I hate weddings. The whole show of it all, the presents all disgust me.

I hate the assigned seats, the horrible music, the speeches, the stupid bridesmaids, and their stupid matching outfits. I hate how you’re obligated to go and look happy and then when you’re not you feel even worse because that makes you a grinch, a scrooge. I’m supposed to be happy for the newlyweds and each time without fail I find myself bitter and grumpy. This is still true if I’m in a “happy relationship.”

There have been two weddings I’ve enjoyed in my career as a wedding goer but they were very abnormal. Think Burning Man theme in Joshua Tree. Mainly, though, I hate weddings.

And so I found myself here at this Chicago waterfront wedding, the wedding of my husband’s childhood friend.

“Please just act normal at the reception,” Ethan implored. But I’ve never acted normal in my life so I don’t know why he thinks I’d do such a thing. Who me? Normal? Never.

My husband Ethan had chastised me about looking at his brother before and told me to never, under any circumstance at all, try to seduce him.

He’s just so fucking hot, though. I couldn't resist.

Owen had the same dimples and rugged good looks as Ethan but nicer teeth and softer hair. He was a few years younger, and had a bit more heft to him, all muscle. I’m sure he had the same catholic guilt as my husband and the same brokenness due to an early divorce and his mother’s recent passing. Only a truly sick person would take advantage of someone like that.

His girlfriend was beautiful. Girl next door mixed with sorority baddie. Or thinks she’s a baddie. Essentially, basic. Looking at Instagram photos of them together, their tanned skins and dimples almost made me want to throw up if I hadn’t been so into him. They’d been together all through high school and college and he wasn’t the kind to go cheating on her. You could just tell by the way they look at each other that they really were in love.

He was a “good man.” The kind that drank milk from a glass wholesome. He worked at an office in Chicago doing who the hell cares, and, oh god, there he came filling out those dress pants like Ethan never could. Don’t look, no that’s suspicious, look. I look. We locked eyes and I felt all the blood in my body rush to my pussy.

I never got much of a chance to get to know him what with the whole baby thing and my husband’s determination to keep us apart. But then again, Owen was a hunk of man meat and his personality didn’t really matter to me. I just wanted him inside me. And that night, we had a babysitter.

The main factor tipping the scales in my favor was that he was known to get very drunk at occasions like this, and everyone knows people act a little differently when they’re very drunk.

The secondary factor would be my dress. I normally dressed relatively modestly for things like this, but that night was not one of those nights. Skin-tight fabric hugged my body. I wanted to be seen. By him.

We were seated at the same table, his girlfriend next to him on one side, me on his other side, my husband next to me. When his girlfriend left to powder her nose, he addressed me.

“Ethan’s been telling me what a great mom you are. He’s a lucky guy.” Was there more behind his words? Perhaps a tinge of jealousy?

“Well, I’m sure Hailey has her talents,” I replied, feigning innocence.

“Yes. For sure. Are you coming for the after party?”

“We’ll be there,” I said.

I moved my leg slightly to the left so that our knees touched under the table. He flinched slightly at first but then relaxed and kept his leg touching mine. I pushed my luck and touched his hand under the table, ever so slowly so as not to cause suspicion, moving it under my dress between my legs so he could feel my wetness. He breathed in quietly but kept a straight face for the table. He moved his fingers side to side, slowly, so slowly. I breathed and pretended to focus on the conversation, which had shifted to Chicago summers. He then took my hand and moved it closer to him. He held it there over his pants and I could feel that my desire was reciprocated. I tried my hardest not to smile.

When he brought his hand back up to his glass, I could still notice a slight glisten on his fingertips. But I was sure no one suspected any nefarious activity.

My mind flashed to last night.

As it so happened, my husband and I had the hotel room next to Owen and Hailey’s. We wished them a good night and went in to read our respective stories. Mine, a novel, his, some news story on his phone.

Soon we could hear high-pitched moans escalating in frequency. A deeper voice could also be heard, though what he was saying was impossible to tell.

“Is that your brother?” I ask, without lifting my head from the pillow.

“Yeah.”

“Are they…?”

“Yeah, I think so. They need to be quieter. We’re trying to sleep.”

We waited a minute or two and they did not get quieter. If anything, they got louder. Ethan banged on the wall a few times but to no avail.

