The Best [M]an has some [F]un

This happened at my brother’s wedding some years ago.

He was getting married to his gf from school days – they’ve been together for about 12 years by then. I was in the process of getting divorced from the cheating bastard I married shortly after graduation. Not feeling in the greatest space and having little faith or interest in the institution of marriage I decided to go to the ceremony on my own, to my family’s disgust.

I couldn’t make it to the bachelorette party and wasn’t involved in the planning of the wedding at all, so I had no idea who would be the MoH or Best Man.

I sat on my own when the ceremony started in the church. I looked at the flowers at the end of the pews and in front of the church and just had to reminisce about the day my father walked me down the same aisle almost exactly three years before. I decided to can my cynicism and hope that Norman and Stacy would have a better marriage than I had. The best man looked familiar, and I realized after a while that it was Robert, a childhood friend of Norman. He practically lived with us at one stage as his father travelled a lot for work and his mother worked shifts in the local hospital. He was about 10 when his father found a new job and they relocated. Norman often mentioned him, so they kept contact. I never saw him again until he appeared as the best man. Gone was the gawky little runt with red-blonde hair always looking like a mop that dried in the sun. The more mature Robert was at least an inch or two over 6 feet tall and filled his well-cut suit very well.

Fast forward to the photo session in the garden and I was dragged closer by my mother who insisted that I be in some of the photos, completely ignoring my protestations about me being bad luck in wedding photos. I managed to smile throughout the torture, although people who know me well can see how strained I am in the photos. While the photographer was busy with the newly married couple Robert walked up and smiling widely stuck out his hand, saying “it’s been many years Alli.” I was mesmerised by his green eyes, red-blonde hair and his healthy looks. The unruly mop of hair I recalled was now a short, brush cut and he obviously had some work done on his teeth.

We made some small talk before heading off to the hotel where the reception was to be held. I was placed at a table with some cousins and other relatives of the families. I couldn’t wait for the toasts to start as I was feeling miserable about my own failed marriage and needed a drink. I actually needed more than just a few. As soon as a waiter turned up to replenish our champagne glasses I ordered a bottle of chardonnay. By the time the toasts were done I was pretty toasted myself.

By the time the couple opened the dance floor I was quite morose and not very sober. I walked out and stood on the veranda and looked out over the gardens with a million lights supposedly to make it look romantic, but to me it looked almost evil. I became aware of a masculine smell, and noticed movement out of the corner of my bleary left eye. “where are you Alli,” asked Robert. I wasn’t about to tell him about my issues, so just replied that I needed some fresh sir. He pressed on regardless, saying he’s sad to hear that my marriage failed. I just mumbled “good riddance” and trying to change the subject asked him where his partner was.

“Didn’t Norman tell you – my fiancée walked out on me two weeks ago?”

“Actually no, I didn’t speak to him about you in ages, although I know you were still in contact. Anyone I know?”

“No, we met on a flight from London to New York and hit it off immediately. We were planning to get married in 8 months, when she met up with a boyfriend she had in college and she decided that he was after all who and what she wanted. She sat me down, listed my shortcomings and left me with the deposit paid on a venue”.

“Better sooner than later” was the best I could offer.

“I have to see that everything is going according to plan. See you around” Robert said. He touched my elbow and turned around. “Oh, it’s Rob for you” he said over his shoulder as he walked away. My elbow felt on fire and I needed more chardonnay. I had more (too much?) and danced with a few people, just because I always loved dancing. I even did some ballroom dancing at one stage.

I was about to leave for my room (I booked a room in the same hotel as I wanted to sleep late before heading for the airport by midday) when Robert appeared at the table, asking me for the next dance. I rose (somewhat unsteadily) as a waltz started playing and I loved a waltz more than any other dance. Robert wasn’t a passable dance partner, he was excellent. He told me he worked in London for some time and the crowd he was friends with loved dancing, so he had to learn to dance. Whoever taught him deserved a medal, he floated over the floor, and we instinctively matched our strides and turns.

