A Wedding Story - Part Two: For Better or Worse

By: Michael Lee

© 2001 by Michael Lee. All rights reserved.

Like everything which is not the involuntary result of fleeting emotion but the creation of time and will, any marriage, happy or unhappy, is infinitely more interesting than any romance, however passionate.

~ W. H. Auden ~

Two such as you with such a master speed
Cannot be parted nor be swept away
From one another once you are agreed
That life is only life forevermore
Together wing to wing and oar to oar.

~ Robert Frost ~

[AUTHOR'S NOTE: This story is the continuation of my previous story titled, "A Wedding Story - Part One, Maid of Dishonor". While "For Better or Worse" begins where "Maid Of Dishonor" ends, it is also written as a stand-alone story, and may be enjoyed by those that have read Part One and those that haven't. For the latter's benefit, I've included a very brief summary of the story so far.]

Christine stood in front of the mirror, nude with the exception of her bra and a pair of lace-topped thigh high stockings. The panties she bought for Stephen, the ones she intended to wear on her wedding day, were now on the floor. She reached up, unfastened the bra, and shivered as it fell from her shoulders. She wrapped her arms around her chest, although the shiver wasn't from the cool air of the room. Oh no, she thought. It's more than that, isn't it? Much more.

Christine reached into her bag, this time removing a different pair of panties. This one was black, sheer, and practically see through. The material in her hand felt completely different from the fine silk now lying at her feet. But what stood out was the stiffness of the sheer panties. She sighed aloud and stepped into the exotic panties, the ones she wore last night. Her hand returned to her pussy, cupping the mound in an attempt to soften the stiff material between her legs. Once again, her eyes returned to the mirror.

Her heart skipped a beat as she absorbed her reflection. She still had on her wedding stockings, and the contrast between the innocence of the white lace adorning her legs, the risqué black panties high across the fair skin of her hips, and the untamed auburn curls piled high on her head was staggering. She reached into the bag once again, and slipped the garter around her thigh. Now she was ready. She nodded, finally accepting the truth as she picked up her gown and prepared to slip it over her head. But even as she did so, her mind raced back, back over the events of the previous 24 hours. Events that had changed her in ways she'd never before imagined. After all, it was only last night - this morning actually, if you wanted to be precise - that she'd been fucked by only the third man in her young life. And the only one since Stephen entered her life so many years ago.

Christine could still hardly believe it. The night had started so innocently, a simple gathering of friends to celebrate her last night as a single girl. And then, in the matter of an instant, she'd met Grant. From that moment on, nothing had remained the same. She surrendered to him completely, and with her enthusiastic help, Grant had fucked her until the early hours of this very morning - the morning of her wedding day. Now, everything that had once seemed important - the color of the bridesmaid dresses, the flowers, the cake - paled against the crisis of spirit and conscience that threatened to consume her. She shook her head, attempting to clear the dark thoughts from her mind. Too late for second thoughts now, she resolved. Or second chances for that matter. It was time to get dressed.

As Christine loosely held the wedding dress before her, the door suddenly opened. Christine jumped, startled by the sudden intrusion and her near nakedness. In her shock, the gown fell to the floor.

"Chrissie, you okay?"

"Kay! You scared the hell outta me!

"Sorry, but I knocked, and when you didn't say anything, I got worried." Kay closed the door, and looked slowly down Christine's body. "Um, you sure you okay? You look a little, well, upset."

Christine shook her head. "I'm fine, Kay. Really. I guess it's just the jitters, you know?"

"Who can blame you? You're about to be married, and you're still practically a virgin, for God's sake. Nice outfit by the way," Kay said, staring openly at her sheer panties. "Poor Stephen will come before he can get his pants off after one look at those. Sexy, baby, sexy!"

"Please, not now."

Kay stopped teasing and frowned as she assessed her friend. "Oh God, something is wrong. Come on, tell me. Is it that jerk Stephen? He say something to you?"

"No, no. It's nothing like that. It's just . . . well . . . ah, just forget it."

Kay took Christine's hand, and led her to the couch. "No, I can't just forget it, Chris. It's your wedding day, for God's sake, and you look like you're about to be sick. Please tell me what's wrong."

"Oh God, Kay. I can't . . . I just can't."

"What? You can't what?"

"This . . . this marriage."

Kay stopped and looked at her friend. "What about it?" Christine exhaled sharply as she remembered the dress on the floor. As she bent down to grab the dress, Kay moved closer. "Here, let me help you with that."

"Thanks," Christine said with a gentle smile. Once the gown was back on her shoulders, Kay stepped away.

"Wow, Chris, you really are beautiful."

"Yeah, I guess so." She sighed once more. "Can you keep a secret?"

"Of course. You know I can."

"Good, cause if anyone ever hears about this, it would kill me. And Stephen too."

"What is it?"

"Okay... I'll tell you, but don't say anything until I am finished. I'm having a hard time dealing with this, and I don't think I can take any jokes either."

"Okay."

Kay and Christine sat together on the sofa as Christine began her story. She began by describing her attraction to Grant, the note dropped on his table, and her return to the bar to meet Grant after her friends had left. She continued without stopping, confessing every detail of the lurid encounter, and withholding nothing to her friend. Thirty minutes later, her secret had been revealed. Strangely, as she described the sordid affair, she became more and more aroused. Every memory triggered a physical response, and her body responded as the warmth spread between her tightly closed thighs.

"And then I walked out, and caught a cab back home. I almost lost it on the way. Here I was, on the morning of my wedding, and I had just had sex with a complete stranger. Jesus, Kay, what have I done? How can I marry Stephen now?" Christine lowered her head to her hands and began to cry.

"Shhh, come on hon, it'll be okay," Kay reassured her. She reached out and held Chris's head on her shoulder, allowing her to cry it out. After a few minutes, the sobs slowed, and she sat up wiping away the tears.

"Jesus, look at me. I'm a mess."

"No you aren't. You still look beautiful."

Christine tried to smile. "What am I going to do?"

"You are going to get married, that's what," Kay said determinedly.

"I can't," Christine said, sobered by the implications of her affair. "I've been unfaithful. I can't do that now."

"Yes you can. Come on, think about it. You did something totally out of character for like the first time in your life. I completely understand what you did, 'cause I've done it too."

"Not on the night before your wedding," Christine said, still struggling to contain her emotions.

"No, but I've done some things you don't even know about. Things I am deeply ashamed of. But I don't have regrets. Life's too short for that. And now you can go into this marriage without any regrets either. Think about it, if you hadn't gone back to Grant, you would have regretted that decision for the rest of your life."

"Yeah, I suppose you're right."

"You know I am. See, you got it out of your system. Now you can get married knowing you have experienced something you always yearned for. Now you won't have to look back with regret. This is a good thing, Chris, not bad."

