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About a month ago, my wife and I were in a hotel room in Baltimore trying on our wedding attire. It was the night before her twin brother Thor was to be married. Sunshine, my wife, finally agreed to be one of Cindy’s bride’s maids after making many trips to Baltimore where they live to visit and get to know her. She and Cindy had actually developed a sense of mutual respect for one another, despite the fact that they were polar opposites in just about every conceivable category.
Birkenstocks, baggie jeans, khakis, sweat pants, flannel shirts, bulky cable-knit sweaters, baseball caps, and page-boy haircuts are the only things that have been associated with my wife for the three years that I’ve known her, two of them married. I met her senior year in college. She was a geology and environmental engineering major, and her twin was in the education program. During their senior year in high school their parents had been taken from them tragically on New Years’ Day by a drunk driver. Sunshine and Thor inherited the family business, a garden center, and decided to continue running the business while they went to college locally. They didn’t have to worry about room and board, and the money they made in the garden business paid for their tuition. Their parents would have been proud of them.
Thor and Sunshine were born to a couple of hippies in the early 70’s. You couldn’t find two more ecologically friendly people if you tried. Thor was forty-seven minutes older than his twin sister, and the two are amazingly identical. Both have this strong-jawed square face with high cheek bones and a dimple in the middle of the chin. I can’t tell if Thor is a beautiful man or if Sunshine is a handsome woman.
Having no other family, no uncles, cousins, or grandparents, Thor and Sunshine had to literally fend for themselves. I was evaluated with a great deal of scrutiny by Thor when I met, fell in love with, and asked to marry Sunshine. Eventually, Thor and I became good friends.
So anyway, Sunshine was looking in her closet at her dress draped in wispy clear plastic and thinking about her big brother finally getting hitched. I said, “You seem worried that Thor may be making a mistake.”
“It’s not that, it’s…well…” She never finished her sentence. I continued tying my bowtie while looking at her reflection through the mirror. Finally, she shifted all her weight to her other foot, propped her hand on her hip, cocked her head to the side and looked back at me through the mirror.
“Do you know where we went today, I mean ‘we’, as in the bridesmaids?” she said.
I had no idea. The “groomsmen,” “ushers,” whatever you call them, had played golf all morning and had spent the afternoon at the 19th hole until it was time to go back to the hotel for a quick nap before the rehearsal dinner.
“We went to a spa!”
“A spa,” I said with the same astonishment in my voice, though I was mocking her.
“No really, a spa!” she said again as if it were the strangest thing.
Well, in reality, it was strange for her. For all intents and purposes, Sunshine had become a hippie herself. When we were married, it was a civil service. Sunshine wore this white peasant smock, and she had a crown of daises and baby’s breath in her hair, Birkenstocks on her feet. We took the subway downtown to the court house and had the justice of the peace marry us. Twenty-five bucks. Thor and Cindy’s wedding, however was going to be a posh, upper-crust affair.
“Hey, they did your nails!” I said, finally noticing the subtle changes that marked the beginning of her transformation. “And they did your toenails too!”
I had to turn around and take a better look at my wife. She stood there with just a towel wrapped around her. Her page boy haircut had been shortened, and the ends were trimmed evenly in an arching line just below the base of her skull. Her eyebrows had even been shaped. She was beautiful, alluring. She turned back to the closet to pull out the bridesmaid dress they’d given her, and her hair danced magically back into place.
Though already married, it seemed only proper to include us in the wedding party, as we were the only family that Thor really had. Both sides of the aisle could therefore be filled with a variety of relatives from Cindy’s huge and very rich clan.
“Wait ’til you see the dress they want me to wear,” she said, ripping away the plastic and letting it float to the floor.
The dress was a short cocktail dress with spaghetti straps. It was made out of this beautiful sea-foam green material that had a slight shimmer to it. It looked more like a really long camisole. A pair of pumps of the same color was in another plastic bag that hung from the same hanger. Stapled to the white paper that enveloped the hanger was yet another plastic bag. It looked like a dress repair kit, complete with some additional spaghetti strap and a small piece of the green material for repairs.
“Look how short it is!” she exclaimed, holding it up in front of her.
“Wow! Now that’s illegal bahis a pretty awesome color green,” I said. “I’ve seen this new Volkswagen around town in that same color!”
