Gay Erotic Stories

I'm afraid the Almost True Series of M1KE HUNT adventures may be coming to a close, dear friends. You see, I'm slowly going broke writing these stories. My most recent attempt to leverage these little ditties into some cold hard cash has been a bust, and I can't figure out why! I thought the M1KE HUNT FAN CLUB would be a huge success. Maybe the $250 annual fee was a problem. We only got 2 orders. And mine doesn't really count, I suppose. Even my wife June only ponied up for a month's worth, which put exactly $20.83 in my pocket. Not exactly enough to keep gas in the old Fiat, you know? How come I keep hearing about how much money everybody is making off the Internet? How about all these dirty sex sites I keep reading about in the newsgroups? Part of the problem, of course, is that you have to be at least 18 to read my stories or join my fan club. Let's face it. People under 18 are dumb AND horny. Those are the two perfect conditions to join my little enterprise, and I have to eliminate that whole market. It wouldn't be so bad, but coming right on the heels of the failure of "M1KE's Cheese and Hardware Shoppe" it really hurts. I can't figure out why it wasn't successful. I think it might have had something to do with the asbestos factory next door. They were really loud! I wish you'd been to the shoppe. Ah, the aromas of brass cleaner and havarti. Two of my favorites! Anyway, the store was kind of a disaster. I even tried selling my stories out in the back, sort of on the side. I want to be upfront about this downer I undertook. I'm glad it's over. OK, I'm through. So fuck it. I'll figure out a way to make some money off these stories after all before I'm done. I hope sooner rather than later. Uh oh, don't get me started. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reluctant Bride - by MIKE HUNT -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- "I believe in the sanctity of marriage," I heard myself say, as the phrase resonated through the huge church. The 250 people sitting in the pews listened to my words, and most of them nodded piously at their meaning. It was my small part in Brian and Gail's wedding. So how come I'd been porking Gail not a half-hour earlier? Another usher stepped to the podium and recited his one sentence homily. The audience nodded again. The process would continue until all 6 ushers had their individual say. I wondered how many of them believed what they mouthed. I did. But that's not to say that I can live my life according to some strict set of rules like that. I'm weak sometimes. Especially when it comes to women. You know how it is. If you don't, perhaps the story will help you understand. Brian was one of my best friends. We'd known each other in college in Boston, and by chance had both moved to the Philadelphia area afterwards. We found jobs at different companies but at similar wages, which is to say we were both nearly always broke. Our salaries went into such necessities as rent, food, and maybe a box of Trojans once in a while. Just the basics. Philly was a great town, except for the prices. Lots of colleges and universities. Rich in history. Lots of bars. Lots of girls. A liberal attitude. Brian and I both played around a lot. When he started going out with Gail I didn't think much of it; he'd dated dozens of girls during the few years I'd known him. But one day he told me "She's the one." Now I'd been in a few relationships myself, but nothing so serious that I would tell people "I'm quitting the game," which is what his declaration sounded like to me. So I didn't truly understand what he was saying; I thought it was just words from a young, lovesick guy. But sure enough, Brian stopped seeing other women and he and Gail became an item. A real pair, always together, always mooning over each other, always lovey dovey. Yuk. It was only a month or two later that they moved in together and set up housekeeping. It would be less than a year after that when we all stood dressed like little Ken dolls in the church. I'd rented a nice tux for the occasion from Mr. Tux. $30 for three days including alterations. I thought it a modest investment for an important day. The week leading up to the wedding had been filled with tension. First Gail's wedding dress came back wrong; the zipper didn't work or something. Then the videographer's camera broke. Then her sister got sick. It was one thing after another. The week before a wedding is stressful, anyway, and with everybody running around making last minute changes, it was no wonder that she snapped. She called me on the night of Brian's second stag