So discreetly, I scanned the church. My buddies Mason and Kane were doing the same, their eyes roving over the crowd. Not much, unfortunately. A couple old biddies wearing hats as big as umbrellas, feathers extending three feet in the air. Why the hell would you do that? It was more circus freak than Duchess of Windsor.
Disappointed, I snorted. Oh well. At least the jet was still at that grassy field, ready to take off. We could leave as soon as humanly possible. Maybe after the wedding reception. Hell, maybe after the ceremony, if it came to that.
But my thoughts were interrupted by the swell of organ music. Suddenly, the volume got turned on max, and what had previously been some pleasant elevator music in the background became a full-on cacophony of chords. Fuck. Is this what counted for classy in Buttfuck, Nowhere?
The double doors to the entrance swung open slowly, and shit, but Elaine stepped in then. What the hell? I thought bridesmaids and flower girls walked first, but evidently, Elaine wanted all eyes on her from the get go.
Her blonde hair was perfect, a smile lighting that angelic face, but there’s no fooling me. That bitch is crazy town with a heavy dose of insanity. The couple times we’d hung out hadn’t gone down well. She was constantly whining “Bobby this, Bobby that,” ordering him around like a pet poodle. He’s the fucking mayor of Knox! You’re lucky you snagged him, especially with your bipolar tendencies.
Not only that, but one of those times, Bobby had forgotten to order one of her favorite drinks and she’d gone bat shit crazy at the bar, screaming that he didn’t love her and how could he claim to love her when he didn’t remember something as simple as that?
Needless to say, the night had been a bust, the mood blown after listening to Elaine criticize Bobby for nothing. God. Why the hell is he marrying her? It must be the pussy. Her pussy’s gotta be the holy fucking grail, because why else would he stay around, much less tie the knot?
But maybe that’s what we were here for: to keep him from making the biggest mistake of his life. Maybe we were here to rescue him. It’s not too late. We can haul him on the private jet and get him back to New York as soon as possible. He can be the Runaway Groom, like in the Julia Adams movie. Silently, I cheered in my head. That sounded like a plan. What was the alternative after all? Fifty years of life with a harpy who stole your money? Was there a pre-nup at least?
But nah, it wasn’t gonna happen. Stealing a glance at Bobby next to me, my heart went out to the man. Seriously, I felt bad for the poor guy. Chubby and sweating bullets, his face was bright pink, eyes bulging from behind those heavy glasses.
Maybe he was having second thoughts after all. If he really wanted to make a run for it we could get him out of here James Bond-style, no sweat. I opened my mouth to say something, but then the wedding march started. Well here we go. Too late now, live and let live, buddy … it’s your life.
So staring straight ahead, I watched disinterestedly as Elaine sashayed down the aisle, preening and smiling, nodding while batting her lashes. By my book, she was ugly. If you like skinny blondes, then Elaine was your girl, weighing in at ninety pounds, her shoulder bones scarily sharp, chest practically concave.
And the bridesmaids weren’t much better. I saw, but only because my eyes had to see. Like their blonde friend, they too were scary skinny, a bunch of scarecrows held up by wooden rails. Elbows so sharp they could cut through metal. Faces strained and pulled tight from hunger, the shape of their skulls visible underneath. Man, somebody get these girls a ham sandwich pronto.
But suddenly, all my pre-conceived notions were upended. Just when I’d given up, the last bridesmaid entered, biting her lip, brown curls a halo around her head. Shit, but this woman had curves! My gaze locked on her like a tractor beam; I couldn’t tear my eyes away from that lush female form. She had tits that went on for days, wide hips that swung right and left, and an ass so big you could eat a meal off it. Holy shit! She was so unlike the other girls. Where the hell had this chickadee been hiding?
And I wasn’t the only one that noticed her. Next to me, Kane and Mason stiffened, riveted by her presence. In fact, their whole bodies shifted to focus intently on the girl, like she was a magnet drawing our attention. We were lions stalking our prey, gazes unwavering, dicks getting hard already. I hadn’t been able to stop staring at those Double Ds for the last minute. Fuck, what would they taste like? What would it taste like between those sweet thighs? Would her puffy slit be creamy and hot? Aw, shit.
