1. A Wedding Reception


    Date: 1/8/2024, Categories: Interracial Love, Author: bySliverCommander 

    ... to get his attention?

W: nothing too crazy

J: Would ditching those granny panties and wearing something that's actually good looking be too crazy

K: or nothing at all

W: Hey these are sexy

The chat is silent for a couple minutes with only Wilma typing, going through the seven stages of grief over her seemingly awful choice of underwear before James pulls the subject back,

J: go with the black one, I want to say any guy would love pulling the panties off a woman but with the stuff you wear I'll just go commando. I've got to go train some new bussers, get that dick sis.

T: I'm going to get my husband to drive me to the park to dick me down against a tree

K: Why is Tanya so extra? Enjoy the reception Wilma

Lightly tossing her phone to her left near her pillows, Wilma flops backwards looking up at the ceiling. Slowly her mind drifts to Jamel imagining him naked, wanting to run her hands down his assumed chiseled abs. Rubbing her thighs together Wilma sits up.

"Fuck it!"

Standing up she grabs her choice of dress and moves to her bathroom with a flicker of fire in her eyes.

--------------

The sun is lowering in the sky as a car pulls into the parking lot of a venue. The door is opened and those helping unload different music equipment and food for the reception are first greeted with a white two-inch-open-toe-sandal, with curving straps tight around her ankle and up; the woman's toes are painted with a nude color as the rest of her body moves ...
    ... out of her car and into sight.

A white lightly tanned bare thigh is extended out as Wilma exits her car completely, standing to let her long red-maxi-dress, it hangs onto her shoulders by a spaghetti strap that holds the front of her dress above the middle of her breast showing ample amounts of cleavage, while the rest of her dress clings to all of her curves especially her belly. Standing to her full height, the bottom of the dress falls just above the top of her feet, still showing off her open toed shoes. Her black hair is tied into a loose and messy French braid which hangs over her shoulder. As she begins walking towards the entrance, holding a small, black hand purse, the people watching her notice the left side of the dress has a slit that runs all the way up to the middle of her thigh.

Conscious of the stares she's getting, Wilma begins to walk a touch faster, her heels clicking on the pavement; she feels her heart starting to beat against her chest while her mind is racing through thousands of thoughts, as she glances over to the group of people helping set up the venue.

What if I don't look as good as I think? What if Jamel doesn't like rounder girls? Am I too dressed up for the reception? Did I do my hair wrong?

Those thoughts die down into silence, as her eyes are caught into the deep, gazel-brown pool of Jamel. He's Wearing a dark-gray suit, his jacket folded and resting on top of an amp he's carrying like it weighs nothing, the near-unwrinkled vest ...
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