“Jay!” Her tone drew me back on point. “I’m wearing more with this towel than I will be when I put this dress on.”
I looked at the towel. She had a point there. I smiled. She fought to maintain a look of worry and concern, but as she turned away I thought I saw the hint of a smile on her face as well.
“Here, come help me,” she said as she hung the dress on the back of the bathroom door.
She turned to face me. One pull on the corner of the towel tucked into her cleavage, and the whole thing fell away. The thick and heavy material of the hotel’s towel dragged roughly over her nipples, making them bend briefly toward the floor only to bounce back up once the towel had slid past them. Her breasts looked so delicious. They’re a little too big to comfortably fit a C-cup, and not quite big enough to properly fill up a D-cup. This may be the result of their superbly exaggerated shapes. Each breast is like three separate units. The majority of each breast is perfectly rounded and low hanging. But the areolas are so large and so puffy that they sit atop her breasts like a naughty after-thought. Top it off with nipples that always seem to be hard and you have a most delectable breast. I have no doubt that if she were to enter her breasts in a wet t-shirt contest, she’d win hands down.
In my opinion, the shape of a woman’s body is breathtaking. It’s the curves. My eyes traveled all over her body. Everywhere I looked I saw nothing but beautiful, flawless skin. Then I saw something I don’t think I’d ever seen in real life. My wife’s pussy was completely bald. Not a hair anywhere. It was beautiful, absolutely beautiful. I hadn’t realized what a fat pussy she had until this unveiling. It was like it had been squeezed into place, there, between the plump portions of her upper thighs, just in front of her lower butt cheeks. The thick, wrinkled ridges of her inner lips looked as if they were forced to remain outside of her meaty pussy because there was just no more room left for them inside.
“Wow,” I said as I took a knee on the carpet in front of her to get a closer look. “Did the spa do that?”
“You like?” she asked, spreading her legs some more. My hands caressed her hips as I turned her this way and that admiring the view. I leaned forward and gently kissed the puffy mound above her slit. She cooed.
“Yes, very much,” I said, looking up at her through dangling breasts. I leaned forward again and touched the tip of my tongue against the smooth, pink pearl of her clit, peeking out from under its clitoral hood.
“Stop that. You’ll make me wet,” she said jerking her hips back and twisting away from me.
I stood and rearranged my underwear to better accommodate my hardening cock. She pulled the plastic bag with the dress repair kit from the hanger and ripped it open. Then she began to step into what I now realized was a micro G-string. She pulled the garment up her thighs and over her hips until the triangular piece of material wedged itself between her upper thigh and her plump pussy. She carefully untwisted the strings so that they followed the contours of her hips perfectly.
“Turn around,” I said to make sure the back was even.
This was not a T-back G-string where the thong that comes up between her ass cheeks meets the waistband at a ‘T’ in the small of her back. No, this was one of those G-strings where the waistband follows the contours of her hips and buttocks, disappearing into the crack of her ass to connect to the thong portion somewhere deep within the cheeks of her buttocks. She turned back around to face me, her fingers pulling the tiny triangle of material into place over her pussy.
“Aren’t these panties positively obscene?” she gushed.
She was like a child on Christmas morning. There was no hiding the enthusiasm that was accompanying her new found self. My cock grew harder. I watched her try to adjust the tiny triangle of material that was supposed to cover her pussy. She pulled it forward so that the cleavage and clitoral hood at the top her pudenda were covered, but the triangle of material that was supposed to cover her vulva turned into thong at about the halfway point and disappeared into the crack of her pussy. She lifted her leg slightly so that only her big toe remained on the floor, and reached around behind her to tug on the thong like she was pulling out a wedgie. The tiny triangle shifted quickly so that now the lowest portion of her pussy was demurely covered, but at the top her hooded clit bulged lewdly out over the material that was meant to cover it. Or maybe it wasn’t meant to cover it. Either way, those panties were hot. She adjusted them back to their original position and then turned to get her dress.
“Its got this built in lycra shelf bra that’s so stretchy that the dress doesn’t even have a zipper,” she said, bunching the dress up illegal bahis siteleri like she would a shirt and pulling it over her head.
