The Wedding Guest’s Secret
For over a year, Ruby had been my most delicious secret. As my secretary, she was the perfect blend of professional competence and hidden passion. With her blonde hair, green eyes, and a naive charm that masked a deep appetite for pleasure, she had become my frequent escape. We had explored every corner of the office and various motels, our connection fueled by a desperate, illicit hunger. Despite her devotion, Ruby had always held one boundary: she refused to let me touch her behind, claiming it was against her values.
Everything changed when Ruby met a client and fell in love. When she announced her engagement, the irony was palpable. Not only did she ask me to be her best man, but she did so while we were still secretly entwined. On the morning of her wedding, she invited me to her apartment to see her in her gown. When I arrived, she looked ethereal in white, her beauty heightened by the solemnity of the day. She told me she wanted one last farewell, a final act of passion before she committed herself fully to her new husband.
The tension snapped the moment we touched. She guided me to my knees, lifting the voluminous white skirt of her wedding dress over my head. Enveloped in the scent of expensive fabric and her own arousal, I found her completely bare. I devoured her with a fervor born of impending loss, my tongue tracing every curve of her heat while she moaned against the silence of the room. The contrast of the pristine white lace against the raw intensity of our desire was intoxicating.
I lifted her onto the dining table, carefully avoiding the delicate fabric of her dress. When I entered her, the friction was electric, a frantic race against the clock. She whispered that I was the love of her life, her voice trembling with ecstasy as we moved together in a rhythmic, desperate dance. As she reached a shattering climax, a sudden impulse seized me. I wanted the one thing she had always denied me—the final piece of her surrender before she belonged to another.
I turned her over, lifting the dress once more. Despite her initial protest, the heat of the moment overrode her hesitation. I pushed forward, claiming her with a slow, deliberate intensity that left her breathless. The sensation of her tight embrace was the culmination of a year’s worth of longing. I filled her completely, leaving my mark deep within her just moments before she was to walk down the aisle.
That evening, I stood beside her as the best man. As she exchanged vows and smiled at her groom, I looked at her and felt a surge of dark triumph. I knew that beneath that pure white dress, she still carried the warmth of my seed. She played the part of the blushing bride perfectly, but we shared a secret that would forever bind us.
Three months later, the phone rang. It was Ruby, her voice breaking with longing, telling me she couldn’t forget me and that her husband would be away this Saturday. As I hung up, I realized that some bonds are too strong for a wedding ring to break.