4 comments/ 43456 views/ 3 favorites Always By: Chiron I've always wanted to be a sex slave. Even writing those words makes me feel warm and comfortable. Safe. Secure. Like snuggling under a warm duvet. It's all I've ever wanted. Of course, I never told anyone when I was a child. I don't think I even knew it in definite terms. I put forward a front of normalcy. Locked away my desires behind a facade. I was a pretty girl, I know. I'm told things come easily to pretty girls. It never felt that way to me, but I guess things dropped into my lap. As an only child, my parents spoiled me a bit. I had the toys I wanted, the dresses, the after-school clubs. The birthday parties. I used to have fabulous birthday parties. If a nine-year-old's birthday can be a must-attend social occasion, mine were. Behind it all, though, I didn't want to be a princess or a queen. I wanted to be the serving girl, the maid. Ignored. Quiet. Demure. In high school, I hid in plain view. I was one of the popular ones. One of the beautiful people. Looking back now, I was pretty horrible to quite a lot of people. I guess I was trying to compensate for my secret. I don't remember thinking that at the time. It wasn't deliberate or anything. Like most teenagers I was a mass of conflicting hormones and emotions. I dated, of course. Jocks, mostly. Decorative boys, not too smart. Fashion accessories for the fashion-conscious. I realize now that they were a long way from what I wanted. It's the substance, the authority, behind that matters. And I need someone with that authority and strength to give me what I want. I know that now. I'm not sure I knew it then. I've never been stupid. I'm not a brainbox, but I did well enough to get places at good, if not great, universities. So I progressed from high school to college without too much trouble, and for a year or so, I continued with my normal life. Still my secret was kept buried. I didn't want to be in charge. Didn't want to be the leader of my little social clique. Sure, I used my looks, my platinum blonde hair (thanks, Mum's Nordic Ancestors). But it was empty. Soulless. Just a pretty girl going through the motions. Looking, but not really knowing what I was looking for. I had a boyfriend, of course. Reserve Quarterback. Quite a catch. I remember that I thought I'd done quite well there. That was before I met...him. I didn't pay much attention to him the first time I saw him. Nor the second or third, I think. Appearance wise, he didn't even blip on a radar calibrated for square-jawed all-American boys. He was a post-grad, a bit older. In the biology or psychology department, or something like that. Many of my friends thought he was a bit creepy. I didn't think of him at all. My parents had this bizarre idea about making me make some of my own way. They could have paid for just about everything I wanted, but they obviously decided they had spoiled me enough. I wasn't going to starve, or sleep in the streets, but luxury spending I would have to earn. So I had a weekend job, and I was always on the lookout for little bits of work that school throws up. I hated it. I told everyone that it was beneath me, but that wasn't it. I hated being in charge of myself. I know that now. It went against my nature, my desires. It wasn't what I'd always wanted. Fifty dollars was a lot of money for an hour's work. And it wasn't even really work. Just fill out a survey, answer a few questions. He was the one giving the survey. Asking the questions. It was the first time I'd spoken to him. I completed the forms, and then he started asking the questions. And the hour extended into two, and then into three. It just felt so easy talking to him. It wasn't about anything, really, at all. Certainly not about my secret wants and needs. Just about life, about views of the world. That night, I remember clearly, lying on my bed masturbating. And my fantasies, up to then so unfocused, found a focus. I imagined myself kneeling at his feet. Naked. Waiting for him to tell me what to do. I fantasized about being turned over his knee and spanked. Not in an intense, personal way, but in a dispassionate, clinical way, as if it was just procedure. Just part of my life. Now, of course, it is. It's part of my daily routine. I get spanked first thing in the morning and last thing at night. It helps me remember my place, my role. It's the sort of regular discipline that I've always wanted. My ass is always sore, and that serves as just another reminder. I remember orgasming like I had never done before, that night. The next morning, he called me. I was never so pleased to get a call. He said there were a few follow-up questions he wanted to ask me. I doubted they had anything to do with the survey, but the memory of his intensity, and the intensity of my fantasies about him, made me agree. That afternoon, I split up with my boyfriend. I remember how crushed he looked. How weak. He said I was a "stone cold bitch". Perhaps. But when you finally see what you've always wanted, you go for it. Our conversation that night was even longer than the day before. I remember being impressed by the way he controlled it. How he picked the topics. How assured he was. How confident. That night, as I masturbated furiously again, I imagined a brand with his initials on my thigh. Marking me as his. Now, I look down at my thigh, and I can see that brand, real and red and still raw. It's been a week, and it hasn't calmed that much. Still hurts, but nothing worth having comes without some pain. In fact, the pain makes it more valuable. And, to be honest, pain has become so common in my life I don't know that I could survive without it. It's a symbol of how much he values me. He called me first thing the next morning. And told me to come to his apartment that evening. He didn't ask. I remember feeling a chill run from