the wedding

"Nice to see you, congratulations." she said. "You've gotten so much prettier and hotter”, he responded. She blushed, shied away and asked him if there were any single friends around. There weren’t.
Still a bit baffled she walked away, holding the plate with the food that had gotten to a second place in her priorities, and thinking how odd it was to be hit on by the groom at his own wedding.
Well, yes, kind of obvious too, she thought, or at least, tried to put a bit of logic into it. The fact was that she was the only person at that wedding who had slept with the bride and the groom, needles to say, at the same time.
She saw the ceremony, she saw them dancing, kissing, and she kept wondering if she had been a discussion for them. Should she be invited to celebrate with them, or not.
How uncomfortable her presence was. The bride seemed to have forgotten what had happened a couple of years ago, but she noticed how the groom kept staring at certain parts of her body.
When she had gone to congratulate him, he kept staring at her chest, and as she walked away, she knew her ass was embedded in his pupils.
So there she was, dancing away in that night, the only single girl in sight, and the only one who could tell how the bride and groom moaned when they came.
It had been one crazily normal night, a bit of alcohol perhaps was involved, a lot of pot too, it seems. They were in his apartment, staring at the stars, talking about life and all it involves at that age. Suddenly she was in the bed, probably relaxing, and she felt hands over her, two pairs of hands, two big, two small.
They never kissed. They licked their whole bodies, they explored different openings, but they never kissed. As she watches them doing their first dance as a married couple she remembers how at some point during that night her friend told her boyfriend to put a condom on, that she, the extra one, the invited one, had to do it with a condom. And she did, and they did.
She was fucked from behind, while she licked the bride’s pussy. It tasted like a black woman, she remembers. She had been her first girl. She saw them fuck while she sucked on his balls and on her nipples.
And now they were dancing, and now the groom had hit on her years later.
And now, well, now she was wondering if the reason she had been invited to that wedding was to be asked to join them for their wedding night. Or not.

resonance

I lay naked on a piano, almost. no one was around to tell us that laying, wearing an impossible little undergarment on top of a piano was not allowed.

I lay almost naked on a piano and my gaze told him to play. to play the piano, and to play me.

I felt his fingertips on my body thru the notes, the vibration.

I felt him feeling me. 

I wanted him to make me moan, I knew he would know how. Or at least he would try.

I lay naked on a piano and he played. Classical? Bossa Nova? and suddenly he turned the piano into an organ, I gasped, my thighs wanted to explode, to open up wider on top of the piano, to feel him feeling the notes feeling me.

He played the piano while I struggled to keep my balance, while I watched a bulge under the notes, on top of the pedals, and I oh, so wanted to touch it, to touch him.

and he played harder, and he played me harder, and I groaned. and I screamed, and I wanted him, but I knew that if I had his music, I had him.

and he knew that if he managed to touch my core with his notes, he would have me.

And he did.