She tugged the form-fitting dress all the way down her body until her boobs popped out the top. Then she put an arm through the spaghetti strap and pulled the material up over one breast, repeated the operation on the other side, and then pulled the whole thing down to where the top cut across her bosom just above her areolas and the bottom cut across her upper thighs just below her butt cheeks. Magnificent!
All I could do was to stand and stare at this sexy woman poured into this sexy dress. Is this really my wife? She too was staring at her reflection in disbelief. Our eyes met in the mirror for a second as if to say, “Are you seeing what I’m seeing?” We looked again. It was awesome. She smiled, then giggled, then squealed with glee as she ran in place on her toes really fast bubbling over with excitement. Her breasts bounced in unison and never popped out. The spaghetti straps remained connected at their reinforced points.
“Oh, this dress is so cute!” She ripped the plastic bag open that held her shoes and put them on. The mechanics of high heels is quite extraordinary. The three inch heels tilted her pelvis forward which pushed her shapely butt up and out, elongated her legs, and made her calves bulge with definition. The fact that Sunshine is slightly pigeon-toed only added to the provocative posture created by those shoes. She looked absolutely fuckable.
“You look absolutely fuckable,” I said.
“I look absolutely fuckable!” she said to her reflection and me.
Cindy had decided that the bridesmaid dresses were so cute that they should be worn to the rehearsal dinner to get a little more exposure out of them than would have been possible if they’d just been worn on the wedding day. So, off we went to the rehearsal dinner in one of the banquet rooms of the hotel.
After the dinner, the guys and the gals were to head off to their respective bachelor and bachelorette evenings. Both parties were headed to separate clubs for a last evening of “freedom” before they were to tie the knot. I would have much rather follow my wife and the other women because they were such a sexy bunch, but I stuck with the program and accompanied the men to a strip club a couple of blocks away.
At the strip club, we were ushered into a private room in the back where Thor’s friends had set him up with a lap dance. The room had four big overstuffed chairs, a low square coffee table, and big mirrors on each wall. The walls were painted a dark purple to match the fake leather covering the chairs.
“Wait ’til you see good-old Thor here in action,” said one guy. I hadn’t gotten their names down yet.
“It’s hammer time!” exclaimed another pulling one of the big chairs into the middle of the room, closer to the coffee table. The door opened and in walked a tall black woman with her hair tide in a pony tail. She wore a short white miniskirt, clear plastic platform pumps, and a white sleeveless T-shirt with the club’s logo printed on the front in purple. Her huge tits wobbled freely and independently, revealing the lack of a bra. Cropped short as it was, the white cotton material of her shirt hung straight down off of her erect nipples, preventing the lower portion of the shirt to come into contact with her toned tummy. She had a girlish face with soft features, but she wore this sexy scowl that made her seem almost arrogant.
“Which one of you is the groom?” she announced in a confident tone. Thor raised his hand as his friends began to chant in a low whisper “Hammer, Hammer…”
“What’s your name, baby,” she purred as she slowly walked over to him. She circled him, caressing him sensuously with her hands, rubbing her body against his. Then she pressed herself into him and looked up into his face, her lips close to his. “Hmm?”
“Thor,” he said, smiling shyly down into her upturned face. She slid a hand up the inside of his leg and grabbed the bulge that poked out about half way down his thigh. Every guy in that room would have loved to have been the focus of her attention. We were living vicariously through Thor. Everyone’s cock was straining with desire. She licked her full, glossy lips and pushed Thor down into the overstuffed chair behind him.
“My name’s Tinkerbelle,” she said leaning forward over Thor to rest her hands on his thighs. “And I’m gonna dance on you.” He stared down into her cleavage. She straightened and scanned the room looking at each of us.
“But before we get started, there are only two rules.” She cupped her breasts over her shirt and squeezed the nipples that poked through between her fingers.
“Nobody touches me,” she said, wagging her finger at us like we were naughty boys. “And I don’t want to see nobody’s cock; I don’t care how big you say it is.”
We all laughed. I tried to adjust my cock in my pants which was tangled awkwardly in the vent-folds of my tighty-whiteys. Tinkerbelle turned canlı bahis siteleri back to face Thor. She reached down and traced the tip of her fingernail lightly over the bulge that was sticking up prominently on Thor’s thigh. It really looked like he had shoved a zucchini down his pants. Tinkerbelle squeezed it to see if it were real which forced a little smile when she realized it was.