my spine to my fingers and toes. He didn't even wait for me to agree. I did call him back. I asked him what I should wear. That night, I found myself nervously ringing the doorbell wearing an impossibly short skirt, a pair of strappy sandals with five inch heels and a top that bared both my midriff and most of my breasts. I'd never worn anything so slutty. Had to go and buy it specially. I didn't have any underwear on. In fact, that afternoon was the last time I wore underwear. A sex slave should be available at all times, and that was what I'd always wanted. We ate, talked. I was desperate to have him touch me, hold me, fuck me. He didn't. He was cool, calm, reserved. But he picked the topics, again. He guided the conversation. By the time I finally got home, I was fit to burst. I called him first thing in the morning. I had two questions. What should I wear that day, and could I see him that evening. To my despair, he answered the latter question negatively. He said that he would tell me when I would see him. I apologized profusely. Abjectly. I spent that day with only two things in my mind. Him. His voice, his eyes, his hands. And how I was going to cover up the damp patch showing through my white lycra miniskirt. Oh, and learning how to walk in five-inch heeled white boots. I met my ex-boyfriend in the corridor. He called me a whore and a slut. Told me that it was about time I started dressing like I was. I think I turned a violent shade of red. I went in to the toilets and cried. Because it was true, and because I couldn't see a way that I could get what I always wanted. To be a slut and a whore for the man who had taken over my thoughts. I called him that evening. I know I shouldn't have. But I begged him to let me see him. For the first time I heard a note in his voice that has become familiar -- the note of disappointment that means I have angered him. It's a note that never fails to cut me to the core. He said that I should write him a letter, telling him what I wanted and why he should let me see him. I wrote the letter. I spent hours over it, and then drove over to his house to deliver it. Posted through the letterbox, obviously, as he did not wish to see me. "Sir, if I may call you that. You asked what I wanted. What I want, what I have always wanted, is to belong to you utterly. To be your property. To be guided and controlled by you, to have you rule my life. To serve you in whatever way you desire. I have always wanted to be owned, to be disciplined, and I believe you are the one person who can do that for me. I beg you to accept my offer, to take me and use me for whatever purpose you want." I called him the next morning. I asked him what I should wear that day. He said that I should come to his apartment that night. I had never heard sweeter words. Once again, I nervously rang the doorbell. It felt like I was barely dressed. All I had on was a bra-top and a pair of hot-pants. There was nothing I could do to hide the wet patch with these. I was so turned on, and so desperate to hear his reaction. I didn't have long to wait. He answered the door holding my letter. As soon as I was inside, he spoke. "I've read your letter," he said. "And I don't believe you." I collapsed to the ground, groveling at his feet. Begging incoherently. Pleading frantically. He stopped me with a word. "Stop. Prove it," he said. I asked how. His only response, as he opened the door to let me out, was "Find a way." I didn't sleep that night. I thought desperately. And then I knew what I had to do. After calling him that morning, I went in to the University office and submitted my formal withdrawal from school. Handed in the notice on my accommodation. Gave every item of clothing that I had from before I had met him to Goodwill. Sold my car. Everywhere I went, I got two sorts of looks. Disapproving and lustful. I guess when you're flashing your cunt from beneath a skirt that's basically a belt, and your nipples are clearly visible through wafer thin fabric, that's all you can expect. I went back to my apartment, and waited for his call. Just sitting, looking at my phone. Would I get what I'd always wanted? Eventually, it rang. "Good enough," he said. I breathed out. I hadn't been aware that I wasn't breathing. He told me to come that night, and not expect to leave any time soon. I have never been so happy. Everything I'd always wanted was to be mine. And now all that I wanted was to be what he wanted. The taxi-driver kept looking in the mirror on the way over. My holdall seemed very small to be holding all I owned. And all that was was the clothing he'd told me to buy. There was nothing left of my old life. And I didn't care. He opened the door and let me in. Told me to put my holdall down and strip. It didn't take long. I wasn't wearing much. And then I was naked before him. I dropped to my knees at his feet. He turned and walked away, telling me to follow. I made to stand up, but a quick "on you knees" stopped me. I crawled after him, through the lounge and into another room. In the middle of the room was a wooden horse -- like a trestle. He told me to arrange myself over it, grasping the legs with my hands. He said that if I let go before he told me, he would kick me out the door as I was. With nothing. The first time he ever touched me was a stinging slap to my buttocks. I almost came there and then. I did come some half-hour later. And then again fifteen minutes after that. The cushion of the horse grew wetter and wetter. And all the time he was beating me. First spanking, then a paddle, then a cane. I lost track of everything. Everything but the sensations in my buttocks and in my cunt. Eventually it ended. With roughness, he lifted grasped my neck and half-pulled, half-guided me off the horse. I knelt again in front of him, my rear smarting from the attention, and it felt