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Garter Ardor

Kneeling in front of Megan, I took her foot in my hand while the crowd around the dance floor began to cheer and chant. I looked up and met her uneasy smile with my own. The mob that encircled us was obviously anxious for her to uncross her legs and for me to begin the ritual. I stalled for time, allowing the bridesmaid the opportunity to gracefully part her legs – if she chose to do so – without appearing to be eagerly slutty. I shook my head and grinned as I carefully slid her shoe off and distractedly massaged her bare foot with my thumbs. The bride’s garter was in my shirt pocket and soon I would be sliding it up Megan’s leg as high as the crowd demanded or as high as Megan permitted.

This garter ceremony in which I was an unwitting participant is part of a three-fold event taking place at wedding celebrations around the world. The first part has the bride tossing her bouquet over her shoulder into the outstretched hands of the unmarried young ladies at the party. Whoever catches the bouquet, tradition says, will be the next woman to marry.

At this wedding reception there were no less than ten unattached women grouped together behind the bride when she flung her flowers into the air. Among flailing arms, clutching hands, frantic pushing, and ear-piercing screeches, the bouquet settled into the hands of Megan, one of the bride’s attendants.

Megan was an attractive woman who looked to be in her early twenties. Her welcoming eyes and engaging smile told all who met her that she was a people-person. She was stunning with the poise of a fashion model. Even though all of the bridesmaids wore the same burgundy colored taffeta gown, Megan’s looked as if it had been custom made. Its snug fit accentuated her tapered waist and shapely hips, the v-cut nicely displayed her cleavage, and the hem was just high enough to allow a pleasant glimpse of her long sculpted legs. Megan was, in a word, beautiful.

Following the catch of the bride’s flowers, the groom, in the spirit of political correctness, is required to toss something to the unwed men in attendance. Since he does not have any flowers, the groom must throw his bride’s garter to the single men.

When the DJ at this party asked for “all the unmarried men in the house” to come to the center of the dance floor, I pretended not to hear and busied myself by studying the label of our table’s bottle of Cabernet. I always thought that the catching of the garter was more silly than entertaining. Many wedding guests might disagree with my take on it and actually look forward to the ritual – that’s okay with me as long as I’m left out of it. Since nobody here knew me, I was safe – my marital status unrevealed to the masses. My anonymity, however, was short lived.

“C’mon, Billy! Get up there!” I was unexpectedly urged.

My cover was quickly blown by none other than my date, Karen. Actually I was her date. She and the bride were friends since childhood. It was Karen’s name that had been written on the table place card, while I was merely listed as “Guest.” When the bride had thrown her bouquet, Karen was one of the excited ladies scrambling to catch it. And she had come close. In fact, it bounced out of her hands right into Megan’s. I supposed that Karen felt that if she had to partake in that ceremony then I should be part of this one. Whatever her reason, she was very persistent.

When I ignored Karen’s plea, she tugged on my arm trying to pull me up off my chair and urged me to get on my feet. She caused so much commotion that the DJ took notice.

“It looks like we have an eligible bachelor over there that needs a little encouragement,” he called out through his microphone.

So much for maintaining a low profile.

“Whaddaya say, gang! Let this young man know how much we want him up here!”

Just shoot me now!

The crowd roared and I unenthusiastically responded by removing my jacket and standing. I waved and smiled at the applauding guests as if I appreciated their support while I sauntered my way toward the dance floor.

When I joined my fellow bachelors, I found myself at the head of the group, closest to the groom. I tried to work my way toward the rear, but since nobody would open the ranks for me, I was stuck up front. The groom stood ready with his back to us, holding the garter above his shoulder. He had it hooked around the end of his thumb and stretched it away from us like a slingshot.

At the DJ’s prompt the groom let the garter fly. It happened so fast that I did not even realize that I had caught it until I felt the congratulatory smacks of the other bachelors on my back. It was a reflex thing – I really did not really want to catch the garter but I had no control. As soon as the frilly little loop sailed close enough, my arm instinctively shot out like a frog’s tongue and I pulled it down.

The final piece of this three-stage rocket to nowhere has the man who caught the garter putting it on the leg of the woman who caught the bouquet. This is done in full view of all the other wedding guests, many of whom live vicariously through the two catchers. The watching partygoers usually shout desperate words of encouragement to the couple, urging the garter snagger to slide his prize higher and higher and demanding that the bouquet grabber allow him access.

