Bethany was an awesome Maid of Honor for my wedding to Brandon. She handled a lot of the stuff that the mother of the bride usually does (no comment on that, love my Mom, but…). And after the bachelorette party where we went out to this awesome club in West Hollywood to watch a bunch of super hot gay guys strip for us, she told me about one more thing she was willing to “arrange” for me.
“A last hurrah,” she said.
“A what?”
We were both pretty drunk, back at our place after all the other girls had left, and I had for a second the feeling she was coming on to me. I was wrong, thankfully. I’m a straight girl. Tried the sapphic thing once in college like everybody, and sorry, I missed the cock.
“A last hurrah is one last fling before the wedding,” she said, slightly annoyed sounding, as though everybody knew about this. “Think about it Yessica, you’re never, ever going to have sex with anybody else ever again. I mean, I love Brandon, and he’s awesome. But girl… forever is a long time.”
I laughed at her.
“Nah,” I said. “Sex is one thing. But love is something else, Bethany. That’s what Brandon and I have. I don’t need one last fling.”
Then Brandon’s bachelor party happened. I told him, whatever, strippers, fine, but don’t cheat. He promised. But I was doing the laundry the next week and what did I see — lipstick on his white Calvin Klein underwear.
“What the fuck, Brandon?” I showed him the evidence of his crime.
“Shit,” he said.
He looked really worried suddenly, like all the blood ran out of his face.
“I don’t know,” he stammered. “That’s weird, I was drunk, maybe the guys pulled my pants off and the stripper gave me a lap dance?”
Great. A declarative sentence with a question mark around it. I am an insurance fraud investigator. I know that’s a sign of lying.
“Shit, Brandon, you promised me,” I said.
I was so pissed. I didn’t talk to him for about a week. It got so bad that finally he came to me, and said, “Um, are we still getting married, or what?”
“Jesus, Brandon. That’s rude. That’s not how you talk to someone you cheated on. You’re supposed to be humble.”
“I didn’t cheat on you?” he said, again, with the fucking question mark.
“Shut the hell up,” I said, and I walked out of the room.
It wasn’t hard for me to find out the truth. I’m a fucking investigator. It’s not like I really “investigated” but I knew who would blab. I’m sure all the guys had been sworn to silence but Jason, his best man, has a big mouth. I went out with his girlfriend Shelly and she told me the whole story after about three glasses of wine.
“The guys all got blowjobs. I mean, the guys in the groom party. That’s Dougy, Rainman, Jason and… sorry Yessica, Brandon. I’m sorry. I was so mad at that fucking guy. Trust me. No sex for him for a week. I don’t’ want some frickin disease from some skank ho. Do you?”
So I guess it was kind of a revenge thing, but not really. I mean, what did I care if he got a blowjob from a skank ho? Poor guy, he was probably thinking like Bethany — forever is a long time. And he’s probably got some idea that as soon as I get the ring on the finger I’m not going to give him blowjobs any more. I understood his thinking. Fucking Jason, that’s who I really blamed. To tell the truth, I’ve iced him out every time I saw him since then. He knows why. He always hangs his head around me. Fucking douche. So he should.
So I called Bethany.
“Tell me about the Last Hurrah.”
“Girl!” she squealed. “That’s my bitch! That’s my little ho! That’s what you are, aren’t you?”
“Well, fuck, you heard about the bachelor party, right?”
She got real silent. I knew her boyfriend wasn’t in the groom party, so he didn’t get a blowjob, but he had blabbed. I heard it in her silence.
“Oh shit!” she said finally. “I’m sorry, Yess.”
“It’s fine,” I said. “I got myself checked for STDs anyhow, just in case. I’m clear. I’m marrying an asshole, but hey, I love him, what can you do?”
“You can have a last little adventure, that’s what you can do, girlfriend.”
“Alright,” I said. “So you arrange it for me, I don’t want to know nothing. You know what I like, get me one of those. And tell me where to meet him. We’ve got a week and a half, Bethany.”
“Shit, I better get on this,” she said.
The wedding had kinda sneaked up on us. But Bethany was cool. I got a text. She just said, “Meet him at the hotel bar at the Sofitel on Beverly. Friday night at 8. This is a pic.”
