Not One for Weddings

"You may kiss the bride."

We erupted into applause as Jeff and Samantha sealed their vows with a kiss. Jeff pressed his bride to him suggestively, transforming our claps into whistles and cheers. Samantha pulled away from him red-cheeked and playfully punched his arm.

They turned to face their guests hand-in-hand, looking exuberant and very much in love. They ran down the aisle, rice grains showering over them. Jeff took off his jacket to shield Samantha in an act of uncharacteristic chivalry.

Jeff's brother, Alex, scoffed beside me.

"Jeff's really putting it on thick."

"Yeah," I agreed. "He told me Sam hasn't been letting him within a ten-foot radius of her for the last month."

"If he's not getting laid after all this, then nothing will do it," he laughed as he pulled at his bow tie. Samantha was fond of

teal paisley

, and as groomsmen, we'd been forced into vests and bow ties of her choosing.

"I need a drink," I muttered as I tugged at my own bow tie.

"At least it's an open bar," he pointed out, pacified.

Just then Alex's girlfriend came up to us and began to mess with his suit. I made a beeline for the bar that was crowded with men who had obviously been forced into wearing equally hideous suits.

"I'll have a gin and tonic, please," I requested.

"Sure thing," the cute, female bartender smiled at me.

Sorry, sweetheart, but I bat for the other team,

I thought as I gave her a wry smile. She quickly made my drink (ignoring the horde of stoic men waiting around the bar) and handed me the glass with a wink, which I returned - it never hurts to make friends with those who handle your food and drinks. Alcohol in hand, I took to piling hors d'ourves onto a minuscule plate. Once I had a stack of mini-sandwiches and cheese with crackers that resembled the leaning tower of Pisa, I sat myself down at a small table that was out of the way of the socializing women draped in chiffon.

"Not one for weddings, huh?"

I looked up, mouth full, to see a man I'd never met before leaning against a wall, regarding me with undisguised amusement. I swallowed hastily.

"Weddings, parties, clubs. Take your pick. I'm not great around large groups of people I don't really know."

He smiled at me crookedly. I gave him a once-over; he was tall and wore a classic black suit with a wine-colored tie (a

real

tie, not a stupid bow tie like the one I wore), had hazel eyes with long lashes, and a mop of mussed black hair. On hand was in his pocket, and in the other he held a drink light amber in color.

"It doesn't seem you're any better at these things than I am," I nodded towards his glass.

"You got me," he grinned as he pulled out a chair and sat down across from me.

"So, are you here with the bride or groom?"

"I'm Samantha's cousin," he informed me.

"My

favorite

cousin," Sam sang out as she came up behind him and planted a kiss on his cheek. His lips turned up to smile before returning her kiss.

"Congrats, Sam. Glad to see you so happy," he praised her.

"Make sure to tell me if Jeff doesn't treat you right, okay Sam? I'll beat his ass for you," I joked. She laughed in return.

"I can take you," Jeff mocked as he placed a kiss on his bride's shoulder.

"Hey, you harm a hair on my cousin's head and I'll help him bury your body," my newfound ally threatened lightheartedly.

"Looks like I'm outnumbered; I guess I have no choice but to take good care of you, Sam. Damn."

We laughed at the pair, before they were whisked away by parents frantically waving cameras in the air.

"They couldn't have found anyone better for each other," I commented.

"I agree. They're great together." He turned to me. "How do you know them?"

"Jeff and I were roommates in university."

"Okay. I guess you two were tag-teaming sorority girls then, huh?"

I recognized his question for what it was: a test.

"Not quite. I'm a 'friend of Dorothy', so to speak," I smirked, then took a sip of my drink.

"Is that so," he reflected my sly smile and also brought his glass to his lips.

"You haven't told me your name, you know," I bugged him.

"Neither have you," he countered. I raised an eyebrow at him.

"My name's Julian," he introduced himself a beat later

"Chris," I returned.

"Pleasure to meet you."

Rather immaturely, I smiled at his choice of words.

We were then called into the reception area, where a chalkboard bore illustrations and directions as to where everyone was to sit. Sam, obviously, had spent hours painstakingly drawing the map with little tables and the names of all the guests in fancy writing. I quickly found my name, and to my surprise, saw Julian's name in a loopy script beside it.