like the glow spread through my body as he told me that he was pleased with me. "Look up," he said. I complied. In his hands was a collar, leather, perhaps an inch and a half wide. Substantial without being ludicrous. "Is this what you want?" he asked. "It's all I've ever wanted, Sir," I said, quietly. He placed it around my neck, and I felt a click as he closed the lock. A click that represented the achievement of a life's goal. I had all I ever wanted. There was nothing more that I could possibly want. I was his. Everything was perfect. Oh, he's calling me. Back in a moment. The best news! Sir has just told me that he's arranged for me to have breast enhancements. DD cups! I've always wanted bigger breasts. For as long as I can remember, that's what I've wanted. To be a big-breasted slutty sex slave. After I have my breasts, everything will be perfect. I'll have what I've always wanted. Always A Bridesmaid Faye surveyed herself in the full-length mirror in the dressing room. Her ebony hair was arranged into a ballerina's knot with wispy curls framing her face. Her dress was pale lavender, full length with a fitted bodice, and flaring skirt. The bodice, with its sewn in bra, showed the full mounds of her breasts to advantage, accenting their round fullness. "Well, at least this color works for me" Faye spoke her thoughts out loud. This was her fourth wedding this year as a brides-maid, and some of the dresses she had been required to wear in her role had done absolutely nothing to flatter her very full figure. Faye was not really fat, but she was short, only 5' tall, had 36DD breasts, and probably fifty pounds heavier than she should be for her height. She had, at one time, thought of having a breast reduction, but finally decided that this was the way she was meant to be, and besides, she wasn't the one who had a problem with her size and shape. She took one final look in the mirror, checking that her makeup was not too heavy, that the darker lavender eye shadow complimented her hazel eyes and her dress, the lipstick, a dark mauve accented her full lips. Her half inch nails were polished to match the lipstick. She had spike heels on, dyed to match her dress and very sheer stockings held in place by a lavender garter that matched the lavender lace panties she wore. The two other brides maids in their dresses, matching Faye's, were also checking their reflections. Mandy, the maid of honor, was dressed in a gown similar to the brides maids, but hers was a darker lavender. All four of the bride's attendants had known Colleen, the bride, since their grade school days. All of them were 26 years old. Cindy, Joan, and Leanne had all three gotten married this year, and Faye had been a brides maid at each of their weddings. Mandy and Faye would be, after today, the only single women left in their tight-knit group. Mandy was dating Stuart, the Best Man at today's wedding, and had been for almost five months now. Faye hadn't been dating anyone seriously since Vince, her sometimes boyfriend for the last 12 years, transferred with his company to the west coast. He had asked her to go with him, but hadn't really proposed marriage, so Faye had told him she needed time to think about it. She was still thinking, really. They had been lovers since their senior year of college. Faye knew that over the last few years there had been other women for him, but Vince was the only man she had ever been intimate with. She no longer knew if it was love she felt for him, or simply the comfort of the familiar. "Ah well," she sighed to herself, "lets just get through today." Colleen's mother poked her head through the door and told the four ladies that it was time to line up for the processional. Faye picked up her bouquet, making sure the ribbons hung down straight and took her position in line, being the last one as they lined up tallest to shortest. As the organist began the opening notes of their cue, the two five year old flower girls, twin nieces of the bride, stepped out and began their walk down the aisle, tossing rose petals as they walked. The bides maid then started their own walk down the aisle. Faye kept her eye's focused ahead, to the alter where Hal, the groom, and his four groomsmen waited, watching. She recognized three of the groomsmen, all old friends, but the fourth was a stranger to her. He was Hal's best friend from college, Mark Hazelton. He lived out of state and had been unable to attend any of the rehearsals or last night's rehearsal dinner, having only arrived in town late last night. Faye felt the intensity of his gaze as she reached the front and took her position on the bride's side, standing just across and opposite of him. The music changed as she settled into her place, the Bridal March beginning. Every head turned to watch the bride's walk down the aisle on her father's arm. Faye's eyes glistened with tears as she watched her friend's walk down the aisle, her step slow, but sure. Colleen's limp was barely noticeable, and she had abandoned her cane, using her father's arm for her support, trusting that Hal would be her support at the alter. He placed his daughter's hand into the waiting hand of her groom, kissed her cheek and took his place in the front pew with Colleen's mother. Finally, the Bride and Groom shared a kiss and began their walk down the aisle. Behind them, each grooms man offered his arm to his corresponding brides maid. Faye laid her hand lightly on the extended arm of Mark Hazelton and allowed him to escort her down the aisle. The congregation began filing out behind them. All the while Faye was aware of the firm arm under her fingertips. She kept her eyes fixed ahead, resisting the urge to check him out closer. One shy glance in his direction showed that he too was keeping his eyes steadily on the couples ahead. The reception was in the annex