Would Like To Meet No Strings Ch 07

As I mentioned in Ch 6, these final chapters depict the characters in a series of role-plays, rather than one extended scenario. This allows them – and the writer! – a bit more scope than feeling unduly constrained by a set of "ground rules".

Early on in this chapter I have flagged up the role-play by using inverted commas or a word like "supposed" when referring to "bride", "bridegroom" or such like. I soon desist from doing so to avoid it becoming tedious. Do remember though that it is all intended to depict the characters role-playing a scenario, and please make allowance for any lack of realism or inconsistencies.

If you haven't read any previous chapters in this series, reading chapter 6 at least would help to set the scene. Basically the plot is that Joan, recently divorced due to her husband's cheating has placed a personal ad in the local press and, having had liaisons with two respondents (the younger of whom turned out to be a former neighbour) she has now arranged a night in a posh hotel for the three of them with a twist of which they are unaware.

ALL CHARACTERS ARE FICTIONAL

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Although she had intended to fake tear-streaks in her mascara, Joan had in fact shed a few genuine tears as she got into her wedding dress while awaiting David's delivery of champagne. It brought the memories of her actual wedding day flooding back, and the bitterness of Paul's cheating on her.

She had soon regained her composure, however, and in fact the bitter memories made the rushed sex she had just had with David, supposedly having him sully her before the arrival of her bridegroom, the more intense. Now, in the en-suite bathroom of the hotel room, she looked into the long mirror and felt a sense of shock at her provocative lingerie, and as in her mind she went over what she had just done. She had a quick sponge bath. The distorted sound and thumping bass from the disco downstairs could still be heard.

Joan looked at her watch. She had miscalculated the timings and it dawned on her that she and David could have taken their time a little more. It didn't really matter, though. As she had said to him, the whole night lay ahead yet, and the rushed pace had made it seem particularly sordid and illicit. There was an added excitement, too, in having arranged the whole thing, and in having let slip certain details to David and Laurence. Not that they were both privy to exactly the same detail, though.

David buttoned his shirt again. He pulled on his boxers, quickly followed by his trousers, then tucked his shirt back into his waistband. He straightened his tie as he waited for her to come back into the room, and slid his waistcoat back on.

She rejoined him and reclined on the bed, still in her stunningly provocative white lingerie, and still wearing her bridal headdress with the veil folded over the back of her head.

David took a few steps towards her. His eyes were fixed on her fabulous white corset with its lace-up front and the nicely up-curved bottom edge where it rose in the middle, baring her navel. He gazed longingly at the way it pushed up the tops of her breasts. He ran his hands over the fabric, and traced his hand along its top. Joan took in his fixated expression and watched his hand trace down one white suspender and along the top of her white, shiny stocking. She saw his gaze rest on her scanty, flimsy white panties and on the heart-shaped patch of closely cropped hair, half-discernible, through them.

He sat on the bed beside her and kissed her, lightly, then more purposefully. He put his hand to the back of her head and caressed her hair through her wedding veil. Joan returned his kisses. He fondled the tops of her up-thrust orbs above her corset, thrilling in the softness of her skin and the way her flesh gave way to his touch. She parted her pink-glossed lips and their tongues met and danced.

Then the door handle rattled.

Although they were both half expecting it, and although it was in fact pre-planned, it genuinely startled them and they broke off their embrace. They giggled.

"Er... just a minute..." Joan called out.

Joan signalled David to get into position behind the armchair over which her wedding dress was draped. He grabbed his shoes and socks and ducked behind the dress-covered chair. He knelt upright. Her dress was close to his face and he inhaled the traces of her scent.

The door handle rattled again.

"Won't be a second!" Joan shouted as she adjusted the dress so that David was almost completely hidden from view. He finely adjusted it so that he could partly see past it as Joan opened the door.

Laurence was standing there in his well-tailored suit. From behind the chair David saw his jaw drop at the sight that met him. Laurence's eyes took in her white-heeled sandals, her white stockings, suspenders and panties, and her corset. Any doubt he might possibly have had of the significance of it must have been dispelled immediately by the white headdress and veil that adorned her short raven hair. Then Laurence glanced at the wedding dress over the back of the chair.

