Some Wedding Drama Helped Me Fuck a Bridesmaid [mf]

I was *supposed* to be the best man. Speech prepared and everything. But a couple weeks beforehand, the mentally unstable maid of honor lost her shit at the bride and had a messy friend break up. So instead of just replacing her, the bride decided to go for symmetry and replace *both* of us, having the groom’s brother and bride’s sister be best man and maid of honor, respectively. My ego was bruised, but the groom explained what had happened, along with like a dozen other things that went wrong, so I decided it was inappropriate to push things just so I could feel important (I did get to hold the rings tho).

Because of the reshuffling, I got paired up with Beth, the bride’s cousin. 5’1, maybe 110, wavy black hair, and glasses that frame her face so well that she’d probably give you a glasses fetish if you didn’t already have one. While I thought she had just an average body, I would be proven very wrong once I saw her at the wedding. She had just graduated college, so I was about a decade her senior. We met at the rehearsal, two days before the wedding, and were friendly towards each other. I knew she was partnered, and I had no plans to be *that guy* and add more drama to things.

Turns out, I didn’t need to add to the drama. The following day, I was with the groom when he got a text– Beth had just been broken up with by her boyfriend… over text… even though they had just gotten a dog together. So that was one less wedding attendee, and an understandably upset bridesmaid. But the next day, at the wedding, she was in good spirits. And she looked fabulous. The bridal party was wearing jewel tones, so all different colors, and hers was ruby. It was a dress that looked more like a slip, and was, some might say, a little too short. I wouldn’t say that, but I’m sure some would. It was also apparent, after some careful inspection, that she wasn’t wearing a bra. I don’t know how the bride/bridal party let her get away with that, but I surely wasn’t going to complain. I mean, it wasn’t like I could see her nipples *that* well, it was more that her C cups jiggled nicely and were clearly not held in place by anything.

By the time I saw her, I was already a little drunk. I brought a little bottle of Jack Daniels along, and had been sipping it all through the process of getting dressed, doing the groom’s bow tie, all that pre-wedding jazz. Then we head outside so he can get the first look at the bride, while the groomsmen hang with the bridesmaids. Beth was *much* more friendly towards me. We had already practiced walking on the grass, arm in arm, but she insisted on holding on practically every step she took on the grass, so she “wouldn’t fall and break an ankle”. She didn’t need to sell me on it.

While waiting, Beth and the other bridesmaids were bragging about their bridal suite at the venue– they had the entire top floor to themselves while the groomsmen had a single large room. Under her breath, Beth offered to show me if I let her have some of the whiskey I’ve been drinking. With a wry smile, I let her, of course. Nothing much happened for the next hour or two, other than her idea of grabbing my arm ‘for balance’ turned into squeezing my bicep in a way that was not entirely platonic. Everyone took pictures, we helped usher people to the outdoor seating, and the wedding went off without a hitch.

At one point during the early part of the reception, she noticed me waiting for the bathroom, and offered to give me a tour of the upstairs, which had its own bathroom. She led the way, swaying her hips far more than necessary, and letting her dress ride up far enough for me to see quite a bit of her thighs, her incredible ass, and the silk red panties she was wearing. Only once she got to the top of the stairs did she turn around and ask if I liked the view, knowing I was picking up what she was putting down. I told her that I did, but I might need a closer look. She peered behind me down the stairs and took my hand to lead me around the corner, backing her way into one of the rooms.

I pushed her against the wall and looked at her like I wanted to devour her. I took a breath, leaning in for a kiss, when we heard a shout, “Hey bridesmaids? Groomsmen? Get ready for your entrance!” Wind firmly taken from our sails, Beth and I looked at each other and laughed. She put a hand on my chest, “You first, I’ll follow in a second.” I nodded, but helped myself to a squeeze of her ass before retreating.

