was sick, and it felt wrong to leave. But Catherine convinced me--it was one night, and the babysitter would call if anything changed. Since she was seven months pregnant, I decided not to drink. If we needed to leave in a hurry, I'd be ready.
The wedding was beautiful--one of those grand hotels in Cork, full of charm and warmth. The ceremony was lovely, and by dinner, we were seated with a group of couples around our own age. We hit it off with one pair in particular--laughing, sharing stories, and finding that easy connection you don't always get at weddings.
Her name was Sandra. She was about our own age, 40, while he was a bit younger, perhaps in his early 30s. His name was Barry. She wasn't as tall as my wife and was a bit chubby. She had significant cleavage in view and was wearing a low-cut, short, silver glittery dress. I couldn't help myself being drawn to her beautifully presented breasts, which jiggled hypnotically as she laughed and giggled. As they moved it caused my cock to expand inside my pants.
John was dressed casually, and I must admit he didn't appeal to me. He was loud and obviously, after taking some kind of substance other than the pints of lager he was downing. I also noticed he could not take his eyes off my wife's own ample breasts.
Catherine had worn a black with red trimmed rockabilly 50s style dress with red underlay. She wore my favourite black and red matching satin/ lace pushup bra and matching full-cut knickers. She completed the look with black fishnet stockings and black high heels shoes. Her breasts had swollen by 2 sizes with the glow of pregnancy to a 38EE. All I could think of was going to our room after our meal and fucking her doggy style.
Then the phone rang.
Our babysitter. The baby's cough had worsened, and they struggled to settle him. Catherine didn't hesitate--she told me to go home, check on things, and return if everything was okay. She was going to lie down in our hotel room to rest.
I left mid-meal, heart racing. The baby was unsettled but not in distress. I soothed him, reassured the babysitter, and after about an hour, I felt confident enough to return to the wedding.
By the time I got back, the party was in full swing. Laughter, music, clinking glasses--but no sign of Catherine. I scanned the room and checked with a few people, but no one had seen her come back.
Something felt off.
I made my way upstairs to our room. As I reached our door, I paused.
From inside, I heard something.
A low, rhythmic sound--muffled moans, breathy gasps of pleasure.
I froze. My breath caught in my throat.