She sent me a pic of basically a guy who looked like Brandon, but wasn’t a douche. What am I saying, he was a douche. What kind of guy performs this kind of service for brides to be? A real douche probably. Bethany explained it to me. It’s not on official thing, really. Three years ago one of his buddies fucked a bride to be and she loved it. So she told a bunch of other brides to be, and pretty soon, they were getting a lot of calls. It was a house full of kinda jock body-builder types up in the hills of Eagle Rock. They were mixed races, Hispanic, Black, white, Asian. So the brides to be could have whatever they like. Of course, Bethany picked me a Hispanic one. She knows I’ve only ever come with Latinos. It’s a la raza thing, I guess. I’m Chicana to the core, baby. Hey, nothing wrong with white guys, but the spice is what I find nice. Bottom line, I like a guy who takes charge. And there’s nobody more macho than a Latino male. They’re real roosters in the henhouse.
Arturo was his name. He had those dark brown eyes, really soulful looking, but slightly more angry than Brandon. Hey, Brandon’s plenty macho, but Arturo looked like he was even more macho. Like he might really take charge.
“Me likey,” I texted her back.
But right away I got nervous. Shit, what if Brandon found out about this and called the whole wedding off and everyone would find out what a slut I was and..and…and…
My greatest fear, what if it made Brandon really mad? He has had a couple of run ins with the law as a result of his temper. He’s never been charged with anything, but he’s been hauled away in police cars a few times after pounding on guys. One time it was a guy who grabbed my ass in a club. He is super jealous and possessive.
“Shit, Bethany,” I texted her on the Thursday before the big Friday. “I can’t do it. I’m scared.”
“Man up bitch,” she texted me back. “Go fuck this guy and then walk down that aisle like the sex goddess you are. That fucking Brandon is lucky he’s got you. He should know that.”
That was kinda weird logic. I didn’t really follow it, but I guessed Brandon deserved a sex goddess for a wife, and if I’m always regretful about not taking my one last fling, I might hold back from giving myself totally to him.
That’s what I told myself anyhow. Truth is, I was hot for Arturo. I had gone on his Snapchat and seen photos of his hot body on the beach. The guy was a total hunk. He had sexy tattoos on his arms and chest, but not too many. One of them looked kinda gang-bangy (a teardrop) so that added a little dangerous thrill to it. I dunno, he probably messed with the gangs a tiny bit when he was in junior high. Where I grew up in Lincoln Heights it was almost impossible to walk home from junior high if you didn’t at least befriend those guys. So, yeah, I wanted to fuck him. He was exactly who I would have chosen for my last aventura. Bethany knew me so well.
I fucked a gangbanger when I was in high school. To be honest, it was the best sex I ever had. Even better than with Brandon. The guy was just so cold when he fucked me… it was like he was killing me. Then afterwards he laughed.
“You’re a bad girl,” he laughed. “All that time in junior high I saw you acting like such a goody two shoes with the teachers and the other good girls. Now look at you. Naked with my come dripping out of your pussy. Where’d the good girl go?”
“You just killed her,” I said to him. And we laughed.
I was glad that that gangbanger (they called him Honcho) had killed the good girl. It was the beginning of me starting to get real in life. And I always remember that cold look, him staring me straight in the eyes, being exactly who he was, a real fucking Honcho. I admired that. We’re taught to be always so nice, we Lincoln Heights girls. Honcho was the end of all that for me.
Of course I had told Bethany about Honcho. She was shocked. Bethany is a white girl from Brentwood that I met at my USC sorority. She loved that story. Especially about the come dripping out my pussy. She would make me say it to her in Honcho’s voice. She would laugh her head off.
That morning, I got a text from unknown number.
“Confirming 8pm, Sofitel Bar.”
Oh shit. I got suddenly really wet and tingles went up my back. But I was scared too. It took me like about fifteen minutes to text him back.
“Yeah. You know what I look like?”
I was concerned about how we would find each other in the bar. But I was also… you know, fishing.
“Oh yeah. I like you in that red g-string.”