“And is this your ‘hammer’, Thor?” she asked walking her fingers along the ridge that his huge schlong had made in his pants leg. Thor just stared at her and slowly shook his head affirmatively.
“It’s awfully hard,” she whispered stroking the shaft through his pants. Her delicate fingers slid all the way up to where his cock met his torso where she grabbed it as she would a railing. Slowly she dragged her hand back town to where the head of his cock was clearly defined by the material of his trousers. She straightened again, licked her luscious lips, and pulled her t-shirt over her head, freeing her magnificent tits. They bounced and wobbled freely, with nipples so long and hard that when she squeezed them, a good half-inch of nipple stuck out beyond her pinching fingers. Then she pushed against the sides of her breasts making them bulge in her cleavage before she dropped her hands and let them bounce back into place high on her chest. They were wonderfully real and firm, her smooth brown skin glowing with the light sheen of scented oil she’d obviously just applied.
Tinkerbelle backed away from between Thor’s legs and began to undulate and sway in a slow circle, thrusting her toned bubble butt at the hungry eyes that devoured her as she teased. The muted music leaking through the door from the main stage area provided her accompaniment. Around and around she undulated, until her butt was again facing Thor. Then, with her hands on her knees and her back arched, she bounced her bottom up and down on Thor’s thigh so that her miniskirt flapped up and down giving us brief glimpses of her thong covered pussy. We could see that her pink G-string, while contrasting nicely with her brown skin, did very little to conceal her shaved pussy. I immediately thought of the one my wife had on at that very moment and my cock twitched.
Suddenly, Tinkerbelle stopped, lowered herself onto Thor’s thigh, and looked over her shoulder at him.
“Help me with my zipper, will ya sugar,” she said, her chin resting on her shoulder. Thor pulled the tiny metal flap of the zipper down as she stood and let the skirt slide to the floor around her feet where she kicked it all the way to a chair on the other side of the room. Standing in just her heels and a G-string, Tinkerbelle embodied raw sexual desire. She had a body that could induce premature ejaculation, and I think her goal was to do just that. She was going to try to make Thor cum in his pants.
In time to the music’s beat she backed up and rotated her whole pelvis, giving everyone a clear view of the sheer film of material that barely covered her vagina. She pulled at the strings of her G-string as she danced, pretending to pull them down only to pull them up higher on her full hips. With each gyration, more and more of the sheer little triangle of material was sucked into her slit until only the crinkled edges of her inner lips were covered, leaving the smooth, swollen mound of her vulva completely exposed. She stopped, slid her hands further down her legs until she was gripping her ankles, and slowly lowered her pussy to rest on the knob of Thor’s cock trapped beneath the material of his pants.
Tinkerbelle let out this girlie little “Oooh” as she let her full body weight mash her pudenda down onto Thor’s ridge of man meat. Then she started to slide and grind her pussy and ass all around and back and forth over Thor’s pant covered cock. Thor gripped the arms of his chair and stared intently at the sexy creature cooing and grinding on his pole.
“Hammer, Hammer,” the chant began, barely audible and haunting. It gave the whole atmosphere the air of some primitive sex ritual. Just who was the sacrificial victim was yet to be determined.
Thor closed his eyes and shook his head as if struggling with unbearable pain. Back and forth and around and around, Tinkerbelle worked her sexy magic on Thor’s lap. She took her time and was very thorough, squeezing her own dangling breasts periodically as she got into it. She closed her eyes, leaned back onto Thor’s chest and played with his ears, her gyrating pelvis never stopping or missing a beat, her sexy lips parted slightly to let in a little more air.
“Damn, I would have cum by now,” said someone.
“Me too” said another. I had to agree. I probably would have unloaded in my pants had I been in Thor’s place.
After about two more agonizing minutes of tortuous titillation, Tinkerbelle sat back up, put her hands on her knees, arched her back, and quickened the pace. A clear, slimy sheen began to develop on the material covering the ridge of meat under her. The material covering her pussy had turned dark pink from all of the moisture. Her panties had completely retreated into her vagina leaving exposed pussy lips to drag along his hard-on. Only her clit remained concealed from view y her G-string as both parties began to breathe heavily.
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