I wondered how I let myself be part of this. I never relished being the center of attention and yet here I was, literally in the spotlight among a roomful of strangers.

Megan ignored the cries of the partygoers and modestly kept her legs crossed. I expected nothing less from her – no respectable woman would readily sit with her legs uncrossed going into one of these ceremonies, regardless of what the crowd demanded. I knew that it was time to slip the garter onto her leg, but I did not want to let go of her bare foot. I had been absentmindedly caressing it since I removed the bridesmaid’s shoe and it felt so intimate to hold her like that. I do not have a foot fetish but it was definitely turning me on. Maybe I found it so alluring because I was touching a part of her that was always hidden from view, or perhaps it was the enticing femininity of her delicately painted toenails. In any case, my junk was stirring. Tenderly I kneaded her warm smooth sole with my thumbs.

Our audience was getting impatient so I reluctantly reached into my pocket and pulled out the garter. I held it up for a moment for Megan to see. It was a small black satin band with a delicate white lace trim and black and white silk ribbon tied in a bow. I gripped either side of the garter with my fingers and thumbs and stretching it wide I slid it over the bridesmaid’s toes and worked it around her heel and ankle. The revelers cheered their approval.

Slowly I pulled the dainty elastic piece up Megan’s smooth calf. Her skin felt warm and velvety as my knuckles rubbed against it. I wanted so badly to run my hands up and down her legs and squeeze and caress them – it was torturous not to.

I had to remind myself that I had come to this party with Karen and that she was sitting here in this very room and watching my every move. I knew that I should behave and clear my mind of all my lusty thoughts. And I hoped that the woody that was quickly growing in my pants would cease and be gone before I had to stand up again.

With a little finesse I wiggled the lacy little band past the point where the bridesmaid’s leg pressed against her opposite knee. I continued on pushing the garter over Megan’s knee and my hands passed under the hem of her gown. I knew that my time with sexy bridesmaid’s leg was limited. Within the next few inches I would be halted by the increasing tightness of her crossed legs and I wanted to make the most of every remaining second.

Against the better judgment coming from my head – the one that sat above my shoulders, that is – I relaxed my grip on the garter and held it only with my thumbs. I opened my fingers and rested them on either side of Megan’s thigh, knowing that no one could see what I was doing beneath her gown. I carried on with my advance of the garter but now I caressed her soft smooth skin with my fingertips as I inched forward and dragged the garter along with my thumbs.

All of a sudden I reached the point where further advance was futile. The garter was sandwiched between the two crossed legs. I could probably force my way another inch or two but I thought that would cause Megan undue pain. The right thing to do would be to withdraw my hands, stand, and declare, “Game over.” But I hesitated and left my hands where they were.

I gave Megan’s leg a few more tender strokes with my fingers. I was just about to release the garter and retract my hands when I felt her sexy leg rise slightly. She did not want me to stop! She had lifted her leg and moved it sideways almost imperceptibly – I was certain that no one else noticed. As far as I was concerned, she had given me the green light. I released my grip on the garter and slid my hand along the delicate flesh of Megan’s inner thigh. She had opened her legs just enough that my fingertips found their prize immediately. I could feel the welcoming warmth of her pussy even before I touched it. Her panties were damp.

I looked up and locked my eyes on Megan’s as my fingers explored her hidden treasure. Her eyes widened, then quickly glazed over at my touch. Carefully I traced the contours of her pussy through the moist fabric of her underwear. The tip of my forefinger delved into her furrow and sailed upward. I found her engorged pearl waiting at the top of her slit and I waggled my fingertip back and forth across it. Megan covered her face with the bouquet.

“Whatcha doin’ under there?” one spectator called out to me.

“Need any help?” another offered.

“Go for the gold!” The boisterous shouts of the guests that surrounded us reminded me that we were not alone.