"It seems we'll be sitting next to each other," Julian vocalized my thoughts behind me.

"I guess so," I grinned. We went to our table, where we found eight other guests already seated in their respective spots. As we sat down, the conversation flowed easily around the table. Everyone was in good spirits and they were quick to reign us into their banter.

A few minutes later all the guests were seated, and a line of servers in livery carrying silver trays weaved their way throughout the space. They efficiently placed a plate of hot food before us with a flourish, and as quickly as they's appeared, they were gone.

"Let's dig in," an older man with red cheeks and a musical voice invited. We picked up our forks and followed his lead, continuing to talk as we ate.

As one of Jeff's aunts told me a story of her cat, I felt a foot rubbing against my leg. I turned my head to the right, caught off guard, to see Julian concentrating too hard on his plate. I coughed into my napkin to rouse his attention; the corners of his lips turned up slightly, but he didn't face me.

I had to decide whether I wanted to continue this flirtation into something more physical, or to keep within the boundaries of propriety. One look at the man beside me - his eyes crinkled with silent laughter, hair framing his face alluringly, his foot clearly expressing his unspoken attraction - and my decision was made.

I "dropped" my knife to give me an excuse to lean in closer to Julian for a moment. I laid my hand on his thigh, much to his surprise, and ran it down his leg as I bent to retrieve my knife. His eyes darted between my hand and my face; I gave him a salacious smile in return before I got back up - tracing my hand along his leg in the process - and resumed eating, sans-knife. I kept my one hand on his thigh, not really moving it, wanting to see if he was willing to go further.

He continued eating after a moment, but refused to spare a glance in my direction. He did, however, put one of his hands over mine. I cautiously moved my fingers to the inside of his thigh and caressed him there through his trousers. I heard his breath catch as I did, his eyes flitting towards me for a brief second. I fixed my gaze on an uncle sitting across from me who was telling us of a hunting trip he'd taken. I continued to move my fingers over Julian's inner thigh, making irregular designs, not keeping to a pattern.

He shifted in his seat, but didn't close his legs to block me out. I peeked at him to see his face turning a delicate shade of pink, betraying my unseen actions. Rather than make me consider stopping, it pleased me to watch him squirm. He ate his food with a sort of unnatural jerkiness - on edge. I struggled to keep up the façade of eating for the sake of the others, truth be told.

Soon our dishes were cleared by the mysterious servers once more, and a dessert plate was put in its place. We all admired the way it was so elegantly presented, and carefully began to eat the edible art. As I spooned mango sorbet into my mouth, my fingers traced over the bulge in Julian's pants. I heard him cough suddenly into his napkin and take a drink of wine. He gave me an obvious look of surprise, not realizing he was making something of a scene.

"Are you okay there, sweetie," a concerned aunt inquired.

"Ah, yes, thank you. I just choked a bit on my food," he answered with a blush.

I gave him an impish grin before turning back to my dessert. I stroked him through his pants, and was gratified to feel him begin to grow in my hand. He squirmed in his seat at the sensation, but still didn't signal for me to stop. Though masked by his clothing, he was clearly well-endowed; he was only at half-mast, but his hardening length felt considerable between my prying fingers. I squeezed him softly and his legs twitched in response; as if in turn, my own cock stirred at this.

Our attention was called by the M.C, announcing it was time for the couple to cut the cake. Our dessert plates were whisked away, and the guests made their way to the center of the room, where the cake sat on a pedestal. Julian and I shared a look - neither of us were in a suitable state to be standing within view of others.

"I don't think I want cake," a lady at our table complained to her husband.

"Then don't eat cake," he shrugged.

"But they'll think I'm rude!"

"No they won't - nobody'll notice. The speeches are after the cake cutting; we won't be sitting at our table, that's a good enough excuse."

"Why aren't we sitting at the table," Julian asked the man.

"No, Sammy's arranged for everyone to pull a chair up around the bridal table. She wants it to feel 'intimate' or something."

"Let's go watch them cut the cake," the wife directed her husband. "We're going to miss it if we just sit here like bumps on a log." They departed to stand amongst the crowd gathering around Sam and Jeff.

I took a look around us. There were eight tables in total, with ten guests per table, plus the bridal table.

There are over eighty people here...I doubt they'll notice two missing.

"Hey, come with me," I breathed to Julian as I got up and stood behind my chair.

