The Wedding Bet

The heat in the banquet hall was so thick my dress was sticking to my skin. I sat at the table, feeling my husband's hand slowly slide up my thigh beneath the tablecloth. His fingers were already brushing the edge of my panties, and his gaze—dark, hungry—never left my lips.

"You're not gonna chicken out, are you, Lena?" he whispered in my ear as the waiter moved away. "You lost the bet. Now it's my turn to call the shots."

My best friend's wedding was in full swing: music blaring, guests dancing, and Artem and I had just come back from the floor. He was in his dress uniform—captain, just back from field exercises, his insignia glinting under the lights. I'd lost the bet a week ago: if his unit came home early, I'd do whatever he wanted. They'd gotten back yesterday.

"Here?" I breathed out, feeling my nipples already hardening under the thin silk of my dress. "At a wedding, Tema... with everyone around."

"Exactly here," his palm squeezed my thigh harder, his fingers slipping under the edge of my panties and finding my slick slit right away. "You're already soaking wet, baby. Means you want it."

I bit my lip to keep from moaning. His middle finger slid into me slowly, curled inside, spreading my wetness. The music drowned out the wet sounds, but I could hear them myself—obscene, filthy. The maid of honor was sitting right next to us, chattering about something, and I was gripping the stem of my wine glass so hard my knuckles went white.

"Tema... fuck... not here," I whispered, but my legs spread wider on their own.

"Then where? The bathroom?" He smirked, adding a second finger and starting to fuck me with them slowly, deeply, in time with the waltz the orchestra was playing. "Or do you want to come right here under the table?"

I couldn't speak anymore. I just nodded. The need was pulsing in my belly—hot, wet, impossible. Artem pulled his fingers out, licked them right in front of me, staring into my eyes, and stood up.

"Let's go. Now."

We practically ran down the hotel corridor. The banquet hall doors disappeared behind us, the music fading. He pulled me into a small guest room—there was an old couch, and a military-themed painting on the wall. The irony wasn't lost on me.

The door clicked shut. Artem immediately pressed me against the wall, hiked my dress up to my waist. His hands grabbed my firm ass roughly, spreading my cheeks.

"Panties off. Now."

I pulled them down with shaking hands. They were soaked through. He unzipped his fly and pulled out his thick, heavy cock. The head was glistening with precum. I dropped to my knees right on the carpet, took him in my mouth. Hot, salty, pulsing. I sucked him greedily, deeply, taking him almost to the back of my throat, drool running down my chin.

"That's it, good girl..." he growled, gripping my hair. "Suck harder. Pretend it's a direct order from your commanding officer."

I moaned around his cock, my clit throbbing with need. He fucked my mouth for a few minutes, then yanked me up, spun me around, and bent me over the back of the couch. My dress was bunched up, my bare, dripping pussy completely exposed to him.

"Fuck me..." I breathed out, spreading my legs. "Please, Tema..."

He didn't wait. He slammed into me in one powerful thrust, all the way to the hilt. I cried out—he was so thick he stretched me to a sweet, aching fullness. He started pounding into me hard and deep, his balls slapping against my lips. Every thrust punched a moan out of me.

"Louder," he ordered, smacking my ass. "Let them hear how a military wife gets fucked."

"Yes... harder... fuck me..." I moaned, pushing back against him. My tits had spilled out of my neckline and were bouncing with every stroke. He grabbed my hair, arched my back, and sped up. The room filled with wet slaps, the smell of our arousal, and heavy breathing.

Then he pulled out, spun me around to face him, and sat me on the couch. He spread my legs as wide as they'd go, almost into a full split, and entered me again. This time he looked into my eyes, fucking me slow but devastatingly deep. Every time the head hit my cervix, I trembled.

"I want you to come on my cock, Lena. Right now."

His fingers found my clit and started rubbing fast. I couldn't hold back. The orgasm crashed over me—my body arched, my pussy clenched hard around him, juices spraying onto his uniform. I was screaming, not holding back, my nails digging into his shoulders.

"Fuck... I'm gonna..." he groaned.

He pulled out and stood over me. I opened my mouth, stuck out my tongue. The first powerful ropes of cum hit the back of my throat, across my tongue, over my cheeks. He came for a long time, thick and hot, filling my mouth with salty seed. I swallowed without closing my eyes, watching him tremble with pleasure.

When it was over, he sank down beside me and pulled me close. We were both gasping for air. His hand gently stroked my slick pussy, spreading the mixture of his cum and my juices.

"Experiment successful?" he asked softly, kissing my temple.

"Very much so..." I smiled, licking my lips. "But next wedding, it's my turn to make a wish."

He laughed low, pulling me tighter. The music still thumped beyond the door, but we couldn't have cared less.