Huh? Then I remembered on my Snapchat is a pic of me in a red bikini that actually I do look pretty hot in. I’ve got Latina hips and ass. It’s only certain bikinis that work with that. That red one does. It isn’t overwhelmed by the hips and ass. It can handle them.
“You like that huh?” I texted back, flirty.
“I wanta hit that.”
“We’ll see,” I said.
I wasn’t a hundred percent certain I was going to go through with this. But in the back of my mind, I was like, why go to all the trouble of hoofing it to this West Hollywood hotel and lying to Brandon and doing all this shit and not get fucked? I was pretty sure I was going to fuck him. I didn’t have work that day so I got naked in bed and masturbated like fifty times thinking of that fucking Arturo, on top of me, grinding his hips into me. I was so horny for him now.
Brandon thought I was taking Bethany out to dinner to thank her for being such a great Maid of Honor. Ironic, huh.
I got to the bar at 7:30. I did not want to be the last one there. I wanted to be able to hide if I got cold feet at the last minute.
Cold feet. That’s ironic, too, considering my situation. I guess I did have cold feet with Brandon, but only since he got the blowjob from the hooker. Now I really was starting to worry that maybe the whole thing was a mistake. I mean, Brandon is great. He’s going to be a great father. I’ve seen him with his little cousins. The love him so much. I love him so much. But still… now my feet are cold. It’s not my fault. It’s his.
Why do men cheat? If men did not cheat, I would not cheat. I swear to you. I am default honest and loyal. I am not born to sneak around.
But now I was sneaking around. I was sitting in a hotel bar, sipping on a mojito. So excited for Arturo to arrive.
Then he did. He was wearing a pair of business slacks and a button down shirt so he looked completely in place for a hotel bar like this. I was wearing my little black fuck me dress. Sexy black stockings. A little camisole in my purse that I planned on putting on in the bathroom and coming out to turn him on. Oh, I should have mentioned, Bethany had messengered over a key card to room number 674 at the Sofitel for that night. What a Maid of Honor! Did you ever?
So yeah, that was my plan. I like doing that with Brandon, you know, popping out of the bathroom with a surprise piece of lingerie on. We always seem to fuck hotter after that.
“Hello, beautiful, will you marry me,” Arturo said, as he came to my table. Instead of sitting down across from me he sat right down next to me.
“No,” I laughed. “But I might fuck you if you behave yourself.”
“I ain’t gonna behave myself, mi carnal. Sorry. You looking too crazy hot for that.”
I liked that he called me that. Mi carnal in Mexican Spanish means “my flesh.” It’s what you call somebody that you like so much that you almost share flesh.
He ordered a mojito and I ordered another one. We drank them down pretty good. We made some small talk.
“So you’re getting married, huh,” he said. “That’s pretty exciting. He’s a lucky guy. He’s gonna get to fuck you on the honeymoon.”
“Obviously,” I said.
“But I’ma fuck you tonight,” he said, boldly. “I’ma fuck you real good.”
“Yeah?” I said, sipping my straw, and looking up at him.
“I’ma make you squeal,” he said. “I’m a pro at this, you know.”
“Yeah, I heard you got a whole house full of Last Fling Specialists.”
“That’s right,” he said. “But I’m the top dog in the whole house. Nobody makes em squeal like me.”
“You should be very proud,” I teased him.
“I am,” he said. “After I walk outa here, I’ma leave you upstairs, covered in my come… and I’ma kiss you goodbye and you’re gonna thank me for a great night and I’ma walk outa this hotel with a certain spark in my step, know what I mean. I’ma walk proud. Because I’ma know I did the job right. Another satisfied customer.”
“How much you get paid for this, anyway,” I asked.
“That’s confidential, between me and your wedding planner,” he said. “But I will tell you this, I would do you for free.”
“Aw shucks,” I said. “I’d do you for free too.”
Then we kissed our first kiss. I got so scared then because it was a real deep soulful kiss. I was giving myself to him. Not just my body! Shit!
Shit, Yess, pull back! I commanded. And I pulled myself out of the kiss. I had to control my emotions. I couldn’t let myself get really emotionally connected to a guy like Arturo. He was a playa among playas. Nothing but a heartache. That brought me to the more difficult issue.
