Would Like To Meet. No Strings Ch. 08

Another role-play by Joan on her "wedding night". It would be best to read chapter 6 and/or 7 first if you haven't already done so.

As with the previous 2 chapters, this is one of a theme of bridal/cuckolding role-plays rather than one extended one, and for the reasons already given this should be borne in mind in the event of any lack of realism or inconsistencies.

____________________

Joan grabbed a tissue from the bedside cabinet and wiped her stomach clean. She and Laurence hugged each other, and a few moments later Laurence, sated and with a deep sense of physical wellbeing, drifted into a light doze.

Joan slid off the bed, bent down, and nudged David with her foot. He wriggled out from under the bed. He glanced at Laurence who was covered lightly by the duvet, and wondered whether he was truly asleep. David looked at Joan; a small telltale spot of creamy moisture just below her navel betrayed what had just taken place on the bed under which he had been hiding.

Joan placed her finger over her lips as a gesture to be quiet and accompanied him to the door. David stared again at her alluring, mature breasts hanging down over the top of her white corset, and at the heart-shaped patch of closely trimmed pubic hair above her slit and her hood.

Joan kissed him, and he reciprocated. He slid his hand to her bum cheek, naked below the bottom of her corset. She hugged him but broke away after a few moments.

"Go now and have a rest, darlin'," she whispered. "You'll need it! Because after I've dozed off for a while...." At this point she paused, cupped his balls through his trousers and gave them a little squeeze before continuing, "I'll creep along to join you -- so don't lock your door!"

He felt himself blush with excitement, and despite his masturbation a few minutes earlier, he felt a twinge of budding arousal in his groin. But he let himself out and headed the few yards along the corridor to his own room.

Joan closed the door as quietly as she could and returned to her dozing "husband". He stirred, however, and watched her as she removed her corset and bridal veil and walked naked to the dressing table.

She blushed, feeling strangely embarrassed. It was illogical. She felt no embarrassment when having sex with him or even sleeping naked beside him. She just felt awkward to be naked with him other than those times. She felt the same with David. Perhaps she was ashamed of her promiscuous behaviour or she had a subconscious fear about getting emotionally embroiled.

With her back to Laurence -- though she knew he was gazing at her -- she slid her stockings off her legs and pulled on the white, scanty nightdress she had bought especially for this, her supposed wedding night. It was short, only reaching a couple of inches below her crotch, and its short hem was flared. It was very flimsy, too, and semi-transparent.

In the mirror she could see -- and knew that Laurence could, too -- the pink circles of her nipples, and the dark heart shape into which she had trimmed her pubes. Neither her nipples nor her pubes were clearly visible, but they could nevertheless be discerned without much effort or imagination.

Joan felt a shudder of naughty delight as she looked at her reflection.

She walked softly to the bucket of champagne and the glasses. She smiled saucily to herself at the remembrance of how she had arranged for it to be delivered to David's room and how he, masquerading as hotel staff providing room service delivery, had brought it to her room -- and allowed her to act at seducing him.

She looked at Laurence, smiling again as she thought of the sex she had just had with him, and the intensity of the role-play they had enacted. She switched off the light and drew back the curtains. Their room was not overlooked and it was private enough. Even if anybody was able to see the open curtains from outside, the room was in darkness and they would be unable to see in. The gathering dusk was bright enough to fill the room with a pale, subdued light. It felt very cosy and intimate. The open curtains lent a risqué ambience too, however unlikely it was that anyone would be able to see.

She picked up the bucket containing the champagne bottle -- by now most of the ice had melted -- and the glasses, and smiled at Laurence, feeling more comfortable to be partially covered. His eager stare upon her thrilled her. She went back to the bed -- their "nuptial" bed -- and watched him open the champagne. They sipped it and cuddled against each other, but said little. It was a little awkward knowing just what to say.

Laurence was very conscious that it was only a matter of time before she left and went to her other lover's room. He felt slightly jealous and intimidated, though Joan had assured him that whilst she enjoyed sex with David it was simply different than with Laurence, and not better.

Laurence also had very mixed feelings about the whole thing. He both disliked and loved the sordid nature of this evening, her alternating between him and David for sex, his own taking of her (though admittedly in a non-penetrative way) so soon after David's.

