I woke up with some ambivalence on the day of my elder sister’s wedding. I was happy that she was getting married, but sad that someone I had grown up and spent most of my life with was leaving the house for good, because I would miss her even though I could visit from time to time. I was also eager to see Vanessa, my sister’s bridesmaid and best friend.
They had been best friends since high school where my crush on her began. Vanessa was the epitome of black beauty. She was tall, curvy, very feminine, and well spoken. I remember she used to tell my sister that her younger brother was cute, but I found it annoying because the expression seemed to be more like affection towards a younger brother than a romantic interest. After high school she had gone off to study medicine in Canada and had also begun her practice there, but she remained best friends with my sister. When she learned of the wedding, she made arrangements to be available on leave, and came to Nigeria a week ahead of the ceremony to help with preparations and be there for her friend every step of the way.
I was of course roped into the stressful preparations by default as the brother of the bride-to-be. But when Vanessa came and joined in, it became a beautiful experience for me and I relished going on those runs to the tailor, the cake lady, the venue manager, the catering service and so forth. It gave me a deep sense of pride to walk into places with Vanessa beside me like my girlfriend. She was only two years older than me like my sister, and we looked great together. I also noticed that she no longer treated me like the cute little brother. I hoped she would also see me as a man of my own when I made my move because I was sure I would make one. The chemistry was great and she found me very funny and helpful. The wedding preparations were the perfect excuse for us to exchange numbers and after spending the day together going about our tasks, we would chat for a bit at night too. Mostly about the schedule for the next day, but with a sprinkle of personal questions, a few jokes, and non-wedding topics.
On the Thursday before the big day, one of our stops was at the tailors’ for her bridesmaid gown and she had tried it on for final fittings. I thought she looked amazing but I didn’t say much when she asked my opinion. Later that night she brought it up during our conversation, asking if I was sure I liked the dress, because I didn’t seem too impressed by it earlier. I responded that I was reluctant to give her my honest answer because I didn’t want her to get mad at me. Convinced that I thought the dress wasn’t nice, she promised not to get mad no matter what I said. With that guarantee, I told her I didn’t express myself earlier because I was speechless at how she beautiful she looked, and that my only thought was to fuck her in that dress when I saw her in it. After what seemed like an eternity of looking at the three dots that indicated she was typing a response, her message finally materialised and I heaved a sigh of relief when I saw the plethora of laughing, blushing, and love-face emojis. The majority of our conversation that night was about my crush on her in high school, my delight in posing as her boyfriend on our missions, and my desire that we would be an item despite her relationship with my sister, the age difference, and the long distance. The conversation had ended with her saying “we can’t always get what we want but you know, things always have a way of working out in the end. You’re handsome, smart, funny, and amazing. There are a ton of girls out there who would be lucky to have you. I’m sure you’ll be fine.” When we had said our goodnights, I went to bed a little disappointed but happy to have had such an open discussion with her without ruining our newfound friendship.
With no more preparations left, Friday came and went without me seeing her. She spent the day and night in company of my sister and other friends at the bridal shower.
Then came the big day. As part of the groomsmen, I spent the day close to Vanessa and enjoyed being in her space as we did our duties. She caught me stealing glances at her on different occasions and we exchanged smiles. The thought that it could be me and her as bride and groom one day thrilled me. We cried together during a particularly emotional moment of the father-daughter dance when my sister broke down in tears in his arms. Then laughed together when her husband’s feeding methods drew a wisecrack from the emcee. We cheered together at the official kiss. We danced together, and afterwards took lovely pictures together. And during an alone moment in the back of one of the procession cars where we sat to finally eat after a long day, she kissed me and I kissed back passionately. It was short but we both knew something significant had happened. We ate in silence afterwards, smiling at each other and spoon-feeding each other a few times, but the day finally came to an end without further event.
The thanksgiving service the next day came and went quickly and the newly married couple were off to their honeymoon that same evening.
After sleeping off the accumulated fatigue, Vanessa and I finally had a conversation on Monday evening.
With her flight scheduled for Tuesday evening and her best friend unavailable, we knew it would be the best time for us to be together before she travelled back.
I boxed up a slice of cake for her and went to her hotel. She was in a bathrobe when she answered the door. I set the cake on the table and she immediately flew into my arms.
We kissed with a loving, patient tenderness that only stoked the fires of our desire for each other. We fell into bed clumsily and shared a laugh. Then she straddled me again.
“Mmm, you smell so good. I want.”
She giggled, saying nothing. We kissed again and undressed each other.
“Oouuu! You’re ready. I want,” she said at the sight of my long cock already bone-stiff. It was my turn to laugh. I fished out a condom from my wallet and handed it to her. I stroked her braids, adoring her as she rolled the rubber onto my large manhood. Then she laid down and opened her legs slowly, invitingly, biting softly on her lower lip for effect. Stirred by her seduction but determined to give her the best time, I settled between her lovely thighs and began to massage her breasts gently, paying special attention to her sensitive nipples. My lovely Vanessa moaned and wriggled, until I could deny her -and myself- no longer. I probed her sweet little pussy gently and when she had adjusted to my considerable size, I pumped into her with loving but firm, sustained strokes. We spent the next half hour fucking in different positions. When she came, she had two orgasms in quick succession. Soon after, she grabbed onto me in a sensual embrace to calm my bucking mass as my seed spilled powerfully from my still thrusting prick. Later that night I asked her to be my lady. She said yes, and went to sleep in my arms. We fucked the next morning too and ordered room service. I saw her off to the airport later in the day and as she disappeared into the boarding area, my heart broke into a million pieces. I was sad to see her go. She was mine now and of course we would keep in touch but that didn’t help me any, especially because of the short period of intimacy we had just shared. In three days I had lost two of my favourite women this way. As I drove home that night, my mind was far away. Like most young Nigerians, Canada was heavy on my mind.