There’s a Girl in My Soup Ch. 01

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Girl in My Soup 1

My fiancé, Diane, and I were married in a beautiful ceremony, after which we and the wedding party had the necessary formal pictures taken, followed by joining our families, friends, friends of friends, etc. at a lavish reception. There was a crowd of around 150 people there, so large because we both had large families and because Diane’s parents were very socially prominent (her father was in politics), necessitating a very long guest list. He was paying for the whole thing so I had no complaints. We had the usual dinner, toasts, etc. and prepared for a long evening of dancing and mingling before we took off for our honeymoon. The reception was held in a large, luxurious building designed for just such occasions. There was the banquet room, various other rooms such as a bridal changing room, cloak rooms, etc. Most interesting was the dancing area which consisted of a large main room with archways leading to a series of connected rooms. The main room was lighted in the normal dance floor dimness, but the side rooms were in a romantically dim, actually rather dark, encouraging a little surreptitious smooching as the dancers went from one to another, in and out through the arches. With the liquor being consumed, I’m sure that a considerable amount of more or less sex play went on.

Diane and I, of course, were the center of attention and danced with each other frequently while accepting congratulations and best wishes together and separately. Diane was a beautiful girl, just twenty-one years old with a lovely figure. While her figure was very good over all, she being 5′ 4″ and weighing 109 pounds, her biggest, most obvious attraction was her breasts. They were C-cup+, but their most noticeable feature was that they stuck out like torpedoes — cone shaped with no sag, whether she wore a bra or not. Actually, she always wore a bra since she was extremely conservative in dress. Her family background was quite religious and her upbringing had been very puritanical. No dating until she was almost 17, and, even then, almost always double dating with girls of equality conservative backgrounds. We had starting going together when she almost 20 and, when we advanced to the place where some intimacy developed, I discovered that she literally had never been touch sexually!

Oh, a couple of dates had tried to feel those breasts, but she had repelled such activists with maidenly shock. Really, few people realized that her breasts were so shapely because she always wore rather concealing blouses and sweaters. However, her wedding gown displayed her assets to perfection, and I know that many people had been startled by that revelation. Actually, even I had been unaware of her proportions until we had a considerable number of dates and our relationship had become serious. We had been going together for almost a year before I was permitted the traumatic (for her) privilege of feeling them. Things progressed nicely after that, because she discovered the real pleasure of being fondled — even, finally, on her bare skin. The last six months before the wedding was a time of real exploration involving “everything but!” She still insisted on retaining her virginity until she was married, but she came to enjoy being naked with me, being stroked to orgasm and, even, jacking me off to “relieve my tension!” Needless to say, I was eagerly looking forward to that night’s activities after the reception.

However, a completely unexpected event occurred during the reception that changed everything. I was standing talking to one of my mother’s friends when Diane came hurrying toward me with a strange expression on her face. I turned away toward her saying, “Hi, honey. Mrs. Anderson here was just telling me how lovely you look.” She smiled at the compliment and we left Mrs. Anderson to mingle with other people, but I could tell that something was wrong.

She pulled me aside and blurted out, softly, “Oh, Jim, I was dancing with Ed Simpkins and he felt my breast!” I looked at her with what I knew was a shocked expression as she continued. “We were dancing and laughing about something as we went around the center arch, and as soon as we were in the darker area, he felt me!”

“Did he just touch you as you moved around, or was it something more?

“No, he just put his hand right on my left breast and squeezed it. He actually felt me. I’ve never had anyone do that before!”

“What did you do?”

“I was so shocked at first that I didn’t do anything! We actually stopped dancing on the other side of the arch while he felt me! I was so startled that I didn’t react at first, so he really got a good feel. Then I jerked away and forced him to start dancing again. He said he was sorry, but I pulled away as soon as we got back in here. I was so afraid that someone might have seen it and I knew that I must have been blushing and looked upset. Oh, I feel funny!” Then, “Are you mad?”