party. I had been to the first, but wasn't invited to the second. The one I attended had been with a group of friends, the second was given by his college fraternity brothers. Like some secret society or something, it was a strictly closed door session. Not that we invited an audience to the one we threw. I mean, the hookers we hired wouldn't have minded. Hell, with their attitude they would have done a pledge marathon on PBS. But some of us were a little bit more shy, although by the end of the evening everybody everywhere had watched everybody else fuck one of them or get a blowjob at least once. In Brian's case, one of each, much to the amusement of everyone in the crowd and to the delight of the girls. Of course they had a vested interest. Hookers, like all retailers everywhere, understand the importance of repeat customers. I was surprised, but not shocked when Gail called. We'd gotten to know each other pretty well during the time that she and Brian were going out. We even double dated a few of times; and there were more than a couple of Fridays or Saturdays where the three of us hung out together or went to Jerry's Pizza over on Walnut or maybe the local Cineplex. She asked if I'd come over to her place. I figured she had the pre-nup jitters. I was right. "Oh Mike, thanks for coming over," she said, giving me a hug. "I'm as nervous as a bird, and, well, I just needed some company tonight. Especially tonight." "Why especially tonight?" I asked. "Oh, you know, just a couple days to go, and, uh, Brian off at a stag party again," she answered. "What really goes on at those things, anyway?" I dodged. I feinted. I lied. "Oh, not much, really. You know, guys telling jokes, razzing the groom-to-be. Maybe a stripper, or something." Certainly not a horny fuck-fest! "Are you sure?" she said. "Because I've heard stories about wild bashes with hookers and everything..." "Oh I'm sure that's happened somewhere, at some time," I said. Like day-before-yesterday at Dirty Ernie's on 15th Street, maybe. Between 9PM and 2AM, to be exact. "But those are mostly just rumors and stuff, you know?" "Well, I don't know..." she said. "I do know how you guys are, always wanting to get laid, and everything. At least Brian is. Or was, I hope. I mean, he really played the field before we started going out. Sowed his wild oats all over the Midwest, you know what I mean? I hope he's over that now." "I'm sure he is," I interjected. "That's why he's getting married." Of course. Perfectly logical. That's why there's such a low rate of adultery. "In a way, it's not fair," she said. I wrinkled my forehead as if to say, "Why?" She answered my thought. "Because guys play around and get laid as much as they can, and girls are supposed to be pure. You know, the virgin bride. The white dress, and all." I nodded. "Brian is the only guy I've ever slept with. I feel like I missed out. Anyway, sex is not that big a deal, at least what I've had." "Oh it gets better the more you practice," I improvised. "But sometimes it matters who the partner is, too. I mean, some are better than others, you know?" "No, I don't know," she said. "And I guess I'll never know, at least if I do what the vows say." "Yeah, well, that's part of the deal, I guess," I said. "Anyway, I'm sure you're making too big a deal out of this. Even if Brian is the only guy you've, uh, slept with, you must have gone out with lots of others. You're an attractive girl. Pretty face. Nice figure. Good personality." Actually her personality led the list, but if you say 'good personality' first, everybody figures the girl is a dog,'ja ever notice? Gail looked uncomfortable. She hesitated a moment before speaking. "Yeah, well, I went out with a few guys, but not that many. I didn't, uh, blossom until I got to college. And during high school I wasn't allowed to date at all. My parents were unbelievably strict. Not that there were a lot of guys banging down the door, anyway" "But you must've gotten caught in the back seat a few times. Maybe some petting here and there?" I asked, pressing for details. "Not really. Sort of, I guess. I mean the first few boys who tried got smacked and shut out. My parents' upbringing, see?. Then just as I figured that it was maybe OK, I started going out with Brian. Which brings me to today." She looked me in the eye. "So are you sure there's nothing going on tonight? With his fraternity brothers, I mean." "Gosh, I don't know," I said, exasperated. "Fraternity house. Fraternity brothers. I'm not there, you know? All I can tell you is that the stories about these things are usually exaggerated. Wild sex parties. Girls