I hate weddings. I hate the effort, the cost and the stress that comes with it. But most of all I hate the falseness, and how that falseness is fuelled by everyone in attendance. How solemn vows are shared with so little thought. How beautiful speeches are given to those in attendance with promises made to never stop loving, caring and trying to please the other. All those words ring hollow in time and are shown for the sham they are.
Of course I am not the best advocate of marriage. Not when the man who’d directed such wonderful sentiments at me a decade ago clearly didn’t mean them, shown by him leaving me for the younger, fitter strumpet from work. And in doing so, leaving me to raise the children we’d had together alone.
The fact that his new marriage was seemingly perfect, and that he’d had another child, made my own singledom rankle even more.
I’d warned my sister of such things but had, perhaps rightfully, been told I was bitter. Five years of loneliness would do that to anyone though, especially as my tenuous grasp to my mid thirties was starting to slip.
No such worries for my sister though. Younger by six years, slimmer and abundantly happy to have snagged a good looking man. I even begrudgingly liked her future husband – Will was smart, compassionate and we shared plenty in common, so he was easy to get on with. He might even stick to his vows. Certainly my sister seemed to think so, confidently lording it over me of the future and happiness they would undoubtedly share.
Why she had picked me as a bridesmaid when we’d never really gotten along was beyond me – perhaps so my daughters could be flower girls. It had meant we all got to dress up though, which at their ages of eight and six was very exciting. Our outfits didn’t match though – they more mimicked the appearance of their aunt in white dresses and a daisy crown, while I wore a figure hugging peach number that showed off the curves I had grown anxious about in my age. I even thought it perhaps showed off a little too much skin with it finishing just above my knee and showing off the cleavage my sister had always been envious of.
My girls had both been brilliantly behaved during the day and had been a good distraction from the faux-happiness that had surrounded me throughout. But God they were exhausting, and I was incredibly thankful that come nightfall my parents had agreed to take them to bed so that I could have a few hours off. I imagine they expect me to drink and party with the rest of the wedding party, and in a sense they’re half right – I make an appearance on the dance floor, at least for a few songs, but seeing my sister drunk already and barely able to stand is enough to convince me I’m done being sociable.
With a bottle of bubbly in hand I head out into the moonlit grounds and around the small lake at the back of the hall where the wedding had taken place. It’s quiet, with just the faint bass of music and drunken singing audible. I take a seat on a rickety bench and let the night air wash over me.
I don’t know how long I’m alone because it’s something I’m so used to by now. The bottle is half gone though when I hear the crunch of footsteps on the gravel path behind the bench.
“Izzy? What are you doing here?”
I’m honestly startled to see Will standing under a small lattice archway.
“Me? What are you doing here?”
I can barely see him in the faint light, but I can see a smile in between his well groomed, short beard. It’s the same length as his dark hair, and even looking slightly unkempt after a long day he still looks remarkably handsome.
“Good question – I guess I just wanted some fresh air,” he answers with the slight slur of someone who’s been drinking most of the day, coming to the bench and sitting down beside me without asking if he could. It’s his wedding day though, so I can hardly tell him to fuck off.
We both stare out at the hall where a rainbow of lights shine through the windows onto the green grass between the lake and us. It’s pretty, I think, as I take a swig of champagne straight from the bottle. This makes Will chuckle.
“I see you’re having a good time,” he says with absolutely no judgement. Anyone else, my sister especially, and I would be sure the comment would be barbed with disappointment. I eye him with a smile and offer the bottle to him. He doesn’t hesitate in taking it.
“I prefer this party I think,” I reply as he drinks. “Me, some champagne and, if you look carefully to your right, there’s some ducks. Does your wedding have ducks?”
Will sputters and drink spurts from his mouth, which I tut at. “Fuck’s sake, don’t waste it – I don’t want to have to go back in for more.”
“Sorry sorry,” he apologises, then reaches into his light blue jacket and pulls out a leather hip flask. “Does this make things square?”
I take it without comment, unscrewing the top and sipping what I guess is an expensive whisky. It’s something we have in common, the two of us having spoken at length about our favourites. I smack my lips approvingly and keep hold of the flask, eyes forwards at the venue.
“Where’s my darling sister?” I drawl, and even though I’m not looking at him I can feel Will stiffen beside me. That, I presumed, was the reason for him seeking some fresh air.
“I asked her… I asked her not to get too pissed.” he hisses, his anger and frustration oozing off of him. “But she had to invite Justin, didn’t she? And he’s been plying her with drinks most of the night. She can barely fucking stand Izzy.”
