Another role-play by Joan on her "wedding night". It would be best to read chapter 6 and/or 7 first if you haven't already done so.
As with the previous 2 chapters, this is one of a theme of bridal/cuckolding role-plays rather than one extended one, and for the reasons already given this should be borne in mind in the event of any lack of realism or inconsistencies.
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Joan grabbed a tissue from the bedside cabinet and wiped her stomach clean. She and Laurence hugged each other, and a few moments later Laurence, sated and with a deep sense of physical wellbeing, drifted into a light doze.
Joan slid off the bed, bent down, and nudged David with her foot. He wriggled out from under the bed. He glanced at Laurence who was covered lightly by the duvet, and wondered whether he was truly asleep. David looked at Joan; a small telltale spot of creamy moisture just below her navel betrayed what had just taken place on the bed under which he had been hiding.
Joan placed her finger over her lips as a gesture to be quiet and accompanied him to the door. David stared again at her alluring, mature breasts hanging down over the top of her white corset, and at the heart-shaped patch of closely trimmed pubic hair above her slit and her hood.
Joan kissed him, and he reciprocated. He slid his hand to her bum cheek, naked below the bottom of her corset. She hugged him but broke away after a few moments.
"Go now and have a rest, darlin'," she whispered. "You'll need it! Because after I've dozed off for a while...." At this point she paused, cupped his balls through his trousers and gave them a little squeeze before continuing, "I'll creep along to join you -- so don't lock your door!"
He felt himself blush with excitement, and despite his masturbation a few minutes earlier, he felt a twinge of budding arousal in his groin. But he let himself out and headed the few yards along the corridor to his own room.
Joan closed the door as quietly as she could and returned to her dozing "husband". He stirred, however, and watched her as she removed her corset and bridal veil and walked naked to the dressing table.
She blushed, feeling strangely embarrassed. It was illogical. She felt no embarrassment when having sex with him or even sleeping naked beside him. She just felt awkward to be naked with him other than those times. She felt the same with David. Perhaps she was ashamed of her promiscuous behaviour or she had a subconscious fear about getting emotionally embroiled.
With her back to Laurence -- though she knew he was gazing at her -- she slid her stockings off her legs and pulled on the white, scanty nightdress she had bought especially for this, her supposed wedding night. It was short, only reaching a couple of inches below her crotch, and its short hem was flared. It was very flimsy, too, and semi-transparent.
In the mirror she could see -- and knew that Laurence could, too -- the pink circles of her nipples, and the dark heart shape into which she had trimmed her pubes. Neither her nipples nor her pubes were clearly visible, but they could nevertheless be discerned without much effort or imagination.
Joan felt a shudder of naughty delight as she looked at her reflection.
She walked softly to the bucket of champagne and the glasses. She smiled saucily to herself at the remembrance of how she had arranged for it to be delivered to David's room and how he, masquerading as hotel staff providing room service delivery, had brought it to her room -- and allowed her to act at seducing him.
She looked at Laurence, smiling again as she thought of the sex she had just had with him, and the intensity of the role-play they had enacted. She switched off the light and drew back the curtains. Their room was not overlooked and it was private enough. Even if anybody was able to see the open curtains from outside, the room was in darkness and they would be unable to see in. The gathering dusk was bright enough to fill the room with a pale, subdued light. It felt very cosy and intimate. The open curtains lent a risqué ambience too, however unlikely it was that anyone would be able to see.
She picked up the bucket containing the champagne bottle -- by now most of the ice had melted -- and the glasses, and smiled at Laurence, feeling more comfortable to be partially covered. His eager stare upon her thrilled her. She went back to the bed -- their "nuptial" bed -- and watched him open the champagne. They sipped it and cuddled against each other, but said little. It was a little awkward knowing just what to say.
Laurence was very conscious that it was only a matter of time before she left and went to her other lover's room. He felt slightly jealous and intimidated, though Joan had assured him that whilst she enjoyed sex with David it was simply different than with Laurence, and not better.
Laurence also had very mixed feelings about the whole thing. He both disliked and loved the sordid nature of this evening, her alternating between him and David for sex, his own taking of her (though admittedly in a non-penetrative way) so soon after David's.
He placed his empty glass on the bedside cabinet and reclined on the bed again. Joan, his "bride" in her white skimpy nightdress, snuggled up next to him. She took his hand in hers and placed it on her hip, luxuriating in his tender caresses through her thin nightdress until he dozed off contentedly. She found herself drifting off, too -- though not for long.
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She was awakened by the sound of voices on the corridor. She realised that some hotel guests were making their way back to their rooms from the disco. She smiled a secret, saucy smile to herself. It was time.
Laurence half awoke, sensing her sliding from the bed and standing up. In the half-light he saw her pick up the opened champagne bottle and the used glasses. It also looked as though she had picked up her bridal headdress and veil.
He pretended to be asleep; she in turn pretended to believe that he was, and stooped and kissed him on the cheek. He felt her breast squash sensually against his bare arm, and thrilled briefly in the feel of it through her warm, flimsy nightdress.
Then she was stepping softly to the door with the champagne and glasses in her hands to abandon him, her "newlywed husband" in favour of her lover. She paused for a few moments by the door. Through the narrow slits of his partially open eyes Laurence saw her standing, as if listening.