Chris barked a short mirthless laugh. "You think Stephen would agree with that?"

"Come on, we aren't talking about him, we are talking about you. And what he doesn't know won't hurt him."

Chris looked down, her hands smoothing the wrinkles in the lap of her dress.

"Wait a minute," said Kay in genuine shock. "You can't possibly be thinking of telling him are you?"

"Well, I didn't want to lie . . ."

"Jesus Christ . . . look, you have got to realize something. You acted entirely on impulse. You never intended to hurt Stephen, did you?"

"God no! I would never want to hurt him. Why do you think this is so hard for me?"

"Then why would you tell him now? Don't you see how that would kill him?"

Christine sighed, finally accepting the truth. "Yeah, I suppose so."

"Come on, it's over now. You aren't the girl that slept with Grant. You are the one that is about to get married. You'll make a lovely bride, and a wonderful wife and mother. A bit kinky perhaps . . ."

Christine smiled. "Kay!"

"Sorry. But at least you still know how to smile."

Christine leaned across and hugged her friend. "Thanks, Kay. You don't know how much I needed this. I'll never forget you for this."

"Come on, enough of the mushy stuff. You need to get dressed. Only an hour left, you know."

Christine silently nodded her head, agreeing that what was done, was done. After all, the most important moment of her life was rapidly approaching, and that was where she needed to focus. But despite her best efforts, her thoughts continued to turn towards Grant - his eyes, his hands, the taste of his mouth, and even the feel of his cock as it slipped inside her. And that, she knew, was a feeling she could never forget.

"Quiet, quiet everyone! It's time to cut the cake!"

The crowd fell silent as attention shifted to the center of the room. There, towering high on a tabletop, was a lavishly decorated wedding cake, adorned with flowers and other designs of thick icing. The photographer positioned them behind the table, each holding a silver plated serving knife at the top layer of the cake. Their fingers touched as they shared the knife, and the camera whirred as they cut the first piece. Stephen placed the cake on a glass plate, his smile broadening as he reached down to pick up a small portion. Christine knew what was coming, and opened her mouth, extending her tongue to accept the traditional offering from bridegroom to bride. Once she felt the cool, sweet icing on her tongue, she swallowed, smiling broadly as the camera continued to record the moment. But as she turned to look into the crowd gathering around the cake, she caught a glimpse of a familiar silhouette. It was a tall, dark man moving slowly behind the smiling faces that surrounded her. And although she didn't catch his face, she knew who it was. It was Grant. It had to be.

"Chris?"

She snapped out of her trance and turned to look at Stephen. He was looking at her, obviously concerned about her sudden loss of interest in the cake.

"Oh, sorry baby. I guess it's my turn now, right? Hope you're hungry!" With a forced smile, she picked up another piece of cake and proceeded to feed it to her new husband. As she did, she clearly saw Grant again, standing slightly to Stephen's left, watching her intently. Her eyes locked onto his, and she withdrew her hand from Stephen's mouth and brought it to hers. She extended her tongue once again and placed the icing covered finger upon it, letting her finger slide seductively into her mouth. Her lips encircled her finger, and in a close parody of the blowjob she had given the night before, she sucked it deep into her mouth, pausing to slowly withdraw it once again. As the tip emerged from her mouth, she flicked her tongue across the wet fingertip, just as the camera once again snapped to life. An almost inaudible gasp escaped from a few women nearby. Grant looked at her, and smiled.

As the guests began to help themselves to cake, Stephen excused himself to talk with a few of his distant relatives. Christine found herself alone for moment. It didn't last long.

"So how was it?" It was Grant. Of course.

"Excuse me?" Christine answered, turning slightly to face him. Despite her best efforts, Christine could feel her neck and chest warm with the sudden flush of embarrassment. Suddenly the room felt too small, too warm, too intimate. She was intensely aware of how close he was standing, his powerful presence threatening to overwhelm her just as it had the night before. In reply to her question, his smile only broadened.

"If you'll excuse me then, I have guests to see. You realize that this is my wedding, right?"

"I believe the thought crossed my mind."

"Then what the Hell are you doing here?"

"I came to see the lovely bride, what else? And I have to hand it to you, Christine. When the good Reverend said that line about forsaking all others, you didn't even bat an eye."

Christine could feel her temper rising, and struggled to control it. She couldn't afford to draw attention to them. Her voice trembled as she spoke.

"What do you want?"

"I thought that was obvious. You didn't seem to have trouble discerning my wants last night, did you?"

Christine could feel her pulse hammering in her throat. From fear, anger, or excitement she dared not consider. "Get out, Grant. I mean it. Last night was a mistake, something I'll regret for the rest of my life. But that life starts right now, and I don't ever want to see you again, is that clear?"

Grant laughed. "You are too easy to read, dear. Just like last night. So while your words are admirable once again, your body is giving you away. You should teach it to behave. On second thought, I thought the way your delicious little body behaved last night was exquisite."

"Fuck you, you bastard."

Christine turned to walk away, but Grant reached out and took her firmly by the arm. "Hold on a second. Before you run off pretending that you're a prim and proper little wifey, perhaps you could explain your little tease during the cake eating display."

"I don't know what you're talking about. Now, let go of my arm."

"You know exactly what I'm talking about. You want me again, and that little finger-sucking was your way of telling me exactly that."

Christine knew he was telling the truth. But she continued to deny the obvious. "You wish."

"Where are you staying tonight?"

"That's none of your business."

"Yes, it is. And you know it is. Quit wasting time, Christine. Your husband is bound to return in a minute. Tell me where you are staying."

Christine sighed, knowing exactly what would happen if she were to tell. But she couldn't stop it. "The Waldorf."

Grant smiled. "Good. Meet me in the bar at 2:00 am."

"For God's sake, Grant, you can't expect me to meet you on the first night of my honeymoon?"

"Just like before, always in denial about what you want. I'll be waiting, and wear the same lingerie you have on under this dress right now." And with that, he turned and left.

Christine was stunned by what had just transpired. She looked around, sure that everyone had witnessed her betrayal, but no one seemed to have noticed. When she saw Stephen, she smiled stupidly, waving as he winked at her. But come on Chris, she chided herself. You wouldn't dare sneak out of the hotel suite on your wedding night would you? WOULD YOU?

The rest of the reception went past in a blur of faces and well wishes until it was time to throw the garter and the bouquet. Once again, the photographer positioned Christine and Stephen at the best angle, electing to begin with the traditional removal of the bride's garter. As Christine sat in the chair, Stephen waved over as many single men as he could. There were several wolf whistles and hoots as Stephen knelt down on the floor in front of Christine. Christine smiled as she watched the guys, noticing once again that Grant had joined the group of eligible bachelors waiting for the throw. She felt her arousal immediately, especially when she remembered the panties she was wearing.