doing all sorts of things with everybody. I wish it were true!" I leered at her as I said it. She laughed. "Oh, I guess I'm just nervous," she said. "I've thought of 27 reasons why getting married isn't a good idea. Sex is just one of them." "What are the others?" I asked. I quickly thought better of it. No sense amplifying her fears. It was too late. She had already started babbling. "Oh I don't know if I'm ready. And I don't want to have kids yet, and Brian does. And he wants to live upstate and I want to live in the city. And...." She went on reciting a list, and as I tried to calm her, or at least shut her up, she broke into tears. It was just the tension that had been building with all of the pre-wedding arrangements, I was sure. I took her in my arms and comforted her. "Tut tut," I said. Well, not 'tut tut' exactly, but you know. "It's gonna be fine. Come on, Gail. You've thought about this a lot. You've probably thought about it too much. Brian's a great guy. You're a great girl. It's a match made in heaven. There are bound to be a few problems, but, hey, the highway of life has to have a few potholes, right?" I'd read that somewhere, probably in an Anne747 story or somewhere. "Come on, let's do something fun," I continued. I let go of her and walked to the kitchen and got a Kleenex brand tissue from the brightly flowered container. "Like what?" she asked, dabbing at her eyes. "Like, uh, I don't know, something..." I trailed off. "I know. Want to see my dress?" she asked. "Sure, sure," I replied. In truth, I could have cared less. That was girl stuff, but I would have agreed to anything to change the subject and the mood. She disappeared into the bedroom and reappeared a couple of minutes later. While she was changing we continued talking. "How much was it?" I asked. "That's a very gauche question," she said. "It isn't how much it costs. It's how it makes you feel." "Uh, sure," I said. She stopped me cold with that one. "It makes me feel like $1,250," she said, giggling. "Oh," I said brightly. "Where'd you get it?" "McCormick's Bridal," she answered. "In the Plymouth Meeting mall. I went there because they're open late. And I found this one and fell in love with it." "Aren't you supposed to save this for, uh, the wedding day?" I asked. I'd heard something like that before. "No, that's just for the groom. It's supposed to be bad luck if he sees you in the wedding dress before the wedding. But it's OK for other people." "I see," I said. "I wonder how that superstition got started." "I don't know," she said, as she reappeared from the bedroom. She was a vision. The gown was pure white, trim, almost figure hugging. Where the skirt of so many gowns is wide and puffy, Gail had chosen a slim profile job trimmed with circles of lace that crept down the lower half of the dress like so many frilly white hula-hoops. It was finished with a circle of lace at the knees. The top half of the gown was equally stylish. The bodice was quite low cut, but a wide needlepoint bobbinet covered the swell of her breasts which would have been otherwise on display. Still the gaps in the material revealed enough to be enticing without being blatant. I could see the deep furrow between her tits peeking through the webbing before it dissolved into the sequined fabric of the shell. She carried the veil in her hand; the lace was of the same style, but lighter than the bodice of the gown. "Wow," I said. "Double wow. Maybe triple!" I was impressed. "You really think so?" she asked, fishing. "You bet. You look like a million bucks," I answered. "At least 12-hundred," she said with a smile. "And fifty." "I've never understood why women spend so much on a gown for one day, even for one big day," I said, absentmindedly. "Maybe now I do." "Oh, it’s a splurge all right. But like they said in the store. You only get married once. Well of course that's not necessarily true these days, but you're supposed to." I nodded. "Anyway, it's convertible, so I can use it again if I want." "What do you mean, convertible?" I asked. "You mean the top goes down? Ha ha. Just kidding. Really." "No, I mean it's convertible," she sneered. "That's one of the reasons it cost so much. There are more zippers and straps built into this thing than a space suit. Here, look." She bent forward and flipped up the hem of the dress. I looked. I didn't see anything. "Don't you see it?" she asked. I shook my head. I bent down. I still didn't see anything. "There's a zipper at each one of the lace rings. I can shorten the hemline just by unzipping one of the layers. Look." I knelt on one knee as her fingers found the