“You were gone quite a while,” Jen’s mum said from across the table as I returned to my seat.

I smiled apologetically. “Yes, I got caught on a work call after meeting Sarah, Mary, Vicky and Stuart. Saturday is our busiest day, so I usually get a call or two when I’m not in.”

There was a nod from both her parents at that perfectly reasonable answer, which anyone who actually knew me well would never have believed. Jen’s father had openly worn a look of suspicion on his face since our introduction after the formal marriage ceremony had finished, what father wouldn’t, and so I’d stuck to being as polite as possible in our brief interactions.

“Jennifer was telling us that you met in your restaurant on the night we were all in for that excellent free dinner,” Jen’s mother said, clearly testing me, revealing her better-hidden suspicions.

I knew that she’d once walked in on her daughter performing fellatio and had only agreed not to tell Jen's father on the insistence that she returned to the all-girls dorm of her University for the final year.

Perhaps her motherly and informed suspicions gave her an insight into how the dinner had really been paid for. There was something in the woman’s tone that suggested she was trying to draw me into a lie, so I made sure to answer with a version of the truth, “That was the first time we were introduced; it turned out, though, that we share a bus route, and when I discovered that I had vague notions about seeing Jen and her friends on the bus home from work once or twice.”

Jen’s mother deflated a little. Clearly, she knew something of how we'd really met – certainly not the whole story – and had expected me to deny it.

Changing track slightly, Jen’s dad asked, “And you always wanted to be a barman?”

“No, never,” I admitted. “There’s excellent money in managing bars and restaurants, and the hospitality industry generally grows in one form or another year on year, even through periods of recession.”

His follow-up question was more pointed, even if his tone strained for politeness across the dining table. “Didn’t you ever want to go University?”

“I have a degree in politics,” I answered with a smile, which drew a surprised look from both parents.

“Really,” Jen’s mother said, “why didn’t you do anything with it?”

Allowing my smile to expand to a chuckle, I answered, “The hospitality trade is all politics when you get to the heart of what it takes to be successful.

“Back in my undergrad days, I was very politically active and considered a career in the field; who doesn’t want to change the world?

"The system, when you get down to it, is outmoded and compromised; to succeed in politics, you have to sacrifice your values at some point, or you can’t achieve anything, but once you’ve sacrificed your core beliefs, what true value is there in anything you achieve?

“Brexit is a fine example; whether you support it or not, a lot of people were asked to make highly compromising choices to achieve anything at all, and whether you wanted to leave or remain, the whole process has been managed disastrously, because the movement has never been led by any true believer.”

“And what’s your opinion of Brexit?” asked another man at the dinner table, who was about the age of Jen’s dad.

“It’s just a symptom of the era, nothing more or less,” I answered noncommittally. “We’re actually living through one of Marx’s theories – it’s often forgotten he was an economist first and foremost – where capitalism is being brought to its ultimate evolution, with the rise of super corporations and individuals – the Merchant Princes of old – who act beyond borders or consequences, without any real political oversight.

“Political structure and limitations need to evolve to keep up with the changing realities of the world of tomorrow. I doubt we’ll ever come to a state of pure communism – as the theory goes – rather, that we’ll end up with a sort of an umbrella class of, hopefully benevolent, dictators that exist above, or perhaps beyond, the political structures under which the rest of society lives.”

“Well, Brexit was a bloody stupid idea…” someone spoke up over me, and I immediately took the opportunity to withdraw from the discussion.

In a crowd like this, Brexit was all the touchpaper it took to set a conversation alight. I caught a stunned/reassessing look being shared between Jen’s parents, and felt my leg being squeezed gently beneath the table.

I didn’t turn to judge Jen’s reaction; I just kept my features attentive as the debate caught fire around us.  

When the conversation had risen to a pitch, Jen asked in an undertone, “How much of that was bullshit?”

“Um, naughty girl, what would your dad say if he heard you swearing,” I replied, keeping my own voice lower and my features neutral.

Jen squeezed my leg higher, a little closer to my cock, so I answered her question, “OK, well – objectively - it’s all true, but also total crap; I’m just a barman; what do I care about political theory?”

I could see that Jen wanted to break the good girl character and kiss me, but her only concession to the shared lust of our relationship was a subtle movement of her hand to rest squarely over my penis

****

It was Vicky, the big girl, who found me first. I was waiting at the bar, just taking a break from the melee of the extravagantly large wedding, with so many guests in attendance that it was possible to find some alone time in the crowd.

“Hey,” I said, by way of greeting. Given that she’d watched me cum all over her gay cousin’s face when we’d met earlier today, I felt I should probably say more; I just didn’t have the first clue as to what.

