What Poppy’s Boyfriend Doesn’t Know

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If you don’t like stories about unfaithfulness, look away now. If you don’t like cheating, don’t read. Don’t say you weren’t warned.

Much of this story is true.

In summer 2011 I went to a wedding of an ex-colleague. We had only worked together for about a year, but when I moved away for another job we kept in touch and I was happy to be invited to his wedding. His name is Joe and his new wife – who is absolutely gorgeous and has seemed very nice the few times I’ve met her – is called Kate, and they don’t feature much from hereon-in.

I like weddings. Not the ceremonies, but catching up with old friends and meeting new people, having a drink and having fun. On this occasion it was being held at a beautiful old hotel, and it was nice to catch up with a group of ex-colleagues. We stuck together as a clique for most of the day, drinking the free champagne and secretly joking through the ceremony. By 6pm, after the wedding lunch and speeches, I was drunk – but good drunk, happy to be with friends. My mind wasn’t on anything beyond that.

At about this time, however, the guests who weren’t invited to the ceremony – only to the reception – started to show up. One such party was Poppy and her boyfriend. Poppy had held a junior position at my old firm when I departed. In fact, I had hired her. She was a few years younger – recently graduated when she was appointed – and quite green, uncool and awkward. She was nice, though, and charming in her own way. I had an inkling she liked me, or used to – she got kind of close on one social outing, but I didn’t see her that way and stopped anything from happening.

In the intervening time, apparently, she had matured. Professionally she was doing very well, and physically she was… not the girl I remembered. Maybe her make-up, special for the wedding, was flattering her. Maybe her short dress was more revealing than anything I’d seen her in before. Maybe this Poppy had always been there but I’d never noticed. Or maybe she had changed. Whatever it was, it was like that teen movie moment of the geek girl taking her glasses off and suddenly being Miss World.

Poppy was just shorter than me in her black high heels. Big blue eyes and long black lashes, her brunette hair tied in a perfect ballet bun, her tits bursting out of her dress, which also tugged tightly against her medium-wide hips and ass. She wasn’t a supermodel but she was just my type. I like real women. Suddenly Poppy looked fuckable as hell. I said hello.

I met her boyfriend Tim. Tim was a nice guy. A bit nerdy and shy, nothing too much to say batıkent escort for himself but very friendly. Exactly, in fact, the kind of guy I’d have expected Poppy to be dating when I first met her, and I wasn’t surprised to hear that they’d been together since around then.

We chatted in our group, continuing to enjoy the hospitality, and Poppy and Tim caught up with us pretty quickly with the aid of a couple of shots. Poppy laughed more loudly at my jokes as the evening went on. A live band started to provide the soundtrack to the evening, and the newly married couple danced their first dance together. A Taylor Swift song – possibly an ironic choice, but one that got everyone going.

I noticed pretty soon that Poppy and Tim weren’t completely happy. Not that they hated each other in that way of bored, trapped long-term couples in restaurants, but they took a few shots at each other. Mostly Poppy at Tim, actually. Nothing too harsh, just things like quietly undermining him when he was talking about his job. “Yeah, well you only got that job because he’s your uncle…” Or devaluing his fundraising long-distance cycle. “In the grand scheme of things, you didn’t really raise that much…” Tim, being nice, took everything on the chin. I couldn’t stand to see it and soon resolved to fuck his girlfriend.

In my defence, I had had quite a bit to drink. And Poppy was showing signs of interest. I put my hand on her waist in conversation and she reciprocated. She smiled and made faces at me while dancing with Tim. She asked me about my love life.

It gets hazy. At, I guess, around 9pm the band was still in full swing, and the dance floor was still heaving. Traditional dancing partners had gone out of the window and the floor was now a free-for-all, complete strangers making friends for life – or, at least, the evening.

Poppy was swaying next to Tim, and I took her by the hands and pulled her away. No idea what the song was, but I remember that Tim continued to nod along to the music, left with no-one to dance with.

Poppy and I played around, bumping hips and making each other do twirls (kind of). Neither of us could really dance. But that wasn’t the point.

I pulled her in during one chorus and said “let’s go upstairs”. Her eyes widened a bit. She didn’t look back at Tim, though. She just said “you’ve got a room?”

Easy.

Except then she rolled back.

“I’m here with my boyfriend.”

I was drunk.

“The thought of fucking you while he’s downstairs, not knowing, turns me on.”

Poppy said nothing, beşevler escort but she kind of stopped dancing, until my movement reminded her to keep up the pretence.