next to the church and was already filling up with guest who had elected to attend the reception. The wedding party made their way to the head table. Faye was seated next to Kevin, one of the grooms men, and Joan's husband. Mark Hazelton sat sat down on her right. He smiled warmly at her and extended his hand. "Mark Hazelton. You must be Faye. You were out of town when we all got together last month when I was in town." His voice was deep, warm, and oh so sexy, sending warm shivers up and down Faye's spine, making a warm fuzzy glow in the pit of her stomach. Faye gathered her wits enough to respond, making small talk through out the wedding dinner. Afterwards, when the four piece combo hired for the reception began playing dance music she found herself being escorted to the cleared dance area. Mark Hazelton's arms held her close to his body, fitting her against him, her head coming to just under his chin. She started out trying to hold herself away from his body, but after the first turns she had her head resting on his chest, one arm wrapped around his neck, the other clasped in his nestled close to his body. They didn't speak. When the music stopped, they stood together waiting for the next song to begin, then danced once more, both of Faye's arms around Mark's neck, his hands around her body, holding her closer yet, her head again nestled to his chest, his head bent, resting on the top of her head. After the third dance he took her hand and led her off the dance floor, through the people gathered in small groups, to the front of the reception hall and out the front doors. The church was still open. Mark led her into one of the dressing rooms and closed and turn the lock on the door. Then he gathered her into his arms and claimed her lips with his. His lips claimed hers with passion and Faye answered them back with passion of her own, her mouth opening, inviting him in. Their tongues met, danced, caressed, teased and invited. Faye didn't stop to question, to ask why. She just knew she had to have this right now, right here, with this man. It was right. It was supposed to be. Nothing mattered except this moment and this man. She arched her neck as his mouth left hers to travel down her chin, her neck and to the cleavage exposed by her dress. He kissed and licked the tops of her breasts, kneading them with his hands through the dress, feeling her response though the thin material. Faye was gasping for air, wanting more, and he gave it to her, freeing her breasts from their confines, drawing a nipple into his mouth as his other hand caressed and pulled the other. Faye held his head to her, murmuring her approval, telling him what she wanted, what she needed from him. Her free hand worked its way down his body finding the proof of his desire, cupping her hand over his hardness, pressing and rubbing him with her hand, tracing his bulging outline with her fingers, milking him through his pants. He groaned and bit her nipple, hard. Faye arched into him urgently, grinding her pelvis into his groin, increasing her own pleasure as she did so. He responding by grinding into her and she felt the heat grow and expand in her core. They rocked their bodies against each other, Mark moving his mouth to her other breast. He drew the tight bug into his mouth, sucking, nibbling, licking the tip as one hand cupped and lifted the other, enjoying its heavy fullness as he pinched the nipple as he pulled it. His other hand began pulling up the skirt of her dress, trapping it with their joined bodies to hold it up so he could trace his way up a silk-clad leg, past the top of her stocking, over the smooth skin of her thigh to the center of her, covered with wet silk lace. Her panties were no barrier to his questing fingers. He simply moved the crotch aside and explored the curly pubic hair before slipping a long finger into her, finding with unerring accuracy her clitoris, already free of its hood. Their bodies still pressed together, holding his hand tight to her as his finger explored. They rocked together more as he ran a finger gently over her clitoris over and over again. Her breathing was rapid; her body arched into him, her free hand pressed his mouth tighter to her breast encouraging him to use it a bit more roughly as he bit a little harder, squeezed the other nipple tighter between his fingers, pulling it taunt. Faye felt her orgasm building, the anticipation making her cry out to Mark, asking him to not stop, to help her, to bring her up to the top and, as she reached the heights, she screamed as with a hard nip of his teeth and the quick thrust of his groin against her pelvis, his finger urgently stroking her clitoris her orgasm shattered over her, sending a flood of electrifying pleasure throughout her body, leaving her shaken and grasping for a steady breath. Mark was still grinding into her, his hard length pressed tight to her through his pants, his eyes closed, his breathing forced. Faye realized his distress and with fumbling fingers tried to release him from his pants, finally asking him to help her free him. With trembling, urgent hands Mark released himself from the confines of his pants, allowing them to fall around his ankles as he stood before Faye, his hardness covered only by his snowy white briefs. Faye stripped them down, releasing him, allowing his penis to spring forth, all nine inches of him pointing at her, awaiting her. Mark stood with his hands at her sides, waiting to see what she would do. He didn't have long to wait as she dropped to her knees and with trembling hands took him and guided him into her mouth. She could taste the saltiness of his sweat; the sweetness of the drops of pre-cum that clung to the tip of his penis. She opened her mouth wide, taking the first few inches of him into her mouth, bobbing her head slowly up and down his shaft as