The Bride’s Uncle Found Me in the Hotel Bathroom

My brother was getting married at a beachfront resort. Two free days in a five-star all-inclusive hotel, so there was no way I was going to say no. I checked in as fast as I could, left my suitcase in the room, and went down to the lobby bar to kill time until the ceremony. There were still three hours left and I couldn’t stand being alone, locked up with my thoughts.

I was wearing a very short pink dress, with a neckline any mother would have made me cover before leaving the house. Tight to the body, sleeveless, with the hem halfway up my ass. Underneath, a tiny black bikini, in case I felt like stopping by the pool before changing. I liked feeling heavy looks on my body, and with my DD breasts it was hardly hard to get. I never met a man who didn’t at least steal a glance, no matter how much of a gentleman he tried to seem.

I was on my second drink when a man in his sixties sat down beside me. Well-tailored gray suit, tall, bald, neatly trimmed gray beard, and a calm belly peeking out under his jacket. He smelled like expensive cologne and something darker I couldn’t name. I crossed my legs slowly so the dress would ride up a few inches and expose the inner part of my thigh. I wanted to give him a good view and, more than anything, I wanted to see what he would do with it.

—Boy, a whiskey on the rocks —he told the bartender without even looking at him.

He had a deep voice, one you feel before you hear it. Something tightened inside me, slow, firm, growing.

When he took the glass, he pretended to have a weak grip and the whole whiskey ended up on my thigh. The cold made me let out a little cry. I felt the liquid run down my leg and slip under my dress. Shit, I thought, now I’d have to go back to the room and change before the wedding.

—I’m terribly sorry, miss —he murmured, grabbing a napkin from the bar. He started wiping my leg with a calm that wasn’t the calm of someone trying to help. It was the calm of someone who knows exactly what he’s doing.

I should have been annoyed. Instead, it felt like the bar air had suddenly gone up ten degrees.

—Don’t worry, accidents happen to anyone —I replied, leaning forward just enough for the dress’s cups to stop doing their job. He swallowed. It took him three seconds to look back at my face.

—Allow me to apologize. It’s unforgivable to ruin such a… —his eyes raked over me from head to toe— precise dress.

I downed the rest of my drink in one gulp. If I stayed one second longer, I wouldn’t be responsible for myself. Best to leave before something happened that I’d regret later.

—You’ll have to excuse me. I’m going to change before the ceremony.

I stepped off the stool and my heel caught in a crack in the floor. I was going to fall when a firm hand held me by the waist. I felt it warm through the fabric of the dress. His fingers slid down a few inches, pretending clumsiness, until they brushed the top of my ass.

—Are you okay? —he smiled with a calm that was almost insulting.

—Yes. Thank you, sir.

I got out of the bar as fast as I could, feeling a pulse in places that shouldn’t have been pulsing at four in the afternoon.

***

An hour later, seated in the third row of white chairs facing the sea, I listened to my brother say I do. And then I saw him. The man from the bar was standing on the bride’s side, holding an older woman by the arm. A cousin of the bride confirmed it in my ear between giggles: he was my brand-new sister-in-law’s uncle. Damian, she said. “Uncle Damian, the eternal bachelor.”

The eternal bachelor never took his eyes off me for the entire ceremony. And I, far from looking away, used every turn of my head, every time I crossed or uncrossed my legs, to make sure he understood that yes, the bar had been a preview and not an accident.

We moved to the reception hall. The music started. Mateo, one of my brother’s school friends, held out his hand without asking.

—Let’s dance.

I accepted without thinking. As soon as we got to the dance floor, Mateo wrapped an arm around my waist and pulled me against his body. Over his shoulder I looked for Damian. I found him sitting at a side table, drink in hand, jaw clenched. He wasn’t dancing with anyone. He was watching me.

That was all I needed. I let my body do the talking. I leaned back against Mateo and rubbed my ass against his crotch. He took two seconds to get hard and three to start wondering what to do with his hands. I wasn’t dancing for him. I was dancing for Damian.

When I turned my head again, the bride’s uncle’s eyes were burning. We held the gaze just long enough for him to understand that this dance was for him. Something inside me was shaking, and I couldn’t tell if it was fear or desire.

Three songs later, the alcohol caught up with me. I needed the bathroom and the one in the hall had a huge line. I slipped away without telling anyone, crossed the lobby, and took a side corridor until I found the sign for the restrooms. I crossed another darker hallway and finally went in. I took my time. When I came out of the stall and approached the sink, I looked toward the door.

Damian was leaning against it.

—What are you doing here? —I blurted out, surprised, even though my body had already understood everything.

—I think we’ve played enough —he replied, peeling away from the door and walking toward me. The distance between us closed too fast.

The space stopped being space.

It was temperature.

It was electricity.

—What game are you talking about? —I played dumb, backing up until the cold porcelain of the sink hit my back.

He grabbed me by the waist and pressed me against him. I felt the hard bulge through the fabric of his pants.

—This one. Your eyes have been begging for cock since I saw you at the bar. Or are you going to deny it?

—You’d better… —I started to say, but his hand slid up the inner part of my thigh and cut the sentence in half.

—I haven’t even touched you and you’re already shaking.