Joan pushed the door closed behind him. Laurence stood sheepishly before her. Joan put her hands on her hips.

She had already decided to change tack slightly from her encounter with David. It would be unfair to incorporate the cheating theme with Laurence. After all, he was married and his conscience troubled him deeply. His wife was disabled and although Laurence had a modest sex drive it was entirely unfulfilled with his wife, which was the only reason he strayed. Instead she would berate him for drinking when he should have retired for the night with her. She had sounded him about in advance, and, as he had no issues in that department (so it would not touch a sore spot) she had decided to taunt him in the fantasy about his supposed difficulty to maintain an erection and to satisfy her.

"Where the hell have you been? I suppose you've been cramming in a few more drinks and dancing with your old flame Brenda – and trying to bump against her, have you?" she snarled.

"I... ah... I'm sorry, my sweet. I was only finishing my, ah... drink and being sociable with some of our guests."

From behind the armchair David followed Laurence's spellbound stare at her fleshy, white-stockinged legs, her corset-clad midriff and breasts, and at the tops of her orbs above her corset.

Laurence was almost speechless. Joan had explained the rough outline of the scenario she had in mind, but had not mentioned the wedding-night detail, simply that it was intended to be a fantasy special occasion from which she had retired before him.

"And no, I did dance with her, but I wasn't, ah, trying to bump against her. But after I'd finished the dance I was rather, ah, hot, and needed another drink," he explained, latching on quickly.

Laurence – and David, hidden from sight – gazed at Joan's hands on her hips. The shape of her bent arms emphasised her mature, womanly curves. David stared at the shining whiteness of her stockings and at Joan's smooth-looking skin below her corset and between its frontal laces.

"I HOPE you're not too drunk," she said in an exasperated tone. "Bloody hell, Laurence, I can't believe you've done this to me! I just hope you're not too drunk to get your end up and keep it up. It's our damn wedding night after all!"

"I... ah... I'm sorry, Bren... Joan," he faltered.

He felt aroused already. He had a thing about mild domination and being scolded delighted him. He was also confident enough of his sexual ability not to feel intimidated by having it questioned in this role-play.

Joan's eyes flashed. He had inadvertently reverted to the name by which she had introduced herself to him, and he had become used to calling her "Brenda". His genuine slip of the tongue now could hardly have been better as far as she was concerned. She latched onto it immediately.

"BRENDA? I think you mean JOAN. Bloody hell, Laurence, it's bad enough your flirting with your old flame at our reception without confusing my name with hers!"

Joan was feeling almost intoxicated with excitement and arousal. Although she had planned this role-play as a kind of secret, inward revenge on her ex-husband Paul and his cheating, it had gone beyond that. She was pushing the boundaries; she and her companions were indulging in a fantasy that was outrageous. Granted, it was unrealistic to the point of incredulity. But that did not matter to her – or to David or Laurence for that matter. In their minds they were feeling it, living it, savouring every thrilling and sordid moment.

She strode to the bedside cabinet and picked something out of her handbag. She turned round and brandished it at her husband. It was a thick, pink dildo.

"I've never been so humiliated! I thought tonight was going to be special! Instead I've had to bring this along and it looks as though I'm going to have to use it on myself! In fact I was part way through pleasuring myself, too, just as Room Service knocked on the door with the champagne," she chided.

From behind the chair David saw Laurence's brow begin to bead with perspiration at the thought of her pleasuring herself. He felt the same excitement himself. He briefly wondered whether Joan had told Laurence of the hidden visitor's presence, whether Laurence had figured it out for himself or whether he was even unaware as yet – not that it particularly mattered, though. Beside that there was the tantalising thought of Joan pleasuring herself with a toy. David gave his erection a rub through his trousers.

"I just hope I'm not going to need it now you're here – you'd better not disappoint me tonight of all bloody nights!" Joan continued

The music from the disco was still permeating the room. It detracted somewhat from the realism of the role-play, of course, as it would be unthinkable for the wedding hosts to retire from their own reception part way through. On the other hand it provided privacy and prevented voices raised a little in mock anger from being overheard.

"Because if you don't manage it... you know what I will do, don't you?" she hissed vitriolically.

