The Bride and the Best Man

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The Bride and the Best Man
If there was one place I didn’t want to be, it was a wedding. Nikki had left me. She’d given me every cliché under the sun – it’s not you, it’s me; I like you more as a friend; I’m not ready to commit to a serious relationship – but hadn’t been bothered enough to keep her new boyfriend hidden from me on Facebook. So here I was, sad, cuckolded and angry, holding a wedding ring, about to watch my best friend and his fiancée settle down to a life of married bliss.

Strictly speaking, I wasn’t at the wedding yet. I was at the hotel that, the next day, would be hosting the wedding. More specifically, I was at the hotel bar. The double bed that Nikki and I were supposed to have shared felt like a luxurious, hand-crafted middle finger sat in the middle of my room. I wanted to spend as little time in it as possible. I’d been keeping a perfect poker face for a week, but as soon as everyone else had retired to their rooms I had headed straight back to the bar.

I had a book in front of me, but the words weren’t sinking in. I’d gone through more beers than pages. There were a handful of other people in the bar: all strangers, occasionally looking at me with pity. I tried not to make eye contact. Just stare at the book. Or the beer. Or off into the middle distance. That’s where I was looking when I suddenly became aware that someone had sat on the stool next to me. Please, no, I thought, the last thing I need now is some pissed up businessman with a 30-inch neck telling me I’m his best mate…
A hand reached across and closed my book. I looked down. It was a woman’s hand. I turned to see Anna.

“You didn’t look like you were getting anywhere with that.”

Anna was the bride-to-be. She had pale, almost sickly skin and curly, dirty blonde hair. She had been a cross-country runner in her teens, and she was still slender and athletic. We’d always got on. I’d always felt that we’d had a good chemistry: a quiet, uncontroversial flirtation. When we talked, she’d fix onto me with her intense, green eyes. On first sight she was rather plain, but looking at her now, I found her sensuality hard to ignore. Suddenly, a long-standing friendly flirtation felt like the path to something more. Lovelorn and lonely, looking at her I felt like a violin bow was being dragged across my heart.

“Yeah,” I laughed. “I guess you’re right.”

Her eyes were locked onto me. I was trying to avoid getting drawn in. I although the book was now shut, I scanned its cover intensely. I looked behind the bar at every drink on sale. Anything but getting suckered in.

“Something on your mind?”

“No. I can’t sleep, that’s all.”

The book cover had a blue background. A cereal box turned on its side with the title spelled out in plasticine.

“You’re thinking about Nikki, aren’t you?”

The bar had Heineken, Newcastle Brown, Amstel, some beer I couldn’t recognise, focus focus don’t start thinking about her like that-

“I know it must be difficult for you, being here, with what’s happened…”

I let out a long, loud, involuntary sigh.

“Yeah, yeah.”

“If you’re not in the mood to talk-“

“No, no. We’ll talk.” I might have been terrified of my newfound attraction to her, but I didn’t really think it was the done thing for the best man to alienate the bride the night before the wedding. “You’re right. I’m feeling very upset and in an ideal world I wouldn’t be here. I have come to drink to try and forget all about Nikki because up in my room is a big fucking bed that I was expecting to share with her.”

I finally looked across. The look on her face was one of sympathy. She reached over and touched my hand.

“I’m really sorry for you.”

“Thanks. I guess.”

We talked it over, about how I now felt the last few years were a waste, and about all the signs I’d ignored. Eventually, we got onto her feelings about the wedding.

“I mean, I really love Brad, but…”


“Well… I’ve been wondering if I’m really ready to settle down. I mean, can I go through the rest of my life with only one man?”

Ohhhhhhh fuuuuuuuuck. I was the wrong man to be saying this to. I was already barely sublimating my desire to fuck her so hard her bridal gown would turn red, and now she was going to bring this up? I felt the blood rush to my stomach.

“The more I think about it, can I really say I’ll be getting all I can from life… sexually?”

My cock twitched to life and started to tunnel down my trouser leg like a mole burrowing through the earth.

“Do you know, Brad’s the only guy I’ve ever slept with?”

This was it. I was about to do the worst thing in the world. Well, not the worst thing, of course. But by the standards of a best man on the night before his best friend’s wedding? Yeah, this was going to be pretty fucking bad. I mean, pretty fucking good, but afterwards? Pretty fucking bad. Christ, my head was a mess.

“Is that so?”

“Yeah, and I can’t help but wonder if I really love him as much as I think I do, or if I only think I do because I’ve never known anything else?”

I started to nervously rap my fingers on the bar. I laughed.

“Sorry, I’m making you uncomfortable,” she said. “I mean, here I am, the night before the happiest day of my life, and I’m complaining to you. You must think I’m so selfish.”

“No, no…”

“You must be feeling so angry right now.”

I wanted to say it. I shouldn’t say it. I had to say it. It was true.

“I am, but the funny thing is, it’s like a mix of angry and… horny.”

Her smile suddenly became lopsided, as she processed what I had said.

Just then, the barman leant over the bar.

“Excuse me, we’re closing up now. Would you like to make your way to your rooms?”

We looked about in a daze. The bar was empty. The myriad strangers had gone. The clock read one o’clock. We’d been talking for two hours. We laughed, made awkward small talk with the barman and finished our drinks.

“So, what you said about being angry and… horny?”

I stopped in my tracks. My key was in my door. I had turned it halfway. I turned to face Anna.

