IKTonto's blog post - The Barmaid Bride

I met K, a young waitress at a bar, a few months ago. The first time I noticed her, I was there with my wife and her parents. She was incredible looking -- curvy, with long black hair and blue eyes. She was sweet and a great waitress. I found it hard to keep my eyes off her.

The next time I noticed her, I was alone at the bar. Her friend mentioned that K was getting married in a week, so I asked her about it. As she told me her story, her incredible beauty washed over me, and I couldn't help but leer at the poetry of her movement -- her thighs moving against the hem of her short skirt, the gravity of her large breasts.

But as I learned her story, I started feeling ashamed for objectifying her so. Her soon-to-be-husband was an injured war veteran. They moved up their wedding date to give her access to his medical decisions.

Here was a woman who could easily be sucking dicks on a yacht but was marrying a vet so she could take care of him. I was humbled to hear her story, both by what he gave up for his country and by how ready she was, at her young age, to commit to better or worse with someone whose health was anything but secure.

I saw her today. She told me about her wedding -- how the zipper broke on her wedding dress and how her stepmom had to sow her into her dress. I thought, briefly, about the joy her husband must have had ripping her out of that dress when the festivities were all over. I'm glad for him. I hope he fucked her well, again and again. They both deserve it.