"You want to watch them cut the cake?"

"Not exactly..." I trailed off with a grin.

He gave me a quizzical look but didn't question me any further. He followed my lead with his head down, supposedly to lower the chance of someone noticing him. With a quick scan behind us, we slipped out the entrance to the ballroom. The area was void of any stray guests or staff, so I took the chance to reach behind me and take hold of Julian's hand.

"Chris?"

"Yes?"

"Where exactly are we going," he asked, amusement coloring his voice.

"Coat closet," I replied with a lewd smile over my shoulder. We swiftly arrived to our desired location, and with another cautious once-over of our surroundings, we hastily shoved into the cramped room.

I locked the door behind me and turned to Julian. As if a switch had been flipped, we abandoned all pretense of civility; I closed what little distance there was between us and roughly brought our faces together. The anticipation that had been built over the entirety of the evening was all at once met as we unabashedly explored each other's mouths. We pulled our jackets off and threw them to the ground, caring not for the wrinkles that may be formed. I loosened his tie but didn't take it off altogether. With shaking, impatient fingers, Julian worked on unbuttoning my vest.

"This thing's hideous," he mumbled against my lips.

"It's uncomfortable, too."

He pushed the vest off my shoulders to join our jackets before taking to the bow tie I still wore.

"Wait, don't take that off," I stopped him frantically. He gave me a bewildered look.

"I don't know how to tie these things," I explained. "I had to get my sister to do it for me. And Sam would be pissed if I was wearing it wrong."

"Why does she have to be such a perfectionist," he grumbled. I brought his lips back to mine, effectively cutting off his complaint.

My hands travelled over his back before settling on the waistband of his trousers. I slid my thumbs into them and let them hang there as I pinned him against the wall with my hips. He moaned into my mouth at this, and his hands went to tangle themselves in my hair. I kissed his neck while I brought my hands to the buckle of his belt and began to undo it. With a bit of difficulty, I managed to unbuckle him; as soon as I'd accomplished that, I took to unbuttoning his trousers.

The sight of this handsome stranger writhing before me with his tie loosened and pants undone was intoxicatingly heady. I knitted my fingers into his messy locks and kissed him voraciously, groaning as he began to rub himself against me. With one hand he successfully undid my own belt, then unfastened the opening of my trousers. He worked on removing my pants altogether, but as he did so one-handedly, it was a slow and grievous process.

"Need help," I offered.

"Yes."

He didn't take time for coyness, now. I released my hold on his hair to assist him in removing my pants; once they hung around my ankles, I kicked them in the general direction of our ever-growing pile of clothing. And since my hands were so conveniently located, I tugged off Julian's trousers as well - they were also quick to join the mound of fabric in the corner.

He wore a tiny pair of black boxer briefs that were not suitable for containing his erection. I placed my hand over it, revelling in the way he twitched it my palm. He closed his eyes as I fondled him through his underwear, and his mouth hang open slightly.

I sank to my knees in front if him; he looked down at me in surprise. I pulled his briefs off, and was delighted to see his cock eagerly popping up to meet me. His prick was nicely proportioned, a good seven inches, thick, and circumcised. He had neatly trimmed black pubic hair, with sizeable testicles to complete the picture. A pearl of pre-cum glistened at the head of his dick, which I took as an invitation to get to work.

I brought my lips to envelope the tip of his cock in my mouth, and twirled my tongue around it. He moaned, leaning against the wall for support. I ran my hands over his ass, massaging it, while I stroked the underside of his cock with me tongue. I pulled my face away from his crotch, letting a long line of saliva follow me, and took looked at Julian. He regarded me with an expression of pure lust, eyes hooded and dark, his breathing heavy. I quickly removed my black boxers and flung them aside to release my throbbing member. The sight of it brought the slightest hint of a smile to Julian's lips, but he was soon urging my head forward to bring him into my mouth again.

I complied easily, and greedily resumed sucking on his slick cock. I licked over his shaft with long strokes, with special attention paid to his tip. I moaned around him as I worked over him, making him buck himself into me involuntarily as a loud groan escaped him.

"If you make too much noise someone's going to come and investigate," I admonished him.