Vicky was obviously incredibly shy and lacking in self-confidence. Given how overweight she was, she’d likely been a victim of bullying in the past, perhaps even was still; either way, we lived in a society in which women were automatically judged by their appearance when it differed from the social norms.  

By way of reintroduction, she said, “We met, erm... well, we met earlier; I’m Vicky.”

I nodded; I’d be there too, and ejaculating on Stuart’s face had been a deeply embarrassing experience, so it was unlikely that I’d ever forget the names/faces of the others in attendance. “Would you like a drink?” I asked Vicky as we were standing by the bar.

“No, I’m a bit tipsy already,” she answered, glancing around to make sure that we weren’t being overheard, “Courtney told me I had to fuck you now.”

“I’m sure she was just joking,” I said, keeping my voice low, in no way sure of any such thing. “Whatever she said earlier was just to wind me up – you don’t have to have sex with me.”

“No, I want to,” Vicky said, her voice rising a little. “I asked Courtney if I could go first. She said I had to do it now. I have the key to her dressing room.”

“I’m not sure; I’m dating Jennifer, she might not like it,” we both knew that statement was total bullshit; odds are she’d be sorry to miss it. “OK, I’m not sure – I mean…”

“It’s cos I’m fat, isn’t it?” Vicky said, raging, her voice raised, and she drew a look from that barman. “That’s what that bastard said at the Christmas party!”

“Vicky, calm down,” I said in a soothing voice. “First, that guy was a total bastard, but it’s your cousin's wedding day; do you know how much trouble I’d get into if we were caught?”

“More trouble than earlier?” She asked, still not believing I wasn’t rejecting her. She had a point and knew it, “I’m 20 years old, I can do what I like!”

I nodded, trying to pacify her building rage. “Calm down, Vicky.”

“Jen told me…” Vicky took a breath to steel herself, “told me to say that it was a dare – that I had to dare you to fuck me.”

“OK,” was all I could think to say. “Let’s go then.”

****

There was no attempt at subtly as we disappeared to the dressing room where we’d visited the bride earlier. Vicky stood out due to her size and the fact that she was wearing the light blue of the closest family members in attendance, who would have been formal bridesmaids at other weddings, while I moved completely nondescript in a dark suit - basically the uniform of male attendees at any formal event.

We moved through the crowd together, yet not together, because there was no way we could be considered a pair and were ignored in our progress, reaching the dressing room effectively unseen.

Vicky locked the door behind us, and I got straight to the point. “OK, what do you want me to do?”

“I don’t know,” Vicky answered, “just stick it in, I suppose,” which might have counted as the least sexually arousing thing I’d ever heard, but Vicky was determined and went to lean against the dressing table.  

“Don’t look at me while you do it - I’m so fat - you can pretend I’m someone else, like when you closed your eyes to cum on Stuart.”

“I want to look at you, Vicky,” it was true she was a big girl and didn’t tick any of the boxes that I personally found attractive, but there were a lot of people in the world who’d be turned on by her size .“There are guys out there that only get off to really big girls, you know.”

“You don’t need to lie to make me feel better,” she said, her emotions torn between all sorts of conflicting states, with self-hatred the most dominant.

“No, I don’t have to lie to you,” and I didn’t; I wasn’t totally comfortable with this crazy game that Jen had dropped me in the middle of, but I sure as hell wasn’t going to play the part of counsellor to every repressed and sexually frustrated member of the Church of England.

“Look, let me show you,” I said, pulling out my cock. It came free easily, as when Vicky had first since it, with Jen’s prior insistence that I go without underwear again providing clear evidence that she’d planned some form of these events – probably in discussion with the bride – and had intended me to spend the day behaving like a depraved pervert.

To highlight my point that every woman was attractive, I just began wanking on my cock, being sure to obviously take in Vicky’s full body, willing myself to get hard for this insecure young woman. “Do you like my cock, Vicky?”

“Yes,” she answered, her eyes locked on it as they had been a couple of hours earlier.

I slowly massaged myself, growing for her. “Do you think I have a big cock, Vicky?”

Again, she answered without hesitation, “Yes.”

“Can you see how I am getting bigger?”

She nodded, “Yes.”

“That’s because I’m getting ready to fuck you,” I said. “Do you want me to fuck you?”

She nodded, “Yes.”

“Then say it,” I insisted, talking myself to a full erection. “Say – David, I want you to fuck me.”

“I want you to fuck me,” Vicky responded.

“Say – I want to feel you inside me.”

With eyes locked on my cock, which was now standing erect, she said, “I want you to put your big cock in me - I want to feel you deep inside me.”

It was more than I asked for, and I could tell Vicky was getting into it, “OK, take your dress off.”