she licked her tongue up and down and around as she did so. She started taking more and more into her mouth, working him down her throat, gagging once in a while until she finally managed to have almost all of him in her mouth. She held him there briefly, sucking him and playing with his balls hanging in their sack. As she heard his moans of pleasure, felt his fingers massage her neck and shoulders, she began to bob her head up and down again, slowly at first, then faster and faster, her mouth closed tightly, opening wider once in a while to allow the accumulated saliva to dribble out of her mouth and down her chin. Faye felt his body begin to tense, felt his balls draw up, the sack tightening around them, before she heard his loud release of pleasure, his head thrown back, guttural words escaping as his first burst of cum sprayed deep into her throat, forcing her to swallow quickly as two more streams of cum escaped him, one after the other. Faye swallowed most of it, only a little spilling from her mouth, down her chin, dripping onto her exposed breasts. Slowly sliding his penis from between her lips she licked and sucked as she went, and when it finally popped free she licked the tip, catching the last few drops of oozing cum on her tongue, spreading it across her lips. Mark pulled her up, catching her mouth with his, licking her lips before slipping a tongue into her mouth, tasting himself there. They held each other tight for a few minute more, then stood back, Mark pulling up his briefs and pants, tucking his shirt back in, readjusting his frock coat until he once again looked unruffled. Faye had pulled her skirt down, trying to shake out the wrinkles and was attempting to put her breasts back into the dress, but her hands were shaking and Mark had to help. She shivered with pleasure as he bent and kissed each one once more before stuffing their fullness back into the dresses bodice. Faye found a tissue to wipe off the lipstick that was now smeared on her face. Her hair was a little bit worse for wear, but there was nothing she could do; perhaps every one would attribute it to the dancing going on at the reception. Mark took her hands in his, pulled her to him and held her close. She knew they had to talk. She had never done anything like this. Never allowed a man to take her like this, especially one she had meet less than three hours before. Instinctively she knew that this was uncharacteristic for Mark also. She had been as drawn to him the moment their eyes met as she was walking down the aisle as he had been to her. No, now was not the time to talk, but talk they would, tonight, after the reception. Tonight and every night for the rest of their lives. She was sure of it, and from the look in Mark's eyes, he knew it too. With one last kiss of promise for the future, they returned to the reception. Always a Bridesmaid... It was a windy April afternoon in Upstate New York. There were very few clouds in the brilliant blue sky. The chapel was located less than a hundred yards from a large sparkling lake. It was the perfect setting for a lovely spring wedding. As I pulled up to the chapel in my Honda Civic, I turned to the passenger seat where the bride sat. She was also my best friend of about twenty years. "Are you going to throw up yet? Because I sure as hell think I'm going to." I groaned. Sonja laughed and said, "It's not even your wedding! How do you think I feel?!" "I knowwwww. I have to walk down that obscenely long aisle too! And alone! Ugh..." I mumbled. She looked at me and giggled. "Oh shut up and let's go, girl, I'm getting married!!!" she said. We had decided years ago that we would be each other's maid or matron of honor when we finally got married. She beat me by about a year. My wedding date was about a year away from hers. It was planned for May of 2010. I had already been engaged to Travis for about four years or so. In my opinion, that is entirely way too long to be engaged. In the very beginning of our becoming newly engaged, I was excited about getting married. As the years went on, I felt less and less excited. Just recently, I was feeling more and more pressure from him about getting married. All of a sudden he was saying he would be happy with just going to a courthouse and getting married that way. He was trying to rush it for some reason. I was definitely not into that. Now, don't get me wrong. I love him. And yes, getting married is exciting. I was excited about trying dresses on, having lots of pretty lilacs at my wedding, and walking down the aisle with my father. But when I asked myself if I was excited about whom I was walking down the aisle towards... Well, I could never give myself a straight answer. We had been together for so long (about seven years) that it just seemed like the logical next step to me. Did I want to spend my whole life with this man? We walked into one of the rooms in the downstairs portion of the chapel. It was set up for the bride and the bridesmaids to get ready. The rest of the bridesmaids and the flower girls were already in there getting dressed. I stripped down to my bra and panties and slipped into my very pink dress. It was strapless, so I didn't need a bra. I took off my 38D bra and threw it onto the couch where my duffel bag was and adjusted myself. It was a good thing all of us girls were in some kind of clothing. The justice of peace barged right in without knocking or a "hello". He walked over to the couch and picked up my bra and said, "Oh, this must be LeeAnn's." I rolled my eyes at him and smirked. "Why do you think it's mine? Hmm? There are five other women in this room buddy", I asked him. He just laughed. He talked to Sonja about the ceremony and left. Any group of people I am with, I am always the "one with the big boobs". Goddamn genetics. I called Travis on his cell to tell him to