He groaned in protest of this, but did lower his volume. I returned to lavishing his tool, making a long, wet line from his base to his slit. He shivered in response, prompting me to repeat the action. I licked another line down his cock, then back up and around his tip. I followed the underside to his balls, which I softly licked until they, too, were coated with my saliva. Once they were well lubricated, I brought one between my lips, lightly sucking on it. Clasped between my lips, I circled my tongue around it before releasing it with a small

pop.

I replaced the first with its twin, repeating what I'd done to the first. I slipped it back out of my mouth to allow me to return to his unattended erection.

I slurped him back into the warm, wet depths of my mouth, more than willing to accommodate his length in there. I pushed my head over him carefully, sheathing my teeth with my lips, until I fully encased him. He moaned again as his dick poked the back of my throat, my tongue providing what extra stimulation it could in the cramped quarters. I pulled myself back until only his engorged head was held at the tip of my lips.

My own cock was throbbing between my legs, almost to the point of pain. I was leaking pre-cum from my slit freely, and I used it as lubricant to stroke myself.

I bobbed over him with ease, running my tongue around him as I did. I moaned over him while I jerked myself off, incredibly turned on by the dual sensations. By the low noises Julian was making above me, I knew that it was an equally stimulating experience for him. I craned my neck so that I could look up at him; his head was thrown back, his jaw was slack, and his eyes were screwed shut as he focused on the pleasure I gave him.

Unexpectedly, he opened his eyes to find me studying him. He gave me a mirthful smirk.

"Are you jerking yourself off?"

"Mmm," I affirmed over his prick.

"It's a pretty hot visual," he admitted with a moan.

He made a hissing sounds as I slipped all but his tip out of my mouth and sucked it. Enjoying his reaction, I pleasured solely the head of his dick with my mouth, using my free hand to stroke him as I did myself. He moaned too loudly again and put his hands atop my head. He clumped his fingers into my hair, just barely resisting forcing me over him. I pulled away.

"Fuck my face," I begged him.

Not needing to be told twice, he immediately shoved my head over his cock. We both let out a deep groan as he did, and I used my newly-freed hand to assist in masturbating myself. Julian thrust into my mouth with abandon, making low, deep noises satisfaction. I again moaned around him and rubbed my cock faster.

I was quickly too close to the edge, and found myself in a bit of a predicament; where a suitable place for me to shoot my load would be in a coat closet. I felt the familiar tightening within my balls, and knew I didn't have much time before I made a mess. I fumbled my hands around, until I felt what seemed to be a pair of underwear. Mine or his, it was too late for me to be discerning, as I wrapped the piece of clothing around my cock and came into it. I cried around Julian, sending more vibrations along his shaft.

Without warning, I felt a spurt of Julian's come hit the back of my throat. He let out a long groan as he came into my mout; he continued to plunge himself in and out of my mouth as he orgasmed, and I greedily swallowed every drop of his come. Even after he'd finished, I continued to suck on him, milking him for all he was worth. He spasmed and twitched in my mouth as I did.

"Ooh, stop, Chris," he winced and pulled away. He sagged against the wall while we collected ourselves and caught our breath.

"We should probably get back to the party," I suggested after a minute.

"Yeah, I guess. Damn, that was good."

I got up to dress myself, before realizing that the black pair of underwear I'd used to come into hadn't been mine, but Julian's. I looked at him.

"Uh...I kinda used your underwear to prevent from painting the wall with my come," I informed him. He didn't respond for a beat, then he smirked.

"That's fine. But if I'm going commando tonight, so are you."

I returned his impish smile.

"Oh, am I?"

He took a step forward and wrapped his arms around me, then gave me a kiss full of lascivious promise.

"Let's go back to my place afterwards," I invited him with a sigh.

He gave me a smile that rivalled that of the Cheshire cat and agreed.

We quickly finished getting dressed, stuffing our underwear into our respective suit pockets. I fixed his tie until it was snugly tied beneath his Adam's apple, and he adjusted my ridiculous bow tie until it was straight again. His messy hair was much unchanged from what it had been, but I knew my own hair had to be a spectacle.

"I may need to take a trip to the restroom."

"Why? Your hair doesn't look at all like you've just been in a tornado," he teased.

"Whatever."

We cautiously opened the door, scanning the outside area for outlying guests who might bear witness to our indiscretion. With nobody in sight, we sneaked out of the closet and made our way back to the entrance of the ballroom; we could hear music emanating from within.