“No, not bahis firmaları really. Looking at you, I can hardly blame him for getting carried away. There’s no real harm done as long as no one else saw anything happen and you feel all right. Are you really upset? I can say something to him if you want me to, but we certainly don’t need a scene!” Now, my reaction to having my new wife’s tit felt on our wedding day may seem somewhat mild, but it comes with a history.

My all-time favorite movie was a very old Peter Sellers film, There’s A Girl in My Soup. The movie opens with Sellers at a wedding reception walking up a flight of stairs to a room in which the new bride is changing. He enters the room, locks the door behind him and, shortly afterwards, fucks her. The next scene he casually walks down the stairs, followed a while later by the bride who goes off with her new husband who has been cuckolded on his wedding day before he has her himself. That opening sequence always aroused me, even years later, when I thought of it. The closest thing to that scene that had ever happened to me was at a wedding three years ago. I knew the groom, but not the bride. I was standing at the bottom of a small flight of about three steps when the bride and groom hurried down to leave the reception. Somehow, her foot caught in her gown and she lurched forward toward the floor. Fortunately, I was perfectly stationed to catch her, which I did — with my right hand grabbing her and holding her up by her left tit. The catch was lucky for her, for she might have been hurt, and fortuitously, I got a very good feel of that tit. As she struggled to get her balance, I was able hold and squeeze her breast, leaving no doubt in her mind that she was being felt. I never saw her again, but I always wondered what went through her mind as she straightened up, looked at me with a half-smile, saying, “Thank you very much.”

Now, I found myself in the same situation but on the other end — my wife’s tit had been felt. I felt my cock harden at the thought and I added, “No it doesn’t bother me at all if you are ok with it.”

Suddenly, she looked up at me and grinned, saying, “Oh, I know what you’re thinking! It’s just like what happened to you at that other wedding, isn’t it!” I had told her about There’s A Girl in My Soup in one of our intimate conversations, even describing my contact with that other bride, and she had made the obvious connection. “That’s sexy isn’t it? No, I’m not upset at all. I was just afraid that you would be mad or even think that I should have done something different. To be honest, and I wasn’t going to admit this, it was exciting.” Then, looking down and blushing, “If I hadn’t been afraid that someone might have been looking, I might have let him do it longer.” Looking shyly up at me, she added, “I’m ashamed to admit it, but I did like it. Is that bad? Are you upset with me?”

Quickly looking around to see if anyone were close enough to see, I move close to her, took her hand and put it against my pants and my hard cock and asked, “Does that feel as if I’m upset? It is exciting — just like when I felt that other bride’s tit! It’s too bad that you weren’t where no one could see and you could have really been felt!”

“Why, Jim Arnold, this is disgraceful! Here I am, the new Mrs. Diane Arnold, married for about an hour, had my breast felt and you wish it had been explored more thoroughly! That’s disgraceful!” Then, grinning up at me, she asked, “Should I go and have another dance with Ed Simpkins? Would you like that?”

“Do you think that you’d like that?”

“Uh huh!”

“Ok, go ahead!”

“I can’t believe I’m doing this, but I’ll see you in a little while.” With that, she grinned again and disappeared through the crowd on the floor. I soon was engaged in conversation with a number of guests who surrounded me, but my mind certainly was not on what was being said. My eye was roaming over the dimly lit dance floor and I finally caught sight of Diane, dancing with Ed just as they disappeared through the arch into the darkened area. I was afraid to dance with anyone myself because my cock was so hard. So, I stood near the buffet table so that I was mostly hidden below the waist while I waited for them to reappear. A good five minutes went by before they came through another arch as a song cycle came to an end. I swear that I almost went off as Diane hurried to me through the crowd. She had a hard time getting to me because she was stopped by well-wishers every few feet, so I met her half way, saying, “Why don’t we have a dance?”

We made our way onto the dance floor and headed for the darker areas to be alone — as much as possible. As we went through the same arch, I held her close and pushed my erection against her, saying, “You were gone a long time!”