come around the chapel and meet me. I had to give him my camera so he could get pictures during the ceremony. He wasn't very good at photography, but I had no choice. It was either him or my mother. And she has a habit of breaking cameras. I walked outside and waited for him to walk around. He saw me and said, "You look beautiful." I looked at him like he had two heads. He usually isn't very verbal. In the past seven years, I have heard that only a handful of times. I'd like to consider myself pretty, but it always means so much more when your loved one tells you. I gave the camera to my mother so she could take a picture of Travis and I. When I look back at that picture, I can see how awkward we looked. It didn't look like there was any love there... I walked back into the changing room. We were down to minutes left. We all gathered around with our mini bottles of liquor and toasted. Everyone was filing out of the room to head outside to the back of the chapel. I suddenly realized I didn't get any of the girls to do my makeup. I never wear makeup but I figured for a special occasion such as this, it wouldn't hurt. I wasn't capable of putting on makeup myself, and since I didn't have any of my own, I was pretty much screwed. I looked in the mirror and slicked on my trusty Cherry Chapstick. It never fails to make my pout shiny and kissable. With the shots we took minutes ago, and the wine we had at the hair salon at 9 a.m., I had a nice glow in my cheeks already. Not bad, I told myself. I quickly caught up with the rest of the girls on the way around the chapel to the wooden double doors. Everyone lined up outside to get ready to walk through the doors and down the aisle. I thought I was going to throw up. What am I going to be like at my own wedding!? I thought. And for a quick moment, I didn't even see Travis in my mind when I thought "my own wedding." We all made it down the aisle with no tripping or puking. The ceremony was wonderful. In the middle of it, I had to walk up to the podium and recite a poem that Sonja had chosen. I am not a very good public speaker, so I was almost hyperventilating. At the very end of the poem, I got choked up and almost spilled a couple of tears. The happy couple said their "I dos" and we were off down the aisle again. We made it outside and I waited for my mother and Travis to make their way out. They finally came out and Travis came up to me and gave me a hug. As I hugged him I was thinking to myself, why do I not feel anything at all? He was telling me how pretty I looked, for the second time within a half an hour. That had to be a record. After all the guests congratulated the newlyweds, everyone started to head to their cars to go to the reception at the fire hall. I hopped in my car with Travis. My mother followed us in her Explorer. He dropped me off at the fire hall and told me he had to go find an ATM for cash in case I wanted something from the cash bar. That was another surprise. He never wanted me to drink. He always had a fit if I wanted to go out with my girlfriends, even if I was just drinking at their house. I thought to myself, yeah... let's see how many drinks he "lets" me have tonight. Ha! The bridal party walked in to be introduced by the D.J.; the bridesmaids with the groomsmen, the bride with her husband. After being seated and making toasts (which I was not prepared for at all) we went up to get our food. It was delicious. They had roasted chicken and potatoes, baked ziti, and salads. After filling up on food and spilling some red wine on my dress, I walked over to one of the banquet tables where my mother and Travis were sitting. Travis pulled me onto his lap and I looked over his shoulder and noticed a guy looking at me. I had an idea of who he was, but I didn't know him personally. I knew his name was Jay. Sonja's sister, who was a bridesmaid, brought him as her date. My first thought was, what is he looking at?! Do I have a booger or something?! After a few minutes, I was still sitting on Travis' lap, and I randomly looked up and made eye contact with him. It only lasted a few seconds but it seemed like five minutes. I thought, wow, he is REALLY hot...but why is he checking ME out?! Me...with my make-up-less face, looking like a piece of bubble gum with my very pink dress, not to mention, with a nice wine stain on it.. What on Earth could he possibly be looking at so intensely? The party started when the music came on. We were all dancing, nobody drunk yet, just having a good time. Once or twice I actually got Travis to slow dance with me. Yet another surprise. He hated to dance. He kept trying to kiss me and be affectionate with me. He was rarely like that, especially in public. He didn't like P.D.A. I was kind of holding back for some reason. "What has gotten into you?" I asked him while we were dancing. "I don't know... it's just your dress... and your hair. You look really beautiful," he said. "Oh... well that's a first," I mumbled. I looked over at the table we were sitting at earlier and I saw Jay looking at me again. There was something about him. I didn't know what... I didn't realize I was still staring at him when I heard Travis say, "Did you hear me? Hellooooo?" "I'm sorry, what?" I asked. "I said... I am going to try to get a hotel room for us tonight," he told me. I knew what that meant. For once, he was the one that wanted to have sex. "Oh... ok." I replied. We had a pretty dry sex life. I always had to initiate. It was getting old to me. Even living alone we didn't have that much sex, once a month, twice if I was lucky. Then we moved back into his parents' house because I lost my job and wanted to go back to college. The sex was even less frequent then. I consider myself a very sexual person. I am comfortable with myself and I am very open in talking about sex. I can admit that I love to