We danced our way onto the dance floor (to Hypnotize by Biggie) and the normal wedding fare proceeded, with the occasional glance stolen between Beth and I. Introductions, speeches, first dances, etc… I made that dance floor my bitch. I had the groom telling me how much the aunts loved me, as well as the bride’s mom’s, groom’s mom, and some of the aunts in question tell me how fun I was. Pro tip, guys, always dance with the older relatives; it’s cat nip to *all* the woman at a wedding. Not that that was the reason I was doing it, I just love dancing. That Isley Brothers song “Shout” came on, and I although I had danced with Beth here and there prior, we couldn’t exactly bump and grind on a brightly lit dance floor like that, so it had been more ‘fun’ and not so much sexual. But in “Shout” there’s that ‘a little bit softer now, a little bit softer now’ section. So I started bending my knees, inching my way closer to the floor. Eyes locked with mine, so did Beth. As she did, and as I became more and more eye level with her legs, I got a much better look up her dress. She was blushing, knowing I could see, but kept her legs open for me (and an untold number of pervy uncles, I’m sure) until the ‘a little bit louder now, a little bit louder now’ when we started rising again and again. The song ended, another played, and I took a break to get another drink.

Beth caught me out there, got a drink for herself, and turned to me. “You. Upstairs.” That sexy confidence practically hypnotized me and of course I followed her. I didn’t even think about why she had her purse with her, but clearly my mind was elsewhere. Up the stairs, around the corner again, and she closed the door behind us. No words were exchanged, we just started making out feverishly. We were already sweaty from the dancing, but now it felt like we were on fire. Her dress came off and I couldn’t help it– I went to the corner and turned on a lamp. I had to see her.

She put on a little show for me, playing with her bare breasts, turning and swatting her ass for me. I pushed her onto an old Victorian fainting couch, and buried my face between her legs. Her panties were soaked, and I pulled them off hurriedly. Her hands were at the back of my head when she pulled me away, “No, I need you to fuck me, I need you to fill me up.” I started wondering how I was going to refuse her– I didn’t have any condoms on me. She must have read my mind, “Get my purse.” I did, and she fished a condom out of it– she later told me she brought a couple specifically for me. She undid my pants, belt, and all, dropping them to my ankles. She inhaled my dick, or at least tried to before she started coughing. “Sorry, but my makeup looks too good to do this right now,” she quipped and I just laughed as I rolled the condom on.

She leaned back and started playing with herself, wetting her fingers with her mouth and stroking her pussy, her bright pink folds glistening in the lamp light. Once I had protection on, she got on her knees and turned around, her top half hanging off the back of the couch. I positioned myself and began sliding in slowly. She had other plans– she threw her hips into me and bottomed out immediately, crying out and putting a hand over her mouth. “Oh fuck you’re so fucking big,” she breathed, hanging her head down and grinding on me slowly.

I let her do her thing, and get accustomed to my size, gently picking up the pace. Her hip work was unreal, and I was supremely thankful that I had been drinking so much– I don’t get whiskey dick per se, but it always makes it harder to cum. Nonetheless, seeing and feeling her do exactly what she wanted with my cock was so hot, especially how she would rub her clit or reach behind her and rub her asshole.

I pushed her hand away and used my thumb on her ass instead, and she started fucking me harder. I could hear her moans reaching a crescendo, and I gritted my teeth to hold off as best I could. I succeeded for the time being, feeling her quiver as her twerking came to a stop. Once her climax rode its course, I heard her mutter, “Fuck me as hard as you can.”

And so I did. I started firm, and slow, but gradually built speed to the point where I thought one of us would have bruises from the impact of her ass on my pubic bone. Tip to base, as uniformly as I could, steadying her amazing ass with my hands but refraining from spanking her because of the noise it’d attract. At this point, she was only groaning curses under her breath and tending to her clit as I pounded away. I held off as long as I could, but warned her that I was going to cum. It elicited a litany of whispered yeses that grew in volume until she put her hand over her mouth and came a second time as I emptied my balls into her. We stayed there like that for at least a minute, experiencing after shocks together. We eventually got up, used napkins from the bathroom to clean up as best we could, and got dressed. I handed her her panties, but she told me, “Keep em. As a token of my appreciation. I needed that.” And we went downstairs.

No one seemed to notice our absence, but I later got playfully roasted by the groom for poisoning the youth of today, so I think Beth told the bride. We parted ways at the end, and she told me to reach out if I was ever in Seattle.

Source: reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/qaorb3/some_wedding_drama_helped_me_fuck_a_bridesmaid_mf