She had had an intense, even nervous look on her face at first, but the feel of me against her brought an impish grin as she was sure kaçak iddaa that I approved, in the most graphic way, of her tête à tête with Ed Simpkins. “It feels as if you were impatient! Yes, we were a long time and I really had my tits felt.” Her use of the word “tits” told me that she was really excited, for I had never heard her use it before. They always were “breasts,” or, perhaps, “boobs,’ but never “tits.” “As soon as we were in the darker area, he put his left hand on me and squeezed by right tit. Then, when we were away from other people, he just felt them both — just fondling and squeezing them. We were dancing with both my arms down while he played with me. Then, he tried to get his hand down inside my top, but couldn’t really do it.”

“How did it feel? Did you like it? What did you do when he was trying to get inside?”

“Gods, I loved it. I felt like I could go off right there on the floor. I really wanted him to get into my bra, but it was just too tight. I can hardly believe it, but we were alone for a short time, and I actually bent over to help him get in. He was able to feel me through my bra, but not get underneath.”

“Did you want him to get under your bra?”

“I wanted him to feel my bare tit! I can’t believe how hot I was — I really wanted him to get into my bra, but he couldn’t. It’s a strapless bra so that it is really tight. I actually thought of trying to unfasten it, but other people began passing by and I certainly stand out in this white dress! Anyway, I would have to unzip the back to get to the hooks, and I don’t think that I could unzip it myself even if I were alone, much less on the dance floor! Regardless, I had to be really careful, but, I wish he could have gotten in! Still, I did get felt and we both wanted that! We’ll certainly remember our wedding reception!”

We left it at that and went back on the main dance area and, shortly afterwards were forced to return to reality as we talked to friends and guests. In some ways, the reception became something of a downer after the sexual high we had shared. Still, we entered into the fun as everyone made jokes, teased us, wished us well, etc. However, with that many guests the occasion was not really intimate. We circulated around, talking and laughing and danced with several other people. However, my mind remained on the sexual experience, and, finally, when we were together again, I pulled Diane aside and quietly asked, “Would you really like to have him feel your bare tit under your dress?”

Her answer was immediate and unequivocal — “Gods, yes! I’ve been thinking of it all the time! I don’t know why, but the idea just fascinates me. I get hot thinking of it! Boy, what a change — I never dreamed of being touched, much less felt, and now I want more. This damn bra is just too tight!”

“That’s what I was thinking about. Look, if we moved over behind the buffet table where no one could be behind us, I could unzip you far enough to undo your bra, zip you up again. Then, if we’re careful, you could bend over beside the table and I could pull it out through the front of your dress. I’d put it in my pocket and I don’t think it would be obvious that you were braless. Then, you could have another dance and be really explored!”

“Oh, honey, do you think we could get away with that. Oh, I would love it! Would you really like to do that and have him feel my bare tit?”

“You know I would — that’s all I’ve been thinking about while I was talking to people! Come on!” We did just as I had suggested, and it turned out to be very easy. We surveyed the food, selecting a snack, as I surreptitiously pulled her zipper down about 12 inches, unhooked her bra with one hand while pointing to the table with the other. I zipped her back up, she bent over beside the table as if she had dropped something, pulled her bra up so I could grab it and, within thirty seconds, she was braless and I had a bra in my pocket. Piece of cake! As I expected, there was no real change in her appearance — her breasts still protruded like torpedoes. I looked at her face, and she was flushed with anticipation.

“Oh, god, I’m excited. I can’t believe I’m doing this! I’ll be back!”

As she moved away, I warned, “Be very careful! There are people everywhere, mostly looking at you!”

I watched her leave and begin to mingle with the guests, seemingly moving at random through the crowd. Surprisingly, she even had a short dance with one of her uncles, but shortly afterwards, she and Ed Simpkins “accidently” came together and began a very decorous slow dance, chatting amiably as they went through one of the arches. As they disappeared from view, I was on tender hooks as I tried to maintain a placid, casual conversation with another of her many relatives. All I could think of, as time passed, was that he probably had his hands down the front of her dress, feeling her bare tits. A fair amount of time did pass, certainly kaçak bahis plenty of time for a through exploration, and I impatiently awaited her report on her excitement as they finally came into view again.