“I’m going upstairs.” I told her my room number and, without looking at her or Tim, left the dance floor.

It was kind of a bold move, really. I had been having a good time. It would have been a real shame to have waited an hour by myself before meekly descending again, to find most of my friends had left. I was quietly confident though.

Eight minutes. That’s all it took before there was a knock at the door. The room was very nice – it had to be, at that price – and there’s always been something very sexy about hotel rooms for me. Maybe something about the anonymity of it. No neighbours. Clean sheets.

I opened the door and Poppy pushed in without looking back. I pushed her back against the door, slamming it shut and kissing her, putting my hand up her skirt and squeezing her ass. I noticed she was wearing a thong and enjoyed the skin contact. She gasped and pushed me back.

“I’ve been thinking about this all evening,” said one or the other of us.

Our tongues intertwined again and she grabbed my crotch. I pushed her off and forced her to the floor by her shoulders. She needed no invitation and sank to her knees, unzipping me and pulling my cock out. I was already pretty much hard, but she got me the rest of the way by engulfing as much as she could with her mouth and let out a moan.

“Fuck…”

That was definitely me.

I grabbed her by the hair and started to slowly draw out of, and back into, her mouth. She liked this; she let herself go limp and be used. She was moaning like it was me pleasuring her. I remember, quite distinctly, her looking me in the eyes as my cock slid between her lips, with complete surrender.

I didn’t get her to take this risk just for a blowjob, good though it was. I pulled out of her mouth and led her to the bed. She pulled me on top of her and we kissed, my naked cock pushing against her pussy, still in her thong. She murmured that she wanted me and I didn’t need asking twice.

I yanked her thong away and positioned my cock over her pussy. No time for a condom. Didn’t want one, it would spoil what this was. Poppy bit her lip as she watched, feeling me trace her clit and her sodden opening. I slowly pushed the head into her. Cue another intake of breath. My suspicion was that I was bigger than Tim.

“Oh, fuck, you’re so big.”

There you go.

I pushed into her. She moaned and gripped her legs ankara escort around me, her high heels digging into my ass as she pulled me closer. All the way in. I stayed where I was for a while, maybe a half a minute. We looked each other in the eye. I felt I had total power over her. She squirmed, closed her eyes and bit her lip again. She looked absolutely beautiful. I thought about her boyfriend downstairs, wondering where the love of his life had got to.

I took her hands and pinned her down and started to fuck her harder. Within a minute the banging headboard was competing with Poppy for noise level. I slammed into her and called her a slut and a whore, and every bad name under the sun. All Poppy said was “yes!”. I asked her if she was going to come for me and she came, shuddering. I stopped inside her and let her enjoy it. When she opened her eyes again she said she hadn’t come like that for ages – for shame, Tim – and now it was my turn.

At 9.43pm I stuck my middle finger into her mouth and told her to suck it. When I took it out I pushed it into her asshole, timing it with a deep thrust. She came again, louder, and though I tried to hold off a bit longer, I couldn’t wait any longer. I stopped, deep inside her, and felt it wash over me. We could both feel my cock twitching, and we looked at each other as we felt it pump her full of cum.

At that moment Tim might have been asking around about how Poppy was, and smiling and thanking people when they said they didn’t know.

A minute or so of silence and eventually I slid out. She was dripping with my cum and I was covered in her juices. It had been short but sweet. We both sighed and started to put our clothes back on.

“You’d better go back down,” I said. “I’ll follow in a while.”

I added, “I’ll keep this,” holding up her wet thong. She laughed, and we both laughed. She didn’t object.

When I came back down the stairs, Poppy was back on the dancefloor with Tim, perfectly natural. I went to get another drink and had a catch-up with one of Joe’s brothers, who I had met at the bachelor party.

Later, when Poppy and Tim were leaving to go to whatever cheap hotel they had managed to pay for, Poppy and I had a quick peck on the cheek and a “lovely to see you”. Tim said “great to meet you, man! Maybe see you again sometime!” I smiled, thinking about my cum running down between his girlfriend’s thighs. “You too, man.”

I haven’t seen Poppy since then but I’ll always remember our sudden, dirty, brutal, horny moment. I’ve not done anything since and perhaps not before, and maybe it only happened because we shared some intangible, irresistible connection neither of us have found elsewhere. I wish her and Tim both well, and was happy to find out that they’d had a daughter. Tim looks really happy in the photos. The girl doesn’t look much like him, though.

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