The Wedding Party
By Unicode Smith
Chapter Three
The size of the suite surprised Dover. He hadn’t expected these girls to have money. The door opened into a vestibule, beyond which he could see a large living room with sofas arranged around a coffee table in a conversation nook. A wall-sized sliding glass door offered a spectacular view of the city and opened onto a terrace.
“Danielle, release her, go into the next room and sit on a sofa. Don’t yell or make a fuss.”
The girl obeyed, a little faster than last time, he was pleased to see. The substance builds up. He turned to the older one, standing like a beautiful statue. Her blonde hair was gathered casually and held up by a plastic clip, leaving her delicate ears exposed. Gold hoop earrings hung from them. She had a slight dimple in her chin, and smooth unblemished skin. Her deep blue eyes watched him fearfully.
“You and Danielle are sisters, is that right?”
“None of your business,” she said bravely. “What are you doing to us? People know we’re here.”
He gave her a brittle smile, then blew into her face again.
“Answer all my questions truthfully and completely. Are you sisters?”
She pressed her mouth shut—fighting not to answer, he imagined. But after a moment her ruby lips parted. “Yes.”
“Your voice sounds a bit nasal, Julie. Could it be that you have a cold?”
“I ... have allergies.”
“And you don’t have any antihistamines?”
“I do, in my bag. I was afraid they’d make me sleepy.” She sniffled.
“Hmmm. Wait here,” he said needlessly.
He passed Danielle in the living room, sitting on one of the sofas with her eyes darting around as though looking for a back door. She was trembling a little.
The phone was on the floor. He hung it up, then located Julie’s purse and poured a glass of water from a pitcher positioned next to a lavish fruit basket and a bottle of Champaign in an ice bucket. He stroked Danielle’s cheek on the way back to the vestibule—she cringed from his touch, but didn’t shout or scream.
Julie was where he’d left her. “I’d like to think I’m the kind of man who enjoys a challenge. But I’m not.” He blew into her face again. “Take this,” he ordered, putting the glass and two Sudafed in her hands.
He watched her throat as she swallowed the pills with a gulp of water, then breathed on her again—it was getting tedious. “Follow me.”
She trailed him obediently to the other room, where he sat her on an empty couch and imparted more instructions with his breath: she was to sit there silently while they waited for the decongestant to work. If she needed to go to the bathroom, she’d raise her hand, like in kindergarten.
He sat down next to the younger sister. She turned away from him. She wasn’t wearing a bra, and he could make out the outline of her nipples through her tank top. “Face me,” he said.
She turned, her blue eyes screaming silently. Her skin was pale and smooth. He brushed a stray hair from her face and touched her lips.
“I quite liked being kissed by you in the elevator,” he said. “You’re very sexy. Not as sexy as me, of course. I’m making you incredibly horny right now, just sitting here. You find yourself wanting to fuck me very badly. Your need for me will grow stronger with every passing second.”
He watched as the suggestions took hold of her. First she shook her head in denial. Then her breathing started to become heavy and shaky. She ran a hand through her choppy hair and her eyes played over his face and body.
Her lips parted and her head began to float towards his as though drawn by an invisible string. “Is this... is this how you get your kicks?,” she said between labored breaths. “Hypnotizing ... women half your age into ... into being attracted to you?”
“I assure you, you have seen only the barest glimpse of how I get my kicks.”
Her lips grazed his softly. “You’re sick,” she whispered into his mouth. The she kissed him hard, breathing through her nose. She tasted of lip gloss and bubble gum.
She broke the kiss long enough to pull the top off over her head and drop it to the floor—the bangles on her wrists clinking. Dover smiled. Her tits were buoyant, her pink nipples erect. She wrapped a hand around his head and kissed him again harder.
He found her breasts with his hands. They were firm and yielding to his touch. Her nipples poked into his palms. Danielle gasped and jumped to her feet, chest heaving, and unsnapped the top button of her jeans while eyeing his erection hungrily.
Then her eyes darted self-consciously to her sister—who was watching from the other couch, shaking her head desperately.
“No,” Danielle whispered to Dover. “Not in front of Julie. Please. Take me in the bedroom.”
He frowned. “Perhaps I won’t take you at all.”
Danielle trembled, and after a long moment continued opening her jeans button-by-button. She peeled them over her hips and down to her feet, along with her panties, then stepped out of them and kicked them aside with her naked foot.
