His Nasty Little Pussy

Just so he could fuck his way through our wedding with Jenna Simmons.

Laughter erupted out of me, and I couldn’t contain it.

“Tess, let me explain,” Scott started. He took a step toward me, and I pointed at him like a crossing guard guiding traffic, my hand stopping him in his tracks.

My first chug from the champagne bottle wasn’t enough. I gulped three more swigs before I spoke.

“Scott…. there are so many things I’ve never told you because I thought I cared about you. And now I really don’t give a fuck. Your breath smells like ten-day-old trash. I’ve faked half my orgasms with you. Oh, and I know about the time in college when you sucked Mark Kaflin’s dick. Turns out that you suck dick just like you eat pussy-like shit.”

Scott’s dick deflated at my words, a satisfactory sight. Jenna’s ass was still exposed, her hands holding the pillow over her head like she was trying to suffocate herself.

“Jenna. I could say a million things, but I’ll leave it at this.” To my surprise, she peeked out from under the pillow.

I shook my head. “Thank you for stopping me from making the biggest fucking mistake in my entire life.” I capped my speech with a violent chug of the champagne bottle, finishing it off. “I’ll let you two get back to it.” I dropped the bottle on my way out, the glass shattering on the patio.

But as soon as my dramatic exit finished, all hell broke loose inside me. The tourniquet holding my emotions together snapped.

The next half hour was a blur, my harried phone call to Kate a blubbery, sobbing mess. Once she’d finally translated my words, her screams echoed through my phone for what felt like an eternity.

“-that ever living, cock sucking, bottom of the barrel, scab on my ass, and that whore bag, slutty ass bitch-”

And like the best maid of honor I could ask for, she went into damage control, booking me the first flight back to New York-first class no less- and an Uber to the airport. I packed my bag as fast as I could and changed into shorts, a tank, and an oversized sweatshirt, forcing myself not to take one last look at my wedding dress.

My phone buzzed, and I flicked open my bridal party’s group message and read Kate’s text.

Scott injured his dick in the cave of Jenna’s vagina. Wedding is off. Jenna, go fuck yourself.

I sighed, for once not caring about Kate’s tendency to confront drama head-on.

Before the calls could start flooding my phone, I switched it to airplane mode, desperate to never talk about this day again.

That all changed after an hour of sitting at the airport bar. Dressed in my hoodie and sunglasses, I avoided all eye contact, downing my tequila in silence and attempting not to cry over my loaded nachos.All content © N/.ôvel/Dr/ama.Org.

“Whiskey on the rocks.”

I turned around, glanced up at the person with the deep, husky voice, and tried not to choke on my tequila. I guessed he was in his mid-thirties, and although I was only twenty-seven, he was easily the most attractive man I’d ever seen.

He was over six feet, his smooth dark brown hair resting on a tanned forehead. His broad shoulders filled out his business suit, and I could see the ripple of bicep muscles beneath his navy blue jacket.

Heat rushed to my cheeks, and I quickly tugged off my sweatshirt.

He glanced down, his dark green eyes absorbing me. A smile flickered across his square face, his jawline sharp enough to cut glass.

“Well, hello,” he said.

I dropped the nacho on the spot. “Hi.”

As he flagged the bartender down, I ripped my sunglasses off, blinking against the bright glare of the airport.

He glanced back at me and did a double take, his gaze hovering on mine.

“What would you like?” the bartender asked him.

The handsome stranger flashed me a charming grin. “Two of whatever the lady is having.”

He stole a quick look at my body. It was subtle, but I caught it. And I didn’t mind it one bit. I wasn’t dressed spectacularly by any means, but I didn’t work my ass off in the gym to squeeze into my wedding dress for nothing. My tank top hugged my toned curves, and my shorts emphasized my ass.

“Where are you headed?” he asked.

“New York,” I said. “You?”

The bartender handed him two tequilas, and he slid one toward me. His finger touched mine, and a buzz of electricity passed where our skin touched. “Me too,” he whispered.

“Thank you for the drink,” I said.

“You’re welcome. Figured I’d help you keep the party going.” “Who says I’m partying?” I snorted.

He glanced over at my three empty tequila glasses.

I shrugged and took a sip out of my new glass. “Never better time than the present.”

“Cheers to that,” he said, lifting his glass to mine.

I watched him take a sip, his mouth wrapping around the edge of the glass, and I wondered what his lips would feel like pressed against my neck.

I offered him a deep smile…and I knew I was in trouble.

As it turned out, trouble had been the wrong word.

Horny was a much better term. Hours later, our bodies pressed against each other in the airplane bathroom, I realized I was beyond that. Fuck, I was on fire, my body craving my charming stranger’s cock.

The airplane lurched, throwing us sideways against the cramped bathroom, but neither of us cared. He slid his tongue into my mouth and cupped my tits with his hands. Kissing his way slowly down my neck, he inched closer toward my breasts. I ran my hands through his hair as he flicked his tongue across my nipple, gently nibbling it.

He fumbled to unbutton my shorts, ripping them off my ass and sliding my panties down my legs. I pressed my palms against his pecs, my fingers tracing a line from his belly button to his pelvis. His dark brown hair below disappeared into the waistband of his pants. Ripping off his belt, I freed his hard dick from his pants, gripping his thick girth.

Our bodies became a tangled mess in the tiny space, and he let out a primal growl, digging his fingernails into my hips and spinning me around so that I was leaning over the sink, looking up at him in the mirror.

He licked his palm, then slid his fingers between my legs.

“Fuck, you’re wet,” he hissed.

Like a racehorse pawing at the gate, he was ready. Hell, I was ready!

“Fuck me,” I panted.

His cock spread my pussy lips apart, and I trembled, goosebumps coursing over my skin.

“Oh, fuck…you’re so big.”

“You like that?”

“More. I need more.”

My words rang like the starting bell, and he was off and running. His cock slammed into me, his wide girth filling my pussy harder and deeper.

“Fuck yes,” I panted, muffling my voice against his shoulder.

He yanked my hair back with one hand, a painful tug that made me gasp with pleasure. Then, he reached around with his other hand, cupping my breast and tweaking my nipple.

Holy shit. My charming stranger could fuck!

Watching him in the mirror only made me wetter. His single-minded gaze honed in on me as he pounded harder, never once slowing down. His dick was a perfect fit for my heated pussy, a fit that cascaded ripples of pleasure down my spine.

A build-up escalated inside me in a way I’d never experienced with a man before.

“Holy shit…Harder!” I gasped, not fully understanding what I was experiencing. Every muscle in my body clenched together, my heart raced, and my breath caught in my throat. And then ripples of ecstasy poured over me, one wave after the next.

My charming stranger came at the same time, his back arching, his cry molding with mine.

Not only had I joined the Mile High Club, but I’d just experienced the best sex of my life.