The Wedding, Pt 07

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The Wedding, Part 05When I awakened my dick was again a pillar of stone, already enshrouded in the comfort of a woman’s sex hole. Lisa’s rectum was a steaming pipe begging for pole. I thought to resurrect our earlier anal session, but Lisa quietly reminded me that her pussy was the orifice most in need of relief.“I don’t have a bone pressing on a pudendal ass nerve, Artie.”She reached down and nudged my penis northward into her vagina. There, for the first time, we made love. We kissed, fondled and grinded for fifteen minutes, slowly and tenderly, tongues dancing about, genitals enjoying the sticky, sweat curdling from our brows, until the inevitable climax, when we ramped up the energy and attacked each other like wildcats. We came in tandem, exploding into bliss, trembling with the sparkle of a righteously concluded fuck. A titanic tsunami rose up and washed us out to sea, splattering us with panoramic flavors of mauve, golden reds, oranges and yellows before cooling into blues and purples. Lisa’s churning vagina enveloped me in a universe of pinkness that left me weightless, breathless and wet.By and by we came to, awash in sweat, semen, and burnt pubic hair, as is appropriate for two people getting the gauge of each other’s sexual capacities.Lisa smiled lazily.“Do you really want to go to this dinner?” she asked. “Or do you want to stay here and do this all night?”“What you just said,” I laughed.She punched me in the shoulder.“Get up and go wash your ass,” she ordered. “We can sneak out of the dinner. But we have to be there.”“You’re the one leaking jizz,” I countered.“So I am. Do you object to going out in public with a jizz crusty woman?”“Not as long as it’s my jizz.”She punched me again, then got up and sauntered into the bathroom. I could see wispy fronds of semen drifting from her ass.“There’s only one towel,” she called out as she stepped into the shower. “And I’m using it,”“There’s two washrags,” I called back. “And you can use the same one for both holes.”She laughed. I really appreciated her ability to be crass in private. She had a great sense of humor.When I wandered into the bathroom the mirror was already steamy. Lisa liked hot showers, I noted with satisfaction. I climbed into the shower with her and used the washrag to scrub her back. I moved further south to wash her ass crack before reaching under to lather her furry pussy from behind. She lifted a leg to accommodate me. Then she turned and scrubbed me from head to toe, paying special attention to my dick, which she lathered, rinsed, knelt and suckled.I couldn’t get it up. I was spent. She laughed.“Already?” she smirked. “You’ve got to do better than that, Artie. I told you the terms.”I laughed nervously.“You just wait until we get to the dinner. I’m gon’ cock them thighs open in front of everybody and poke the shit out of you.”She laughed.“I’ll be there. Let’s see you do it.”She was so kaçak iddaa great.I started getting dressed for the wedding dinner. I had this nice Tom Ford formal dinner jacket with the shawl lapel. It made me feel like Bond. James Bond. I’d actually bought it second-hand but, of course, I didn’t tell anybody that. People who recognize style thought I had googobs of money to spend on clothes. The jacket fit me to a tee. I rocked it with a form-fitting muscle shirt (no collar), some black tuxedo slacks, and a pair of black patent leather oxfords ($65 at Macy’s). All in all, it was a very good look for me. At least, I thought it was. This get-up got me a lot of eye play.Lisa hadn’t been to her hotel room yet. She was still shackled with that horrid pink bride’s maid’s dress Cynthia had chosen for the ceremony. She told me that she had a formal black party dress in her room. The two of us would be well matched. I took this as another sign of compatibility. We had similar understated, classic tastes in clothes. Should we enter the restaurant together and cause a stir? No. It wasn’t time for that yet. Besides, this was Cynthia’s weekend. It would be selfish of us to steal her thunder.Lisa waited for me to dress. She smiled with appreciation.“You look nice,” she commented.I DID look nice: six-one, a buck ninety, broad, athletic shoulders, flat tummy, sensual lips, square jaw, curly hair. What’s not to like?“You don’t look THAT nice,” she chastised. “I’m not going out with anybody that looks better than me.”“I don’t see how that’s possible, baby. You have a pussy and a spectacular rack.”“And don’t you forget it,” she said.I checked myself in the mirror one more time. Then I stepped over to my bed and dabbed my fingers into one of the numerous tapioca pearl wet spots. Taking my cue from her earlier initiative, I dabbed the scent of our sex on my wrists and under my ear lobes.“What are you doing?” she asked incredulously.“I’m marking your territory.”She fell out laughing. Then she took a washrag and wiped my dabs away.“Most of that was jizz, you know. I don’t want you attracting any men tonite.”She reached into my traveling bag and took out a bottle of Polo for Men. She spritzed a bit of this onto her fingertips and rubbed these under my earlobes.“That’s better,” she said.I gave her my best James Bond smile.“Artie, I have something I want to tell you,” she said.“Uh-oh.”“No, it’s not anything bad. I need you to do me a favor. I don’t want you masturbating anymore. When you get a hard-on, I want you to finish in my mouth, my pussy or my ass. I don’t want you wasting your jizz in your hands.”“You tryna get pregnant?”“No, that’s not it. I’m sure I get way more clitoral erections than you get hard-ons. I want to make you happy. When you get it up, I want you to put it in. I don’t care where we are or what we are doing. Can you do that for me?”“I think so.”