“I’ll show him,” Ethan grunted.

“Show him what?” But before I could even think of potential things that could be shown, I was flipped to my stomach then pulled to all fours. I hadn’t realized how turned on I was but by this point, my pussy betrayed me.

I moaned every few thrusts, my moans deeper than Hailey’s but just as loud. She kept moaning and gasping in the other room. From what I could tell, she was close to cumming. Her sounds became more ragged and desperate and this sent me over the edge.

Back at the after party, I racked my brain on how to get away with this. Our hotel rooms were too dangerous, the pool too public. There was a meeting room on the first floor I’d noticed upon arrival. It would have to do.

If we'd had each other’s phone numbers it would have been easier. I could just send a text on where to meet and wait for him. Instagram messenger it was.

‘Meeting room 108, be there in 10’

I sat on the loveseat in room 108, nervously shaking my leg and repositioning myself in what I hoped were casual and breezy positions. The door opened. I walked over and started making out with him. His breath tasted of alcohol, but I’m sure mine did too. He obviously wanted me. He was reciprocating the kiss with intensity. But then he pulled away.

“I can’t do this to Hailey. Fuck, I can’t do this to Ethan.”

“No one has to know.” I hated the sound of my voice in that moment, how desperate and pleading it sounded. I was going for more of a confident conspiratorial vibe but didn’t think I’d succeeded.

“I’ve wanted to do this since the first time I saw you,” Owen said, slurring his words.

“At the lake house? Me too.” I gripped the back of his neck and kissed him, slipping my tongue in when his mouth relaxed. I brought my hand between his legs, cupping his pants-covered package. I then fell to my knees, frantically tugging at his belt trying to get his stupid pants down, then his underwear. His cock sprung out.

He was similar in size to Ethan, but the way he moved was entirely different. For all of Ethan’s selfish raw fucking, this man was truly about the tease. Lucky for me, I was too.

As I sucked, he taunted me.

“You really are a slut, aren’t you? Your own husband’s brother. I bet you’re sopping wet already.” He checked, his suspicions confirmed, and proceeded.

“How bad do you want it?”

I released my mouth, or rather released his cock from my mouth, and struggled to put words together.

“More than anything. I’ll do anything” I panted.

“Anything?”

“Yes.” If I had been less unreasonably aroused I would have had the sense to stop myself at this point.

“Get on the couch, ass up. Show me how much you want it.”

I wiggled my ass back and forth in what I hope is an enticing manner. It seemed I had underestimated this “simple, wholesome” man.

But soon he was flipping me over. He grabbed a tit in each large hand, squeezing so that the flesh jutted out obscenely. He smushed the tits together and descended his mouth upon each nipple, sucking and licking back and forth. I tried to stay quiet, lest someone walk by the room. The torment continued as he slid his bare cock up and down my slit agonizingly slowly. He was going to make me beg, I knew it.

“Please fuck me, please.”

“If you insist.” He smiled and thrust himself in as far as it would go, plunging it back in again and again. I thought I might come just from the fucking. But then he withdrew his cock, slick with my juices and plunged it back into my mouth deeply. I was forced to take it all with his body pinning me down as it was.

“Get on top of me,” he ordered. He pulled out. I mustered the strength to climb on top of him and lowered myself onto his shaft. I lifted myself and lowered, lift and lowered on my shaky legs.

I could hear Ethan’s voice in my head.

‘I won’t have you make a fool of me.’ If only he knew what his wife was doing now. It just fueled my fire. I bounced up and down on him with renewed vigor. Take that, Ethan.

I shuddered on him before collapsing against his hot, thick chest. I caught my breath. He hadn’t even cum yet.

“I want your cum. I want it down my throat.” I got back on my knees and sucked, and soon he released a torrent of hot cum down my throat. Hot man cum, my favorite.

We both stayed there for a minute, me still on my knees, unsure if I should get up, him collapsed back on the couch.

It occurred to me that we’d smell of sex.

“We have to go to the pool. Wash off the smell.”

“Good idea,” he said sleepily.

Luckily the pool room was twenty-four hours. The warm water felt like heaven on our nude bodies. No one would come in at this hour. We couldn’t be bothered to care.