The guys whistled as Stephen reached for his wife. She seductively opened her thighs, teasing her husband and his friends with what she hoped appeared to be an innocent glimpse of stocking covered thigh. Stephen looked up at her, their eyes meeting as she bit her lower lip. She lifted one leg just as Stephen began to slide his hand up the inside of her thigh. His hands forced the hemline of the dress above her knees, and Christine spread her legs even wider, sliding her hips towards her husband as his hand continued upwards. To her surprise, the hand continued past the garter, and didn't stop until she felt his fingers directly against her pussy. She let out an audible moan as he paused to caress her clit. She looked down, and noticed that Stephen was now staring intently between her open legs. She knew he could see her pussy through the sheer panties, and obviously the shock of such blatantly sexual attire had affected Stephen's judgment as well. Neither realized how exposed Christine now was, until they heard one of the guys whisper "Jesus, look at that."

Suddenly, Stephen realized that he had pushed her dress too high, and that everyone could see her nearly naked cunt. He quickly pushed her dress down, pausing to pull off the garter, and with great flair, stood back up with the lacy garter securely in his hand. Christine's face was bright red with embarrassment, as he turned back around and tossed the garter. She could feel the eyes on her, eyes she knew had seen her exposed in a manner that should have been saved for her husband alone. But didn't Stephen seem pleased by her actions? In her confusion, she failed to notice Grant leave the small group and walk out the door.

In fact, she didn't think about Grant again until later that evening, when her husband was moving between her open thighs, preparing to fuck her for the first time as his wife. Only then, did her mind return to Grant. Only when she felt Stephen inside did she wish she were fucking Grant instead. And as Stephen rode her, she allowed her thoughts to focus on Grant, on his body, not Stephen's. She came quickly with her new husband, faster than any previous time, her orgasm triggered not by her husband, but by thoughts she dared not imagine. As she called out in ecstasy, her mind was picturing the scene at the reception. Only this time, in her mind she opened her legs even wider than before. Stephen reached up not to remove the garter, but instead removed her panties, pulling the sheer garment from her hips as the men watched and whistled.

As Stephen fucked her, she closed her eyes tightly, focusing on her fantasy scene. She could see herself; head thrown back in ecstasy, holding the hem of her wedding gown at her waist, her pussy completely exposed. Stephen moved aside as the first man took his place between her thighs. As the imaginary stranger shoved his cock inside her, she began to come. She cried out in pleasure, reaching for her husband's ass, holding on as Stephen drove home with all his might, his wife coming again and again as she imagined men lining up to use her, to take her completely, over and over again, until every man at the reception had taken his turn. Finally, Stephen could take no more, and with one last powerful thrust, he shoved his cock deep inside her and came.

"Jesus, Christine. That was incredible." Stephen rolled off, struggling to catch his breath.

"Oh my God, honey." Christine was amazed by the strength and intensity of her orgasms. She looked over at her husband, and gave him a big wet kiss. "You were the incredible one. I've never come like that before. Thank you so much."

They held each other in their wedding bed, hearts slowing as they began to drift towards sleep. Stephen reached it first, his deep even breathing signaling Christine. She followed soon after, her dreams populated by one man moving between her open thighs, dreams of pleasure that wouldn't be remembered in the light of conscious thought. But in these dreams, she found the comfort she yearned for, and in the arms of her new husband, she slept.

Christine awoke with a start. She had been dreaming, although the details of the dream disappeared as soon as her eyelids fluttered open. Still, she knew without question whom the dream had been about - Grant. As her eyes focused in the unfamiliar space of the hotel suite, she searched for the alarm clock. There, on the nightstand, the red numbers interrupted her dream-induced euphoria. 2:47.

"Oh shit," she muttered before catching herself. Stephen didn't move. Apparently the champagne and spirited wedding night fuck had proved to be an extremely effective sedative. He was gone. But now what? As she stared, the numbers changed on the clock . . . 2:48 . . . 2:49 . . . 2:50. Finally, she threw her legs over the side of the bed and quietly walked into the bathroom. She leaned against the counter and looked into the mirror. What's changed? She thought. I've got a ring, and I've made a vow, but has anything really changed? If I could fuck Grant last night, why can't I do it again? Are there degrees of unfaithfulness? Or is like the old saying - you can never be a little bit pregnant. So, once a cheater, always a cheater right?

She sighed, a sound almost desperate in the stillness of the darkened room. But she knew what she wanted, without question. She wanted him one more time. Just once. No more after this. She piled her thick, auburn curls high on her head, securing them in place with a clip before taking out her makeup case. As she touched up the rough spots, she hoped Stephen was sleeping as soundly as she thought.

Once she had freshened up, Christine walked out and looked at the navy blue dress hung casually in the closet. Her panties were still wet from her previous coupling, but she knew that was what Grant expected. She decided against a bra or stockings, and simply slipped the clingy dress over her head. She stepped into her shoes, and turning to look at her sleeping husband once again, she quietly left the safety of her marriage bed, choosing the heat of a stranger's body to the warm familiarity of her new husband. But the illicit thrill she felt was unmatched; not even her exploits from the previous night could compare to the sexual flush that had descended upon her. Her legs were shaking as the elevator door opened. She entered, closing Stephen from her mind just as the doors closed behind her.

"You're late."

Christine almost dropped her drink. She had been sitting alone for twenty minutes, and had decided to leave as soon as she finished her drink when she heard Grant's words.

"Late? You're lucky I'm even here. In fact, I was just about to leave."

"Then go."

Jesus, what was it about him that could anger her so quickly? But at the same time, she knew that is was useless to act coy. They both knew exactly why she was there, and to pretend otherwise at this point was as ridiculous as it was transparent.

Christine responded to his arrogant taunt with one of hers. "Not until you fuck me one more time."

Grant took her in his arms, pulling her to his chest as his lips found hers. Immediately, she felt the warmth of a sexual flush cross her chest and neck, just as the familiar tingle descended between her already weakened legs. His hands held her tightly as their tongues met, one hand descending to her ass as he took possession of her body without regard to onlookers. She broke the kiss, frightened that someone would recognize her if she let Grant continue to publicly hold her in this manner.

"Grant, please," she whispered, "not here. We have to hurry, I don't have much . . ."

Once again, her words were cut off as Grant kissed her again. If anything, he was more assertive than ever, this time he placed his hand directly on her breast. She had never been touched this way in public before, but despite her misgivings, she found the experience to be highly arousing. Her nipple responded immediately, tightening as Grant squeezed the soft flesh in his rough hand. She let out a soft moan, announcing her acceptance of his advances. But just as she did, he let her go, broke the kiss, and turned to leave. As he walked off, he stopped.

