I'm Done Pretending Like I Could've Fixed Us

The Most Scandalous Thing I Ever Did At A Wedding

I knew he’d be there, so I wore his old favorite perfume and a pair of panties he’d texted me about endlessly back when we were together, just in case. The dress I was wearing was long, black, plunging in the back, and new – I couldn’t resist buying something for the occasion.

It wasn’t that I was planning anything regarding this legendary ex, the one I never really got over, the one that fueled all my midday “bored at work” sex fantasies … I was just going to this wedding prepared, OK?

Of course, he was there when I arrived and he looked good. He must have been spending some time out in the sun, because he was a little tan and a little scruffy, just the way I liked him. I tried not to drift over in his direction and instead went to sit by some of our friends, leaving a few spaces of buffer between us. He was definitely looking at me.

The bride must have thought there was unfinished business between us, too, because when cocktail hour was over and we were led to our tables, guess who was seated at mine? Way to go, bride. Thanks a lot.

After a couple glasses of wine, he sidled up to me when my girlfriend went to the bathroom and vacated her chair. “You look great,” he said. “What’s up?”

I raised my eyebrows and searched his face to figure out where the hell this was gonna go. I took a little sip of my wine and thought, “Fuck it, let’s see.” So I smiled at him and whispered, “Well, I’m wearing your favorite underwear under this dress.”

That was basically all it took. Men are incredibly easy, especially when they’re a little drunk and a little loved-up. He moved my friend’s dinner card over to his old seat so he could bask in my presence, and to be honest, my knees were a little melty and shaky from such close contact. I knew I shouldn’t even think about letting any this dudes’ appendages near mine, but I couldn’t help it. He smelled just the way he always had and it was making me hungry.

“Remember when you wore those panties under that little sundress when we drove up to the cabin for the weekend?” He murmured to me between bites of our main dish, which I promptly forgot after eating it. “And you kept flashing them at me while I drove before you just took them off entirely?”

I laughed, mostly to cover up the pounding of my heart. Oh, I remembered that cabin trip. I remembered it very, very well. Let’s just say I’ll never look at a pontoon the same way again. “Perks of dating a Minnesota girl.”

We moved between polite dinner-table chatter and naughty asides to each other for all of dinner and dessert, though his fingers started to creep up my (freshly waxed and tanned) leg about halfway through. Soon they were investigating the panties in question, stroking my inner thighs, fiddling with the elastic. “If you don’t stop that now I’m gonna spill my wine,” I whispered to him. “People are totally watching.”

“Let’s skip the dance. They won’t even notice.”

“But I brought a gift!” Of course I was kidding. Wedding dances are usually lame as hell, and we weren’t in the wedding party.

He flashed me a glimpse of his phone, where he’d opened up his hotels app. Yeah, that’s a thing. “Where do you wanna go?”

“Surprise me. Maybe a Jacuzzi?” I was about to vibrate out of my damn chair at this moment. I didn’t even care that I’d paid way too much for this dress and shouldn’t waste it by throwing it on some hotel floor that probably had bedbugs. I wanted my dress off and his dick inside me.

The two of us stayed for approximately three songs; we did the requisite “ooh”ing and “aww”ing over the couple’s first dance, and then he swept me into his arms for one little slow dance. You know, under all this flinty sex talk, I’m kind of a romantic, so I had my moment swaying against the body of a dude I once really loved. It was sexy, and it was a little sad, too.

“I’m gonna take you down the street and check us in, and then I’m gonna take that dress off as slow as I can. Then, when you’re wearing just your panties and your shoes, I’m gonna call down for some champagne and you’re gonna drink it while I go down on you,” he said low in my ear. “And then I’m gonna press you up against the window and fuck you for the whole city to watch.”

I flushed from my forehead to my toes, anticipating the delicious warmth of his tongue on me. “It’s a good thing I don’t have any wine in my hand or it’d be all over your suit. God damn.”

“We always had the best sex, didn’t we? Remember that time when …” he started.

I was not in the mood to play “Trip Down Memory Lane.” Nope, I was ready to have my dress shucked off and my whole body thoroughly fucked. “Don’t play the nostalgia game with me right now,” I said. “Go get my coat. I’ll pretend I’m going to the bathroom and we’ll leave. My panties are practically soaked right now.”

“You’re such a good girl. I can’t wait to smack your ass and make you beg for my dick.”

“I just love weddings!” I said as we left. “Someone always gets laid. And it’s the best when it’s me.” TC mark

About the author
Jillian Paulson is a blonde chick in the Midwest. She drinks at least two glasses of wine every night, but it's ... Read more articles from Jillian on Thought Catalog.

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