"N-no, I don't, my sweet..." Laurence stuttered.

"Yes you do! You know full well!" she ranted.

"N-not on our wedding night, Joan? Sh-surely not on our wedding night?" He pleaded.

Still – apparently – hidden from Laurence's view, David's ears pricked up at this point. He had no idea where the conversation was heading.

"Yes. Laurence. Even on our wedding night. If you can't manage it I will find someone who can. Maybe one of the guests at our reception – maybe one of my nephews or my brother in law. Or maybe even a stranger – like the young man who brought the champagne to our room as I was waiting for you."

"Please, Joan – don't do that to me!" he pleaded.

David's heart was racing at the unfolding conversation.

"I already have, Laurence – in case you couldn't manage. And if you can't – as I suspect will be the case – I will track him down and let him fuck me again! He was good at it, too, if you must know. And you – you will be my cuckolded husband, even on his wedding night!"

"I... I'll try, Joan. I always try. It... it isn't my fault! It... it's an age thing!" Laurence whined, entering into the play-acting.

Although David suspected that Laurence's "problem" was entirely fictional and that his pathetic tone was all just an act, it made him feel good to be, the young man, the stranger, the answer to the mature bride's frustrations on her wedding night!

"I agree it's an age thing, Laurence. And I have some sympathy. But drinking too damn much always makes your problem worse! You know that as well as I do, but you still couldn't stop yourself, could you – not even tonight – of all bloody nights!" Joan glared as best she could as she spat out the words.

Laurence's gaze fell once more on the wedding dress that screened David. Laurence had the same incredulous and lust-filled look that David knew he himself must have shown earlier when he saw Joan masquerading as a bride. Laurence was amazed at the degree of Joan's role-play. He knew, too, that David was hiding behind the chair. He was nervous about having another bloke present, and in fact felt slightly threatened by the prospect, especially given that David was about thirty years his junior. But for now his mind was taken up with Joan, and the way she was dressed – and the fact that, just minutes earlier she had been having sex with this younger man.

Even though it was just a fantasy, it both revolted and aroused Laurence to know that he would be having sex with her soon after another man had despoiled her. That it had been a young man, supposedly a stranger, and in this very room – the alleged honeymoon suite – and as she awaited him, her "bridegroom" – was shocking but at the same time delicious. He looked at Joan and smiled, and shook his head in near disbelief at the boundaries she had pushed things to.

Laurence felt his erection build and swell. He gazed on his sultry bride as she reproached him self-righteously as though he was the offending party, when in fact the opposite was the case. She in fact, just half an hour or so ago had given herself to the young man who had delivered the honeymoon champagne to the room. Laurence looked over at the bottle in its bucket of ice.

Joan strode over to the chair and stood near David as if to prevent him from being discovered. The backs of her calves were painfully close to David as she addressed her newlywed husband.

"I'll tell you what I'll do, Laurence," she continued. Then she paused and gave a little shudder of pleasure as David's fingertip stroked the back of her stocking-clad knee, inching higher to the back of her thigh, gently scratching the bare sensitive skin above her stockingtop. She was shocked and delighted. This was a gorgeously squishy piece of initiative on David's part as she railed at her bridegroom.

She gave a little cough as if to clear her throat and to explain her momentary pause. Laurence could not resist glancing down. Although for the sake of the role-play he pretended not to see it, he watched the intruder's hand touching her leg – the leg of his bride! He blushed and felt hot.

Joan regained her composure and looked at Laurence, recommencing her tirade.

"I'll get into my dress again for you. I know how unwrapping me a little bit at a time helps you get your end up. I just hope the booze doesn't bloody stop you doing so tonight..."

She placed her hand behind her back and tapped David's wrist reproachfully as she spoke. David stifled a gasp. Even though it was only a fantasy, it felt delightfully illicit to be secretly stroking Joan's leg even as she stood facing and addressing her husband on their wedding night.

Laurence licked his lips.

"I... as I say, I'm so sorry, my sweet... I meant no harm in having an extra dance and drink..."