I glanced down at Megan’s lap and saw that her gown lay still and undisturbed by my probing fingers below. Knowing that the action of my hand was completely concealed from everyone, emboldened me and I slunk my fingers under the elastic leg opening of her panties. Her crease was sodden with slick viscous secretions and I wiggled my forefinger upward in it smearing the thick juice onto Megan’s swollen clit. The slippery emissions that had clung to her panties coated the back of my hand as I worked my fingers in her pussy. I wiggled the tip of my forefinger quickly side to side across the lubed surface of her little button and the attractive bridesmaid showed her receptiveness by pushing forward against my fingertip.

“Higher! Higher!” The crowd chanted having no idea how high I had already reached.

Megan buried her face deep in her flowers. The parts of her cheeks that were not hidden behind the bouquet were visibly flushed. To the crowd she appeared to be embarrassed but I knew that she was attempting to conceal the uncontrollable expression on her face that would easily reveal what I had been doing underneath her gown.

Megan was more than simply enjoying the massage of my finger. I could feel her squirm and I loved it. I had only met this woman minutes ago but I desperately wanted her to cum. In the short time since we were brought together, my attitude toward her had quickly evolved from pleasant attraction to lusty compulsion.

I moved my thumb up to join my finger at her clit and pinched the flesh surrounding it. The size and slipperiness of the tiny nugget caused my fingers slide off quickly. I pinched and pulled again and again. The pressure that Megan exerted on my fingers told me that she liked what I was doing and was in full pursuit of an orgasm. I started to rub her clit recklessly and pushed my middle finger into her opening. When I pumped my finger it sent her over the edge. Her legs began to tremble and her muscles tensed. She made a quick yelping sound into the bouquet that still hid her face. My garter partner was cumming.

Megan struggled to restrain herself but writhed and lifted up off the chair in spite of her efforts. I pressed down on her thighs with my free hand and held her in place as she squirmed in ecstasy. Gradually her muscles slacked and she calmed as her orgasm released her from its grip.

“Higher! Higher!” The crowd did not forget us as we had forgotten them.

“I think we gave them enough of a show,” I smiled at Megan who peeked down at me over the top of her flowers.

“Yes. We did,” she nodded drawing the bouquet away from her face. She was still flushed but her composure was returning and she smiled serenely.

“They’ll be fantasizing about this tonight.”

“If they only knew the half of it,” she laughed.

I withdrew my hands from beneath Megan’s gown and our audience, seeing that the show was over, gave us a big round of applause for entertaining them. I was just about to stand when I remembered that I had a raging hard-on.

With my jacket back at the table with Karen, I had nothing to hide behind. I put my hand to my groin to make a quick adjustment but it would still look like I was hiding the mast of the Mayflower in my pants if I stood up. Many of the guests that had watched our garter ceremony were heading back to their seats but there were still plenty of people around the dance floor that would notice my woody.

“I can’t stand up, just yet,” I said with a sheepish grin and pointed to the problem with a downward glance. While Megan laughed heartily about my predicament I slipped her shoe back onto her foot. Very much amused but sympathetic nonetheless, she handed me her flowers.

“Cover up with this,” she giggled.

I gratefully accepted the floral piece, stood up, and nonchalantly held it in front of my boner while I helped the bridesmaid to her feet. We walked away from the chair in opposite directions. Megan ambled toward her friends on legs still shaky from her unanticipated orgasm while I headed for the nearest table that had an empty chair, covering my battering ram with the borrowed flowers. I sat down without waiting for an invitation but was warmly welcomed just the same.

The people at the table treated me as though I were a celebrity, making sure that I had a fresh drink in front of me and competing with each other for my attention. When I placed the bouquet on the table, I noticed that my hand was still quite visibly wet from my foray inside Megan’s panties. I casually lowered my hand to my lap and dried it on the overhanging end of the tablecloth. My hard-on, which up to this moment had merely been embarrassing, was becoming increasingly painfully. The only thing on my mind now was how to rid myself of it. I hoped that my new found friends might provide sufficient distraction with their boring banter, but to no avail.

“Hello, everybody!” I heard Karen’s voice directly behind me. “I see that you’ve all met my date Billy.”

“Hey, Karen! How are you? Sit down with us,” Someone at the table said cheerfully.

The man who had been sitting on my right stood up, gave Karen a kiss on the cheek, and offered his seat. While pings of guilt pierced the pit my stomach and throbbing pain raged in my groin, my date sat down next to me and exchanged greeting with her old friends.