He placed his empty glass on the bedside cabinet and reclined on the bed again. Joan, his "bride" in her white skimpy nightdress, snuggled up next to him. She took his hand in hers and placed it on her hip, luxuriating in his tender caresses through her thin nightdress until he dozed off contentedly. She found herself drifting off, too -- though not for long.

____________________

She was awakened by the sound of voices on the corridor. She realised that some hotel guests were making their way back to their rooms from the disco. She smiled a secret, saucy smile to herself. It was time.

Laurence half awoke, sensing her sliding from the bed and standing up. In the half-light he saw her pick up the opened champagne bottle and the used glasses. It also looked as though she had picked up her bridal headdress and veil.

He pretended to be asleep; she in turn pretended to believe that he was, and stooped and kissed him on the cheek. He felt her breast squash sensually against his bare arm, and thrilled briefly in the feel of it through her warm, flimsy nightdress.

Then she was stepping softly to the door with the champagne and glasses in her hands to abandon him, her "newlywed husband" in favour of her lover. She paused for a few moments by the door. Through the narrow slits of his partially open eyes Laurence saw her standing, as if listening.

He felt a quiver of shock run through him. At the sound of voices on the corridor Joan slipped out of the door. It was obvious that she had been timing her departure not to avoid being seen leaving the room and entering another in her provocative nightdress, but precisely to make sure that she was seen.

Joan tried to remain composed as she stepped out into the corridor, though her heart was pounding. It was too late for a change of mind, though, unless she was to go back immediately to rejoin Laurence.

She was acutely aware of just how flimsy and thin her nightdress was as the couple approached. She avoided eye contact but she felt both pairs of eyes upon her and sensed that the bloke's were exploring her. She was terribly conscious of the translucence of her nightdress. She felt very wanton. Shame and a sense of guilty pleasure each struggled for mastery in her head.

As she closed the door Joan half turned towards them to show though her nightdress her partly visible breasts and nipples, and her heart-shaped, trimmed bush through the thin fabric, though she avoided looking at the couple. It was a struggle to close the door because she was holding the champagne bottle and headdress in one hand and the two glasses in the other. She still avoided looking at them as they drew nearer, and, genuinely fumbling and flustered she finally managed to pull the door closed.

Blushing fiercely, she turned her back to them and walked as casually as she could ahead of them and towards David's room, as if it was the most normal thing in the world to leave her room half dressed and go to another. She was glad that his room was only four doors away but it seemed further.

She could hear the couple sniggering behind her back. She smiled to herself as the expression "blushing bride" came to her mind. Surely, she told herself, even though this merely a fantasy she was acting out, no bride ever blushed so brightly or for the same reason as she in her bridal role-play.

She triple-checked she had the correct door, pushed it open and kicked it closed behind her. In the corridor behind her she heard a near explosion of laughter from the couple as soon as she was out of their sight.

David was lying stretched out on the bed facing the doorway. He was naked except for a pair of striped boxers. Her eyes rested on the lewd bulge inside them. She stood with her hand on her hip and pouted provocatively as she brandished the champagne.

He laughed and shook his head in amazement. She looked as sexy and provocative as she had earlier, and whilst he had half-hoped that she would still be wearing her white corset and stockings there was no denying that she looked equally stunning now. He watched longingly as she placed the champagne and glasses down on the chest of drawers and pulled onto her head her bridal headdress and veil, pushing the fine mesh behind her head.

Her white, skimpy nightdress was of course pushing it a bit for someone her age, but that added to its erotic appeal. The whole point was that such a garment -- especially in pure white -- suggested youth and, perhaps, innocence and naivety, mixed with enticement.

And Joan, of course, was neither young nor innocent and naive. She was in her forties and sexually experienced. The translucence of her skimpy nightdress was deliciously appropriate. This very evening she was alternating between two sexual partners, and acting as if one was her bridegroom -- cuckolded on his very wedding night -- and the other her younger lover. Her headdress and veil was a visual reminder of the naughty role-play they were enacting.

"Er... Joan... I, er, think you've got the wrong room!" he faltered, along the lines she had suggested earlier.