“Did you bring the, you know, the medical thingy?”
“I texted them all to your Maid of Honor,” Arturo said. “She didn’t give you the all clear?”
“She didn’t say that,” I said. “But it’s probably because it’s an icky topic of conversation. I thought you would bring the actual records, but…”
“I’m clean,” he said. “I always use protection. But then I take it off and cum on your tits, cum on your face, cum on your ass, at the end, wherever you want me to cum.”
“That’s very thoughtful of you,” I joked.
“Where do you want me to cum?”
“I don’t know. Let’s just see how it goes,” I said, taking him by the hand.
“You ready?” he said.
“I think I’m ready,” I said.
We got the check. I paid. Then we went up to the room.
“I’ll be right back,” I said.
I went into the bathroom and got into the camisole. I looked at myself in the mirror. I wondered if he had already taken off his clothes and was lying naked on the bed with a big hard on. That’s what I really wanted.
“Oh Yess,” I said to my reflection. “What are you doing, girl! I thought I told you to hold your emotions back.”
The me in the mirror could see what was happening inside my heart. It was cracking open, just a bit, to let out these feelings for this guy Arturo. Feelings that should be reserved for Brandon. But then I looked at that hot girl in the camisole in the mirror and she looked so ripe for sex. He face was all flush. And her breasts, nice big Latina breasts, were all swollen. The nipples were so large beneath that soft material of the camisole. She looked like the ultimate girl about to be fucked. She looked almost like a porn girl. That fucking Arturo was lucky. That fucking Brandon was even luckier. He got to fuck this for the rest of his life.
I felt suddenly very powerful.
“A sex goddess,” I said. And then I understood what Bethany had been trying to say about becoming the sex goddess that Brandon deserves.
“Do it for Brandon,” I said to the mirror. “Do it for him.”
When I walked out, I was happy to see that Arturo had gotten naked. He was lying on the bed, on his side, facing me. His cock was stiff. And it was bigger than Brandon’s.
“Oh no!” I said.
“What’s wrong?”
“It’s bigger than my fiance’s!” I complained.
“What, why would you wanta fuck someone with a smaller cock than your fiance’s? Of course it’s bigger than your fiance’s. That’s the whole point.”
“But then I’ll never be happy with Brandon after I get married,” I said, coming over to the bed. He sat up and put his arms around me.
“You can always call me, baby,” he said. “Any time.”
He kissed my neck and my cheeks. Tenderly, nicely.
“No!” I complained. “It’s got to be just this one time. The last hurrah.”
“Nothing’s got to be anything,” he responded, sounding suddenly quite sage. “Marriage doesn’t have to be forever. Brides to be don’t have to be virgins. You can fuck a guy before your wedding if you want. Nothing’s that big of a deal, Yessica. Me entiendes? We Mexicans take some shit too serious, know what I mean. Here in America, the white people are a little more loosey goosey. We gotta learn from them. You know, be more chill.”
“More chill,” I said. And then he pulled the camisole up and I was more or less naked before him. I mean, I still had my panties on. But they weren’t panties.
“The red g-string!” he smiled.
“You said you liked it, so…”
“Oh girl!” he said, kissing me deeply on the lips. “You are so awesome.”
Now my heart was all the way open and emotion was pouring out to him. I felt so exposed to him in my nakedness. It had been a long time since I had shown anybody but Brandon my tits. Maybe three and a half years. Maybe it had been too long. Maybe Brandon and I were already tired of each other.
“Strike while the iron is hot,” I heard Bethany say, when I asked her about a couple friends who were getting married after only eight months.
Shit, my iron was hot right now. But not for Brandon. For this ex-gangbanger in bed with me with the nine inch cock. I put my hand on his ink.. there was a big knife coming out of a flower on his shoulder. I t was so colorful and hot.
“Oh shit,” I said to him. “You are fucking hot, homie.”
“Enjoy it, baby,” he said to me. And he put his hand down my g-string and started fingering me. Then he got on the floor beside the bed and pulled my panties off. He told me to lie there on the bed while he put the condom on.