Joan watched his roving gaze and saw it rest on the dildo that she had tossed onto the bed. She made a mental note to allow him to watch her use it later. She still had her back to David, who stared at the curve of her ample bum, so close to him. Her scant panties nestled between her buttocks, just inches from his face. He leaned forward and kissed each, then licked the fleshy cheeks. Again he felt her flinch, and again he too felt a strong wave of excitement at the illicitness of his actions.

"You're, right though, Joan, dear – yes, I will go to the bathroom and freshen up and sober up," Laurence replied timidly. "And, yes, my sweet – I would love you to change back into your dress... you would look – I mean you DID look so beautiful in it..."

David felt a twinge of embarrassment mingled with excitement as Laurence stepped to face Joan. He watched Laurence's large hand sweep behind her corseted back and pull her to him, and watched Laurence's hand groping her bum cheeks – still beaded by David's trail of saliva from a moment ago. David knew that Joan must have planned his hiding behind the chair and had let Laurence in on the secret in advance. Laurence was too close to be truly unaware.

Joan hugged Laurence and kissed him. She made several low, brief little grunting noises.

"Oh Laurence, what am I going to do with you, hmmm? Mmmmmhhh..."

Hidden behind Joan, David inched his hand up and down the inside of her leg, relishing the sight and the feel of her white, sheer stocking and of her fleshy leg though it. He teased her bare inner thigh and for a brief moment slid the edge of his hand up between her thighs until it met her crotch in her flimsy, moist white panties and sawed against her. Joan flinched and whimpered. At the same time he watched Laurence's hand kneading and squeezing her ample bum cheeks.

Laurence took a step back from her and stooped to kiss and brush is mouth across the tops of her upward-thrust breasts above her corset. Her flesh was firm yet yielded alluringly. Laurence glanced down furtively at the hand of his naughty bride's lover. It was gliding up and down her inner thigh and now... now it was sawing up... up between her white-stockinged thighs and... and against her white-panty clad pussy. Laurence felt a twinge of revulsion at the knowledge that the supposed stranger who was groping her pussy had only minutes ago fucked it.

But the brazenness of this lover of his bride, and the even greater brazenness of Joan herself in kissing him while being fingered by her hidden lover dispelled Laurence's revulsion – and fed his desire.

Each of them knew that although Joan was apparently cooing and whimpering with pleasure from Laurence's attentions, it was not entirely so. As well as the stimulating feeling of having her husband kissing her breasts she was thrilling yet more in the deft caresses of her crotch by her hidden lover.

David wormed his finger into her warm, soft panties and stroked her dank, crinkly folds. Joan quivered at the sensation. Laurence saw it happen through his half-closed eyes. He kissed the tops of his bride's breasts more urgently and pressed his mouth against them through the front of her corset.

"Go on, then Laurence," his bride murmured as she drew his face to hers and kissed him passionately. "Go and freshen up for a few minutes. Take your time. Turn the temperature of the shower down low and get sobered up. And while you're getting ready for me... I'll be getting ready for you!"

Laurence broke away and headed for the en-suite bathroom. Joan swivelled round, as if to keep David hidden from his view should he look back. It was a lovely detail, Laurence thought.

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David heard the door of the en-suite bathroom close and, soon after, the sound of the running shower mingled with the music drifting up from the disco. David got to his knees and rubbed them to free up the circulation again. He gave a low laugh, and Joan flashed her eyebrows and gave a cheeky grin in return as he tugged on his socks and stepped into his slip-on shoes.

"Bloody hell, Joan! Bloody hell! That was..."

She raised her finger to her mouth and placed it over her lips as a sign to be quiet. David nodded and turned to go to the door to leave her and Laurence to their nuptials. To his surprise, however, Joan grabbed his arm and led him to the king-size bed. He gazed again at her sexy corset, stockings and suspenders, and at the flimsy white panties that just moments ago his fingers had slipped inside as she embraced her husband.

He watched her stoop and lift the frilled pink valance that reached from the mattress to the floor. She gestured for him to hide under the bed and remain concealed there.

It was too much for David. He frowned and shook his head in disbelief.

"No, Joan. I can't. It... sorry..." He was torn between acute embarrassment at the prospect and a desire to go along with her plan. But Joan smiled back provocatively and nodded her head vigorously.