"You coming?"

Without a word, she stepped forward and took his hand. Together they walked from the bar towards the elevators, both of them equally aware of the scene they had created for the half dozen men still drinking at the bar. Somehow, that thought aroused her even more than she thought possible, as she remembered the fantasy from earlier. Her heart was racing in anticipation of what was to come tonight, and in countless nights yet to be experienced. And with that thought came the realization that she had changed. For better or worse, her marriage had changed her in a fundamental way. She yearned to experience all the things she had denied herself, and just as she vowed to Stephen, she also made a new vow to herself. I will, she thought. I will take this man, this new man at my side, to have and to hold, to fulfill my darkest desires of love, to richen my body in the ways of pleasure I can't yet imagine. Yes Grant, I will. God help me, I will.

They entered his room without speaking. She walked slowly across the carpet, looking at the room, noticing how similar it was to the one she was sharing with her husband. As she walked to the edge of the king-sized bed, she felt Grant's strong hands encircle her waist. And she knew what she wanted. She widened her stance, sending a silent invitation by allowing him easy access to her already wet pussy. As his lips descended to her neck, his hands discovered the path she had provided. He pushed the dress to her waist, and moments later she felt his warm hand cup her soft mound.

"Yessss, that's it, baby. I need you to touch me. Please . . ."

"Shhhh," Grant whispered to her. "I'm here, and I know exactly what you need. You need to be fucked tonight, and that is just what you are going to get."

She shuddered as his words set her cunt aflame. Before she could reply, she felt a strong grasp on the back of her neck, forcing her to bend forward towards the bed. The other hand never released her pussy, and she had to reach out to keep from falling on the bed. Between her thighs, she felt Grant's finger work its way under the leg band of her panties, pausing to caress her moist slit. She shuddered as her desire began the maddening climb towards the release she now craved.

"Do it, Chris."

She was momentarily confused by the sudden escalation in their passions. "What . . . do what?"

"Just like before, you have to put it in. You want me to fuck you, don't you?"

"Oh God, yesss. Please, I need you so much." She could barely contain herself as she imagined the act they were about to perform. Incredibly, she was about to be fucked by the second man of the night. Her wedding night of all things. But that very thought lit the fuse to her exploding lust.

"Then say it."

"Mmmmm, please baby, please just fuck me, okay? Don't make me beg for it."

"Then do it. Take it out. Now!"

She struggled to reach behind her, but she couldn't quite get his zipper undone. Grant noticed her struggle, and released his hold of her pussy to release his cock from his pants. As soon as he had opened his fly, her searching hand found what she was looking for. There it was, soft yet solid, the very instrument of her desire. She took the shaft in her hand and wrapped her fingers around its girth, quickly sliding her fist up and down his length. He felt so hot, so big. It was exactly what she needed, and she couldn't wait another second.

With an audible gasp, she pulled the panties aside and placed the thick head against her tender opening. She backed onto him, impaling herself as the long shaft slithered its way inside. Grant held her firmly by her hips, holding steady so she could enjoy the sensation of penetration. Christine was desperate for more, and began to grind her backside against her lover, circling her hips around his cock.

"Mmmm, yeah baby, that's it," she moaned. "Come on, harder now. I need it harder."

Grant began to move faster, pushing forward with enough force to produce an audible slap of skin as each thrust hit bottom. With each movement, Christine focused on the fuck, the feel of a thick cock penetrating her, a pair of strong rough hands holding her tightly across her hips. She added her hand to the mix, using her fingers to caress their very union. As the onslaught continued, she locked her fingertip on her clit, teasing it even as Grant continued to pound her tortured cunt.

So this is it, she thought. This is all I am now. I'm nothing but a fuck for a stranger. But the thought didn't repulse her as much she had feared. Oh no. If anything, she was enthralled by the discovery of this new side. In a matter of minutes, she had been reduced from a newlywed bride to this - a willing and sensuous body, wanting nothing more than to be used as an object of pleasure. And from this realization, she discovered a new woman inside of her. Until Grant, she had given her body as an act of love, honor, and faith. But now, she could give in to a man motivated not by the heart, but by a soul aflame with primitive lust. They were scarcely more than animals in heat, seeking to satisfy a hunger that threatened to jeopardize every comfort she had previously known. She knew her need to be fucked this way could destroy her marriage, and her life. Once again, her subconscious fought for a voice to quiet to the lust raging inside her, but in a final moment of desperation, she shook her head and silenced the voices inside. She opened her eyes, and gave in completely to the man ravaging her flesh, his cock driving harder and deeper than ever before. Each stroke awakened a new desire, and her passion began the climb she now longed for. And in a flash, her body completed the betrayal, and she began to come.

"Oh God, yesss!" she called, "I'm coming baby . . . I'm . . . ohhh . . . yeah . . . fuck . . ." Her words evaporated in a stream of incoherent utterances, and as her climax coursed through her body, every muscle strained as never before. Her legs trembled, and the contractions in her cunt forced her breath to catch in quick gasps of pleasure. Sex had never felt like this before - to climax so completely, without holding back. If anything, the release seemed shocking in its intensity, her loss of control frightening even as her passions soared. She could speak no more, and as her body lost all ability to resist Grant's steady fucking, she collapsed forward to the mattress.

Grant's cock slipped from inside her as her legs gave way. She froze, panting uncontrollably as she fought to regain control of her muscles. Still, she could barely move. Suddenly, she felt Grant move to the bed behind her, spreading open her legs once again. He reached under her arms, and with a strong push shoved her forward on the bed.

"I'm not through with you," he said in a quiet yet insistent whisper. "I'm going to give you the fuck you need, baby. So lie still and enjoy it."

Christine remained still, offering no resistance to his desires. She thought of herself in a detached way, almost as if she were looking down on the scene from above. The image made her shudder. She felt Grant's powerful hands lift her ass from the mattress, positioning her for anything he now wanted. The only sound in the room was her breathing, quick rapid pants that were almost on the verge of panic. Every touch seemed electric, her nerves as charged as her imagination.

As he lifted her hips from the mattress, she immediately felt his hot breath on her back, followed by his lips as he kissed his way up the delicate curve to her shoulders and neck. The kisses suddenly stopped as his weight shifted on the bed. In a moment, he returned to her side, accompanied by the touch of a light fabric tickling her ass.

"I have a surprise for you," he said.

She was momentarily confused and with a dazed look, turned to look at him. He was smiling, casually holding a black silk scarf.

"How far will you go, Christine?"

"Wha . . . what do you mean?" Her heart raced at the slight inflection in his voice. She feared they had crossed a forbidden line from which she would never return. But she had to know what he was offering, and she was intensely aware of her arousal again. His words hung in the air, fanning the raging fires in her soul.

