Şubat 1, 2024

Black Tie Affair

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“Do you love it?!” My sister, Brandy, grinned excitedly behind me in the bridal shop fitting room. The pink (“blush”, if you asked the saleswoman), form-fitting bridesmaid dress molded tightly to my hips and bust as I modeled for the assembled female family and friends.

At my side, my mother prodded analytically at my ribs. “Brandy, don’t you think it’s a little… um, snug, in… places?” She obliquely voiced her concern over the dress’s sweetheart neckline as it struggled to contain my bulging tits. “Do you think maybe something with more coverage, or with straps, perhaps?” I knew my opinion was irrelevant, so I kept quiet.

The bridal consultant stepped forward. “This design is meant to enhance the decolletage of the wearer,” she commented, patting the swell of my chest with alarming casualness. She looked from my boobs to Brandy’s other bridesmaids: Raven, Kayleigh, and our cousin, Jane. The other three were beautiful and fit, but none of them wore more than a B-cup. Brandy, of course, had her model’s build; tall, slim, and blonde. She and her pert breasts contrasted my busty redheaded form such that we almost didn’t look like sisters. Only our eyes, noses, and ears matched, resemblant of our grandmother on dad’s side.

With her appraisal of our group concluded, the saleswoman continued, “Ahem, some parties may not require such accentuation, but the sweetheart design is a classic in our bridesmaid lines.” My sister nodded in agreement with the saleswoman while my mother made soft, concerned noises in the back of her throat, but didn’t intervene further.

I turned in front of the mirror, observing the emphatic boost that the twin fabric arches gave to my already-ripe D-cups. Otherwise, the light pink fabric made my pale shoulders and arms look a little washed-out, but it was Brandy’s wedding and her color scheme. I was here to be a good, obedient solider/maid-of-honor, not to raise a fuss about color palette preferences. Besides, I thought as I turned a half-circle and noted how the pink satin clung to my plump tits and round ass, I didn’t think my shoulders would be what most people remembered about my appearance.

Brandy and Emiliano had met in college while she was studying abroad in Florence. She had quickly ingratiated herself to his parents and two older brothers, and probably learned more Italian arguing with them about soccer than she did in her sporadic class attendance. When she finished her program and returned home in July, he had promptly followed her to New York enrolling in an MBA program there that fall. They got engaged in May and were moving ahead promptly with plans for a summer wedding.

Just because the wedding had been planned quickly, didn’t mean it was a casual affair. My mother and her sisters – starved for nuptial organizing – had immediately set about arranging a lavish black-tie event. My on-again/off-again relationship was “off” again, and I was caught flat-footed and single. Mom and Brandy said I was “allowed” to bring a friend as my plus-one, but I opted to attend stag. As I stood in the sun-filled dressing room watching my reflection in my slinky satin dress, I imagined I’d be able to find fun without a date anyway.

I didn’t meet Emiliano’s family until the party the night before the ceremony. At the cocktail hour as I chatted with Raven and her husband, Derrick, I spotted a tall, dark-haired stranger in a bespoke grey suit standing at the bar. The handsome newcomer noticed my staring and smiled in return.

As I gawped, Derrick nudged me with his elbow. “I think someone’s checking you out…”

I tried to recover, sputtering, “Huh? No, I was just trying to figure out who that guy at the bar is…”

“No. Not him.” Derrick pointed his chin towards an empty table where another man with similar dark hair and an equally exquisite suit sat quietly. He smiled and raised two fingers in a wave as he met my gaze. As we watched, the first man arrived at his table with two drinks, handing him one then taking a seat across from him.

“I wonder if those are Emiliano’s brothers…” I speculated but was interrupted as Brandy and Emiliano appeared in our cluster. The happy couple stood holding hands as they started to join our chat, but Emiliano was sidetracked as he spotted the pair at the table.

“Ah! My big brothers have arrived!” He answered my question without knowing I had asked. “Come, Sarah! I will introduce you! You will love each other!” His brown eyes twinkled merrily as he grabbed my wrist and dragged both sisters across the room.

The flared skirt of my cocktail dress swept up my legs as I flew to the introduction. The “V” back of my dress, open down to my waist, didn’t permit a bra, and my breasts wobbled briskly behind the navy-blue front panels as I hurried. The two men rose as we approached, hugging Emiliano and Brandy in greeting. Emiliano pulled me forward as he introduced me.

“Sarah,” He pointed a hand to me then swung it towards the standing pair, “meet Luca and Niccolo.”