But finally, the wedding procession came to an end. The minister’s voice started droning and Bobby took his bride’s hand, yadda yadda yadda. We faced forwards because that was the right thing to do. It’d be a fucking riot if Mason, Kane and I continued to stare at the beautiful bridesmaid out in the open, our hands on our dicks as we ate up those curves. But that didn’t mean we were done for. Hardly, the three of us are dirty motherfuckers, and this was just the beginning.
Because we made eye contact with the beautiful brunette. In fact, all the bridesmaids were eyeing us, practically drooling. But as the ceremony started, everyone was forced to pay attention. Or at least look like they were paying attention.
Because once I had the beautiful girl’s eyes on me, I did something so fucked up and dirty that she could have screamed, and no one would have blamed her. Yeah, I popped my dick out. At first, it was just a stroke on top of my morning suit, making sure she saw that heaviness, the thick stiffness that’s my calling card.
But no sense in stopping there. Our dreamgirl was entranced, and no one else even noticed. So discreetly, I pulled down my zip as we stood in front of the priest, the old dude still droning monotonously about fidelity, love and honor. And with stealthy hands, it happened. I edged my fuckrod out for the girl to see, that giant length deep pink, already stiff with need.
Oh yeah.
Could she see how fat I was, massive and ready to take?
Could she see the wet glans, how my pole dripped with lust?
Suddenly, Mason coughed beside me, and I whipped my dick back into my pants. Oh yeah, the motherfucker was dying of laughter, even if his own rod begged to make an entrance. That tent at his crotch was just as bad as mine, if not worse.
So yeah, I put it back in. Enough had been done already. After all, I pulled my dick out and stroked it during someone else’s wedding, right in front of a crowd of onlookers. Sure, no one could see because we stood a particular angle that blocked the view. But still. It was fucked-up. It was my best friend’s wedding, and I’d been a sick motherfucker.
But it was worth it because that one act made the sweet girl’s eyes go round, her face flushing, pink pout forming a round “O” of shock. Was it wrong? Hell yeah. Triple X dirty? You bet. Happening again? For sure, times three.
Because Mason and Kane want in on the game too. We’re fucked-up assholes, guys who go at it three on one, owning females left and right. And here, in tiny Knox? There was only one brunette who fit the bill, who could possibly satisfy us all. And fortunately or unfortunately for the beautiful bridesmaid … her time was up.
CHAPTER THREE
Kane
Aw shit, Tyler’s so fucking disgusting. Pulling out your dong during a wedding ceremony? Showing it in its full glory as people are getting married? Doing it at the wedding of our buddy, no less, Bobby Winkle from childhood?
But Tyler’s just like that. Hell, Mason and I are like that too. Because shit, I would have done the same if I’d been standing where he was positioned. Fucker was turned so that no one could see except us and the beautiful brunette. And then that fuckpole came out, hard and glistening, as he smiled lasciviously at the girl.
But I don’t blame him. Because the chick was a sight for sore eyes. Gorgeous as all get-out, with tits out to there, and a huge, lush ass. Oh yeah, that sassy butt was enormous, the material of her dress stretched so tight that the seams were practically splitting on her precious crack. Let it split, I prayed. Let her have a wardrobe malfunction right here so that I can get a glimpse of that cre
amy goodness.
No such luck though. Her outfit was ugly as fuck, but it held together, squeezing her curves tight, emphasizing that hourglass figure. Shit, you could have put her in a gunnysack and she would have been fucking unstoppable.
So yeah, Tyler went balls to the wall, and pulled out his dong to tease and tantalize the innocent bridesmaid. And she was innocent for sure. As we stood there in front of the minister, her eyes literally grew wide as saucers, a sharp inhale causing those big boobies to lift in the air, begging to be kissed.
My dick jerked sharply then, straining against the zip painfully. And fuck, but a choked growl escaped my throat, forcing Tyler to stuff it back in immediately as people turned to make sure I was okay. Nothing to see, folks, keep moving. Yeah, right. More like we were in for a NC-17 show, straight out of the gutter.
