Lolita Twenty-twelve, Part Four
Copyright 2012 M2b
Daphne’s panties stretched like a trampoline between her ankles as her fingers slid in and out of her cunt with a feverish rapidity while her back arched against the toilet seat.
Nipples pressed and breasts shook uncomfortably against bra fabric, just behind the beautiful silk bridesmaid dress which *mostly* covered that which wasn’t riding above hips.
Thoughts of Alex – his cock, pushing against the back of her throat…sliding between her slick, dripping cunt…slamming her between the cheeks as she moaned and groaned – fired Daphne’s imaginative juices, percolating the very REAL juices, sluicing her rapidly-gyrating fingers.
…a rap at the bathroom door.
‘Daphne! We’re going now! What’s taking so long?’
‘Oh…aah…I’m…aah…*coming*…just give me…a…aaahhh…’
Darn that sister of mine! Way to blow the bliss…so close…SO…CLOSE…!
‘C’MON! Daph! We need to GO!’
Quick wipe…panties up…oh, shit…my hands. O, well! Gotta go! No time!
Mom and Dad had taken their car, allowing me the luxury of driving with Cassie in mine, dubious blessing. Cassie eyed me suspiciousy from the passenger seat, her nose wrinkling as we headed down the highway toward my cousin Emanuel’s wedding. All I did was narrow my eyes back, pursing my lips and staring at the road ahead of us. When Cas jostled me with her elbow, I ignored her. Then I jostled her back.
Younger sisters. Could be *such* a pain. Well, wait until SHE graduates and then we’ll see how smart – and horny – she is. As if age makes any difference.
*Damn* I was moist. STILL moist. Fingers never getting a chance to finish the job. And…oh, that’s where the smell was emanating from. Both places, actually. Would have to wipe off the steering wheel. When I got a chance.
I squeezed my thighs together as best I could as I drove. Not that that helped. Much. Certainly didn’t help the throbbing between my legs. Alex – get out of my HEAD!
Cas nudged me again.
‘Perhaps this will help.’
Glancing over at her, she’d extracted a wipes box from her purse. I smiled weakly, hoping my face wasn’t too red. Taking one from the box, I smirked. Nice of her to offer; NOT so nice to be so obvious.
‘Thanks,’ I said, begrudgingly. Quickly wiping my hands and the steering wheel when we reached a stop-light, I dropped the wipe into my lap when traffic began moving again.
Cas was smirking overtop of the open wipes box in her hand, her eyes trailing toward my hemline.
‘No, I’m fine…thank you VERY much,’ I huffed.
Cas sniffed, conspicuously. ‘I trust you remembered your panties.’
I was red. ‘Shut…UP! Of course I did. Just never you mind, Cas.’
‘That’s the entrance to the lot there,’ Cas indicated, and I pulled into the almost full church parking lot, finding one of the last spots. Weddings were a big deal in Colombia. We took our Catholic tradition, vows – and especially the reception afterward – VERY seriously. Dad and Mom had arrived just ahead of us, and we all went into the church together, finding a pew for the four of us near the back.
The ceremony came and went, the bride and groom resplendent with me still unable to fully freshen up prior to the reception – providing Cassie with further opportunities for ribbing, much to our parents consternation.
‘Girls!’ Mom exclaimed. ‘Get along!’
You listen to your mother, girls!’ Dad chimed.
Parents. AND sisters. It’s not like Cassie didn’t ‘do it’ herself – she was only a year younger than me, and we’d both grown up, well…very sexually aware? Despite our Catholic up-bringing, our parents also had very healthy – and positive – views about sex, and our bodies. At least ‘within context’ of course. Meaning, the context of married…FIRST’.
Yeah, sure – that was the tradition, anyway – even if they hadn’t practised what they tried to preach – nor had the boys we went to school with…and smooched with behind the school…and who tried, as best they could, to get into our underthings…
Perfectly normal. PERFECTLY healthy. TRADITION!
…and, darned if Emanuel wasn’t following the natural conclusion of such traditions. Don’t think Phillippa, his intended, could’ve been any more than into her 2nd trimester. Helped that they loved each other, too – but it wouldn’t surprise me if Phillippa’s dad had his shotgun stowed in the trunk of his car, just in case.
‘Oh, don’t you two look the picture!’ My aunt Maria – ever the effusive one – pinched and hugged when she saw Cassie and me prior to our taking our places at the head table. Who am I kidding – ALL my relatives…and friends…what can I say, it was…IS…a ‘touchy-feely’ culture. Lots of hugs and kisses on the cheeks (and as many gropes from randy Uncles as they thought they could get away with, particularly after the bar opened) to go around.
I just hoped that my ‘eau de printemps’ managed to mask the, erm, ‘other perfumes’, that still emanated, seemingly to mock and embarrass…well, a girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do!
Dinner was a lavish spread; traditional food following after blessings and the requisite homage paid. Toasts were made and speeches given, involving much glass clinking and bottle emptying.
And around that time – perhaps prompted by what little wine I’d been allowed – thoughts turned back…to where they were when I’d been so rudely interrupted earlier. (Alex! Throb…) To say nothing of finally being able to ‘wipe down’. Could I sneak away? Could I just go to the washroom without a big production being made?
Not if Cassie had anything to say about it.
‘Going somewhere?’ she said, none-too discreetly.
Giving me a VERY telling look, as if she could *feel* my pulse…as if she KNEW my panties were seeping again, damn her…she just couldn’t shut up as I got up from the table, making my discreet apologies.
If only my ‘evil eye’ had caused…I dunno…her water glass to spill, or her dress to spontaneously combust…but it was not to be.
Good thing for HER.
Mom and Dad, having done a fair share of ‘glass clinking’ themselves, were fortunately past the point of caring what was going on between my sister any me. They were busy talking with relatives, and thinking up more toasts to share in an effort to empty as many bottles as possible.
Suck on THAT, sis.
Washroom was…just…a few teeters…down the slightly spinning hallway…almost there…almost there…
‘…Alex! What the…’
The door opened and closed with me behind it before I even had time to think…Explore posts in the same categories: bdsm, D/s, erotica, e[lust], kink, sex