zipper and pulled. She twisted and found the zipper behind herself with the other hand, completing the circle. About 4 inches of material fell into a strip at her feet. "I'll be damned," I said. "That's terrific. Do these other, uh, rings work like that?" There were three more of them, the highest of which would take the dress right up to the roller disco look. "Sure do." She didn't move to take off the next ring. I was disappointed. Gail had great legs; I wouldn't have minded seeing more. "And the bodice comes off, too. Once the lace is gone it doesn't look so much like a wedding dress," she said. "I can't imagine," I said. "Here. Look." Her fingers found the zipper inside the top flap of the lacy material and began to push it down. But the angle of her arm was all wrong, and she had her wrist bent in a crazy direction trying not to stretch the fabric. "The only trouble is you can't do it while you're wearing it. Not that you should, normally, of course," she said. She had only opened the zipper a couple, maybe four inches. "Maybe you could help?" God I love these moments. I can be gallant, and helpful, and kind. A true Boy Scout, that's me. I reached up and tucked my fingers behind the material and found the tiny handle of the zipper. I tugged, and it began to move. "Make sure it doesn't scratch me, would you?" she said throatily. "Sure," I replied. I inserted my hand further into the bodice as I continued moving the zipper around. I felt the top of her breasts as the little metal tab traveled its ordained route. She seemed a little uncomfortable, especially when I slowed down the travel speed of the zipper. "Sorry," I replied. "Can't help it." "You mean can't help yourself," she said, looking me in the eye. Here I was with my hand inside the top of her dress, virtually groping the top of her tits. She had me dead to rights. My dick began to spring to life. "OK, well, I mean, can you blame me? Jeez, you're a stunning woman, Gail. And you're all the more alluring in this dress. I hope Brian appreciates what he's getting." I finished the zipper and the bodice fell away in my hand. The top was now so low cut that the top of her brassiere was showing over the material. "Oh gee, look at that," she said. "I should have worn a different bra. But then I didn't know you were going to be standing there undressing me! Maybe I would have!" "What do you mean?" I asked, not so innocently. "Well, perhaps this was fate. Brian's off enjoying himself at his damn stag party. Maybe I should have one final fling myself. Just to be sure. Maybe?" I broke into a sweat. I trembled. I shook. I swelled. She continued, "I mean, if you want to. I didn't mean..." I interrupted her. No sense letting her get off track. "Of course I would love to. You're so beautiful, what man wouldn't want to?" I said. I meant it. I stepped forward and put my arms behind her and pulled her to me. I bent my head just a little to kiss her. We touched lips. Tentatively at first. The with more force. Finally with true passion. We mashed our mouths together, feeling the sensuous tingle of first touch and first moisture. I felt her tongue push at my lips, and I let them part to allow her access. She danced against my tongue, and we began a duel that lasted for minutes; hot, sweaty, passionate moments of kissing before the main event. My hands went to her breasts, but through the sequined material it was hard to feel much of anything. She apparently figured that out, and reached into her top and released her breasts from the severe bra, then lifted them out of the low cut bodice. My hands smothered her tits, and I felt her nipples come alive in my palms. We stood there for several minutes, kissing and petting when I sensed her hands beginning to roam. Away from my butt, around the front of my pants, finally closing in on my erection, she grasped it firmly through my pants and then quickly let it go, groping for my zipper. "Aren't zippers wonderful?" she said, breaking the kiss for a moment. "Only when they're open," I replied before mashing my mouth back onto hers. She zipped down the device with one quick tug and reached inside. It was only a moment before I felt her cool hand slide inside my boxer shorts and grasp me directly. Another several minutes passed as we made out, fondled, caressed and petted standing there in her living room. I wanted to return the favor, but the dress was in the way. "Perhaps we should get more comfortable," I suggested. "Great idea," she said. She moved to the sofa and sat down. "I meant with the clothing," I said softly. "I wouldn't want to do anything to ruin the dress." "Oh, of