The lusty confidence I managed to build in Vicky evaporated instantly. “No, I don’t want you to see me naked or my fat belly.”

I saw a nervous tear form and drop from her eye and reached up with my free hand to lightly wipe it away before it could stain her makeup. “It’s OK, Vicky, I understand. I was a chubby teenager, and I didn’t feel attractive until I was in my twenties.”

Vicky shook her head. “It’s different; you’re a boy, and… well, you have a big cock.”

“Trust me, boys feel fat and ugly, too,” I answered. “And you never really know how big your dick is because you never see other men hard to compare yourself with.

“You could pull your dress up to your stomach,” I suggested, “but it will get creased even if we are careful.”

Vicky thought for a moment before deciding that my solution was OK, and pulled her dress up awkwardly. “Do you want me to turn around so don’t have to look at me?”

“Look how hard you made me,” I said, repeating my point from earlier. “I want to look at you; how would you prefer it?

“Would you like to bend over and take it from behind or sit back on Courtney’s dressing table and spread your legs? If you want to do traditional missionary position, we’d have to lay down on the floor?” As I said the words, I realised it was possibly the first time in my life that I’d said the words missionary position.

Vicky’s answer was to sit back on the table, perching herself on it fully, with her dress pulled up and thick legs spread, revealing some industrial-looking white underwear that showed the definite marks of wet patches, which spoke louder than any words as to her state of arousal.

While Vicky positioned herself, I took a moment to retrieve a condom I had kept ready in my wallet. Before I’d known Jen, carrying condoms had never been a consideration – they were more of a bad luck charm than anything – and there was zero chance of spontaneous sex anywhere, certainly without prior notice and time to find the necessary protection.

“Is that a condom?” Vicky asked as I carefully rolled it onto my cock.

Rather than answering immediately, I concentrated on making sure it was on properly before I said, “Yes, it’s so I can cum inside you.”

 “Do you think I’m attractive enough to make you cum?”

What the hell kind of life experience had this girl lived through to make her ask a question like that.

“Definitely,” I answered, “and if we do it properly, you’ll cum first.”

Ridiculously, she blushed a beetroot shade at the suggestion that she might actually have an orgasm.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” I asked, “You seem really nervous.”

“Yes, I want to have sex with you,” she answered.

I nodded. “OK, then take off your underwear.”

Looking at me, she shook her head. “No, I don’t want to.”

“Vicky, I can’t…” but my words trailed away; what was I supposed to say?

“Can I just pull them to the side,” she said, “and then you won’t have to look… I’m really hairy.”

Really hairy wasn’t a sexy statement, so I just put it from my mind while my cock was still hard enough to ignore it. “OK, if that’s what you want, pull them to one side for me.”

I stepped closer, deliberately keeping my eyes on her face, as she reached between her legs. “Let me know when you’re ready."

“OK,” she nodded, “you can start.”

“Are you…” I hesitated, trying to formulate the sentence for such as shy woman, “...are you turned on; I mean, are you still wet; I could lick your pussy first if you like?”

“That’s disgusting,” Vicky said. The words really hairy echoed around my psyche, and I happened to agree completely with her on this occasion. “I’m really turned on – really wet – you can put it in.”

I nodded, keeping my eyes up. “OK, reach out, take my penis in your hand, and guide me into you.”

Vicky blushed. I thought she was going to refuse, but then my suggestion made sense, given that she didn’t want me to look at her down there.

I felt her hand on my cock and watched as a fresh blush washed through her cheeks as she said, “Your penis is very thick.”

Repositioned, I felt the unmistakable opening on the tip of my dick, and was ready to push, even as Vicky said, “OK, you’re there.”

I didn’t wait for her to hesitate further and pushed my cock forward against the hard resistance of her tight lips, initially only forcing the thick head of my cock inside her almost-virgin pussy.

“Oh my god…” Vicky started to say before her voice disintegrated into an undecipherable groan.

I felt the resistance to my cock head. Her thickly fleshed pussy so was so tight that I desperately wanted to drive my length into her but settled and waited for Vicky to gain control of her emotions; looking at me, she asked, “Did I just cum?”

“Maybe,” I answered, with no real idea. “It’s different for girls; when men cum, you can see it; women orgasm in different ways and for different reasons.”

Still, I took her question as a signal she was ready for more and pushed my cock inside further; she was so tight that I could feel the heat of her body through the condom. It was an incredible sensation.

“I’m going to fuck you now,” I said.

“Yes, it feels good,” she breathed as I pushed deeper inside her, “fuck me.”

I stopped with about half my cock in Vicky, then pulled back to just the tip at her entrance, then returned to the forward motion. Repeating the action at a slow and even pace, never pushing deeper than half my cock length into her.