“Nico, please. We escort tanıtımları are family.” The man who had been at the bar corrected.

“È un piacere incontrarti finalmente, Sarah. Sei ancora più bella che in foto!” Luca spoke in an exaggerated Italian playboy accent as he took my hand and bowed to kiss it. I didn’t speak Italian, but between my cooking show vocabulary, Luca’s mannerisms, and the embarrassed reaction of the others, I grasped the exaggerated flattery.

Nico swatted his brother’s shoulder. “Knock it off, you creep.” He chided, then turned to me. “He is not a, uh, tomcat and he does speak English.”

Luca released my hand, then dramatically rubbed the spot on his arm where he’d been struck by his younger brother. “That is true.” He admitted. “But it is truly a pleasure. We have deeply wanted to meet you since seeing your picture.” Without the theatrics, Luca’s voice was smooth and smoky, slightly deeper than Nico’s. Both of their voices carried only a tinge of accent when speaking English, conspicuous only with an off ‘th’, or with an occasional misplaced stress on a syllable.

Emiliano and Brandy hastily waved goodbye as they were called away to greet more relatives. Luca insistently pulled out a chair for me between himself and his brother.

“It’s wonderful to meet you both as well. I’ve heard so much about you from Emiliano!” I said as I took my offered seat. On either side, the tall, brunette men pulled their chairs close alongside my legs, each leaning forward and listening intently as I spoke.

“I hope only good.” Luca cheerfully interjected, and I honestly confirmed that all I had heard about them was positive.

We talked endlessly throughout the party, our own intimate island in a sea of white noise. Luca was one year older than Nico, who was in turn three years older than Emiliano, and the three of them were extremely close. The three brothers were in fact so close that Emiliano, as the first to be married, had only selected Nico as his best man by drawing a name from a hat; assignments had then been set for the two future, hypothetical weddings.

I listened raptly as they discussed their lives. Each of the brothers had attended boarding school in England and college in the United States, hence their near-perfect English. Honestly, I would have listened attentively to them reading the phonebook. Every mellow word seemed to tremble directly through my ear into my neocortex, dumping thrilling doses of dopamine that flipped in my excited belly. I was captivated by their good looks and polished charm.

The brothers were equally attentive – and flirty – when I answered their questions about my career and life. “No boyfriend?” Nico repeated. I shook my head ‘no’ without caveat. “What? Insane! Why?!” He winced after what I gathered was an under-the-table kick from Luca at the impolite question.

“Sarah is a liberated American woman, Nico,” Luca placed his hand low on my bare spine. My skin tingled warmly beneath his palm. I laughed in agreement with his words to cover the stir his hand was causing.

“She really looks American, no?” Nico asserted. I cocked my head curiously, and he rushed to clarify what he intended as a compliment. “No, that is good!” he straightened in his chair and grabbed my hand insistently, clasping our fingers together. Luca’s hand brushed softly on my bare back. My heartrate rocketed at the marvelous attention. Nico continued, “You see, Brandy, she is beautiful, yes. She looks like any Euro girl; Switzerland, Sweden, Norway, whatever, she looks like them all.”

I nodded slowly. Luca softly stroked his thumb along my vertebrae, tickling my spine. His fingers rubbed sensuously into the smooth flesh of my lower back. I had to choke down a pleasured moan at his touch while Nico elaborated.

“But you,” he released my hands for a second as he outlined a circle around my head and abdomen, but his eyes were locked on the plunging V-neck of my dress. “A man sees you; he knows that is an American knockout!” I blushed deep crimson. My heart thundered explosively behind my ribs. My tongue nervously darted out to wet my dry lips.

Nico’s fingers playfully intertwined with my own. His other hand reached under the table and began to tease a light out-and-back line on my silky inner thigh. Luca’s hand reached the base of my spine, coyly dipping beneath the band of my dress and flirtily plucking the crenated lace waistband of my thong. Excited pins of moisture beaded between the shaved lips of my pussy.

Neither man’s expression betrayed their seductive touching, and their slack faces further enflamed my lust. I wanted to squirm in my arousal but held stubbornly still under their tormenting fingers. My mind lapsed and libido raced, as I lost myself in the sensation of the strangers’ captivating touch.

“Sarah!” I clenched my eyes shut at the frustrating sound of my mother’s call. “Sarah! Come help your aunts pack gifts into Cheryl’s van!” My lust screeched gaziantep escort telefonları to a halt in a devastating derailment. I couldn’t believe that I’d been cockblocked like this by my mother!