course. Thank you," she said, as though I was the most considerate guy on the planet. She stood up and unzipped another of the mysterious zippers in the back and the shell opened. She stepped out of the dress and carefully laid it on the back of a stuffed chair. She came back to the couch. "Is this better?" she asked. "Better," I said. "But we have to get rid of this." I reached around behind her and fumbled with the clasp of her bra. While taking off the dress she had replaced her tits in the cups, and I wanted full and free access. I fumbled some more. And some more. Why do they make those fucking things so hard to get off? Especially the Playtex Cross Your Heart ones? She knew I was in trouble and reached around behind herself, giggling. "Need a hand, Mister?" I felt like a fool. I always do. No matter how much I practice, I can't get those things to work. I'm still waiting for Velcro to make an appearance on women's underwear. Desperately. The bra fell away, revealing her lovely bosom to my view. My hands went up and cupped her again. Our lips touched once more. Her hands went to work, pulling at the buckle on my belt, then opening the top of my pants, finally pushing them down to my knees. Without a word she swung over me, sitting on my lap. We continued our passionate kiss. I began moving my hands away from her breasts, across her golden smooth skin, down her back, around her sides, and back to her tits. My hard-on throbbed as she reached for it, and I sighed a huge sigh of relief as she pulled her panties to one side and moved to take me. The relative positions of our heads changed as she rose up to take me, but we never broke the kiss. I could feel her hand on my dick, positioning me against the gates of her womanhood, sliding me back and forth until she had achieved lubrication. Then she pointed me straight into that tunnel of love and began to sink down on me. "Slowly. Slowly," I managed to mumble as she descended my exuberant shaft. I felt myself slipping into her a millimeter at a time. I kept my open eyes during the journey, watching her expression. Her eyes were closed, even squinting shut as she traveled the inches of muscle until I was nestled firmly inside her. She opened her eyes. I looked deeply into her face and said "I feel honored. I feel wonderful." "I feel wet," she said. She bounced up, then down. "I feel it too," I replied. I looked at her face as I grasped her tits. She bounced again. "This is amazing," she said. "It's almost like the first time..." She left the thought unfinished. "It might be better than the first time, because there's no pain..." She stopped talking again. There was silence in the room, interrupted only every few seconds by the slap of her thighs landing on mine as she bobbed up and down on my righteous penis. One of her hands let go of my shoulder and went down to her clitoris. She began to twiddle her index finger against it as she moved my shaft in and out of her pussy. Our tongues continued their battle. My hands squeezed and squeezed. Her bouncing became more violent. Her fingers stoked herself more insistently. It was difficult for me to resist, but I managed. I wanted to see this girl cum; watching a woman get off has always been one of my biggest turn-ons, I thought Gail might be a hurricane waiting to happen. "Oh, oh, oh," she said looking at me with wide eyes. "Oh, go, go, go," I coaxed. Her thrashing increased again. And then she left the edge. Jumped the hedge. Fell off the ledge. She began a series of convulsions that were so strong they threatened to topple us from the couch. I had been close for several minutes; I let myself go. Through my orgasmic pleasure I watched her face contort. She watched mine. We both saw each other at the very peak of passion, and stared each other down into the nadir of satisfaction. It was, as they say, fucking awesome. I guess I could have felt guilty, fucking Brian's bride-to-be and all, but I knew that he was getting his jollies at the fraternity stag party, probably at the same time as I was boffing Gail. "Wow," she said, "that was great." I nodded. "I had no idea. I've never cum before while making love, Only when I've played with myself or used my vibrator. That was wild." I had to agree. We talked for another 20 minutes as we sat nude together on the couch. Finally she hinted that the recreation for the night was over, and I took the cue. We dressed unashamedly, and I gave her a big sloppy kiss on my way out the door. "See you tomorrow," I said. We had the rehearsal dinner scheduled at 8PM. I left work an hour early on Friday, stopped by Mr. Tux and picked up