masturbate. Even if I was to have someone I was happy with, sexually, I think I would still do it. After losing almost forty pounds, I had a lot more confidence with my body. I would be happy with having sex once a day at least. With Travis, that will never happen. So I turn to my nightstand for help. A girl's got to have toys! I am always horny, always talking or thinking about sex. My friends all poke fun at me for it. I am probably the horniest friend they have. I have always wondered what was wrong with Travis. He was happy with our once-a-month sessions. If I said something about our sex life, he would reply with "is that all you ever think about?" or something along the lines of that. That doesn't seem right coming out of a man's mouth! At one point, I contemplated whether he was straight or not! Sometimes, on the days we didn't have sex, I would usually go down on him. In return he would maybe get me off with a toy or his hand, if he wasn't tired, but I never received oral sex from him in return. For that matter, I never received it at all. And it was one of my favorite things in the world. When he said he wanted to get a hotel room after all, I wasn't even excited at the thought of having sex with him. I felt horrible for thinking that. When we actually did have sex, I never really enjoyed myself, unless I thought of other guys, or even girls! I could rarely ever feel it. So I had to make up for that in clitoral stimulation. I needed some help! He didn't make up for what he was lacking in his pants. I'll just say this... Size does matter; don't let a girl tell you otherwise. Or else she is a damned liar. We stopped dancing and he went to the bathroom while I stood around sipping my beer. Jay was walking towards me and stopped when he got to me. He put his hand on my arm and leaned in close. I was almost anxious, waiting to see what he was going to do. His lips were maybe half an inch from my ear. I sucked in my breath and held it. "You're gorgeous," he whispered. I could feel his warm breath play with my ear. I let out my breath and said, "What? Me?" I instantly felt stupid for saying that. He grinned his gorgeous smile at me and said, "Yes, you." I watched him walk away, probably a little too long. Then I snapped out of it and looked around to see if anyone had witnessed that little encounter. No, Travis was still in the bathroom, thank God. I was trying to figure out what was going on inside my body. It was as if a fire had been lit inside me. I had so many feelings. I felt a little tingle between my legs. My stomach felt like it was doing somersaults. Butterflies? I had never felt this before, not with Travis or any of my previous boyfriends. I was captivated by this mysterious man. He only said two words to me, yet they sparked something in me. I smirked to myself and walked back out onto the dance floor. I had a little buzz going and all of us girls were grinding to some of Sonja's choice songs, which would be every booty shaking song we have ever listened to. Travis came out of the bathroom and walked up to me. He took my hand and led me to the kitchen. Nobody was in there. He led me around a corner where nobody could see us even if they did decide to go into the kitchen. He pushed me against a counter and started kissing me. He lifted my dress up to my waist and tried pulling down my panties. I hesitated. I wasn't really feeling anything. The only thing I could think about was Jay. I didn't want to have sex in the kitchen with Travis. I kept telling him to stop, kind of playfully so he didn't think something was wrong. He finally stopped and we went back out to the party. By this point, I have had about four beers, and five mixed drinks. Travis wouldn't give me anymore money to get drinks. I was officially cut off, and not even drunk yet. "I don't want to have to hold your hair later tonight when you get sick," he commented snottily. I was kind of pissed. I knew this would happen. I just wanted to have a good time with my friends and get a little drunk, so what? Maybe it would make the sex better... Travis went up to talk to the D.J. about booking him for our wedding next year. Inside I was thinking, oh God, our wedding... He came back to me and told him that he was available for our date, and that he just booked him. I tried to be excited about it. He was, in fact, the best D.J. I had ever seen at a wedding. Travis then started calling hotels, trying to get a room for us. Of course, if he had agreed with me weeks ago, we could've had one booked at the hotel that everyone else was staying at. But he thought it was expensive and didn't want to. He was very cheap at times. Well, 80% of the time... While he was on his cell phone, pacing around, I walked around and mingled on the dance floor a little. It was getting late and people were slowly dispersing. Jay was walking to each of us girls that were in the wedding, giving goodbyes. He got to me and kissed me on the cheek. It startled me and I said, "Oh, hey", and smiled at him. He stopped and looked into my eyes and was about to say something, instead he just smirked and shook his head. I was standing at our table getting some things together, because I was sure Travis would want to go soon. Jay walked up to me and softly said, "Follow me." I instantly blushed and looked around for Travis. He was totally preoccupied on his cell still, trying to find a hotel room. I slowly started walking after Jay. We walked down a dark hallway, away from the reception part of the fire hall. Nobody saw us walk away. My heart was beating so hard, I thought it was going to burst. My hands were shaking slightly. I had no idea what was going on. He opened a door and led me by my hand into a cool, dark room. His hand was so warm and big. I felt a current between our hands. I was just focusing on Jay's actions. Once we were in