But that’s just how us dudes roll. We’ve been friends since fourth grade, ever since Mason stood up for poor Bobby during a particularly nasty game of kickball. Even back then, Bobby was pudgy and overweight, one of those guys who’s always sweaty. And when a ball hit him straight in the face courtesy of one of the older boys, Mason went for it. Or more accurately, we all jumped into the melee, fists flying, amateur boxers all.
And sure, those boys were older than us. But it didn’t mean that they knew how to fight. Because me and my bros are assholes all around, and we’re not above doing some serious damage. So yeah, the fists came out, a couple cuts and tears, and pretty soon, the neighborhood bullies went running, scared shitless and screaming.
That was the beginning of the Four Musketeers. Me, Tyler, and Mason, plus Bobby, our mascot. During college, we’d been inseparable, roaming campus together and making trouble. These are my bros. One for all, and all for one.
But a few years after college, Bobby went on leave. Or more accurately, he left to follow his dreams. The man’s always been into politics, so when the opportunity to work for the Governor of Tennessee came along, Bobby jumped.
And surprisingly, he’s done well. The sweating pinkness that’s always defined him works well in politics. The bumbling persona comes off as genuine, his stammer is the mark of an “everyman,” and lo and behold, but our buddy is mayor of a tiny town in Tennessee now.
As for the rest of us, life’s taken a huge U. We were bad students. Worse than bad, more like barely graduating. But Mason, Tyler and I made it out alive, and somehow, everything fell into place after that.
I’m now the CEO of a restaurant empire. Mario Batali? That dude’s got nothing on me. A hundred and seventy restaurants are on our roster, more opening each year. Plus, we’re in talks to start our own Food Network channel. Not a show on the Food Network, but actually a channel in and of itself, hosting chefs, cooking shows, you name it, we got it.
Tyler’s an investor at an international bank with offices all over the world. Billions flow through his hands each day, and more than a few folks have called him the next Warren Buffett. Lucky bastard because he’s got the dough but doesn’t have to live in Omaha.
Mason’s the CEO of his own construction company, responsible for building new high-rises and office buildings in major cities all over the world. Dude lives in a penthouse seventy stories about Central Park. And guess what? He built the place to his specs, down to every last detail.
So yeah, we’re all captains of industry. Money rolls in waves, and there’s nothing out of reach. Influence, women, business deals, everything can be bought, at least in a city like New York.
So none of us can understand why Bobby chose to move to this tiny town in Tennessee. Why would you limit yourself? But against all odds, he’s done well, becoming the mayor of this place. So what if it’s population one thousand? So what if the people are mostly senior citizens, doddering up and down Main Street on canes? He’s still the mayor, and it’s just a first step. Pretty soon, Bobby’s gonna be running this fucking zoo. Soon homeboy’s gonna be in the Senate or even the White House, politics come so easy to him.
But still, this wedding. Shit, Mason, Tyler and I just flew in thirty minutes ago, and it was already a drag. Boring as all fuck. Organ music that sounded like monkeys screeching. Ladies who were skinny as scarecrows, like walking clothes hangers. Not attractive. Not by a long shot.
Because heavy girls have always been my kryptonite. Give me a pair of thick thighs, a generous D-cup and a bit of cushion for the pushin’, and I’m in heaven. Sure, models and actresses always throw themselves at me, but they’re just not my size. Cameras do funny things, and girls who look relatively normal in magazines are fucking tiny in real life. Like bobble head dolls, except you’re afraid their brain is gonna come disconnected and roll off during dinner. It’s bad, real bad.
But hey, I’ve never been one to turn down free pussy. So yeah, we let them have it. It’s not like there’s a vow of celibacy or something, and more often, the girls throw themselves at us, and not the other way around. Hell, there were even those who begged for the triple team. That’s right, three dicks at once, filling all their holes. Depraved? Fuck yeah. But satisfying as hell? Definitely, especially for the female plugged tight everywhere. In fact, they usually came back a second time begging for more, offering their bodies, writhing and mewling. So why not? Consenting adults all around.
But now, this godforsaken wedding. One look at Elaine and I was immediately turned off. There’s a radar called the bitch switch, and shit, but the blonde switched that switch ON. Even with an angelic face and perfect Barbie-like blonde hair, this girl has a bad personality. Like a spoiled, whiny persona, the-world-revolves-around-me attitude. There just ain’t time for that where I come from. In our world, the Earth circles around us, not any female.