my garment (cleanly pressed and neatly boxed) and went home. At around 7:30 I went to the church. The rehearsal took nearly an hour, even though everything went pretty smoothly. The only glitch was the nephew who was the ring bearer who insisted on picking his nose throughout the "ceremony" and his mother, who yelled "Stop picking your nose" about every three minutes. Then it was time to go to the rehearsal dinner; Brian's folks had reserved a big room at Sharkey's, a fine bistro at 1312 Broad St. Mastercard and Visa accepted. I was about to leave the church for the parking lot when one of the bridesmaids-to-be summoned me back to the room where Gail was changing. I hustled down them hallway, headed the wrong way through traffic as nearly everyone else was departing. I walked into the room. Gail was nowhere to be seen, though I heard sounds coming from an adjoining closet. "Gail? Were you looking for me?" I asked. "Yeah, Mike. Hold on a minute, would'ja?" "Sure," I answered the unseen voice. "What's up?" "Oh, I have a problem with my wedding dress, I thought you could help," she replied. I was puzzled. "Glad to, if I can," I said. Just then Brian stuck his head in the room. "Hey Mike, what's goin' on?" he asked. A shriek came from the closet. "Get out of here," she shouted. "You can't see the wedding dress until tomorrow. It's bad luck for the marriage, you know that." She was adamant. I shrugged my shoulders at Brian. "Yeah, well, what's wrong?" he insisted. "Zipper problem," she said. "You can't help. Mike will take care of it. Go to the dinner, we'll catch up." "Uh, yeah, sure. OK, I guess," he answered. He left the room, leaving the door ajar behind him. When he had left, Gail peeked her head out of the closet and surveyed the room. All I could see was her pretty face twisted around the corner of the doorway, but when she saw that I was alone in the room, she entered. What a sight she was. She had unzipped the lowest four levels of the skirt; the hemline now flirted with her crotch and her perfect legs were on display for me and only me, to see. She walked to the door and stuck her head around the corner. She shrieked again. "I told you to go ahead," she said, obviously talking to Brian. "You can't come in here. It's bad luck." She closed the door, and then made a big show of locking it. Brian didn't know what he was missing. I did. She walked over to me and gave me a kiss; I could feel her breasts burning holes in my chest. I felt uncomfortable for a lot of reasons. The most obvious, of course, was the rising pecker in my pants. Another might have been the groom-to-be right outside the door. And there were others, like her Mom and Dad, the preacher, the bridesmaids, and the rest of the entourage who might be wondering what the hell was going on in this room. "I need some help," she said. "Come on over here." She led me to an chair that was sitting behind a desk in a corner of the room. I sat down. She turned and faced away from me, then sat on my lap. She split her legs, putting my outstretched legs between hers. "It's the zipper. I was trying the dress on, you know, just to be sure, and now I can't seem to get it down." She bent forward and put both her hands on the inside of my thighs as if for support. The left hand closed solidly over my erection. "Would you see if you can get it?" "Sure, sure," I managed to mumble. I put my fingers on the little metal tab and pulled. The zipper unzipped cleanly right to the top of her ass. No problem. "Imagine that," she said. "I had such trouble. I know I did exactly this..." and with that she stood slightly and moved back as she reached between her legs for the zipper of my pants. She grasped the mechanism and pulled, and it slid smoothly down. "Well I just don't understand. A minute ago it wouldn't move, and now all of a sudden it does. I'll be darned." "I'll be more than darned," I said as I felt her hand insinuating itself inside my pants. "I'll be, whoa, that feels nice." Her hand found my hardness and she pulled me free. She wasn't wasting any time. "Do me a favor, would you, Mike?" she asked. I nodded, as though she could hear me while facing away. "Unclasp my bra, please? We need to get going if we're going to join everyone else at the restaurant." Always eager to please, I pulled the now unzipped material of the back of the dress apart, only to find that the bra clasp was in the front. Damn. It was on the wrong side of her body again! Ever game, I reached both hands inside the dress and snaked them around under her tits. I fumbled. And fumbled some more. I'm glad she wasn't facing me, because my face