I had only dated Karen a few times before she asked me to accompany her to this wedding and there was no agreement between us to see each other exclusively. Nevertheless, as soon as I saw her, I regretted my behavior with Megan during the garter ceremony. These were Karen’s friends and I had no right to risk humiliating her in front of them. I should have known better. I should have checked my libido at the door.

“Did you have fun up there?” she said with a broad smile and nodded in the direction of where the chair had been set up on the dance floor.

“I, er—” I began to stammer and Karen’s smile spread.

Did she know?

She reached beneath the table and gently patted me on my leg, then turned her attention to a woman across the table. As she chatted amicably with her friend, Karen kept her hand on my thigh. Before long I felt her hand slide up the inside of my thigh. I glanced at her nervously.

What was she doing?

She continued to talk to her friends and did not give me even a slightest glimpse. When she touched my erection I made a short squeaky noise. Karen paid me no mind and went on talking and laughing while a few of the others at the table turned to me as if I had something to say. I put on a show of clearing my throat as if I had a tickle and when I said nothing they turned back to Karen and listened to what she had to say.

I sat in silence and watched Karen too. One handed, she unbuckled my belt, unbuttoned my pants, and eased my zipper down – all the time, neither her facial expression nor her voice gave any indication of what she was doing with her hand.

Was she torturing me for fooling around with Megan? Did she know what I did?

Karen pulled my cock free from the prison of my pants and showed no surprise at discovering me so stiff. Her small soft hand was soothing and eased the pain that had been tormenting me. She began to stroke me. It felt so good.

Under the circumstances I knew that I could not maintain a poker face like Karen, so I tried to hide my face as best as I could similar to the way Megan had hidden hers in the bouquet. With my elbow on the table, I rested my chin in the palm of my hand and curled my fingers below my nose.

I inhaled the sweet musky scent of Megan’s pussy that clung to my fingers as Karen’s fist pumped faster. The bridesmaid’s alluring fragrance conjured in my mind a visual of her squirming under my touch. That image added to the excitement brought on by Karen’s short rapid tugs. I wanted desperately to cum, here and now, with no regard as to where my load might shoot. I clenched my ass tightly, lifting my groin to my friend’s delicate hand.

Yeah, baby, just a little bit more! 

Karen still hadn’t looked at me since she had begun her handiwork. The nearer my orgasm approached, the louder and more animated the conversation at the table grew. And it was close!

I felt a flutter in my stomach and a thrilling tingle pulse up my legs. A woman at the table laughed. The blood seemed to drain from my body as my face went numb and electric energy rushed toward my groin from every cell in my body. My heart thumped rapidly in my chest. The man to my left asked me something and I ignored him. Karen’s hand clamped tighter. My muscles tensed. My balls seemed to tighten in their sack. I sucked air in staccato gulps through Megan-scented fingers. A vibrant force suddenly surged to the base of my cock and held itself there begging for release with the urgency of floodwaters behind a damn.

When I surrendered to the irresistible impulse to let it loose, globs of viscous cum gushed up my hard shaft and spewed under the table. Karen continued to tug steadily. When I finished, the bliss that engulfed me left me stunned. I dropped my hand from my face and fell backward in my chair. Karen gave my cock an affectionate squeeze and withdrew her hand.

It appeared that nobody was aware of what had just taken place under the table. As my body calmed and my woody deflated behind the overhanging tablecloth, I raised my glass to my lips and watched Karen. The conversation that she had been having with the woman opposite her was interrupted when the woman got up to dance with her husband. Karen turned toward me and saw my eyes fixed on her. She smiled.

“You look much more comfortable now,” she teased playfully.

“Well, I—” I was in too much of a daze for a witty comeback.

She leaned in and kissed me affectionately on the lips and said, “I’m going to catch up with a few old friends over there,” she pointed toward the other side of the dance floor. When I turned to look, she placed her lips close to my ear and whispered in a sultry voice.

“Enjoy yourself while I’m gone,” she tickled my lobe with the tip of her tongue and then went to join her friends.

~ To be continued ~

This story is protected by International Copyright Law, by the author, all rights reserved. If found posted anywhere other than with this note attached, it has been posted without my permission.

Copyright © © 2014 Phillip Fogticus. No part of this material may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the author.

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