His fingers found the black bikini under the dress. He pushed it aside without asking permission. He traced me with his index and middle finger, slowly, like someone checking something he already knows.

—Look at that. You’re soaked.

He started sliding two fingers into me at exactly the right rhythm, neither fast nor slow, finding an angle I hadn’t found in years. I had to cover my mouth with my hand so I wouldn’t scream. I was one breath away from an orgasm when he stopped. He pulled his fingers out, brought them to his mouth, and sucked them calmly.

—If you want to keep going, you’re going to have to ask for it.

Frustrated, overheated, my judgment already on another continent, I grabbed his tie and pulled him toward me. The idea that someone might walk in at that moment didn’t scare me anymore; the truth was, I was starting to like it.

—How am I supposed to ask?

—You know how, slut.

He squeezed my throat with one hand. Not hard enough to scare me. Just enough to let a moan slip past my lips.

—Ask.

—Fuck me, Uncle Damian.

He turned me around against the sink and opened my legs with his knee. He pulled my dress up to my waist. The black string of the bikini disappeared between my ass cheeks, almost nonexistent. He lowered his head until his mouth was right by my ear.

—Ask me to break you.

—Put it in me, uncle —I moaned, not recognizing my own voice.

I heard the belt. I heard the pants fall to the floor. I felt the head of his cock brush my wet lips without entering. I shook my ass, desperate, with no pride left, seeking friction. He gave a low laugh.

And then he shoved it all the way in, in one thrust, without warning. I gripped the marble with my fingers, looking for something to keep me upright. He didn’t stop until he felt his balls slam against me.

—What a gorgeous pussy you’ve got —he growled, and slapped my ass, leaving a hot sting—. Take all of it.

The mirror gave me my face back: mouth open, eyes closed, hair stuck to my forehead. Damian was looking at the mirror too, still fucking me, watching my breasts jolt inside the dress, about to spill out. I pulled the neckline down with one hand and freed them myself. I wasn’t wearing a bra.

As soon as he saw them, he leaned over my back and took one nipple into his mouth over my shoulder. He sucked it like he’d been thinking about it for hours.

—Since I saw you walk into the bar I wanted to eat your tits —he murmured against my skin.

I felt the first orgasm rise and explode without warning. I dug my nails into the sink and came with stifled moans, biting my lip until it burned. He didn’t stop. He grabbed my waist, spun me halfway around, and sat me on the ceramic.

—Now I want to see those tits bouncing.

He spread my legs as far as they would go and shoved himself in again, this time at an angle that made everything go blurry. I brought my fingers to my clit and started circling. The bathroom filled with moans and the wet sound of his pelvis against my thighs.

—You were made for getting fucked —he panted.

—Harder. Break me.

***

Three sharp knocks on the door cut us off abruptly.

—Hotel maintenance. Open up, please.

Damian didn’t stop. He covered my mouth with one hand and kept thrusting, staring into my eyes, daring me to stay quiet. I didn’t stay quiet. I moaned into his palm.

—Please, open up —the voice repeated, more impatient now.

Long pause.

—I’m alone. If you let me in, I won’t say anything.

Damian froze for a second, weighing it. Then he smiled, slow, lustful.

—You heard him, slut. Today I’m sharing you.

He kissed me, savoring the mix of both of them in my saliva. Then he pulled away, hiked his pants up halfway, and opened the door just enough. A guy in his forties came in, cream-colored uniform, keys on his belt. He locked the door behind him. He looked at me sitting on the sink, dress at my waist and tits out, and said absolutely nothing. He just swallowed.

—Get comfortable —Damian ordered me.

I got down from the sink. I took off the dress and bikini slowly, looking the man in uniform in the eye. Damian lay back on the bathroom floor and started jerking himself off to stay hard. I knelt between his legs and took his cock into my mouth, while I felt behind me the other man unbuckle his belt and come closer.

The maintenance man gripped my hips with calloused hands and settled in behind me. He didn’t say a word. He shoved it in with one motion, just like Damian had minutes before, and started fucking me at the rhythm of my sucking the other one off. The cock in front of me hit the back of my throat; the one behind split me open inside. I closed my eyes. I stopped thinking.

—Look at that, look how she swallows it —Damian told the maintenance man, grabbing my hair—. I told you she was a good little slut.

The maintenance man answered with a slap that left my ass cheek burning. Then another. And another. When I felt like I was about to come, Damian pulled the cock from my mouth, grabbed me by the waist, and switched positions. He put me on all fours on the floor, in front of the mirror. He wanted me to see myself.

They took me like that for a long while. Taking turns. Turning my head to kiss me while the other one fucked me. Whispering things in my ear that I wouldn’t dare repeat even to myself. At some point I felt the maintenance man’s fingers opening me from behind, slowly, preparing me. I closed my eyes and said yes without anyone asking me.

That night they had me between them until dawn. I ended up in Damian’s room, impaled on him once more, my pussy raw and my ass so sore I couldn’t sit down for three days. But I don’t regret a thing. Even today, long after that wedding, I still go to my sister-in-law’s family parties hoping, stupidly, to run into Uncle Damian again. And every night, before going to sleep, I masturbate remembering every single thing that happened in that hotel bathroom.