We danced until Norman and Stacy left. By this time I was sober again. When Norman suggested a drink outside I was in a much better frame of mind, so suggested we go to the rooftop bar for a drink. The bar was quite busy, so we ordered a glass of chardonnay each and went outside. There was quite a breeze blowing, and Robert took off his suit jacket and hung it over my shoulders – quite the gentleman. We sipped our wine, and I told him how I caught my husband in bed with my best friend and her sister. Robert put his arm around my shoulders and gave me a hug. I thought I was going to start crying, then decided my ex wasn’t worth it.

I turned to Robert after finishing my glass and said “I’m staying in room 312. I’m going to ask the barman to send a bottle of chardonnay to my room. You’re welcome to finish your wine and come and fetch you jacket and have another glass with me.”

I ordered the wine and two glasses and went down to my room. The wine arrived as I came out of the bathroom. I signed for it and undressed, putting on the soft gown providid by the hotel and poured one glass. Just then a few taps on my door and I opened the door. Robert looked wary – I just lifted the bottle, looked at him and he nodded. It being a normal room it was a bit small and the two chairs were facing the bed. I wasn’t about to have such an awkward conversation, so made myself comfortable on the bed, Robert sitting on the chair.

We chatted and I even managed to call him Rob. When he got up to top up my glass I moved over and said “for God’s sake, get off your shoes, I’m not a witch”. Rob took off his shoes as told. In fact, he took off his socks, trousers and shirt as well. He switched on the bathroom light, pushed the door almost closed and turned off the bedroom lights. I noticed with some appreciation that the bulge in his boxers were in proportion to his muscular body.

When he settled next to me he seemed apprehensive again, so I turned to him and started kissing him. His kissing was even better than his dancing! His hand found my boobs, and I appreciated his gentle playing. When my hand slipped into his boxers I found an impressive cut cock and he was neatly trimmed. I got out of the robe and peeled off his boxers. When I went down on him he started playing my slit, which was soaked by then. When we turned to a 69 I was glad I went for a wax before flying out for the wedding. Rob’s oral skills were as impressive as his dancing and kissing – I had a shuddering orgasm in short time. I turned around and kissed him, tasting myself on him.

I took hold of his hard cock and asked him “do you have a condom?”

“I’m so sorry, I never expected to need one”.

I could sense his disappointment until I asked “Do I have to worry about something?”

“Definitely not” he whispered.

“I’m on birth birth control” I whispered back.

He didn’t reply, just slid down and started eating me again. I had to drag his head back up to my face so I could kiis him and ask him to fuck me. He started slow and we got into the same perfect rhythm as with dancing earlier. I managed another orgasm before he exploded in me. When he went down on me again and ate our mixed juices out of me my brother’s wedding was perfect.

We finished the wine and I said go him “please stay at least until I’m asleep”.

“You bet” he replied before cuddling with me.

When I woke to go to the bathroom he was still there. I crawled back into bed, and my mouth found his cock. By the time he was fully awake his cock was proudly standing to attention. I straddled him and we both came within minutes, my nipples throbbing from his gentle caressing. I fell into a deep sleep, feeling better than in many months.

I woke up on Sunday morning with his mouth on my nipples, and we didn’t have sex but made love. We had brunch together then went to our rooms to get ready to leave. As I closed my suitcase there was a knock on the door. Expecting it to be the bellhop coming to fetch my suitcase I just opened the door and said “there it is thanks”. To my surprise it was Rob. He closed the door and said “I couldn’t just let you go”.

His slacks hit the floor almost as quick as my panties. It was a quick raw fuck, but oddly satisfying.

We checked out and shared a cab to the airport. We shared a few drinks before my flight left. As I looked at him one last time I tried to see the little boy with the unruly mop of hair. All I saw was green eyes looking into my soul. Feeling a tensing between my legs I left for my gate.

Source: reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/d8hgbb/the_best_man_has_some_fun