“I… said that, yeah.”

She moved closer to me. Uncomfortably close.

“And what I said about only ever being with one man?”

By now she was pressing into me. Her stomach pushed my cock back against my thigh. Her small, pert breasts crushed into the bottom of my ribs.

“I think I remember you saying that, that’s true.”

Her arms creeped up and clutched on my shoulders. We kissed drunkenly. I could taste the booze on her lips. We were both panting heavily with a burning desire for each other.

Her hands trickled down my back and onto my buttocks. She squeezed them tightly. I held the back of her head, toying with her hair. She took one hand from my backside and completed the keys rotation. As the door unlocked we fell into my room.

Once I’d closed the door I threw her down on the bed, that fucking bed, that bastard evil bed that had made me feel so shitty. I swooped down on her and began to kiss her. She pushed me away.

“Show me.”


“Show me how angry you feel.”

I nodded slowly. I stood back and composed myself. I unbuttoned my shirt and hung it in the wardrobe. I then kicked off my shoes and removed my socks, before unbuckling my belt and dropping my trousers, which I also hung up. Finally, I removed my pants, revealing my cock. It stood proud, reaching out to Anna. I walked to the bed and to her, and then I grabbed her head and placed her mouth around my penis.

I pushed her down as far as I could. I wanted every inch of me inside her, all my anger represented in my cock and fed down her throat. She gagged a little but soon adjusted to it. Her slobber came forth and drowned my prick, lubricating it. I fucked her throat, grabbing her by the side of the head and yanking it back and forth. She responded by again placing her hands on my buttocks and pulling me as close as she could. It was hard to tell who was in control: me forcing my cock down her throat or her pulling it in to her.

Finally she had to pull away, retching. I did something I had never done before – I slapped her across the face and pulled her back to my cock. I ran the head of my penis around her wet lips, before diving in. As I did so, she wrapped her tongue around my shaft obediently.
I reached for her trousers and unbuckled her belt. With my dick still in her mouth I plunged my hand into her trousers and roughly fingered her. She shook like a wounded b**st as I dug my fingers into her pussy, pausing occasionally to toy with her clit before once more subsuming my fingers in her cunt. Her damp pubes were matted against the palm of my hand and I could smell her wetness, the smell of her pussy filling the room. When I pulled out my hand there was blood – my nails were unclipped. I licked both the blood and her pussy juices from my fingers. Now I was ready to fuck.

I stripped her naked and bent her over the bed. I could see a satisfied smile spread across her face. My hand tickled her right buttock before I pulled it back and smacked it. A squeal of delight escaped her. I repeated the act on her other side, before reaching between her legs and parting her lips in preparation for the fucking I had never realised I so desperately wanted to give her. As the head of my cock worked its way into the sopping wet warmth of her cunt I gasped. She was burning hot. I needed this heat to envelop me. I thrust forth as far as I could. She giggled.

I fucked her like she was everyone I had ever hated. I reached around and rubbed her clit like I was a master craftsman sanding down wood. She came all over my cock, and her cum ran down both of our legs. With the flat of my free hand I pressed her face into the mattress and leaned forward to whisper in her ear through gritted teeth.

“You really want to know how angry I am?”

Her answer was muffled, but it seemed affirmative. I pulled my prick out with a plop and threw her to the ground. I made her lick her own cum from my dick. When she was done I bent her over on the floor and ran my finger around her arsehole.

“No,” she said. I hesitated. I looked around to see she was smiling still. I plunged my finger in. Then a second. It was tight. I spat in her arse.

“You said you wanted to know.”

I worked my cock inside. By now her protests had stopped. From what I could see her eyes were rolled back into her head. I could feel her sphincter contract around my cock, like an elastic band pulled too tight. After the first few slow thrusts I found a rhythm, and began to increase my tempo periodically. Eventually I was roughly buggering her, my best friend’s soon-to-be bride, on the floor of my hotel room, her cum greasing the insides of my thighs, the blood of her pussy staining my finger nails. My balls slapped against her. I felt as though my cock was on fire. I reached down and grabbed her hair into a ponytail and yanked her head back. I had left the wardrobe door open, and inside was a full-length mirror. I wanted her to see herself being fucked up the arse by myself.

“What do you see?” I asked. She replied with wordless, ecstatic burbling. I yanked her head even more, so I could once more talk in her ear. “Look in the mirror and tell me what you see.”

“I see me,” she said, expelling the words with all the force she could muster. “I see you. I see you fucking me in the arse. I see that I’m your filthy little cum whore.”

“Do you like it?”

“Yes!” she blurted out. Satisfied, I placed the forefinger and middle finger of my right hand in her mouth for her to suck on, while using my left hand to finger her pussy once more.

When I felt my orgasm about to erupt within, I threw her forward once more and pulled out, cumming across her back. It was a true explosion, the milky white of my semen spreading across her taut, toned body. I grabbed her by the hair and led her back to the bed, where I made her swallow any drops of cum that lingered on the end of my penis.

“So,” I asked, “Do you feel prepared for a quiet married life now?”

She smiled, licking some of my cum from the corner of her lips. “I think I can live with it if this is a part of it.”

As she curled up next to me on the bed, her breast brushed my wet dick, causing him to start to twitch to life again.

“Have you forgotten about Nikki?”

“You know something? I think I have.” I raised my cock. “Now, let’s give it five minutes, and then you show me how you’re feeling…”

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