He felt a quiver of shock run through him. At the sound of voices on the corridor Joan slipped out of the door. It was obvious that she had been timing her departure not to avoid being seen leaving the room and entering another in her provocative nightdress, but precisely to make sure that she was seen.
Joan tried to remain composed as she stepped out into the corridor, though her heart was pounding. It was too late for a change of mind, though, unless she was to go back immediately to rejoin Laurence.
She was acutely aware of just how flimsy and thin her nightdress was as the couple approached. She avoided eye contact but she felt both pairs of eyes upon her and sensed that the bloke's were exploring her. She was terribly conscious of the translucence of her nightdress. She felt very wanton. Shame and a sense of guilty pleasure each struggled for mastery in her head.
As she closed the door Joan half turned towards them to show though her nightdress her partly visible breasts and nipples, and her heart-shaped, trimmed bush through the thin fabric, though she avoided looking at the couple. It was a struggle to close the door because she was holding the champagne bottle and headdress in one hand and the two glasses in the other. She still avoided looking at them as they drew nearer, and, genuinely fumbling and flustered she finally managed to pull the door closed.
Blushing fiercely, she turned her back to them and walked as casually as she could ahead of them and towards David's room, as if it was the most normal thing in the world to leave her room half dressed and go to another. She was glad that his room was only four doors away but it seemed further.
She could hear the couple sniggering behind her back. She smiled to herself as the expression "blushing bride" came to her mind. Surely, she told herself, even though this merely a fantasy she was acting out, no bride ever blushed so brightly or for the same reason as she in her bridal role-play.
She triple-checked she had the correct door, pushed it open and kicked it closed behind her. In the corridor behind her she heard a near explosion of laughter from the couple as soon as she was out of their sight.
David was lying stretched out on the bed facing the doorway. He was naked except for a pair of striped boxers. Her eyes rested on the lewd bulge inside them. She stood with her hand on her hip and pouted provocatively as she brandished the champagne.
He laughed and shook his head in amazement. She looked as sexy and provocative as she had earlier, and whilst he had half-hoped that she would still be wearing her white corset and stockings there was no denying that she looked equally stunning now. He watched longingly as she placed the champagne and glasses down on the chest of drawers and pulled onto her head her bridal headdress and veil, pushing the fine mesh behind her head.
Her white, skimpy nightdress was of course pushing it a bit for someone her age, but that added to its erotic appeal. The whole point was that such a garment -- especially in pure white -- suggested youth and, perhaps, innocence and naivety, mixed with enticement.
And Joan, of course, was neither young nor innocent and naive. She was in her forties and sexually experienced. The translucence of her skimpy nightdress was deliciously appropriate. This very evening she was alternating between two sexual partners, and acting as if one was her bridegroom -- cuckolded on his very wedding night -- and the other her younger lover. Her headdress and veil was a visual reminder of the naughty role-play they were enacting.
"Er... Joan... I, er, think you've got the wrong room!" he faltered, along the lines she had suggested earlier.
"Oh, I don't think so, darlin!" she said seductively, and stepped towards him. The gauzy fabric of her nightdress thinly veiled her breasts, alternately covering and revealing them, hanging loosely then tautening and hugging her as she moved. Her breasts were ample rather than big, and sagged a little, and her flat nipples looked very big and alluring under their semi-opaque covering. Her legs and thighs looked fleshy and inviting below her short hem, and his gaze ran over the dark heart shape below her waist.
"I... surely you should be with..."
"Yes, darlin', I should be making love with my husband. But I'm not. He had his hand down the bridesmaid's dress -- she's my niece, too, and only nineteen but loving his attentions. I saw them in the cloakroom. Lynn was pleading with him to lift her dress and slip her one, the bitch! On our wedding day! And he clearly didn't want to disappoint her! I saw them sink down to the floor and saw him shoving her dress up and baring her skinny young legs..."
She saw David's face blush at the image she was describing, even though it was entirely fictitious.
"So, darlin' -- I thought if he was having it away with my niece -- I'd come along and see if my former next-door neighbour fancied fucking ME on my wedding night. Before I go back to the honeymoon suite, I mean..."
David felt himself flush deeper. The fantasy was coming closer to reality with her description of him in these terms.
"I... er... really, Joan, I don't know what to say...""
"Oh, I think you do. I think you do..." she repeated seductively. "I've seen the way you look at me. I've often seen your eyes roaming over my tits -- my squashy, mature, C-cup tits -- and thinking how nice it would be to fondle them and to bury your face between them. Even tonight at the reception I saw you staring at them, watching the tops of them wobble up and down as I danced. If you're a bit shy about FUCKING me -- especially on my wedding night -- why don't you at least have a play with Joan's tits, hmmm?"
Over the years he had known her David had only heard her use mild expletives. Her explicit language made him quiver with rude pleasure.
He watched passively as her left hand reached out to his. Her ring glinted on her finger. She stroked his hand lightly, enticingly, with her fingertips. He stared at the dark patch of hair showing through her nightdress. She leaned forward and her matronly orbs swayed forward under her flimsy nightdress.