He nodded appreciatively. Her nude body was toned, her blonde pubic hair shaved down to a sliver. Danielle glanced over at her sister, then turned her gaze back to Dover and dropped to her knees in front of him.
She began unclasping his belt feverishly. He reached down and touched her cheek—then stood so abruptly that she fell back on the carpet.
“I’m still not convinced,” he said. “Perhaps your sister won’t be so particular about where I screw her.” He took a few paces to the other sofa and sat down next to Julie, who turned away and closed her eyes tight, squeezing out a single tear.
Danielle watched from the floor, her face a mask of desperation. “Please,” she said. “I’m sorry. I’ll do it anywhere you want. Just fuck me.” She stretched out her naked body and began crawling towards him on all fours. “Please, please fuck me.”
He was gratified to see that Julie was watching now, her mouth hanging open in shock. “Relax Julie,” he said. “You’ll be begging for me too, soon enough. Perhaps I’ll make you two fight over me.”
She grimaced.
Danielle reached him and began groping at his fly. “Stop,” he said.
She hovered there, face flushed, tears of frustration forming in her crystal blue eyes. “Please,” she said in a tiny voice.
“I’d like some entertainment first. It’s up to you of course, but if you want me, I’d like to see you make out with your sister.”
Danielle opened her mouth as if to protest, but stopped—probably regretting the last time she questioned him, he thought.
As Julie watched with obvious disbelief, Danielle moved away from Dover and crouched next to her sister. She studied Julie’s face for a second, as though contemplating whether she could bring herself to do it. “I’m sorry Julie. You can’t understand. I want him so much.” She slid onto her sister’s lap and leaned in with her lips parted.
Julie fought admirably, twisting her head to the left and right to evade her sister’s ripe mouth. Dover grew impatient, leaned over and blew a fresh stream of air over Julie’s face. “Make out with Danielle.”
She stopped fighting and settled her gaze on her sister’s eyes—then met Danielle’s kiss eagerly.
They melted into a chain of long, deep kisses, their tongues meshing and pushing back and forth into each other’s mouths sloppily, their noses butting as they twisted and writhed.
Dover stood and walked to the table by the terrace window. He peeled the foil off the bottle of Champaign, popped the cork and poured himself a glass, then settled into a sofa.
From there, he watched the girls with the practiced eye of a connoisseur. Of the two, Julie was far more committed now, thanks to the insatiable command that had taken root in her mind. She wasn’t just kissing her little sister—she was caressing the side of Danielle’s face, and her kisses were punctuated by little bites to the lip and teasing flicks of her tongue. Danielle, on the other hand, was doing the minimum she could to make him happy.
“I’m not impressed, Danielle,” he sang in warning tone.
To Dover’s delight, Danielle reached down to Julie’s blouse with both hands and ripped it open, scattering buttons to the floor and revealing a black lace bra over snowy skin. Julie let out a surprised squeal, but didn’t stop making out with her sister.
Danielle slid one hand beneath the hanging blouse and squeezed Julie’s right breast through her bra. Julie pressed into it, and their kissing grew more passionate, filled with soft moans and panting.
“That’s good,” Dover said. “That’s very good.” He put down the glass. “You can fuck me now.”
Danielle disengaged from Julie and fairly leapt across the room to where Dover sat. She opened his belt and pulled his pants down to the floor roughly, then straddled him. Her soft hands found the shaft of his penis.
“The other way,” he said. “I want you to face Julie.”
Danielle raised a limber leg over his head and spun around—her butt surprisingly cold on his lap. For a moment her hair was in his face and he could smell the perfume she wore behind her ears, then she bent her body, grabbed the coffee table for support and squirmed backwards until her pussy pressed against his erection.
He guided her hips, and she let out a gasp of pain and pleasure as he penetrated her. Dover moaned involuntarily—she was tight and wet.
Julie watched helpless from the other sofa as Dover pumped her sister from behind. Danielle panted and groaned. “You’re sick. I hate you,” she breathed. “Ohhh. Yessss. Fuck me. God. I hate you. Godgodgod. Fuck me.”
Her hard body grew slick with sweat as they built up speed. She was thrashing her head wildly now, grunting obscenely with every thrust—”Huh. huh. huh.“—until she let out a strangled, shrill animal noise that Dover recognized as the sound of a woman having an fierce orgasm while under an inviolable command not to yell.