"Oh, I don't think so, darlin!" she said seductively, and stepped towards him. The gauzy fabric of her nightdress thinly veiled her breasts, alternately covering and revealing them, hanging loosely then tautening and hugging her as she moved. Her breasts were ample rather than big, and sagged a little, and her flat nipples looked very big and alluring under their semi-opaque covering. Her legs and thighs looked fleshy and inviting below her short hem, and his gaze ran over the dark heart shape below her waist.

"I... surely you should be with..."

"Yes, darlin', I should be making love with my husband. But I'm not. He had his hand down the bridesmaid's dress -- she's my niece, too, and only nineteen but loving his attentions. I saw them in the cloakroom. Lynn was pleading with him to lift her dress and slip her one, the bitch! On our wedding day! And he clearly didn't want to disappoint her! I saw them sink down to the floor and saw him shoving her dress up and baring her skinny young legs..."

She saw David's face blush at the image she was describing, even though it was entirely fictitious.

"So, darlin' -- I thought if he was having it away with my niece -- I'd come along and see if my former next-door neighbour fancied fucking ME on my wedding night. Before I go back to the honeymoon suite, I mean..."

David felt himself flush deeper. The fantasy was coming closer to reality with her description of him in these terms.

"I... er... really, Joan, I don't know what to say...""

"Oh, I think you do. I think you do..." she repeated seductively. "I've seen the way you look at me. I've often seen your eyes roaming over my tits -- my squashy, mature, C-cup tits -- and thinking how nice it would be to fondle them and to bury your face between them. Even tonight at the reception I saw you staring at them, watching the tops of them wobble up and down as I danced. If you're a bit shy about FUCKING me -- especially on my wedding night -- why don't you at least have a play with Joan's tits, hmmm?"

Over the years he had known her David had only heard her use mild expletives. Her explicit language made him quiver with rude pleasure.

He watched passively as her left hand reached out to his. Her ring glinted on her finger. She stroked his hand lightly, enticingly, with her fingertips. He stared at the dark patch of hair showing through her nightdress. She leaned forward and her matronly orbs swayed forward under her flimsy nightdress.

Almost agonisingly slowly he watched her lift his hand in hers and press it against her breast. It yielded to his touch. She led his hand underneath its curve and patted his hand against her soft, surging flesh through the thin fabric of her nightdress.

"I thought I'd come to your room like this. I know you've been dying to see my tits for years, haven't you? Hmmm?"

"Yes. Yes, Joan."

It felt exciting to be prompted to confess to her how intensely he had desired her. This part was no fantasy, for sure.

"And did you ever dream when you were eyeing them up, darlin'... did you ever think that one day you would be touching them like this?"

"No, Joan. Never in a million years."

"And do they feel as nice as you thought they would be?" she urged.

"No. They're even nicer," he said, his tongue sticking to the inside of his mouth in his excitement.

"And do they LOOK as nice? Here, let me show you better..."

He allowed his hand to fall from her and stared as she tugged the fabric of her nightdress tighter so that it hugged her breasts, their shape showing perfectly, her nipples clearly visible now.

"Oh Joan... Mrs. Martin... they're gorgeous -- YOU'RE gorgeous -- and so, so sexy..."

With a suddenness that startled him, Joan seized his hand and plunged it down inside her neckline. Her skin was smooth and her breasts ripe and halfway between firm and soft. He stared through the thin fabric, watching his hand as it kneaded her orb, seeking her rising nipple.

Joan whimpered and cooed softly. She felt highly aroused by David. He had an intensity about him that was even greater than Laurence's. She knew -- and could sense -- that it was because of his fixation on her over years, a desire that he had been forced to suppress and repress.

It was a lust that he had secretly fed and nurtured over several years with furtive glances at her. It was a lust that he had fuelled further in the privacy of his bedroom with closed eyes, fantasising as he masturbated -- on his admission, most days for a prolonged period of time, in fact -- to the thought of her. And in moments such as this, that desire for her -- that he had always assumed must remain mere fantasy and never fulfilled -- in reality spilled over with an ardour that she had never known.

It excited and aroused her more than she would ever have imagined.

