Wedding in Texas

I flew down to Texas to attend the wedding of Amy, one of my co-workers who used to sing in a women's choir with me. It was held in a little town called Keefer's Bridge, about 200 miles west of Corpus Christi. The invite list was quite short – just family and close friends, about 30 people in total. The wedding took place in a little white clapboard Baptist church just off the main street, and then we had the reception at a community hall with a band that played 50's crooner music and old rock and roll. There was also a lot of wine and a catered buffet.

I danced with everybody, including Amy's cousin Sharon, who looks just like her, except that she wears glasses, is a little bit blonder and taller, and is probably about 10 years older, which would put her in her mid-40's. She works in human resources for an insurance company in Bellingham.

Anyway, close family were invited to overnight at Amy's parents' house. Everyone else, including the bride and groom, went to this lovely old three-floor inn with hardwood floors and crystal chandeliers on the edge of town. Amy's mother was so apologetic because she had mixed up the room reservations and Sharon and I had to share a queen-sized bed. "I could have sworn they said the Wexford Suite had two doubles," she told us. "I would bring over a futon from our place, but Amy's sister is using it. Are you sure you girls will be all right?"

I told her it would be just fine and Sharon agreed. We'd actually met at Sharon's wedding in Seattle a couple of years earlier. "I hope you don't mind I might have to get up and pee in the night," Sharon said, putting her hand on my arm. "I had a lot of Merlot at the reception." I just laughed and told her I was looking forward to having her as my roomie.

When we got back to the inn, it was almost one am. Our bags were waiting for us in the room, which had Norman Rockwell prints on the wall and fresh tulips in a green vase. I opened my bag, found my nightclothes, and started changing right in front of Sharon, who was sitting on the edge of the bed. I'm not shy at all – I definitely enjoy taking off my clothes while another woman is watching me.

"Love that negligee, Frederika," Sharon said. "Where did you pick it up?" I told her it was from my last trip to Italy. She came over and touched the fabric. "God, so silky – I haven't bought anything like this since Marvin and I split up. Have you been dating a lot since the divorce? You must be getting a lot of attention from the guys when you dress up like this." "Oh, I've been dating a lot," I said. "But not so much attention from the guys."

"Really? I don't get it," Sharon said, pulling off her dress and exposing her creamy white breasts, enclosed in a peach-colored bra. She took off her bra and panties, and as she turned toward her suitcase, I caught a nice glimpse of her cunt. Really thick, plump lips, and ragged, dark-pink inner labia that protruded visibly. For a second, I thought she was shaved, which I didn't like, but I caught a glimpse of the light off her pubic hair, and just realized it was light blonde and wispy, and she'd done a little bit of trimming. Very, very nice. Sharon pulled on her knee-length pink cotton nightdress and we clambered into bed together.

"I'm sorry – what were you saying before?" I said. My leg brushed against Sharon's smooth calf. "Ooh, you're chilly!"

"Oh geez, I'm sorry – I think it's the hardwood floors."

"Never mind, just leave it there – I'll warm you up. Anyway..."

"Mmmmmm...I was saying if you're not getting attention...are you seeing, you know, a special guy now?"

"Oh no. I've been sampling from the other side of the menu, and I am loving it."

Sharon's mouth opened. She pulled off her glasses and put them on the bedside table. "Oh. My. Fucking. God. Women? Are you serious, Frederika?"

"Extremely," I said with a smile. Sharon's leg nestled a little closer to mine.

There was a thud that sounded like furniture moving on the other side of the wall. We exchanged glances and shrugs and went on talking.

"Wow...I wish I was brave enough to do that. I don't think it would go over so well with the family. But to be honest, I've always been extremely curious – bi-curious, I guess you say? – about the whole thing," Sharon confided in a low voice.

"I started when I was a teenager," I told her. "Kissing and playing show and tell with other girls during a sleepover in high school. I had sex with my art teacher, who was in her early 50's, just before graduation."

"Wow," said Sharon. "I had no idea."

A loud female groan suddenly came through the thin wall, and we became aware of the bed squeaking. My cunt clenched because I love listening in while people fuck.

"That's got to be Amy and her husband," I said with a wicked smile. "I guess we're not going to get much sleep tonight." Sharon's mouth was a round O.

"Fuck me, baby!" came Amy's voice. "Fuck my little pussy! Fuck your little wife in her wedding dress."

Involuntarily Sharon moved closer. "I know Amy played around when she was younger...you know with girls and stuff," she said to me. "Did you and Amy ever...?"

I smiled back at her. "What do you think?"

The bed was thumping against the wall as Amy's head slammed into it. "I want you to come in my pussy and then eat me out!" she screamed. "I want you to fuck the shit out of me on our wedding night! Don't stop – pound up against my ass hard."

I boldly took Sharon's hand and leaned over to kiss her on the mouth. I tasted the wine on her lips. Sharon responded, moving close and putting her arms around me, grinding her thigh up against me.

"It was just like this with me and Amy – in a queen-sized bed in a hotel, way back in 1997," I murmured in Sharon's ear. "But this time, we get the additional pleasure of hearing your little cousin get fucked hard while I take your bi virginity."

Caressing Sharon's full tits as I unbuttoned her, I put my hand up her pink nightie. I sighed with satisfaction as I fondled her cunt lips, ran a finger down her seam, and smeared her wetness across my fingertips. Sharon reached around me and squeezed my ass cheeks with clear, unambiguous lust. The loud fucking continued next door.

Half an hour later, I lay back on the queen-sized bed with my Italian camisole pulled up and Sharon's head bobbing up and down between my thighs, wishing I could let go with loud screams of pleasure to merge with Amy's cries of "Ah, yeah! Fuckin' lick me out!" from the next room. But we stayed quiet to keep Sharon's secret – and at breakfast the next day, we just giggled and pretended the worst that had happened was a little snoring (by her, not me).