The Destination Wedding Blowjob

There we were on the Isle of Wight, slow-dancing in each other's arms at his wedding reception. We hadn't seen each other since college, and judging by how his hands slithered from my curvy hips to my curvier derrière, he was still elated to see me after ages.

As we swayed to the rhythm of the rock ballad on the crowded dance floor, his elation grew yet more. I knew - because I could feel it thickening against my inner thigh. Maybe it was the drinks, maybe it was the connection of being the only two nonfair-skinned people there. Maybe he was just really happy to see me. Whatever it was, his vibe encapsulated me and I too, felt a yearning heat burn within.

As hard as I tried - especially on his special day - I couldn't shake this desire. I was compelled to whisper in his ear: "I want to give you a blowjob."

For a moment his dark eyes were lost in my big brown doe ones. "Say no more," he whispered, struggling to contain his excitement. He took my hand and led me across the dance floor.

He tapped his bride on the shoulder, who was dancing with her father. "Liz, I'll be back. Stepping out for a smoke break with Elishiva."

She chastised him with a disapproving glare, which frilled even my own hairs. "Lawrence Leung.. you said you'd quit when we got married."

"Last one - swear it my love!" he shouted back as we bounded out the banquet hall. We were a couple of children - giddy with the gift of a new play toy. He pulled me to a halt in the hallway.

"Look at how hard my dick is! I need you to suck it."

"Right here?? Some one will see us. Your bride will see us!"

"Did I stutter? Now!" He clutched my head and forced my face against his jutting cock, his silk trousers soft and cool against my flushed cheek. He moved his prick back and forth against my lips, as if to rub away the intense strain of his lust, and it lightly slapped my face on its own, synced with his thunderous heartbeats.

I glanced about checking the hallway, my body clammy and tingly in a rush of anxiety. I felt his mushroom head ram into my mouth, parting my thick lips, even before I could see what his erect penis looked like. I let out a high-pitched squeal of surprise, pushing his hips away, but he only drove his cock further into my mouth.

I gagged, fought the reflex to wretch up my meal. Gurgling noises escaped my throat; it hurried to lubricate itself with a thick sloshing of protective saliva against his rough intrusion.

He shoved his entire cock down until his balls touched my lips. The sensation of my esophagus stretching, engulfing his hard-on turned me on so much. I can't believe I'm swallowing the whole thing, I thought. I couldn't help feeling a tinge of pride.

"Yesss take it. Take it all, you dirty curry mama," he moaned, a little too loud. Normally, something that derogatory towards my Desi heritage would result in me handing out black eyes. But with our mutual histories of ethnic and colonial trauma, I let it slide - just like his Chinese sausage down my bulging throat. He held it there for what seemed an eternity, pinning my squirming head with his strong hands.

My eyes fluttered wide in the throes of asphyxiation, and he only released me when he noticed my frantic fists pounding on his ass. Clinging globs of spit dripped from his schlong, as he slowly relinquished me from his chokehold.

I hacked up a sticky mix of saliva and pre-cum and gasped for precious air. My mascara was running, from my teary eyes, taking me back to my Emo girl days.

Lawrence pulled out a handkerchief and wiped my face, gentle and caressing, a sharp contrast from his aggressiveness only moments earlier.

"Have you always been this thick, Sheev?" he asked using his pet name for me, his palm squeezing a chunk of my ass.

"Have you always been this big?" I shot in return. His beautiful, veiny dick pulsated before my eyes, as I played with his massive balls. "Let's make up for lost time, you filthy bao slinger.

I slurped his stiff noodle in between my puckered lips, and began bobbing my head up and down, slowly at first, then faster and faster.

He leaned back against the wall, eyes rolled up, and groaned in pure ecstasy. I fucked him harder with my slutty mouth. His cock, meant for his bride later that night, was now mine. She was also right down the hall. I had become a savage and no longer feared getting caught. It was so deviant, so hot that my pussy juices seeped through my panties and trickled on the floor.

"Ellll…" he moaned, his legs weak and trembling. I slammed his ass against the wall and fucked him with the length of my throat, slathering my tongue around and around as his swollen head squished in and out of my mouth.

He grabbed my hair and thrusted so hard I thought he would decapitate me. He grunted like a caveman as hot cum exploded from his cock into my throat. I could only make gagging noises as he fucked my face, but it felt so good choking on his cum. He thrusted again and again, blasting load after load with each lunge. He withdrew with a squelch and his cum poured out of my mouth.

My face was a hot mess. His cock looked like it had been grafted on from a Roman statue. How is he still this incredibly hard? I wondered, with hungry curiosity.

I could hear his bride's voice in her British accent, searching for him. "Your queen calls you."

"Fuck the Queen," he retorted, stuffing his man-meat inside me. My raging pussy gurgled with approval.