"Tell me how far you want to go tonight, baby. I've already planned something for you tonight, something I know you'll love. Do you want to hear more?"

"Oh God, yes. Please."

His hand moved to her open pussy, and as he spoke he began to finger her wet slit, teasing the pouting lips and the almost too sensitive clit. She jumped every time his finger brushed against her.

"I want you to completely let go tonight. You were almost there a moment ago, but I felt you held back just a little. I know what you want, Christine, and I know why you are here."

"What do I want?"

"The same thing you wanted the other night from me. You don't want me, and you certainly don't want to love me. Do you?"

She cried out again as his fingers danced across the mark. "No," she cried between gasps.

"Tell me then. I want to hear you say it."

"I . . . I just want to fuck. I don't want love. I don't need you, I only need to be fucked."

She heard him laugh, and the tone frightened her a bit. "So, you're telling me you just wanted to fuck? I suppose you'd fuck anyone then, just to get off huh?"

She sighed, not at all sure where this was heading. But she had to agree, and silently nodded her head. She decided that she would have fucked anyone last night. Grant just happened to be the lucky one she stumbled across.

"I thought so," he said. The humor had faded from his voice, but the passion still raged beneath. She could sense his arousal as well as her own. Whatever game he was playing, she was more than a willing accomplice in the pursuit of pleasure. "Well, let's see how far you'll go to prove that."

She shuddered as he reached across her, wrapping the scarf across her eyes. He tied it behind her hair, and though the material was sheer, the darkness of the room and the thickness of the material reduced Grant to little more than a silhouette. Immediately, she thought of the porn movies she had fantasized about - the willingness of the girls to explore any and all sexual acts, acts of perversity and lust, desire and passion. Acts devoid of love, and pursued for one reason alone - to obtain pure, physical pleasure. She vowed to let her conscious objections go, and to do exactly as Grant had asked. She wanted to give in completely now. Anything he wanted, he could now have. She didn't need to say it, since Grant seemed to instinctively know this about her. Whatever the game was to be, she was about to find out.

Once the scarf was firmly in place, Grant continued. "I want you to focus on feelings now. The only images you need are the ones in your mind. You are not with me, you are not with anyone you know. You are here for one thing only, and that is to be satisfied. To accomplish that, you will be fucked, in every sense of the word. Your body, your soul, and your mind will be used completely to bring you the experiences you crave."

Christine was still frightened, and the uncertainty of her fate concerned her enough to speak. "Please, Grant. I'll do anything you want, but please don't tie me. I can't do that. Please."

"I'm not going to tie you, baby. You'll be free to move anyway you wish, and you can stop at any time. Okay?"

"Okay. I'm ready."

"The key is your vision. When you look, you see things that inhibit you. You think of my face, and then you think of me as a man. A man with feelings, a man that loves, eats, works. When you see my face, you think of reality. But this is not about reality. Not tonight. This is pure fantasy. Tonight you will use your mind to fuck anyone you have ever wished to fuck. Tonight you'll be free. Let go for me, Christine. Can you do that?"

"Oh yeah, baby. Yes."

"Shhhh, then. No more talk. It's time."

As soon as he finished speaking, he stood, moved from the bed. Christine heard his steps across the floor, and then the click of the door opening. Seconds passed, then minutes. She heard nothing but silence, accented by the steady hammering in her chest. This was simply too much. Without thinking, her hand moved between her legs, cupping her warm and wet pussy. She began to masturbate, her mind racing to imagine what was about to happen. She wanted so much, so much more than she had ever dreamed. Nothing had prepared her for the simple force of the unyielding lust raging within. Her fingers moved quickly, teasing her clit in the timeworn dance designed to bring the relief she craved. She was almost there when she heard the door once again. Embarrassed, she quickly removed her hand.

Grant laughed. "Look at you, Christine. I leave you alone for a few minutes, and you almost ruin everything with your impatience. Don't rush it. You'll come soon enough."

She followed his voice as he walked around the bed, and suddenly the familiar silhouette was in front of her once again. She saw movement, then heard the metallic sound of a zipper being lowered, followed by a rustle as his pants were removed. Closer now. She could smell him, even as his body blocked any remaining light that penetrated the veil before her eyes. Strong hands wrapped around her head, and she knew what was expected of her. She arched her neck and opened her mouth in a willing acquiescence of her spirit. She wanted to taste him again, to taste the very essence of her lover. It seemed to take forever, as she waited to take him in her open mouth once again.

Suddenly, he was there. She felt the soft head nestle against her top lip, and she immediately touched him with her tongue. The big dick jumped, bringing a satisfied smile to her increasingly dry lips. She began to lick his length, tracing the crown as she swirled her tongue across the head, stopping to descend his length to the soft hair surrounding his balls. She wanted complete control, and grasped him firmly around the base as she engulfed his cock in one confident move.

Grant let out a long, low moan of approval. "Oh, fuck yeah. Suck it, you slut."

The words stung, but their intensity, coupled with her unbridled lust turned the harsh words to ones of encouragement. She wanted to be called a slut. She wanted to be thought of as a whore, for that was what she was. Just not with Stephen; no, never with Stephen. With him, she was perfect. She was loved, treasured, honored. He thought of her as an innocent, naive trophy, a woman to make love with. But never fucked. Only now, she hated to think of making love. Now, she wanted to fuck.

She began to suck his cock with wild abandon, giving Grant complete access to her, stopping only once to voice her encouragement with words she never before dared to utter.

"Come on, fuck my mouth. Yeah, just like that, fuck it hard. You like this, don't you baby?" She didn't wait for an answer, and immediately returned to her aggressive cock sucking. Suddenly, the bed seemed to shift, as if a weight had descended upon it. The shift frightened her, and she pulled off Grant's cock with a quick pop. Saliva dripped from her open mouth as she tried to turn her head to look behind her. But Grant continued to hold her head firmly in his grasp, preventing her from moving.

"Shhh, hold on baby."

"Who . . . who's there?" Christine called out, her voice quivering with a delicious mixture of fear and desire.

"Don't think about who it is," Grant whispered, trying to calm her back down. "Remember what I said. This is pure fantasy. You have me here, but I am reality. Now you have me, and you have your fantasy as well. Give in your desire, give in to your lust."

"No . . . no, please . . . I can't do it. I can't fuck like this."

"Shhh, now. Think about it. It's perfect. It's the perfect fuck. No guilt, no prejudices. Just you, me, and a faceless cock that only wants to please you. Let us show you how wonderful it can be this way. Come on, Chris, I know you want it. Trust me."