got a bright red as I continued fighting with the fucking clasp. I couldn't see it, of course, and I couldn't get it to do what I needed. Meanwhile Gail was busy. One of her arms flew down to her panties and pulled them to the side. As she raised herself up her other hand grabbed my enraged member and positioned it at the entrance to her cunt. With a single slamming motion she surrounded my penis, and a loud sigh escaped her lips. She began bouncing on me with frantic thrusts, alternately pulling me in to her and pushing me out. She reached into the low cut top of the dress and helped me unfasten the bra. I could hear her laughing as she did it; she must have thought I was a total loser. Well, not total, since she was sitting on my dick at the moment, but I felt like a hopeless mope. With a raging hard-on, of course. I sat there, pleasantly surprised by the last few moments' turn of events. I had my hands inside her dress, gripping her tits as though they were handles to keep her steady. She had my cock in her pussy, and the warmth and wetness seemed to increase with every thrust. And her dress was hiked up so high that I watched her ass bouncing up and down, up and down as my ecstasy built with each movement. "Shhhh," she said. I understood. I knew she was playing with herself, again, trying to bring herself to the pinnacle of pleasure, and then suddenly we were both there. I may have reached the goal line first, but within a moment she followed, and both of us softly grunted and groaned our way to our mutual orgasm. I felt spasm after spasm as I pumped my cum into her waiting box; I felt the heat from her vagina flow upwards and sensed more than felt the flush of satisfaction envelope her body. She sat on me and my now deflating member for a few moments, then prepared to get up. "Careful," I said. I don't want any of my juice to trickle onto my pants. We still have to make an appearance at the restaurant." "Right," she said, bounding straight forward off me. She found a Wet-nap tissue in her pocketbook and used it to clean herself up. She quickly snapped her panties back in place, rearranged her bra and fastened it, and stepped out of the dress. She walked to the other side of the room and stepped into a pair of jeans and a blouse. She looked terrific, as always. I zipped myself up and walked to the door. Brian was waiting for us, suspicion evident in his eyes. "What was all that?" he demanded. "Nothing, really. Just a problem with the dress. I think I have it under control," I answered. What else was I going to say? The dinner went fine; nothing much to report, really. Maybe I drank a little too much wine. I was at the other end of the table from Gail, but I managed to catch her eye more than once and was rewarded with a knowing smile. The wedding was scheduled for the next day, 11AM at First United Church. I understand they're available at quite reasonable rates for weddings and other functions. I put on my Mr. Tux tux and checked myself over. Pretty snazzy, if I do say so myself. I called Abbott's Taxi at KLondike 5-1234 (available 24 hours!) and got a cab to pick me up. The cabbie was on time and clean. Nice. I walked into the church more than an hour ahead of time. I was a participant, there was no sense taking any chances. I saw Gail surrounded by an entourage of relatives, friends, and other hangers-on. I winked at her. She grinned at me as she walked down the hall to the dressing room. I wouldn't see her again until the ceremony. Or so I thought. As I walked down one of the more deserted corridors in the old church, who should I see but Gail, peeking out of a doorway to a supply closet. "What the hell are you doing here?" I asked. "Looking for you," she said. "And it was damn tough losing all the helpful little helpers who want to do everything for me. I finally got them to go into the church and sit down. Come on, we only have a few minutes." I knew what she meant, and I knew what she wanted. We darted into the closet, and she quickly surveyed the territory. There wasn't much to work with, no chair, no desk, just a small aisleway and some shelves. "This will have to do," she said. She walked the few feet to the far end of the closet and bent over, snaking her dress up over her ass as she did. She pulled down her panties, presenting me with a posterior view that I would hold in my memory for, well, posterity. Her cunt lips looked like a freshly baked Wonderbread hot dog roll, with her vaginal lips nestled securely between. I had come to know the Target, and would soon cum into the bullseye again. I also wasted no time. I unzipped my trousers and