“OK, good.”She turned kaçak bahis to walk out the door. When she turned back, my dick was dangling from my zipper, half hard. She started to chastise me for taking her words too literally, but then she thought better of it. She closed the door, pulled her dress up, pulled her panties down, gripped the edge of the couch, and poked her ass out.“I’m serious, Artie.”“I’m just playin’ wit’ you, baby.” I smiled.She stepped to me, knelt, and took my soggy cock in her mouth. She sucked for a minute or so and didn’t get much of a response. I was truly spent. Finally, she stood.“I said HARD-ONS, Artie, not soft-ons. When you get it up, I’m ready to get it on. ALWAYS.”I could see the two of us were going to be a great match.We called downstairs to get a cab. Lisa needed to get over to the Sheraton to change. I needed to get over to the dinner. Of course, I wasn’t going to leave Lisa hanging. My plan was to ride with her to the Sheraton and then take separate cabs to the dinner. Lisa smartly pointed out that everyone planning to attend the dinner was staying at the Sheraton. If we showed up at the Sheraton together, that would be tantamount to attending the dinner together. And it wasn’t time for that, she said.I agreed with her logic. But I still wasn’t going to leave her hanging. So we took separate cabs to the Sheraton. And then I sneaked up to her room.When I got there Nicole wasn’t about. Lisa opened the door in her see-through panties and bra. Her elegant black dress was splayed out on her bed. As she puttered about the room in that way women do, my soft-on became a hard-on. I didn’t want to bother her with it. She’d already proved that she would drop everything to tend to my sexual needs. That’s all a guy wants, really. Besides, the dinner would be over by ten. We had the whole night to tend to my needs. I wanted to be fully on point for that.“What’s that lump in your pants?” Lisa asked.I could sense annoyance in her voice. She didn’t miss much.“I…I…”“What’d I tell you about wasting erections?”“I…I…”“A what’d I tell you about this stumble-bum yammering? Spit it out, son.”“We’re going to be late.”“READ…MY…LIPS. What is that lump in your pants?”“I’m happy to see you?” I offered cautiously.She walked over to me, intent upon doffing my pants.“Honey, I want to conserve my strength,” I said. “I promise you, it’ll be there when we get back to my hotel room.”“We’re not going back to your hotel room. We’re coming here.”“Your sister’s going to be here.”“Yep.”“We won’t be alone.”“Yep.”“Oh.”“You said you wanted to see the videos,” she said.“I didn’t say that.”“Well, we’re coming back here anyway. I’m no sneaky hypocrite. If we can fuck at your place we can fuck at my place.”“Oh.”It seemed I was learning something new about her every minute.She oozed into her tight-fitting black party dress. I could see that what I’d mistaken for beauty was illegal bahis only the rudiments, as it were. This woman was FOINE. Absolutely GORGEOUS. And to think: half an hour ago my dick was in her mouth.“Artie, help me put my hair up.”She was having trouble pinning her hair in place. I helped her. And then we stood and looked at ourselves in the mirror. We looked like a shiny new penny.“I say, madam, would you happen to have any Grey Poupon?” I offered in my best British royalty accent.“They call me Mellow Yellow. (Quite right, too),” she replied.I was astonished. How would she know these lyrics to a song by Donovan? She was WAY too young to have heard this song on the radio. And she’s black!! I didn’t know any black women that could quote British invasion songs from memory. I’d once asked a sistah about Paul McCartney’s song “Blackbird”. She corrected me and said the song was by Mary J. Blige.I chalked this up to yet another manifestation of Lisa’s diversity.I kissed her on the mouth and dashed downstairs to catch a cab to Falconio’s. We were both already late. If we’d shown up together it would have caused a scene. I wanted to be in my seat when Lisa arrived.As I was walking into the restaurant I received a sext containing the image of a now-familiar heart-shaped vagina clothed in a black party dress. Commando. I discreetly made my way to the restroom and sent an image of an erect penis, standing on its own, poking out from a pair of black tuxedo slacks. An instant later I received a text saying:“Stay right there. Don’t make a move. I’ll take care of that for you.”She was so cool.Let’s not go into too much detail about the wedding dinner. While the food and camaraderie were good, the event itself was marred by dull, long-winded speeches about Kevon and Cynthia’s childhoods. Their parents stood and prattled on and on about things their children had done years ago. I didn’t mean to be rude, but I kept flipping through pictures in my phone. I noticed that Lisa, sitting at a different table, seemed to have an untoward fixation with her phone, too. In between these diversions, she and I spent time making googoo eyes across the room. She wasn’t her usual gregarious self. I knew she wasn’t wearing any drawers. I looked up and caught Cynthia giving me the stink eye. I couldn’t wait for this thing to be over. Too, I kept wondering if Cynthia was sitting up front, fighting her way through a series of unbidden clitoral erections. Certainly, her father wouldn’t be commenting publicly about that phase of his daughter’s life. And then I was a little embarrassed, because my woman was over there fighting through the same thing. My penis stirred at the mental vision of Lisa’s pulsating vagina.As the evening was drawing to a close I got a bit of bad news. The fellas, minus Kevon, were meeting in Jennie’s room directly after the dinner. Attendance was mandatory. I could almost hear my dick’s agonized cry of despair. He’d been counting the minutes toward another visit to room 1237. And now that visit had to be postponed. One did not put off a mandatory meeting of the fellas.

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