I was lying there naked on the bed waiting for this hot stud to come fuck me and I don’t think I had ever felt better in all my life. I could have stayed there forever. Lying there just knowing I was about to be fucked. It was so sexy.
“Take your time,” I told him. “I just want to lie here naked and wait for you to come over. I love lying here naked for you.”
“You look pretty sexy lying there, lemme tell you,” he said, as he pulled on the condom.
“I’m all yours, Arturo,” I said. “I want you to do whatever you want to me. I’m so wet for you. I want you to fuck the shit out of me. I want you to come in my face. I want you to come in my ass. I want you to really use me, baby. Use me for your pleasure. I want to be your little slut.”
“I like that dirty mouth, bitch,” he said, coming back to the bed at last. I wished it had lasted longer, this lying there naked time. But it was soon over, and he was fucking me so hard and so fast. Oh my God I get dizzy just thinking about it. I had never been fucked like that, not even by the gangbanger in high school. And unlike Honcho, Arturo wasn’t cold. He was warm to me as he fucked me. He appreciated me.
“Because I’m a goddess,” I said aloud, and immediately blushed.
“You sure are baby,” he said, continuing to pound me as he made me come for the first time. Then he turned me over.
“Let me tap that Goddess ass now,” he said.
And he put a little moisture from my pussy onto my asshole.
“You ready for this?” he asked, tenderly.
“I don’t know,” I said.
Brandon had never fucked me in the ass. He just wasn’t into it, I guess. The last guy I dated before that had fucked me in the ass. Javier. But I found out why that was, because Javier turned out to be gay. He came out of the closet and broke up with me. That really confused me. Thank God Brandon came along and fixed up my self-esteem. But now Arturo was taking my self-esteem to a whole new level. He was worshiping my ass cheeks and fingering my ass rim and then placing the tip of his dick on the rim of my ass.
“I guess so,” I said.
And he was in me. Slowly, slowly. Despacito, I joked. He laughed. It felt good, but it was scary because he was so big.
“Oh Jesus,” I said, as a flash of pain mixed with the arousal.
“You alright, baby?” he asked me, gently.
“God yeah, fuck my ass!”
He fucked me hard in the ass then. It was crazy. I fingered myself to about six orgasms as he did it. Then, he pulled off his condom and he came around to have me suck him.
“I love your big cock,” I said.
“Love?” he joked.
“Alright, maybe it’s lust not love,” I joked back.
I lusted on his cock. I feasted on his cock. I had never had such a satisfying meal. And then at the last moment, I couldn’t bring myself to pull up. I stayed on his cock and felt his huge load shooting into my mouth and down my throat as he screamed with excitement.
“Oooh Mama,” he said. “That’s the girlfriend experience. I don’t get that too often. Thank you.”
“You’re quite welcome,” I said.
He came up to me and tenderly kissed me for a long time. I cherished the last feeling of his flesh, his tattoos, his muscles, the look in his brown eyes, his short hair, his sweet fingers, his cock. His body. Him. Arturo. I knew I would never see him again.
“You can call me any time, baby,” he said, as though reading my thoughts. “You got the number.”
“I’m blocking it,” I said.
“Oh baby, wasn’t it any good?” he pouted.
“It was too good,” I said. “One more hour with you and this wedding would be off.”
He laughed.
“Now get the fuck outahere and don’t ever try to see this sex goddess again, you understand papichulo?”
“Si Mami,” he said. “I get it.”
He got dressed. He came over and kissed me goodbye. He looked back at me naked on the bed, post coital. I must have looked so satiated, decadent, and beautiful.
“Shit,” he said. “That Brandon is one lucky guy.”
The next weekend a beauty walked in her bridal gown down the aisle to join Brandon at the altar. His bride. His woman. His sex goddess.
I looked over at Bethany, my Maid of Honor. She was crying her eyes out and looking at me. I was so grateful to her then, for everything, but especially that last gift, Arturo, that I started sobbing too. And I came over to her and hugged her and whispered into her ear.
“I love you so much,” I said. “Thank you, thank you. Thank you.”
Then I went up to my husband-to-be and got married.
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