pulled out my cock. Like a sizzling Ball Park Frank it pointed at the object of its desire, and pulled me forward until it touched it. As I stepped behind her I put my hands on her hips, and as I slid the full length of my dick into her lubricated cunt I said "Hold on, Gail. One quick ride before the ceremony." She replied, "I hope so. This will certainly make the wedding one to remember." She sighed as I achieved full penetration, and then I began pummeling her with my hard meat, stroking in and out, back and forth. We both kept silent except for the occasional animal grunt of passion and ecstasy, and within a few moments I was ready. "No sense keeping everyone waiting," I said. "It's time to get on with the show." "Yes, baby, go," she said, and I released my spunk into her waiting cunt. As I throbbed and jerked she slammed against me, pushing my dick as high up into her pussy as she was able, she clung tightly to the shelving as I pulled her hips to me. And then as quickly as it had begun it was done. She reached up to one of the shelves and found a few Scotties and dried herself off, wiping the spunk that was dripping from her cunt onto the floor. Shortly she had finished that task, and bent down to pull up her panties. She twisted around to watch me put my dick back in my pants as she put herself together, and we prepared to leave the little closet. As I cracked the door open, I saw one of the bridesmaids in the hallway. She looked at me, then at Gail with the most amazed eyes while we left the tiny room that had moments before been our passion pit. I looked at the bridesmaid and shrugged. "Last minute arrangement," I said lamely. "Zipper problem." "So I see," she replied, looking at my trousers. I had forgotten to close up. Oops. "I believe in the sanctity of marriage," I heard myself say a few minutes later. The congregation nodded in agreement. All except one bridesmaid who knew better. The story almost ends there, but when Gail and Brian returned from their honeymoon in Maui, a bunch of us got together to welcome them home. During a moment alone with Brian I asked how the marital vacation had been. "Wild," he said. "I don't know what it was, maybe the beach or the water or something, but she attacked me like a bitch in heat. Every time I turned around she was grabbing at my pants. It was great!" "Oh really?" I said. "Great." Now don't you think Brian could afford to join my fan club? As a thank you, I mean? I think I might have helped get his marriage off with a bang, you know? Oh. And Gail wouldn't ever grab at me again. Seems she believes in the sanctity of marriage, or some such shit. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- M1KE HUNT has a few more stories to tell. To get them by e-mail, send a request to Bannerboy1@aol.com. If you want to comment on a story or whatever, send a note to M1ke@hilarious.com . Note the 2nd character in M1KE is a "one" (1) not an "eye" (I). Thanks. M1KE HUNT also has space available in the next story for selected marketing partners. Please call for a rate card. I hope my readers don't mind the occasional intrusion of a message from my special friends, who (I hope) are going to help me pay the rent. It's the only thing I can think of, honest. Hey, at least I mostly tried to keep the shameless plugs away from the real action sequences! Advertisers note: Shameless plugs during action sequences, add 15%. This story is Copyright 1997 M1KE HUNT. You can distribute it free, although if you figure out a way to sell it, maybe we can work a deal or something. Speaking of deals, I have a website with absolutely no advertising on it. Yet. You can take a look at . It has mostly stories that I've written and a few select stories from other writers. There's even a new one called "M1ke Hunt is the greater writer in the world." It has nothing to do with me, and I didn't write it, but who can pass up a title like that? Anyway, there's no "Adult Pass" or "Adult Check" or any of that shit, although if my next venture doesn't pan out, I might have to add one of those things and then start spamming the newsgroups with several thousand tasteful and discrete messages advertising the site as free, when, of course, it's really not. I've never been known to lie before, but I figure I can learn. So please patronize my advertisers, and maybe take part in my next enterprise. It's sort of a get-rich-quick thing. I do the "get rich" part, and you do the "quick" thing. It's going to be a chain letter, except I can't figure out how to keep the envelope from getting wrinkled once I put the chain in it. But I'm working on it. Stay tuned.