With a defeated groan, I brushed Nico’s hand from my thigh and stood, staggering my first step as I disentangled myself from the chair and my suitors’ arms. “It’s been wonderful, um, meeting you…”

Each man bowed to place a prolonged kiss on my hand as I left. “Non vedo l’ora di rivederti.” Luca grinned. I blushed again, turning quickly to join my impeding mother.

“Well, you three certainly seemed to hit it off. Are you feeling all right, honey? You look a little flushed…” My mother called after me as I hurried past her.

“I’m fine. Just warm…” I mumbled as I snatched gifts off the table and hurried them to the car.

The day of the wedding was a blur of frantic activity. After a morning of rushing around making final arrangements at the private museum where the reception was being held, I headed back to the hotel to rejoin Brandy and her entourage. The bridal party, along with my mother and her sisters, as well as Emiliano’s mother and aunt, was cloistered in a large suite to have our hair and makeup done. Amid much girlish chirping and motherly quacking, the hired professionals decorated us for the event.

The hairdresser pinned and knotted my hair into a twisted updo, studded with graceful white blossoms, leaving a few long strands of auburn dangling over my ears and cheeks. My nails were filed, shaped, buffed, and painted a delicate (you guessed it!) pink. Meanwhile, just as the makeup artist finished applying my blush and lipstick, the florist arrived with the bridal bouquet, corsages, and boutonnieres. With my hair and makeup done first, I volunteered to run the flowers for the groom’s party up to the honeymoon suite, where the men were getting ready.

My footfalls were almost silent in the hushed hallway, but the door to the room opened before I could knock. Wearing fleece joggers, a fitted white t-shirt, and an ear-to-ear smile, Nico’s handsome figure filled the doorway. My heart jumped into the back of my throat at the sight of him.

“Ah! Such a beautiful sight!” he cried as he looked me over from head to toe. While, from the neck up, I was gilded for the formal affair, my blue button-down shirt and yellow chino shorts felt more suited for a trip to the beach. He placed his hand over his heart dramatically, playing wonderment at my appearance, then grabbed the box of boutonnieres from my hands and ushered me into the suite.

Two hotel luggage carts lined up along the wall. Each was stuffed with hanging garment bags containing the assembled men’s tuxedos. I spotted Emiliano and Luca on a couch across the room, while their father poured a glass of wine from a catering cart. Derrick, who was also a groomsman, walked across the room staring at his phone, and the fourth groomsman impassively watched a baseball game on TV.

Nearer to the door, my dad had been joined by his best friend Andy, whom I happened to know very well from our trip to Hawaii. The pair sat in leather chairs, each with a glass of scotch beside him. My father greeted me, and Andy winked and smiled, making me blush. I bid hello to the room, then turned to go back to the ladies’ suite. Nico placed the box of flowers on a table then escorted me back to the hall, shutting the door as we left.

“You departed so quickly last night. I did not get to say goodbye.” He grinned carnivorously as he approached. His large hands encircled my waist and pinned my back against the wall. He boldly leaned his face to mine, levering his chin below my own and raising my mouth to meet his kiss. My lips parted, first accepting his kiss, then passionately returning it.

Nico pushed his hips forward into my pelvis, sandwiching me against the wall. Our lips thrashed and writhed together. My hands clutched at his back pulling him closer against me. His hand fervently squeezed my breast through my shirt and bra. Only the sound of the door opening broke our spell.

“Nico, are you there? You must dress.” His father’s voice preceded the older man’s appearance in the hallway by just enough time for our bodies and mouths to separate.

“Yes. Coming.” Nico responded, disguising his hastened breathing. His eyes burned into my own. “See you soon.” He walked back to the groom’s party.

I returned to the bridal suite to find changing in progress. My mother was dressed already and hurried me to get into my gown. “Sarah, what took so long? What happened to you?”

“Nothing…” I deflected while taking my dress from the hanger and unbuttoning my shirt. Raven and Kayleigh chattered beside me as they zipped each other’s back.

“Is your lipstick smudged?” My mother hissed. Accusation hung heavily in her stern whisper. The girls’ babble quieted at the prospect of gossip.

“Nothing,” I repeated. “I… must not have blotted then gaziantep escort bayan telefonları it smeared when I had a drink of water…” I leaned towards the mirror and started reapplying my lipstick. My mother gave me a last disapproving and disbelieving glare, then dashed to the other bedroom to help Brandy.

