The Bride’s Toast

The wedding was a blur of champagne and bad music, but all I could see was Lena across the dance floor. She was my client, a thirty-something firecracker I’d been training for six months, and she was wearing a red dress that clung to every curve like it was trying to win a prize. She caught me staring, and her lips curled into that smirk she had when she was about to add ten more pounds to the barbell.

“You’re not dancing, Marcus,” she said, appearing beside me, her voice low over the thumping beat. “That’s a waste of a suit.”

“I’m more of a one-on-one coach,” I said, my eyes dropping to the way her chest rose with each breath.

“Then coach me.”

We slipped out the side door, the cool night air hitting us like a slap. She didn’t lead me far, just around the corner to a shadowed alcove by the hotel’s garden, hidden by a wall of ivy. The music was a dull pulse inside, but out here it was just the sound of our breathing and the rustle of her dress as she pushed me against the stone wall.

“I’ve been thinking about this for weeks,” she whispered, her hand sliding down my chest to palm the growing bulge in my trousers. “Every time you made me do those goddamn squats, all I could picture was you behind me.”

I grabbed her hips, pulling her flush against me, feeling the heat of her through the thin fabric. “Then stop picturing it.”

Her fingers were on my belt, quick and sure, and then her hand was inside my boxers, wrapping around my hard cock. She let out a little gasp as she stroked me, her thumb spreading the bead of moisture at the tip. “God, you’re thick,” she breathed, dropping to her knees without hesitation.

Her mouth was hot and wet, taking me deep in one smooth motion. I groaned, my head falling back against the stone as she worked me with a rhythm that was pure muscle memory. She knew exactly how to twist her tongue, how to pull back and suck hard on the head, her eyes locked on mine, wet and hungry.

“Lena…” I panted, fisting my hand in her dark hair. “I need to be inside you.”

She pulled off with a wet pop, a string of saliva connecting her lips to my cock. “Not yet.” She stood, turning around and bending over a low garden table, her red dress riding up to reveal a black lace thong. She looked back over her shoulder. “Remember the leg press? Show me what I’ve been training for.”

I didn’t need a second invitation. I yanked her thong aside, and the sight of her bare, glistening pussy made my mouth water. I stepped closer, the head of my cock pressing against her slick folds, and she pushed back, taking me in an inch at a time. She was tight, so fucking tight and wet, and the sound she made when I bottomed out was a strangled cry.

“Yes… fuck, yes,” she moaned, her hands gripping the edge of the table. “Don’t be gentle.”

I wasn’t. I gripped her hips and slammed into her, the wet slap of skin echoing in the quiet garden. She was loud, her moans turning into pure filth. “Fuck me, Marcus, harder, right there, oh my god…”

“You like that?” I grunted, leaning over her, my chest against her back, my mouth at her ear. “You like taking this cock after all those workouts?”

“Yes, yes, yes,” she chanted, and I felt her clench around me, her body shuddering as she came with a sharp cry.

I was close, the feeling of her pussy milking me sending me over the edge. I was about to pull out, but she reached back and grabbed my ass, digging her nails in. “Don’t you fucking dare,” she gasped. “Fill me up.”

That was it. I buried myself to the hilt and came with a guttural groan, my hot seed pumping deep inside her. She collapsed onto the table, panting, and I followed, my forehead resting on her back.

We stayed like that for a moment, tangled and breathless, the scent of sex and sweat thick in the air. Then I heard a rustle behind us.

I spun around, my cock slipping out of her. A woman stood in the shadows, a glass of champagne in her hand. It was the bride, Maya — Lena’s best friend.

“Well, that’s what I call a wedding gift,” Maya said, her voice a low, husky purr. She stepped forward, the moonlight catching the slit in her white dress. Her eyes dropped to Lena’s bare, glistening ass, then to my still-hard cock. “Are you two done? Or is there room for one more?”

Lena laughed, a breathless, wicked sound. She stood up, pulling her dress down but not bothering to fix her thong. She looked at me, then at Maya, a wicked glint in her eye. “I think we’re just getting started.”