“Oh, God, that feels good, Ben…” I felt Vicky squeeze around my cock, as she flushed again, “…sorry.”

“It’s OK,” I said, smiling, feeling myself swell a little harder but resisting the urge to fuck Vicky deeper. “Is Ben someone you like?”

“Yes,” Vicky admitted, her voice now becoming distant, her mind being drawn towards the feeling spreading from her pussy, “I work with him.”

“Tell me about him,” I prompted.

Vicky moaned softly as we continued to fuck, before finding her voice. “He’s about my height.. with blue eyes, short blond hair… he wears glasses… he’s married…”

Married, that surprised me, but Vicky’s breathing became heavier as she admitted it. “Have you fucked him?” I asked, already knowing the answer by the feel of her tight pussy squeezing on my cock as I pushed inside her.

To punctuate the point of my question, I allowed my cock to slip in a little deeper, enjoying the raw heat of her pussy engulfing a greater part of my cock. I’d never been with a girl half as big as Vicky, but if the pussy was always this good, I could easily understand why larger women became obsessions for some men.

“No,” Vicky panted. “No, we haven’t fucked…” at her use of the vulgarity, I pushed my cock in hard, making sure that she felt it, “…oh, God!”

When Vicky had led me to the dressing room, I hadn’t expected to enjoy fucking her, but I was getting into it now, “You should fuck him,” I insisted.

She was red of face now and sweating freely as she answered, “He doesn’t even know I exist.”

As we continued to fuck, I thought, 'he should,' but said, “Imagine I’m him; tell Ben what you want.”

Vicky closed her eyes. “Fuck me, Ben - fuck me harder with your cock.”

At her demand, I pushed fully into her pussy and hard.

Vicky physically grunted at the change in the intensity of my motion,  “Yes! - fuck me Ben… fuck me… fuck me… fuck me…”

Vicky was grunting with every penetration now and repeated ‘fuck me’ over and over as I fucked her true virginity away as hard as I dared; I found myself really enjoying the sex now, too.   

I saw her eyes widen and felt her pussy spasming around my cock. This time I knew she was orgasming.

“Oh, OH – OH – oh, OH – Arrrrgggh,” she moaned loudly on my cock, “YES, Ben – Yes, Ben – take me - take me, Ben!”

My cock was ready, “Do you want me to cum inside you, Vicky?”

“Yes, Ben – cum inside me,” she pleaded, and I so did.

I’d fucked Vicky deeply but remained mindful of not to going too hard - I was sure she’d forgive me for losing a bit of self-control in the moments as my own orgasm took hold of me and I increased the force in which I drove into her.  

“Open your eyes, Vicky – look at me,” I said, watching her eyes open to find me looking directly at her - into her eyes, “Squeeze with your pussy, squeeze it around my cock - I’m cumming for you, baby; I’m cumming for you - you’re so sexy, squeeze with your pussy, and you'll feel me ejaculating inside you….”

This was far from the best sex I’d ever had, but the look on Vicky’s face as she realised I was cumming for her made it great - she realised she was attractive and better than that idiot she'd hooked up with her first time deserved.  

“Fuck baby,” I said, with a feigned lack of restraint, “I’m cumming so hard for you.”

“Thank you, David,” she said breathlessly, smiling broadly for the first time, and she really did have a cute smile. I took the look as a signal to push into her a final time and settle with my full-length tight inside.

“You’re welcome, Vicky,” I said.

With any other woman I’d been with, I’d have felt like an absolute fool saying 'you're welcome' after sex, but it was exactly the right thing to say to this woman at this moment.

I made a point to twitch my cock as it was buried inside Vicky before I spoke again. “Remember this whenever someone calls you a name or you think you’re ugly. Remember how hard you made me. Remember that you were so beautiful that I had to cum inside you.”

With that, about the only words of wisdom she was going to get from me, I stepped back and withdrew my cock in a single motion, being careful not to look down at her, as she'd asked, and to grip the full condom so it didn’t slip off.  

“I’m going to leave first,” I said, turning around and pulling off the condom in a careful motion, looking around for somewhere I could deposit it that wasn’t deeply compromising before settling on wrapping in some Kleenex and deciding to ninja it to a bin in the nearest men’s bathroom I could find.

Heading for the door, Vicky's voice rose, halting me. “David,” I paused, careful not to turn around, “will you promise not to tell anyone about this?”

“I promise,” I answered; short of Jen and Courtney, anyone else in the immediate vicinity would be likely to react very badly.

“Your cousins probably already know what’s happened, but I promise not to talk about it with them or anyone else without your permission."

“Thank you, David,” Vicky said as I left the room, being careful to pull the door to the dressing room completely shut behind me.

[To Be Concluded]