The whisky burns down my throat as I take a few moments to consider a response. I can’t exactly defend my sister when even I’d advised against inviting her ex to the wedding. She’d insisted he was just a friend, and while I believed that from her point of view, I had always suspected that Justin held a candle for Hannah even now.
A difficult situation for Will to be in for sure. I offer him his hip flask as a condolence and I give him a weary smile.
“I’d say it gets better, but I’m perhaps not the best person to give you advice on marriage.”
Will barks a bitter laugh and hands me the almost finished bottle of champagne and I look down solemnly at the dregs before reaching into my handbag and pulling out a battered box of cigarettes.
“You smoke?” he asks incredulously.
“Only when I’m pissed. Wanna bum one off me and go for a stroll to find some more booze?”
He hesitates because he knows as well as I do that Hannah hates the smell of tobacco.
“Please.”
With that we both stand and spend a moment or two huddled close together as I light two cigarettes before we head off slowly in the direction that Will had come from. It would take us the scenic route back to the hall but I’m in no rush to get back to the noise.
We walk in silence for a time, taking our time with our smokes as we both clearly don’t have any huge urge to return to the party. It’s Will who eventually speaks, his words echoing around the woods and brush that now surround us.
“You know, I’ve always admired your attitude of not giving a shit.”
It’s my turn to laugh bitterly now. Since the divorce my attitude had led to countless lonely nights and a melancholy that hung over everything I did like a cloud, keeping all potential suitors a solid distance away from me and potential happiness. “It’s not a good look,” I warn him. “Not that it leads to anything good.”
I see his lips go thin and I reach over with my free hand to squeeze his arm. “Don’t worry about it Will,” I tell him softly. “ It’s your wedding night – you shouldn’t be made to feel shit by some bitter old hag.”
“Yeah, my wedding night is going to be spectacular isn’t it, with Han puking her guts up all night. Just what I imagined.”
It’s disappointment I can understand, even if my own personal dry spell had been going on for years. But there were toys to satisfy that longing – toys that were used most nights.
“There’s always tomorrow,” I offer, and Will groans as he flicks his finished cig away.
“But it’s not the same. She’s all dressed up – hair done up, beautiful dress and what I assume will be amazing underwear. And she’s fucking wasted..”
His drunken, whining tone isn’t a good look and I stop on the pavement we’re walking on, hidden deep in the thick woods at the edge of the venue’s grounds. I have never had patience for whining. I take a last drag as he realises I’ve stopped and then drop my smoke to the ground, crushing it underneath the flats I’d changed into hours before, because fuck wearing heels.
“What does it fucking matter? You think marriage is just this one night? Fucking hell Will I thought you were better than that.”
It wasn’t the right tact. Will visibly bristles and takes a step closer to me, but I don’t back away. My head tilts up defiantly, meeting his green eyes.
“What would you know?” he snaps. “When was the last time you got laid?”
“Fuck you,” I snarl. “I’m more woman than you could ever fucking handle.”
His hand grabs my waist and his face gets close to mine. “Yeah?” he whispers harshly, and I can feel his breath on my lips. The whiff of alcohol mixed with tobacco is there, but the only thing I notice is the rushing of blood, especially between my legs. My breath quickens and my nostrils flare as I rasp back.
“Yeah.”
I’m not sure who makes the first move. All I’m aware of is how his beard feels against my soft skin as we kiss enthusiastically, and how his hand feels against the small of my back as he pulls me into him. Our lips soon part, our tongues sliding our apparent need and before I know what’s happening we’re stumbling off the path and deeper into the woods.
It’s a wordless decision made between us, and one I can’t stop myself making.
His jacket is the first thing to fall to the floor, then my handbag, as our feet crunch through dead leaves on uneven ground towards some unknown destination. We stumble together, our mouths never far from one another as he drags a strap from my dress down far enough to reveal my grey bra with black lace across the cup. Will grunts his approval as I push him to the ground and promptly straddle him.
He hisses as he drags up the hem of my dress past my hips, my mouth still on his as I work to undo his zipper and remove the obviously erect cock he’s hiding. The rush, the need, is as intoxicating as I remember it being. The fact that it’s with my newly-married brother-in-law just makes it dangerous and surprisingly exciting.
My breathing ragged, I pull his large, thick cock free and then feel Will pull my panties roughly aside. Cold air hits my sensitive sex as I guide his head against sensitive lips. The feeling is foreign, familiar and makes me shudder before I even lower myself onto him, before I even consider what I’m even doing.
The mistake I’m making.