the room, he closed the door and pushed me against it and pressed his body against me. I could feel his hard cock against my thigh. He pinned my arms up over my head with one large hand and kissed me intensely. His lips were so soft. His tongue found my tongue and I moaned loudly into his mouth, which caused him to moan too. His free hand was lifting up my pink dress and rubbing my pussy outside of my panties. I moaned even louder. I had never been so wet before in my life. He pulled my panties to the side and started playing with my pussy lips. We were still kissing, furiously now. As if at any moment, one of us would disappear. "Oh my God... You're pussy is so wet... You're so beautiful. You don't know how bad I want to fuck you," he moaned. I had never heard anyone say this to me before. It sent me into ecstasy. I moaned even louder. I was breathing so hard, almost panting, really. He slid one of his fingers into my pussy. "OH!!!" I said aloud. He pulled the top of my dress down over my breasts and said, "Oh my God, your breasts are beautiful." He started kissing my neck, all the way down to my nipples. I was grinding against his finger, getting closer and closer to the point of no return. All of a sudden he stopped. "What are you doing!?" I asked. He didn't say a word. He knelt down and slid my panties off. He parted my legs and lifted my dress up. I realized what he was about to do and almost lost it. It had been about six years since a man has gone down on me. "Oh my God," I panted. "I haven't done anything yet darling," he said and winked at me. "I know, but oh my God...." I whispered. He started at my ankles and was kissing slowly and sensually all the way up my legs. I leaned my head back and smiled. I started playing with my nipples. He reached my pussy, which was insanely wet. Without warning, he plunged his tongue into me. I yelled something incoherent. I grabbed his hair in my fingers and held him closer to me. He was flicking his tongue inside of me and gently fingering my ass. I had never felt anything like this before. I was grinding against his tongue. I looked down at him and he had taken his cock out of his pants and was stroking it. My first thought was, oh my God, that's going inside ME? It was so much bigger than anything I've ever seen. But I wanted it so bad. He was moaning into my pussy. I almost came right there. "FUCK....ME....please, please" I moaned. "I want to feel your cock inside me so bad." He stood up, lifted my dress back up and grabbed my ass. He lifted me up against the door. He was so strong. I wrapped my legs around him and my arms around his neck. With his hands cupping my ass, he slid me onto his cock. I gasped. He was only halfway inside me, yet I felt like my pussy was so full! "Oh my God, your pussy is so tight. Holy shit. Travis is a lucky man," he said. "Sshhhh," I said and put my finger to his lips, "Don't say his name..." He slowly slid the rest of the way inside me. I scratched my nails hard down his back when he fully entered me. I bit down on his collarbone and it drove him wild. He was slowly thrusting in and out of me against the door. "Ohhhhh shit, that feels so good," I moaned. "So this is what sex is like, huh?" I giggled. More of an inside joke to me, since Jay didn't know anything about mine and Travis' relationship. Noises were coming out of my mouth that I had never heard before. I was amazed nobody had heard us from the party. He kept repeating, "You're beautiful, you're so beautiful, you're gorgeous..." "Choke me," I panted. "What?" "I said, CHOKE ME," I told him. I took his hand and moved it up to my throat. "Oh, you like that?" he asked me. He firmly gripped my throat and said with a smile, "You like that you dirty bitch?" "Oh my God yes, yes, yes," I smiled and closed my eyes as he slammed harder into me. He stopped and said, "Get down on all fours. I fantasized about fucking you from behind when I saw you walking down the aisle." I moved down to the cold floor on my hands and knees, waiting for him, staring at the tile on the floor. I felt his hands move from my neck, down my back, and onto my ass. He gripped my ass and slid his cock into my pussy. He moaned and laced his fingers into my hair and pulled back. He reached around and played with my clit while he was fucking me. "Fuck me, FUCK ME, faster, faster, mmm," I whimpered. He slapped me hard on my ass and grabbed it with both hands and went faster and faster. He was moaning as loud as I was. He was thrusting faster and deeper. "I'm coming, I'm coming, ohhhhhh, FUUUCK!" I panted. He was hitting my g-spot. My entire body convulsed. It felt like there was a thousand volts going through my body. He kept fucking me while I was coming and it made me come even harder. "Oh my God, I want to come in your pussy so bad," he whispered. "Do it then, DO IT, NOW," I demanded. "I'm going to. I'm coming, ohhhh God, Jesus your pussy is so tight," he moaned. He slammed deep into me, one last time, and held me as he came into my pussy. He was still for a moment and then pushed against me and moaned. I could feel him inside me, twitching. It felt so good, feeling him come inside me. He stayed in me for a minute, just breathing. He put his forehead down on my back and kissed me there. Always a Bridesmaid... We finally collapsed on the floor next to each other, breathing heavily, smiling. Our bodies were wet with sweat and God knows what else. I looked at him and said, "Holy shit, did that just really happen?" He laughed. "Oh yes it did. And it was everything I thought it would be." "Well," I said, "That was... I don't even know." I laughed. I curled up beside him and put my head in the crook of his shoulder. He kissed me on the forehead and said, "So... can I get your number?" I smiled and said, "Definitely." I realized I wasn't even thinking about Travis at all...