Christine couldn't believe what was happening to her. She felt her shame color her face, and she was thankful the lights were off so no one could see her. Even now, the thought that a strange man was behind her, looking at her open and exposed cunt, fueled intense emotions she'd never experienced. The thought excited her more than she thought possible. Even with Grant, the night before, it had not been this intense. And the worst part was, she wanted it so badly. Grant was right. She wanted to do it. In fact, she would do anything at all. Beneath the silk blindfold, she felt hot tears of shame spill from her eyes as accepted the truth. She gave her answer in one simple movement as she relaxed and guided Grant's cock to her lips. Opening her mouth, she felt him slide inside, stopping at the back of her throat. She held him there, refusing to move, silently begging Grant to let it happen. And within moments, it began.

"Hold still," Grant said. "You need to relax. He's . . . well, he's pretty big. But he knows what he's doing, and I won't let him hurt you, okay?"

Christine pulled back, taking Grant's cock from her mouth. "Okay, but tell him to go slow."

"Go easy on her," Grant said to the man preparing to fuck her. "Like I said, she's practically a virgin." She heard both men laugh, and she used that laugh to try to and paint a mental picture of the man about to fuck her. The laugh was deep and warm, almost genuine. She relaxed when she heard it, thinking a man with a nice laugh couldn't hurt her, could he?

But what was he like? She could barely imagine that she was about to be fucked by only the fourth man she'd ever experienced, and yet she had never seen him at all. For all she knew, he could be black or white, short or tall, thin, fat, strong, she had no idea. And suddenly she realized what Grant had said. This was exactly his point. The perfect fuck - the perfect fantasy. She could have any man at all. Any previously forbidden man, or taboo act was within her grasp.

Now, her long held secret desires could be realized. Any fantasy - any man. She shuddered at the thought, but the freedom Grant offered was strangely exhilarating. She'd always been frightened by her dreams, by the sheer force of their power and their blatant, raw sexuality. But her conservative upbringing could never have allowed even a passing fantasy to take hold of her. But now, she could revel in these dark, closely held secrets. Anyone could be behind her now. A stranger from the hotel staff, perhaps. Or maybe it was the photographer from the wedding and the reception, the handsome, young, dark-skinned man that smiled every time their eyes had met. Was it him?

Then again, maybe it was Stephen's best friend, Will. She'd always been attracted to Will, and now maybe it was Will that was preparing to enter her. After all, he was staying at this very hotel, and had witnessed her exhibition during the garter ceremony.

And then, without warning, a pair of large, strong hands grabbed her hips, and she felt a new cock probe gently against her.

"You know what to do, don't you?" Grant said confidently.

"Yes," she answered, as she reached behind to grasp the cock in her hand. She gasped once she felt the heft in her hand. He's too big, she thought with a start. He's going to hurt me. But she also knew the thought was silly, and without hesitation, she guided the head to her pussy. As the head parted the delicate outer lips, she slid her hand down, eventually cupping his large testicles in her hand. She held him tightly, and wiggled her ass against him, encouraging him to take her. And then she felt it, the gentle yet insistent opening, the exquisite moment of delicious penetration. Her pussy opened easily to the large head, aided by her abundant wetness and the previous two fuckings she'd experienced in the past several hours. Still, she could sense the sheer size of the cock moving inside. And as he continued to move forward, opening her wider than any previous lover, she moaned her approval to her unseen lover.

He entered her slowly, perhaps even deliberately, increasing her need with every maddening inch. God how she wanted this, this nameless fuck. Finally, he hit bottom. She realized his length wasn't much different than Grant or Stephen for that matter, but she never imagined a cock could stretch her this way. He must be massively endowed to create such delicious pressure inside her. Visions of her fantasy partner continued to dance under her tightly closed eyes. Despite the blindfold, she found it easier to fantasize with her eyes tightly closed. She fantasy settled on the photographer - he was the one inside her. The dark, handsome, and undeniably sexy photographer that shot pictures of her at her wedding just a few short hours ago. Pictures that would undoubtedly include her sitting in a chair - a chair deliberately positioned to show off her legs to a group of single men. Pictures that she secretly hoped caught her legs spread open, her new husband's hand at her exposed crotch as the eyes of all his friends focused directly on her open cunt.

As the fantasy reappeared in her delirious mind, the man behind her began to move. He slowly withdrew, taking his time to accustom her to his size, and once withdrawn, he began to push inside again. Faster now, his thrusts increasing in depth and intensity, his girth opening Christine to new limits, pushing her tight pussy to the limit of endurance. God, he was good. It was almost too much to take. But she needed more. Even the simple depravity of an anonymous fuck wasn't going to be enough tonight. Oh no, not tonight, perhaps not ever. She needed Grant - the man that had taken her, and turned her into a new woman within the span of 24 hours. She no longer recognized the old Christine. The one who used to make love with a deliberately quiet reserve. The pretty, honorable fiancée who used to lay nearly motionless, not wanting to appear too eager as Stephen thrust inside her. In the span of 24 hours, everything had changed. From the woman she thought she was, the woman she feared she would never know again, to a new one - a woman intent on satisfying every physical urge, no matter how dark, no matter how deceitful. With these thoughts, she turned her attention back to the man who had created her - Grant. Her Grant.

She opened her mouth once again, and waited as Grant placed his cock on her outstretched tongue. The man behind her began to fuck her with an intensity she could scarcely believe, hard powerful thrusts that shook her, threatening to force her off her knees, but the strong hands wouldn't allow that. They held tighter still, as the thick cock drove home with incredible force. All she could do was pant uncontrollably.

In between her short ragged breaths, she inhaled Grant's cock, sucking him with renewed passion. Within minutes, the sensations in her body and the thought of her lurid activities triggered yet another orgasm. Incredibly, she was taking two cocks at once. Not only that, but she was being fucked my two men she didn't even know. And she had yet to see the face of the man inside her even now. She never knew such depravity existed, much less could she imagine participating in such a scene. But here she was, the naive, good girl that she was, taking one cock in her mouth as another huge one pounded her tiny pussy. Here she was, the girl that always wanted sex to be associated with love, being ravaged by two passionate men at once, neither of which were her husband. Here she was, fucking two strangers on her wedding night. And though her thoughts sickened her, they also drove her mad with lust. She craved sex now, more than anything she'd ever experienced. Perhaps this was how it felt to have an addiction. She knew without question that she would risk anything and everything now, as long as she could have the sex she needed.

As they continued to assault her, Christine realized she was practically exhausted. She'd been having sex for over an hour now, and her emotions were as ragged as ever. But any stray guilty thought that entered her mind was quickly erased by the pair of cocks at her disposal. Grant obviously loved seeing Christine lose control. Christine shook each time the fearsome cock split her once tight cunt, and the sight was apparently more than Grant could handle. He grabbed her by the hair, holding her steady as he began to fuck her open mouth.

