I [f]ucked the father of the bride [m/f]

Went to a wedding a few weeks ago and made teenage-me's dream come true. It's a bit long, but a fun ride ;)

We hugged in the receiving line after the ceremony.

“Wendy! It’s been ages! We’re so glad you could come!”

Mr. Reynolds was the dad we all had a crush on in high school. He was tall, fit and handsome; perpetually dressed in a suit and tie – unless it was a weekend. He was sweet, smart, and funny. And he always let us drink at their house. His hair had gone gray since I’d last seen him.

“I couldn’t miss Julia’s biggest day ever!” I answered.

He looked me up and down. I really haven’t changed much since I was 16, but I was more of a woman now in a few key ways. He smiled.

“Let’s catch up at the reception.”

Mrs. Reynolds was also happy to see me but less… enthusiastic. Her and her ex-husband had been divorced for about two years now. We hugged and I left the church, immediately heading back to my hotel to get ready for the reception.

I showered, curled my hair, and slipped into a lovely little floral-print dress. I was rocking a decent amount of cleavage, and the skirt was very short. I don’t usually dance at weddings (the DJs suck) so I was wearing higher heels than usual; my legs and ass looked amazing.

I hit the reception and enjoyed the cocktail hour with some old friends from high school. I met several single men who slipped me their phone numbers while trying to slip their hands up my dress; I hung with a few older couples whose husbands were more than happy to make my acquaintance and wives were politely willing to tolerate my presence.

Ultimately, I drank my way through the dinner at a table with the old friends. It was a good time! Then the party started. I got up, danced a bit (gotta give it up for t swift and low, haha), and went to the bar. An arm slipped around my waist.

“I bet you’re still a fan of vodka.”

I looked over and saw Mr. Reynolds. His tie was already loosened and his suit coat was unbuttoned. He smelled vaguely of whiskey.

“Definitely,” I purred. “Vodka and red wine.”

“Oh really? Well if you like reds, I’ve got a really good one up in my suite.” He winked. I playfully bumped him with my hip. He held me closer to his.

“Mr. Reynolds, it’s your daughter’s wedding!”

“Yes. It’s finally over. And I want to relax.” He feigned exaggerated exhaustion. I giggled. I took his tie in my hands and played with it, feeling the fabric between my fingers. Mr. Reynolds’ hand moved to my ass, which cocked out as I leaned on the bar.

“Well I hope you don’t get too relaxed… you might just fall asleep,” I looked into his eyes and bit my lip. “Then you’d have uncorked that wine for nothing.”

He made a low growl. “Unwinding for me is really a process. A long, sweaty process…” He held my gaze for a second, then spanked my ass. I yelped. I love a good spanking, but I wasn’t expecting it this early in the evening!

“Think about it,” he said, as the bartender placed my vodka soda in front of me. Mr. Reynolds walked away with his hands in his pockets, looking rather pleased with himself.

So I thought about it while I drank my drink. I thought about it while I schmoozed with the other guests. I thought it while I nearly got fingerbanged by the best man on the dance floor. I thought about it while I received proposals from the old men smoking cigars on the patio (really a story for another time).

I found him laughing with an older couple. He saw me sauntering towards him with my purse under my arm and an empty glass in my hand. The old couple walked away and I set my glass down on a table.

“I think I want to switch to wine,” I said. He gestured to the elevators just outside the banquet hall. He slid his arm around my waist again as we walked that way. We made small talk about the wedding as we waited for the elevator.

Ding! The doors opened. They closed. Mr. Reynolds pinned me against the wall, running his hands over my body. I wrapped my hands around his neck and we kissed hard.

“Have you enjoyed being a single man, Mr. Reynolds?”

“Oh yes. I think woman have gotten hotter since I got older?” He paused as a hand glided upwards to my breasts, then my neck. “Not you though. You’re just as irresistible as I remember.” We kissed again. He wrapped his fingers in my thick brown hair and pulled my head back to kiss my neck. I sighed.

The doors opened again and we stepped out, starting the long walk to his suite.

“Irresistible, huh?” I giggled and grabbed his ass. “I don’t remember us ever fucking when I was in high school.”

“Plus I was somewhat-happily married,” he said as he reached his door.

“Mmm… but fucking married men is not illegal. It just makes me a very bad girl.”

He looked surprised.

“But divorced men are fun too!” My hand went down to his rock hard cock, practically bursting from his suit pants. “They’re so eager to make up for lost time.”

He opened the door and immediately started opening the bottle of wine. He gave me a glass and we kissed again. He took off his jacket and unzipped my dress. I shimmied out of that tight thing, standing for his hungry eyes in a red lacey bra and thong.

He grabbed me with one hand and we clinked glasses with the other.

“I still think about you marching that ass around my house in a little skirt and heels, with these beautiful tits bursting out of a tank top…”

I straddled him in a chair while we made out and drank wine. He took my bra off and sucked on my tits, groping them with big, soft hands.

“My wife caught me one night,” he said softly between kisses. “A few years ago. Jerking off to pictures of you. It wasn’t the straw that broke the camel’s back, but it was one of them.” I moaned and started to really grind on his cock.

“Does that turn you on?” He asked. “Being a dirty homewrecker? Making a married man want to fuck your tight, teen pussy?” He kissed my neck and sucked on it with teeth.

I downed the rest of my wine. “You should punish me,” I whispered. Then I got off his lap and turned around with my hands behind my back. I heard him take off his tie, and felt the fabric bind my wrists. I turned around to face him.

“Get on your knees,” he growled as he unbuckled his pants. I hit the floor as 8 hard and thick inches of Mr. Reynolds sprang from boxer briefs. I took it eagerly in my mouth, testing the head with my tongue, then enveloping it, then taking the length of his cock down my throat. He groaned, wrapping his fingers in my hair as my face rocked back and forth on his now-dripping wet dick.

“Fuck. I always knew you were a dirty little slut.” His hands were at the back of my head now, controlling my pace as he thrust his cock into my mouth over and over. “You are too good at this to not be a little nymph whore. GODDAMN.”

He pulled out and took a deep breath. He drained the rest of his wine and pulled me to my feet. We kissed. “You are fucking amazing,” he groaned.

I giggled, with half-lidded eyes, “I’ve dreamt about this since I was 14. I use to rub my little clit, praying that you’d throw me on the kitchen table and fuck me.”

His cock jerked against my stomach, getting harder. He didn’t say anything else. He just pushed me over to the bed and helped me climb up. Then he bent me over, ripped my panties off with a snap, and stuffed his still-wet cock inside me.

I moaned and laughed. He spanked my ass over and over as we slowly thrust inside me. He started to pick up pace, breathing louder and louder.

He pushed my face into the mattress and dug his nails into my ass as he jackhammered my swollen pussy in the most excruciatingly wonderful way. I was yelling with incoherent joy when he finally pumped a hot, thick load inside me.

He pulled out and untied my hands. We collapsed on the bed together.

After a while, I giggled. “Are you relaxed yet?”

Source: reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/3hdiy8/i_fucked_the_father_of_the_bride_mf