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People call me BC. Big Cat. A nickname I’ve had since I was a boy. However, during my years at art college I was known as ‘Fluffer’. These are my diaries of that time. Fluffer’s tales.
#
Sara’s wedding, and I was stood at the top table, in a rented morning suit with a bit of paper trembling in my hand. Two hundred expectant faces looked up at me.
I bloody hate giving speeches. And since when does the bride’s best friend have to give a speech anyway? This whole `Bridesman’ thing was so… fucked up.
I opened my mouth. Coughed. Nothing came out. Sniggers ran around the church hall.
“Come on, Fluffer!” Shouted Alan, the groom. The room erupted with laughter. They all knew I’d got this nickname years ago from giving his wife, Sara, head–or as he described it, “Doing what a real man don’t.”
Alan’s rugby mates started chanting, “Fluff-er, Fluff-er” and my vision tunnelled. Sara to my left, smiled and frowned simultaneously. Tessa, to my right, glared at the chanters.
With my heart battering my rib cage, I took a deep breath and proclaimed loudly, “Sara was keen that I go down–” I faltered. The sentence was supposed to finish: “…in history as this church’s first bridesman.” I don’t know why I paused, I think it only then occurred how that could be misunderstood. But I paused too long.
The crowd went mad, banging tables, slapping thighs. I thought maybe I’d got away with it and took a breath to finish my sentence, but everyone’s faces distorted nightmarishly. Eyes widened, grimaces pulled, hands raised to mouths. At something right beside ankara escort me
I turned just in time for Alan’s fist to smash me on the nose. Pain flashed. I staggered back. On instinct, my hand shot out and grabbed the over-puffed rugby-ball of a man by the throat. I swung him like a ragdoll to pin him against a wall. Under the blubber of his fat neck his oesophagus felt flimsy and hollow. My other fist clenched, primed behind me. I didn’t know if I was going to smash his skull or strangle him or both.
“I’m not.. Fluffer,” I hissed, then roared, “I–AM–BIG–CAAAAT!”
Silence.
Sara squawked into laughter. Alan, even with his lips going blue, spluttered with choked hilarity. Then everyone clapped and brayed.
A soft hand settled on my fist. The pain from my nose suddenly rang my head like a bell. An arm looped round me, and only then I saw the blood all down my shirt. I let Alan go.
“Come on my love, come.” Sara’s voice was suddenly deep and soothing. She guided me through a jeering gauntlet, her small strong arm leading the way.
The next thing I remember is the water in the sink, then looking up and seeing two blurred people reflected above.
“Sara,” I muttered. “I’m so sorry.”
“Look again, BC.” Again with the deep voice. I looked up, focussed.
“Tess?”
You know what? It only hit me then. Where I’d seen her before. I’d needed a good smack in the face, to see clearly. “It’s you! From the life drawing class. The cheeky cat girl!”
Tess laughed, soaked a serviette in some water and ankara escort bayan applied it gently to my nose, turning it pink and reaching for another.
“At bloody last,” she said, radiant. She dabbed my nose again and I swiped her hand away and kissed her with all my strength.
We gasped and hugged and kissed as if trying to force ourselves into one thing. Our tongues plugged each other’s mouths like power sockets, lighting us up. Our kissing became feverish, spiralled out over each other’s faces, laughter bubbling out with them.
“Fuck,” she said as we broke off and blinked at each other. Her body, under the wrapped red silk of her dress, pushed against me hard from the hips down. I locked the bathroom door and she nibbled at my earlobe, sending more jolts of excitement along my skin.
I tugged up her skirt, a long, swathed pencil thing. Our hands squeezed between each other’s legs, and I felt I would come there and then, harder than a motherfucker already. Finally I got my fingers under all that fabric and down the front of her knickers.
I found her naked mound for the first time and she moaned loudly as I squished into her soft, buttery flesh. She stretched onto tiptoes, cupping my face and sucking greedily on my tongue. I stirred my fingers and she shivered and rocked her hips, desperately fiddling with my trousers.
But I dropped to my knees, yanked her knickers off over her kitten heels and plunged my face up into her hot, wet haven. She whimpered and gripped my head, pushed her hips at my mouth and screwed escort ankara shut her eyes. Her knees wobbled. I gripped her buttocks to hold her steady. She grunted and shuddered but then hoisted my face to hers.
Her kisses punctuated with giggles as she unleashed my pent up cock, then stooped to press frantic kisses all over it, rubbing it, lapping her tongue around the head. I pulled her up and slid into her in one fluid move, lifting her off the floor with my thrust. Tess wrapped her leg around my hip and we laughed at the flashback to our dance on the stage at Blanc-et-Noir, but stopped as our hips set about feeding on one another.
Tess wrapped her arms around my neck, wrapped her legs around my hips and her weight was easy, even familiar. I gripped her buttocks and we fucked, gasping and cursing with every thrust and wriggle. Her hole sucked me and she arched in my arms and lost control. I would soon, but for now wanted only to pump her up and adore the sight — the first ever sight — of my love’s face in rapture.
I jammed deep and let her grind it out, cries becoming delirious chuckles as she calmed. I put her down and withdrew, leaving her trembling, flopped forward on the sink, puffing out deep, contented breaths.
I stroked her bottom and her reflection smiled with a wickedness that gets me every time I recall it. Even now, and we’ve been married for twenty years. She lifted one knee up onto the sink, pushed out her naked buttocks and whispered, “More.”
Tess and I have had the best sex you could ever imagine. And I know you can imagine a lot. Fluffer would have really loved to tell you all about it. What we did next, for example, how she came again, how she made me come. He would have loved to fluff you up.
Thing is, I’m no-one’s Fluffer anymore.
And my wife won’t let me.
Bye
-BC
THE END
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