As they parted, I was surprised to see him sort of shrug his shoulders as she patted his arm, saying something. I looked eagerly at her face as she turned away from him, and even in the dim light of the dance floor, I could see that something was wrong. She had a fixed smile on her face as she went by people, but as she came up to me in the better lit area, it disintegrated into a look of real frustration. We moved to a more a more private area, behind the buffet table again, and I asked, what’s wrong? Didn’t anything happen?”

“Damn, damn, damn! We started dancing and moved directly toward the arches. He had his hand on my tit as soon as we were in the darker area, and really felt and squeezed it as we moved further in. It felt wonderful and I was really excited. But, damn it, we were never alone for me to bend over enough for him to reach inside! Then, he even had to take his hand off of my boob because people were right beside us — including my aunt Harriet!” Then, with a wry smile, she admitted, “This is ridiculous! Here I am, just married, never had a man really feel by breast, even outside my clothes, and I’m crushed that Ed Simpkins didn’t get to reach into my bridal gown and feel me. He did feel my tit through my dress with no bra underneath and he even said, ‘wow, no bra’ as he did it. I should be wildly excited or,” looking up at me, “ashamed at myself, but, damn it, I wanted him to put his hand in! I was all ready!”

It’s amazing, here my new wife had just confirmed that another man had thoroughly felt her braless tit through the fabric of her bridal gown and I was deflated — as she was. Neither of us would have dreamed of such a scenario a few hours ago, and here we were, disappointed that he hadn’t been able fondle the bare tit, itself! Nonetheless, that was the fact. Turning her back to the crowd, I reached up and squeezed her myself, saying, “At least he got this far — and you feel wonderful! This will still be the highlight of this reception!” That brought a smile back to her face, so I added, “Come on, let’s go celebrate our wedding day with our friends. We can talk about all of this later. It’ll get us hot then — as if we’ll need it!”

And, that’s just what we did. I think we both were able to return to the happy, carefree feeling we had had before this sexual interlude took place. However, I still was in an unusual mood, having my There’s A Girl in My Soup fantasy realized in a way, certainly more than I ever had expected and even more than my own brief feeling of that other bride’s breast. I certainly assumed that the experience was over and I was looking forward to talking about it when we were alone. That changed, however, in a peculiar way.

All of the intake of various liquids caused me to leave the hall and go down a corridor to the restroom. I really wasn’t paying attention and I turned right when I should have turned left. Realizing my mistake, I started to turn back when I realized that I was in the hallway leading to the dressing room. Suddenly, I had an epiphany. I used the restroom, thinking furiously (scheming, actually) as I did so, and hurried out to find my bride. She was in the center of a group of adoring friends and it took some time, and a few surreptitious nods, to free her from her admirers. We moved back to the usual spot at the buffet table and I surprised her by saying, “I think I have a way for you to get your tit really felt!” Her face told me all I needed to know about what she wanted, so I went on.

“Look, the dressing room you used is right down that corridor.” She nodded. “You could tell Ed to go down that corridor as if he were going to the restroom, turn right instead of left, and go into the dressing room. He could wait there and you could slip away and join him. No one would miss you for a few minutes and you could let him feel you, maybe even let him see your tits! He could unzip you enough to see them. I remember that there are several big closets in there and, if anyone did come along, he could duck in one of them. What do you think?”

Her face lit up like a light bulb as she reached out a squeezed my hand. “Oh, Jim, that’s wonderful!” Then, hesitantly, “You really wouldn’t mind if he saw my tits? That’s going pretty far.”

“Gods, no! Remember, I thought of it! I just wish I could be there!” Suddenly a thought flashed through my mind. “Wait here!” I down a different hallway to where I had left several suitcases and things that were to go with us when we left. Fortunately, they had not been put in the car yet. I quickly opened a carryall, took out a small HD movie camera, put it in my pocket and hurried back to Diane. Trying to look composed rather than out of breath from hurrying, I said, “I’ll go into the dressing room and set this camera up. It has a movement sensor and it will start recording when someone comes into view. It can be hidden easily, and we’ll have a movie record of you showing off and being felt! What do you think?”

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