Hate it or love it I have a song recommendation for the "mood" of this story. I had a one hour loop of "House of Cards" by BTS in the background. It gives me a very burlesque, boudoir vibe and I kind of really loved it.
Anyway, this idea came to be after attending two weddings back to back recently. It also is one of my many sex fantasies. Hope you enjoy!
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"I'm getting married at a cute little farm, she said. It'll be the perfect spring break, she promised," I grumbled to myself as I wandered around the barn. My sister had some nerve dragging me here of all places. We were on a quaint little farm in rural nowhere Vermont. Don't get me wrong, I don't mind being at the farm. I'll camp in a tent, go skinny dipping in a river, hell I'll do all the outdoorsy things. And most of the time I love it. But this was my first spring break as a single lady ready to mingle. Images of hot, drunk college guys at the beach had me salivating. Nothing fired me up more than inebriated, horny men who couldn't keep their hands to themselves.
"Kelly!" my sister called out and I sighed, turning as I crossed my arms. She was flagging me down looking panicked.
"What's wrong?" I demanded and she pouted.
"They need an extra hand setting up the barn for the wedding. Turns out one of the workers got into some accident and can't make it. So they're short staffed," she started and I scoffed.
"Soooooo, me?" I pointed to my chest and she lit up instantly, grabbing my hands.
"I owe you BIG!" she insisted and I smirked.
"Fund my spring break trip next year," I offered and she hesitated before making a very determined face and nodding.
"Deal!" she breathed and I sighed, not making a fuss as she squeezed me into a tight hug. She hurried off, pulling her phone out and calling someone. I took a deep breath and glanced at the barn. How hard could it be? I wandered over, knocking on the open door as I peeked in.
"Hello?!" I called out, noticing the rows of bench seats. A lot of gossamer and plants were hung up. I saw a ladder leaning against what appeared to be a top deck and heard some shuffling. "Someone in here?!" I tried again, jumping when a pile of hay was dropped a foot from me.
"Can I help you?" a gruff voice called out and I glanced up, hesitating as I studied the upper balcony thing.
"My sister is the bride to be! She said help was needed setting up the barn?" I called back, glancing around for the mystery man.
"Great, come on up!" he called out and I frowned, glancing at the ladder.
"Is it safe?!" I demanded. I was met with a hearty chuckle.
"You look scrawny enough to be of use, get up here!" he teased me then. I was offended, glancing down at myself. I knew I wasn't much to gawk at. I was just a bean pole. But it was genetics. If I had my choice I'd be a lot curvier like my cousins who had amazing breasts and asses. My sex drive definitely did not match my body, that's for sure. I trudged over to the ladder, muttering under my breath as I climbed up it.
"Where are you?" I called out.
"Over here!" he called back and I sighed, walking to where the hay dropped from. Sure enough I saw him as I rounded a few corners. He was standing next to a pile of gossamer, studying the banisters. "This part is the toughest," he gestured to the small balcony and I took a deep breath.
"I can fit, tell me what to do," I pushed past him, shuffling along the tiny ledge as he helped feed the gossamer.
"See how I have those?" he gestured to the other poles that were decorated already and I nodded. "It needs to be like that," he mused and I simply nodded again, concentrating as I did my best. He instructed me through each pole until I made it back to the actual balcony area.
"Now what?" I asked, about to get off this weird ledge thing when he put his hand to my shoulder.
"The lights," he smirked and I frowned. I grabbed them, shuffling across and stringing them across the tops of the beams. Before I could call it quits he handed me the fake foliage and flowers. I worked on hanging those up as well, sweating by the time I finally finished.
"Is that all you need help with?" I asked and he pursed his lips.
"Well the archway isn't designed yet. It was supposed to be decorated by Cara, but she got in the accident," he mused and I took a deep breath.
"Yay me," I pushed past him and he chuckled.
"Are you not happy for your sister?" he challenged and I hesitated, turning to study him. He looked about in his forties? Maybe fifties? He had slight peppering above his ears and rough, scratchy looking scruff and skin. His hair was short and pushed back, his features stern but warm. I had to admit he had a rather nice build. It looked like he had firm shoulders and arms with a slightly tapered in waist. He looked like the kind of man who spent his entire life doing manual labor.
"I'm happy for her. I am even her maid of honor. What I don't appreciate is losing my chance to be on spring break," I started, venting to this complete stranger. He smirked, crossing his arms as he studied me.
"What's so special about spring break?" he teased and I shrugged.
"Nothing really. But this is the first year I could go as a single woman and prey on all the horny, inebriated men," he didn't even bat an eye at my admission.
"Is that something you think about doing often?" he had a good chuckle at my expense and I rolled my eyes.
"For your information I am a very sexually active and lustful woman. I'm sure I don't look it-"
"What do your looks have to do with it?" he pressed and I hesitated, studying him.
"Most people look at me and see an innocent young woman. I get treated differently because I don't have the same sex appeal?" I offered and he shrugged. "Whatever. You wouldn't get it. You scream masculine energy. I'm sure women are all over you. Especially if you help with the weddings. How many single mothers of the brides or grooms are you shooing away?" I joked and he laughed.
"Enough. But we're not talking about me," he breathed and I shrugged. "What's wrong with how you look?" he pressed and I hesitated, looking down at myself.
"I'm not curvy. I don't have a big ass or nice breasts. It's hard to feel sexy when my push up bras make me look only like a B cup," I wasn't sure why I wanted to talk to this guy about it. But having a stranger to talk to who I would probably never see again made it all better.
"It's not about size or shape. You look like a very beautiful young woman to me," he offered and I smirked.
"How old are you?" I asked suddenly and he smiled.
"I'm 47, you?"
"Going to be 21 in a few months," I shrugged and he chuckled.