But shit, surprises can happen anywhere, anytime. Because a beautiful brunette stepped into the church last, when I’d given up hope altogether. She was the last bridesmaid, ripe and luscious, with a shy smile and innocent brown eyes. And shit, that figure. Yeah, the female busted out everywhere, my dick jerking as I took in those luscious tits, the giant Kim Kardashian ass. What would it feel like to be cushioned between those butt cheeks? To run my pole horizontally first, enjoying the sweaty rub before pushing it into her ass? Hell, I had to know.
But first, this ceremony. Like a dog, Tyler pulled it out and flashed the girl. My man, you’re my hero. A real fuckin’ stud, wish I’d done the same. But it was all over in a couple seconds, and then we were onto the reception.
“Yo guys,” I grunted, once the crowd had dispersed. “Ready to go?”
Mason and Tyler knew exactly what I was talking about. In fact, their packages were pretty huge still, straining at their morning suits.
“Absolutely,” grunted Mason.
“Fuck yeah,” swore Tyler. “Shit, I’m gonna burst.”
And like that it was on. As we entered the reception area, our eyes found her, bodies immediately on alert. She was innocent and pure, a lamb waiting to be led to the slaughter, trembling and compliant. And as if in a movie, the brunette’s head turned as we entered, immediately connecting with our gazes. Hell yeah. She knew. The female wasn’t innocent, she wanted us as much as we wanted her.
Grabbing a drink, the three of us made our way over to the gorgeous girl.
“Hey,” I grunted. “Nice to meet you. I’m Kane.”
But before the woman could say anything, another bridesmaid pushed her way in front of us, cooing and preening.
“Hi, I’m Stacy,” she purred, one hand messily sloshing a champagne glass. “You are?”
I eyed her amused.
“Like I said, I’m Kane,” came my deep growl. “And this here is Mason and Tyler.”
“Oh right!” exclaimed the pushy bridesmaid. “You were the ones who just flew in. Was it exciting?” her voice lowered conspiratorially. “I heard one of you, and I’m not saying who,” she singsonged, “has a private jet!”
Right. This woman was already eyeing us greedily, licking her lips thinking about getting on our plane. Fuck no, bitch. That thing is preciou
s, and you’re not getting a ride come hell or high water.
So instead, Mason rumbled casually.
“Lots of people in NYC have private planes,” he growled. “But not everyone has a G-6 like us.”
The bridesmaid almost fainted then, her face literally going sheet white as her eyes bulged.
“A G-6?” she gasped. “Like in the song?”
“Like in the song,” grunted Tyler, nodding darkly. “Exactly like in the song.”
And shit, but the woman literally swooned then, collapsing on the ground in a pile of poof. It was hysterical, to be honest. The combination of plane, plus too much champagne, plus weighing about ninety pounds did her in, and she fell to the side, head landing on the floor with a thunk.
Immediately we bent over to help. But the sweet brunette beat us to it.
“Kacey,” she said urgently, cradling the woman’s head between her hands. “Wake up! It’s okay, it’s okay. Quick, get me some water,” she said urgently.
Magically, a glass appeared, and the brunette held it to this Kacey’s lips.
“Drink,” she commanded her friend. “Drink up Kacey, all that alcohol on an empty stomach isn’t good for you.”
And slowly, the three of us knelt so that we surrounded the brunette, our massive bodies closing in. It was a little weird with an unconscious girl at our feet, but she was gonna be okay. A little food in her stomach, and little time, and she’d revive.
Besides, it was the first moment of privacy we had with our brunette. The world shrank until it was just her and us, people milling around in a blur behind our backs.
“Hey,” I rumbled. “Good thinking with the water. I’m Kane, by the way.”
And the girl looked back at us, brown eyes wide, breasts heaving, even as her friend started blinking and coming to.
“I’m Katie,” she murmured, a flush spreading down her breasts. “I – I –“ she stammered.
My smile grew broader.
“No need for introductions right at this moment, sweet thing,” came Tyler’s growl. “Because we just have one question for you. Did you like what you saw?”
The President and the Starlet: A Forbidden Romance Page 9