She tried to prepare herself for the impending orgasm at the tip of her tongue, but the sheer force of Grant's violent moves frightened her. With each hard thrust into her submissive mouth, his cockhead opened her throat, causing her to gag. Grants didn't seem to care as he continued the abusive subversion of her throat. Christine forced herself to relax, opening her throat to allow unimpeded access for Grant's hard-driving cock. In an attempt to bring him to climax as quickly as she could manage, she took him in her hand, furiously jacking his shaft as it exited her mouth. The man behind her sensed what was happening, and slowed his steady fucking to a manageable rhythm, withdrawing the head to the very tip before sliding it seductively back into her confining softness. And finally, it was upon her.

Grant announced his orgasm with a cry unlike any she'd ever heard. He froze as his cock hit the back of her throat, and then slowly withdrew, allowing just the tip to remain in her mouth. Christine knew what he needed, and she jacked his wet shaft, coaxing his cum from deep in his belly. He shuddered as the first blast of hot, thick cum splashed into her mouth, coating her tongue with the thick fluid. She held his cock in her mouth, careful not to allow a single drop to escape. She wanted to drink of her lover, to consume the essence of the man that continued to mold her very soul.

As soon as his orgasm had subsided, he collapsed to the mattress utterly exhausted. Christine placed her head in his lap, idly kissing and licking his softening cock. As she attended to him with loving caresses, her unseen lover began to redouble his efforts. Almost immediately, the fire returned to her groin, the warmth spreading from her face and chest, past the tight points of her nipples, and racing to alight her over-stimulated cunt. She stared almost absently at Grant's now flaccid cock as her mind focused solely on the still hard giant embedded inside her. Her hand, now free of Grant's cock, snaked between her wide open thighs to explore the cock sawing away at her. She wrapped her fingers around his girth, delighting once again at how incredibly thick her new lover was. Her fingers would not even touch. The heat continued to grow now, the fire aided by her own touch, and within minutes, she was coming again.

"Oh God, Grant," she began to scream. "Oh, fuck I'm . . . I'm . . . oh, oh, ohhhh, yessss!" Christine's body shook as the contractions began to course through her pussy. The long muscles in her thighs betrayed her as they convulsed in hard jerks of pleasure. The man held her firmly by the hips, steadying her weakened body for the continuing onslaught. As her orgasm subsided, she began to wonder if he would ever relent, or if he planned to fuck her to death. At this point the latter seemed just as likely as the former. Suddenly, she had an idea. She decided to see if she could turn the tables on her lover, and force him into a climax he was desperately trying to prolong.

As he continued to pound her, she focused her touch on him once again, electing to forgo her clit in favor of jacking his massive shaft as it alternately entered and exited her exhausted cunt. She decided to use her voice in a final attempt to regain the control she had lost.

"Come on," she cried, almost breathless from the exertions of the night. "Fuck me harder, damn it! You call that a fuck, you cocky bastard? My husband fucks twice as good as you, and he's nowhere near the size you are. Come on, fuck me harder . . . show me what you got."

She heard him speak, his words accompanied by the immediate reaction of his cock. Incredibly, he began to fuck her harder than she'd ever experienced. Her body shook as he took her, forcing her face down on Grant's cock, which had reached full erection once again. But the pounding she was getting left no room for other activities. She could barely catch her breath, and could only breathe one word over and over as the relentless torture continued unabated.

"Oh, fuck . . . oh fuck yeah . . . yeah, that's it . . . fuck, fuck me harder . . . yessss, harder!"

She began to come again, a hard sharp orgasm that surprised her with it's rapid climb to climax, surprising her even more as she realized she had received no direct stimulation of her clit, something she'd always required before. But now, she was coming solely from the cock embedded a fraction of an inch from her womb. And as her pussy tightened around him, she heard her unseen lover cry out, and with a last hard thrust, she felt him unload his cum deep inside clenching pussy. The cock pulsed and jumped, before softening to the point her continuing contractions forced it from her thoroughly wetted pussy. She lowered her body to the bed, feeling the semen flowing from her now, pooling on the sheet beneath her. The bed shifted once again as her lover stood. She felt a soft and gentle kiss on her left buttock, along with loving caress of her right ass cheek by his surprisingly gentle hand.

"Good bye, Chris," she heard him say. "You were incredible tonight." The voice sounded familiar, but her exhaustion made recognition impossible. Just as she turned her head towards the voice, she saw the dark silhouette walk towards the door and leave the room. She was alone once again with Grant.

"Here, let me take that off," he said in a soft whisper. Christine waited as the blindfold was once again removed. Her vision now restored, she searched for Grant's eyes in the darkness, and found them staring intently at her.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

She smiled, loving the look of concern that was painted across his features. For a man so intent on using me, he certainly cares more than he should, she thought absently. "I'm fine."

He paused for a moment, watching to see if her smile faded. Once he was sure that she meant what she'd said, he returned the gesture.

"God, Chris, that was incredible. I can't believe he fucked you like that. Did he hurt you?"

"Oh no, that was . . . I can't even begin to tell you how amazing that was. But you know something?"

"What?"

"It wasn't the fuck. It was just as you said. It was the fantasy. I was being fucked by . . ."

He silenced her with a kiss, his tongue probing her mouth, feeling it give way as she opened her mouth to his. They kissed this way for a few minutes, before Grant broke free.

"Shhhh, don't tell me what your fantasy was. That was the point of tonight. This was for you, and only you should know the private fantasies you experienced tonight."

"Okay. I won't say anything about it. Except this. You were there, Grant. In each fantasy I created tonight, you were there too. I fucked tonight for you, baby. I'll always fuck for you, anytime, any place, any person you tell me too. I hope you realize that is my fantasy now. To fuck you, to fuck for you."

Grant was silent for a long time after she spoke. "So, where do we go from here?"

She shook her head slowly. "I don't know. I don't know what to do. I could leave my husband I suppose . . ."

"No. Not that. Think about it for a minute. This isn't about love and you know it. This is about something much more primal, something much more physical. You don't love me. You don't even know me. But you do know this about me. We are perfect together, sexually. Our bodies match, our passions match. Our dark desires match almost perfectly."

Christine closed her eyes and tried to think. She wanted to be with Grant, she knew that with certainty. But she also knew she could not have him. She suspected he wanted only one thing from her, and that realization saddened and thrilled her, at the same time. She knew he craved her with the same intensity she desired him. And, she admitted, he was right. Although they were perfect matches when they fucked, a life with Grant could never match the life she had with Stephen.