“So, was that a tall, effervescent, Italian ‘drink of water’ that you had?” Raven teased. Kayleigh danced merrily around the bed making kissy faces at me. Blushing and giggling, I shooed them out of the bedroom.

Closing the door and securing my privacy, I whipped off my button-down and shorts then chucked my bra and panties. I crammed the discarded clothes into my suitcase while digging out the white g-string to wear under the figure-hugging bridesmaid dress. The miniscule back vanished between my buttocks as I pulled the panties to my waist, and I fidgeted them into place.

I pulled the pink (“blush”) dress up my legs, feeling the clingy satin hug my hips and ass. As it unfurled up my tummy, I unfolded the sweetheart cups over my breasts, then reached around to my back and twisted awkwardly to close the zipper. Turning to the mirror, I rearranged the bustline over my swollen rack, musing that my mother may have been right: straps might have been a precautionary improvement. Finally, I climbed into my light pink heels and buckled the ankle straps.

Opening the door, I rejoined the group in the suite’s living room. The bride was ready for her initial audience. Brandy looked like a fairytale princess in the glamorous white gown. The girls flittered around her like a cooing flock of graceful pink birds. Emiliano’s mother glanced in my direction, then smiled and walked over.

“Your little sister…” She placed a reverential hand over her heart. Patting my arm reassuringly, the older woman spoke words of comfort. “Someday, you also will marry.” Though I was tempted to retort that twenty minutes ago I’d been dry humping her middle son, I smiled back sweetly at the well-meaning mother of the groom.

The bridal and groom’s parties traveled to the church in separate limousines, and then were sequestered in a library and an office, respectively, at opposite ends of the cathedral. We’d met less traffic than anticipated and had arrived almost half an hour ahead of schedule. The other bridesmaids and Brandy set to opening a bottle of champagne to pass the time, while I snuck forward to peek through a stained-glass window into the sanctuary and pick out relatives in the crowd.

“Too many witnesses for the bride to escape, no?” Luca’s voice startled me. He had snuck within inches of my ear while I was preoccupied with my peering. I whirled and fell against the wall in my surprise. His tuxedo was tailored to perfection; his lips curled in a friendly, captivating smile. Above my bare shoulders, his arms buttressed against the wall.

Luca smiled audaciously as he leaned forward. “And I will not let you escape again now as you did last night.” My lips opened in equal parts surprise and acceptance as he kissed me. Our mouths joined and molded together passionately. The quiet murmur of the guests in the sanctuary fell away from my consciousness as I coiled my arms behind Luca’s neck.

I gasped breathlessly into his mouth. His hands roamed my back and grabbed handfuls of my ass through the slinky fabric of my dress. Our tongues wrangled as our lips mashed each other’s. Deep longing poured through my body and excited warmth seeped between my legs.

“…well, without any volunteers ahead of time, it was decided that we would forego a reading and just plug ahead with the sermon.” The voice of the priest approached around the corner. With a final, lingering kiss, Luca reluctantly pried himself off me. We separated an instant before the gangly vicar and my stooped grandmother shuffled into view.

“Why… I… could… read… if… called…” Grandma agonizingly volunteered.

“No, while a lovely offer, that won’t be necessary. I believe there were some concerns by the parties as to length of the service.” Father Peters spotted us and heartily changed the subject. “Ah, Sarah and Luca! Tending to last minute duties for your wards, I take it?” We both smiled awkwardly and nodded.

“I really should get back to Brandy!” I blurted. Leaning in, I planted a kiss on my Grammy’s cheek, curtsied respectfully to the priest, then hurried back to the library.

“I will see you at the altar!” Luca called after me. I glanced over my shoulder as he adapted his charm to my grandmother, offering her his arm as he escorted her to a pew. My breath had steadied, and my flush was softened when I returned to the library.

The beautiful ceremony proceeded without a hitch. After the priest’s sermon, Brandy and Emiliano exchanged excited vows as Nico and I stood in ritual seriousness behind them. Throughout the service, my eyes flickered anxiously to each of the brothers, but neither of them strayed from their professionalism.

Finally released from our formal duties following the recessional, the ten members of the party clambered into the SUV limousine. I found myself on the back bench, uncoincidentally pinned tightly between Luca and Nico. As champagne was poured and passed, the older brother coolly draped his arm around my bare shoulders. From my other side, Nico curled his arm behind my waist, his hand resting on the soft meat above my hip.