We groan together as I feel Will fill me, one of our hands clasped together in the grass above his head while his other hand slides into my panties and grabs my ass. I’ve lost all self-conscious worry about my body in our lust, and instead remain focused on how good he feels. His murmur against my lips of “God you’re so fucking hot” only adds to it.
I ride him hard, my need urgent. My hips buck quickly, my clit grinding against his body as soft grunts escape my parted lips. Will has snatched the hand from my grasp to slide up my dress and against my curves until the second strap of my dress is ripped from my shoulder and down my arm until my large breasts are bared to the night.
He grabs them fervidly and I witness the way he bares his teeth as he pushes them together and pinches my rosy nipples between his thumb and index finger. It’s a sharp pain but fuck does it feel good. It feels even better when I pull his face into them and get to feel the tug of his teeth drag against my nipple.
My moans float through the dark woods. I can’t be sure we’re not being watched, and I try to bite my lip to muzzle the noise I’m making, but I honestly couldn’t care less. This is the sexiest, most wanted I’ve felt in over a decade.
Who cares if Will is fucking the wrong sister?
He doesn’t. Will grips me and he forces us to roll over in the dirt so I’m now beneath him. The movement is enough for his cock to slide from my pussy and he takes the opportunity to lean up and yank my panties down my thick thighs and past my feet before tossing them aside. I don’t know where they could have gone and I don’t care – my breath is coming rapidly through my nostrils in my desire to be fucked by him. I hastily pull him down onto me again and my cunt is filled once more.
It’s his turn to take charge and he takes his frustration of the evening out on me, though not in a bad way. Will uses his full length to fuck me, his cock pulling back so only his thick head is inside of me before rapidly slamming back into me. I’d forgotten what it was like to be taken like this, how to have my body revered and almost used.
My hands pull at his shirt until buttons give way and I can touch his bare chest. I knew he was in good shape from brief glances over the years of knowing him, but it’s not the same as getting my hands on him. Of feeling hot skin under my palms, of feeling the beat of his heart.
His powerful strokes grow harder and he leans up, gripping my pale thighs for leverage. My back arches and I feel my heavy breasts bounce on my chest as I feel myself inch towards a participatory orgasm – something I can barely remember happening before.
I can sense him getting close himself. His groans are louder and his pace now rapid. It feels so good, with the pace not just fast but gloriously hard. There’s a delicious smack of his body against my skin as my unapologetic cries get louder.
“Don’t… Don’t” I gasp, trying to tell him not to stop. But it’s too late – I feel his cock pulse inside of me and Will holds himself there as his seed starts to fill me. Desperate for a release of my own, my hand finds my clit and deftly massages it until my own climax occurs and my pussy clenches around his manhood.
It’s the last moment of bliss we share. I yank him down into a passionate kiss, moaning against his lips, and we cling to one another as I gasp for air. It’s so brief though, like we’d been cut adrift from reality. The dreamlike state disappears and I’m soon starting to feel the real world seep into my consciousness once more – the annoyance of a tree root under my back, the cold night air on my body.
The fact that my new brother-in-law had just cum inside of me.
“Fuck,” I hiss, pushing him off me. “Fuck.”
He slides out of me and stands up and I quickly fix my dress, now covered in dirt and creases. It is obvious, at least to me, what I’ve done. What we’ve done. I look up at Will and shrug, unable to understand what we’ve done. Unable to find words.
“I’m not sorry,” he says defiantly. “You’re hot Izzy.”
“It’s your fucking wedding day!” I say incredulously. “And you’ve just fucked the wrong sister. You should be fucking sorry. You fucking came in me you stupid prick!”
His arms cross over his chest and I see him look aside, perhaps looking slightly ashamed now. I exhale, some of my anger disappearing even as I feel his cum start to slide down my leg.
“Where’s my underwear?” I ask quietly, and for a moment we’re silent as we search the immediate area for them. It takes a minute or so until they’re found half hidden under some leaves. As I brush the dead leaves from them he speaks.
“I’m sorry. I got carried away and I shouldn’t have done it. Will… will you tell Hannah?”
My back is turned to him as I pull my panties on and consider. Despite my hatred for marriage, I find I don’t want to be responsible for ruining another one. With my panties back on I turn back and meet his finally sorrowful, soulful green eyes.
“It’s our little secret Will,” I say, and even offer him a small smile. After all, we’ve just shared the most intense sex I’ve ever had, so I can’t be too upset. And it’s not like it would ever happen again between us.
Would it?
Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/ibk8en/the_wrong_sister_fm_cheating_risky_clothed
Would it?