Stephen, she thought. Oh God, what have I done? As she thought of her husband, she was overcome with terrible pains of guilt and regret. The sensation was sickening in its force as she considered how complete her betrayal had been. Not only had she cheated on her wedding night, she'd fucked a complete stranger, and man whose face she never even saw. Tomorrow, as they checked out of the hotel, he could be watching her and she'd never even know. The man would laugh silently at Stephen, thinking him a fool for not knowing how deceitful his new bride actually was. In the rush of her betrayal, the consequences of Stephen finding out had never crossed her mind. The acts themselves were committed without thought, never against Stephen, never with any conscious awareness of him - separate and apart.

But her naiveté had put them both at risk. For some odd reason, she trusted Grant to be discreet, but somewhere in this very hotel, slept a man who'd just fucked her into relative oblivion. And though she used fantasy lovers in her mind, her pussy had experienced the actual cock of a real man, a man that knew her, used her, and fucked her shamelessly. A man who would no doubt brag of his conquest to friends, laughing as he related details of the honeymooning bride that couldn't get enough cock. She was a heartbeat away from being exposed, and this new realization terrified her completely. Despite her acknowledged need for the raw physicality of rough anonymous sex, she knew she had to gain control of her life, before it disintegrated into utter chaos. And she knew what she had to do.

"Grant, please."

"You need me, Chris. You need what we are together. I saw that in you the moment we met, and now more than ever, you need me. And what I can give you. More nights like this, more men, more sex, more dark depravity. I know what you need."

"No, you don't know what I need." The sudden harshness of her tone silenced Grant immediately. "You know only a small part of who I am, and don't pretend otherwise."

"Now wait one minute . . ."

"No, you wait," she said, rising quickly from the bed. Christine began to gather her clothes in silence, needing a few minutes to gather her conflicted thoughts and control the emotions that threatened to overwhelm her. Grant remained silent and still, not offering assistance, somehow sensing she wouldn't accept it. Once dressed, she turned back to Grant.

"Just give me a few more minutes," she said, turning towards the restroom after registering his nod. She steadied herself by the sink, gazing into the mirror as if the answer could be found hidden in the glass, or perhaps in the worry in her own eyes. She repaired the remnants of her makeup, taking care not to reapply any, only removing the smudges from her face. Strangely, she wasn't worried about getting caught. Her thoughts were cluttered by worry and the gut-wrenching guilt that stalked her, and there wasn't room for fear of discovery - not tonight anyway. Finally, she came to her decision, and walked back into the room.

Grant had dressed again, pulling on a pair of cotton gym shorts and a loose fitting tee. He sat at the edge of the bed, looking at the dark screen of the television, apparently lost in thought. She approached the bed, sitting beside him but not looking at him. Her eyes focused on her tightly clasped hands, and she took a deep breath to steady her resolve.

"I'm sorry, Grant. I can't do this." Grant turned to look at her, but she refused to look at him. She couldn't look in those eyes and continue. One look, and she knew she would be lost.

"But . . . I don't understand. You just said you wanted me."

"I know what I said. And I do want you, more than anything else right now. I want so much just to be with you, but I know I can't."

"But we could . . ." His voice trailed off uncertainly. She understood that he didn't want to finish his thought, because she couldn't bear to hear the truth in his words. But since he wasn't going to say them, she knew she had to.

"What? Fuck? Is that it? We could . . . fuck?"

"That's not what I meant. You know it's more than that."

"No, Grant, I don't. And honestly, right now I don't want it to be more than just a fuck. I'm having a hard enough time dealing with this as it is. As long as it's just a fuck, I can justify it. But if there is more . . ."

Neither spoke. Which, Christine supposed, was the answer she needed to hear. Grant's silence was all the clarification she ever needed. Suddenly, she felt the emotions rise within her, the sadness and desperation that she had struggled to keep at bay since the moment she laid eyes on Grant in the bar. As she struggled to hold back the tears that threatened to come, she knew that something was still missing from her life, something her life with Stephen had never been able to quiet. Her descent into sexual depravity had been the result of this restlessness, the yearning of her spirit in a search for something more. She loved the sexual heat of instant attraction, but she needed more. Now she realized she needed love, too. And with a sudden clarity of vision, she knew Grant couldn't give that to her. Stephen could, but could his love be enough after tonight? What would she do to quench the desire that even now threatened to overtake her, propelling her into a torrid affair with Grant and the passions he had awakened? Despite it all, she had no answers.

"I need time," she said quietly, almost whispering now. "Time to sort all this out. Can you give me that?"

"How much time do you need?"

This time she turned to look at him. His face looked saddened, but his eyes remained distant. She swallowed hard. "A year."

He looked at her with a sudden start. "A year? Are you kidding?"

"No. Look, I'm not asking you to change for me. I'm not asking you to wait for me either. I just want to know if you'll agree to meet me here, in exactly one year from this night. I need time with Stephen, and time with myself to figure out what I want. Until I know that, I can't risk getting involved with you."

"But, what about the things you said? What about tonight? You want me to just walk away from that?"

She looked at him incredulously. "You got what you wanted. You got a hot fuck, didn't you? Something to brag about with your buddies right?" She was surprised at the sudden bitterness in her words.

"You wanted it that way, " he said, obviously stung by her words. "Don't even try to deny that."

She put her head in her hands, hating herself for lashing out that way. "I'm sorry, Grant. I . . . I didn't mean that. But I have to walk away, don't you understand that?"

He was silent again, but his eyes registered something more now. He seemed to struggle for something to say, and his mouth opened before quickly closing again. He lowered his eyes, and turned back to the television. "Alright then. I'll meet you here, one year from tonight. I'll register in my name. When you can, come to my room."

Christine chewed her lip, thinking of what they were discussing. She was planning to meet her lover on the night of her one year anniversary. But somehow, that seemed fitting, appropriate even.

"You know I'll be here with Stephen."

"Yes."

"Okay then." They sat in silence again, and Christine slowly stood and began to walk to the door.

"Chris, wait."

She turned expectantly, but saw that Grant was only offering her hair clip.

"You were wearing this when you arrived. Didn't think you should forget it."

She took it with a sad smile, and quickly left his room. She walked down the quiet hallway to the elevators waiting to take her back to the life she'd always wanted, the life she'd always dreamed of. But would that life be enough? At least she had time now; time to consider what she wanted from love, and what she needed from sex. But when she reached the door to her room, she hesitated. Beyond that door was a life of honor and respect. A life of love, commitment and family. Behind her waited her needs, dark and frightening in their intensity, dreams wrapped in the primal beauty of raw physical desire. But the time had come for a choice, and she hesitated no more. In the end, all it required was a simple twist of the wrist. She wiped a single tear from her eye as she took the first step along the chosen path.

END OF PART II

Click Here to read - A Wedding Story Part III - To Have and To Scold

                                     A Wedding Story Part I - Maid Of Dishonor