Chapter 01 β The Wedding (2004)
Ashly was just the kind of girl every man dreamt of, except for one thing: she loved sex. She drank it in like a fish in the ocean. She has more curves than the autobahn and makes supermodels look sickly. Her breast stick out too far, and her ass was made for power-fucking while on her back or on her hands and knees, something a man couldn't help but to bounce off every time he made contact with it or pumped down into her sweet, tight, closely shaved almost-bald-and-constantly-wet pussy.
Her life had been the adventures men read about in Letters to Penthouse and she was more obscene than the nastiest porn starlet around. Life, like sex, had few limits or taboos, and at her friends' wedding, she knew she'd make another adventure occur. Her escort, a tall, hulking gent named Dave, was cheerfully moving about with her in his rented tuxedo. His grey vest, tails and striped trousers reminded her of the
Ask Jeeves
logo from the internet. And he couldn't help staring at her ample curves wrapped up in a Grecian style gown, tapered at the waist, flowing to her feet in spiked heels, the slit on the leg showing creamy skin and a wonderful muscle tone from swimming and dancing. She alluded to having danced on a pole or stage, teasing Dave, making sure to grind gently against the handsome man when the bridal party was called out for the march into the center of the dance hall.
Dave had trouble not staring at Ashly. Her gown had dipped low in the back, showing off her spine as well as the curves, making her skin glow under the romantically dimmed lights. The dress cut low at the front, and her natural figure kept the breast high, the cleavage a noticeable item, her body swaying like maracas in a samba singers' hands. As they moved closer for the dance, spinning her gently into his arms, Dave whispered, "Ashly, you look great. But ... what are you wearing to keep your boobs so high?"
Ashly blushed, her coloration almost unnoticeable in the room, dancing close, keeping her arm around Dave and grinding gently against his belly, making his trousers tent gently with inner excitement.
"Actually", she purred, pressing herself as close as humanly possible on the dance floor, "I'm only wearing pasties. And those
barely
cover my nipples. The harder they get the more
likely every man
will see I am
braless
under this gown."
Still dancing, Dave gulped hard, gasping under his breath. Then Ashly moved tighter, hugging him and letting him feel the 38 double-D's barely contained in her gown. She whispered, "Oh, and I also forgot my panties too."
Stock-still, Dave stood, watching Ashly move and sway to the gentle beat of the music, and then turn, rolling into the crowd of other bridesmaid's, walking off for the toast with the bride and groom. Dave finally moved slowly, but after her, when his cock calmed down and he was able to move without poking anyone with his blunt spear. His eyes blurred, burning as he noticed her amazing figure encased and wiggling like a stripper on stage, shaking, and he wondered, whose attention was she trying to get?
A glass of champagne later, and Dave and Ashly were wiggling and moving to a disco beat, enjoying themselves immensely. He moved, spinning her, then bringing her back as often as possible, making sure she landed square against his body. And every time it happened, she groped his neck and arms, amazed at his biceps, purring softly, grinding her pelvis against his, and trying to encourage another hard-on. As the song ended, and the band announced a break, Dave took Ashly by the hand, walking them past the bar, and getting a red wine and beer for their thirst.
The DJ came on, and the kids poured onto the dance floor, wiggling and grinding, dancing and spinning like mad creatures. Many of the adults watched, giggled and even joined in with the pulsing madness of the wild unfettered motions, the gyrating and wanton, but (somehow still) innocent displays done by the teenagers.
As Dave sipped his beer, Ashly leaned close to him, whispering, "I'd love to suck your cock right now."
Her fingers danced along his leg, making him spit a little brew, and then gulp down the rest, trying to stay calm amid her arousing touch. Ever so calmly, she sipped her wine, watching the cavalcade of teens and others moving about badly, trying not to giggle at their dancing and his reaction. She whispered, "I love dancing Dave. Even when I was on-stage I loved dancing for a crowd, hearing their reactions, seeing them loving my movements."
"Ballet?"
She smiled. "No. Definitely not ballet."
The band came back, and Dave found himself, taking Ashly by the hand, creeping past the dance floor and down the hall of the convention center. Another turn down the halls and the music dimmed into the distance. Ashly hung on to his hand, feeling the strength, the urgency, admiring the fact he never asked her a thing; he just
took her
with him. No questions, no protest, just immediate flight, and possibly, gratification. Dave pulled a small padded envelope from his jacket, removed a feeler and tensor, and began working to open the lock of the small closet.
"Aren't those
burglar's tools
Dave?"
"Aren't you a
cock-tease
Ashly?"