The Usher

It was my brothers wedding. And I had just got divorced. Hadn’t even thought about sex for about 6 months.

I knew the guest list, of course. Had already picked my victim. He was one of the ushers. When I actually saw him I knew it would be pretty easy.

The wedding was perfect – drinks flowed, dancing, laughing. It was a fabulous day, continuing into the night as people peeled off and a hardcore group formed. Back at the hotel, we drank more, devoured fried chicken and pizza still in our finery, the bride wiping her hands on her dress. We sang and laughed and cried. 

It got very late and people said their goodbyes. Suddenly we were in the lift together getting out on the same floor. 

We’d hardly spoken to each other but what was about to happen was pretty inevitable really.
He shut his hotel room door and we clung together, kissing each other. our clothes came off in a trail towards the bed. Tights, bra, belt, trousers, socks, shirt, tie all together on the floor like a cartoon.
Of course I had on Bridget Jones style massive holdy-in pants. He made some joke about trying to get them off so I helped him out.
And then it began. He dived straight into my pussy with his tongue, kissing and nibbling slowly at first but working up momentum. It was a long time since anyone had given me head. My ex had given up on stuff like that, like in so many long term relationships. Ours anyway.
As a result I just became wetter and wetter as he worked away. The sensation of a young guy between my thighs was too good. The slightest brush of his lips against my pussy could have made me come straightaway, but we’d both been drinking all day and night. And I didn’t want to rush it.
I pulled his face up to mine and tasted myself on his lips. Then worked myself down his body and took his cock in my mouth.
We alternated for a while, changing positions on the bed and enjoying each other’s bodies. The fact he was a school buddy of my brothers, four years younger made it even more thrilling. Turned out he absolutely loved to 69 and paid more attention to my pussy than anyone previously. His technique was quite something.
We fucked all night. I found out when he drifted off to sleep that his snoring was like a pneumatic drill. So I slid down underneath the covers to make sure he woke up again each time the noise began.
In the morning I collected my clothes and tried to look presentable.
My brother called and asked if I was coming to breakfast. I cut the call short and went back to my room to change.
Going down for breakfast was hilarious – both of us pretending nothing had happened, me having paid for a hotel room I didn’t need, and my brother sussing something had happened.
He was the start of my sexual awakening – my second coming, literally and figuratively. I owe him a lot.

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