"Let's have some champagne, darlin'," she said softly. She sat beside him on the bed. She saw his gaze on her swaying breasts and on the short hem of her nightdress as she did so. Her pulse quickened. She draped one leg over his, and rubbed his leg with hers as she poured some champagne. She passed him a glass and poured some into the other one.

"May... may I...?" he enquired, pretending it was his first time with her, and placing his hand on her knee.

"Of course you may!" she assured him. His hand was trembling with excitement as he stroked her knee. The gentleness of it, combined with the ardent and very evident desire he felt for her made her shudder with delight.

"Yes, of course you may, darlin'!" she repeated. "But only if you run your hand higher..."

"I... we don't have to go all the way, though, Joan?" he asked, feigning reluctance.

"Not if you don't want to, no," she replied. "But it wouldn't hurt you just to have a little look -- and a little feel, would it, now? Hmmm?"

He made himself hold back for a moment more, prolonging the exquisite anticipation for just a little longer.

She took his hand in hers, again noting the way his gaze fell on her wedding ring, the symbol of her secret payback on her cheating ex-husband. She gazed down -- as did David -- at his hand's deliciously slow journey up her inner thigh, then back to her knee, then up again, and back to her knee. Each time she guided it a little higher before withdrawing it to a less intimate place...

Joan realised that her breathing was becoming shallower.

"Can you see it? Can you see my pussy lips through my nightie? Can you see my special hairstyle down there?"

"Yes... oh, yes!" he said, rather huskily. "B-but, Mrs. Martin, this is so wrong! Y-your husband will be looking for you! And not only are you married, it... it's your wedding night!"

"I know, darlin'! And it's because it's my wedding night that I'm behaving like this! You must think I'm a real slut behaving like this, but what's a bride to do on her wedding night when she's feeling randy and her newlywed husband is shagging her bridesmaid-niece in the cloakroom? I know it's wrong, Joan doesn't need you to tell her that! But if her husband's prick is poking and prodding elsewhere..."

At this point David watched helplessly as she cupped his bulging erection through his boxers and squeezed it. He felt a little seep of pre-cum and knew she had felt it, too.

"...I'd love to have someone else's prodding me!"

Her coarseness and pretended cuckolding sent the blood coursing through his veins and made his erection tighten.

"Yes -- and I can't think of a better prick to play with than the one that has saluted me so often and so devotedly over the years, David!"

He gasped as her fingers slid inside his boxers. He watched her hand moving erotically under the cotton.

"B-but only if that someone really wanted to, right?" he protested.

"Yes. Only if YOU wanted to, darlin'" she said.

He made himself pull his hand away from her leg and rested it on the bed.

"I... I don't think I DO want to -- you know what, Joan?"

She smiled tenderly. "'YOU KNOW WHAT'? You mean by that you don't want to fuck me?"

"Yes. Yes, that... that's what I mean."

They sipped their champagne, though each of them was too aroused to make small talk. Joan continued to rub her bare leg against his. He blushed with excitement and embarrassment as he saw her place the bottle between her thighs, with the neck angled slightly towards her slightly plump belly. It looked very suggestive, and it was clearly intended to.

She placed her hand around the narrow neck of the bottle and, as they drank, she caressed it in an apparently innocent manner, but her movements resembled a slow, gentle shafting. From time to time she gripped it tighter and, with rocked her tensed hand tensed firmly and quickly up and down a few times.

He gazed at her breasts and pussy lightly veiled by the flimsy fabric of her nightdress. She followed his gaze and smiled, thrilling in his desire for her. She in turn focussed on the ballooning of his boxers.

She placed her empty glass on the bedside cabinet at her side of the bed. Then she raised the bottle and caressed her neck and cheeks with it. He watched her trace the open tip across her lips and watched, spellbound, as she poked out her tongue and licked it. To his shock he saw her lean forward and slide her lips down the neck of bottle and rock slowly and suggestively up and down. He was now completely hard and his erection was tenting his boxers rudely.

She saw his gaze latch onto her crotch through her white nightdress.

"Do you like my hairstyle, darlin'?" she crooned.

He nodded, his eyes fixed on it.

"You know why I trimmed it like that?"

He shook his head, pretending to be shy. Joan found it very squishy to be playing the seductress, teasing and coaxing her former neighbour out of his reluctance.