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Foxy Lady
Star
- Joined
- Jan 30, 2014
- Location
- United Kingdom
This was all my boyfriend's fault. At least, it would not have happened if he had not come up with the idea that led to it.
It happened on the morning of our wedding. The day I married Adrian, the love of my life, the father of our children, the only man who has penetrated me since our marriage. I promised to be faithful and I have been – since we married.
But this was before that, on the morning of our wedding. Adrian's bestman – call him Ian if he has to have a name – was calling at my parents' house to pick up the button holes for Adrian, himself and the groomsmen. He rang the bell, but I didn't hear. And I didn't hear him call out. Everyone was out on last minute errands, except me. I was in my bedroom trying on the wedding lingerie when the door open and Ian put his head in.
So how is this anything to do with Adrian? Well, I haven't told you yet. We'd been together a couple of years before he proposed and living together for most of that time. But three months before the wedding, Adrian made a suggestion. Why not make our wedding really special, like it was our first time ever on our wedding night? I asked how we could manage that. Then he told me: no more sex until we are married. Complete abstinence, no wanking even. We'd been so randy by the wedding night, the sex would be explosive.
You're not serious, I said. But he was. And abstain we did.
And it was difficult, and got more and more difficult the closer we got to the wedding.
By the time the day came I was so frustrated and horny I could have mounted my kid brother. But I didn't.
Then Ian worked in. He saw me standing there – dressed in white satin, low but bra, thong, garter belt, stockings.
He could have backed out, apologising, but he didn't. He just stood there staring, mouth open. And I could have screamed or reached for something to cover myself or rushed into the washroom or ordered him to leave. But I didn't so any of those things. I just stood there staring right back.
'He's a lucky man,' he said at last.
'I know,' I told him.
'I've always fancied you,' he didn't take his eyes off mine as he spoke.
'Really?' I genuinely hadn't noticed.
'I guess this is our last chance.'
'Our last chance for what?' I wasn't stupid, but what else could I say? I know, don't tell me, I know what else I could have said, what else I should have said, but I didn't.
And he didn't say anything more. Just unzipped his pants and stepped out of them. His cock was half mast and rising fast. Not especially long, not as long as Adrian, but stout, thick and strong.
He came towards me and I took hold of his shaft. It twitched and he moaned, he was oozing already as he pushed my thong over my ass and hips. I slid back onto the bed and he fell on top of me.
We didn't make love, we didn't have sex, we didn't shag or fuck.
We rutted, like two wild animals coupling. He must have been as horny as I was, because he pumped frantically, trying to last as long as he could, while I was flailing my legs and moaning and shouting and cursing him and building to a tsunami climax.
And then he was gone, leaving me with his cum swimming deep inside me.
That was how we married, Adrian and I, with my pussy full of his bestman's spunk, staining my thong.
We've met a few times since, Ian and I, but we have never mentioned that encounter.
It happened on the morning of our wedding. The day I married Adrian, the love of my life, the father of our children, the only man who has penetrated me since our marriage. I promised to be faithful and I have been – since we married.
But this was before that, on the morning of our wedding. Adrian's bestman – call him Ian if he has to have a name – was calling at my parents' house to pick up the button holes for Adrian, himself and the groomsmen. He rang the bell, but I didn't hear. And I didn't hear him call out. Everyone was out on last minute errands, except me. I was in my bedroom trying on the wedding lingerie when the door open and Ian put his head in.
So how is this anything to do with Adrian? Well, I haven't told you yet. We'd been together a couple of years before he proposed and living together for most of that time. But three months before the wedding, Adrian made a suggestion. Why not make our wedding really special, like it was our first time ever on our wedding night? I asked how we could manage that. Then he told me: no more sex until we are married. Complete abstinence, no wanking even. We'd been so randy by the wedding night, the sex would be explosive.
You're not serious, I said. But he was. And abstain we did.
And it was difficult, and got more and more difficult the closer we got to the wedding.
By the time the day came I was so frustrated and horny I could have mounted my kid brother. But I didn't.
Then Ian worked in. He saw me standing there – dressed in white satin, low but bra, thong, garter belt, stockings.
He could have backed out, apologising, but he didn't. He just stood there staring, mouth open. And I could have screamed or reached for something to cover myself or rushed into the washroom or ordered him to leave. But I didn't so any of those things. I just stood there staring right back.
'He's a lucky man,' he said at last.
'I know,' I told him.
'I've always fancied you,' he didn't take his eyes off mine as he spoke.
'Really?' I genuinely hadn't noticed.
'I guess this is our last chance.'
'Our last chance for what?' I wasn't stupid, but what else could I say? I know, don't tell me, I know what else I could have said, what else I should have said, but I didn't.
And he didn't say anything more. Just unzipped his pants and stepped out of them. His cock was half mast and rising fast. Not especially long, not as long as Adrian, but stout, thick and strong.
He came towards me and I took hold of his shaft. It twitched and he moaned, he was oozing already as he pushed my thong over my ass and hips. I slid back onto the bed and he fell on top of me.
We didn't make love, we didn't have sex, we didn't shag or fuck.
We rutted, like two wild animals coupling. He must have been as horny as I was, because he pumped frantically, trying to last as long as he could, while I was flailing my legs and moaning and shouting and cursing him and building to a tsunami climax.
And then he was gone, leaving me with his cum swimming deep inside me.
That was how we married, Adrian and I, with my pussy full of his bestman's spunk, staining my thong.
We've met a few times since, Ian and I, but we have never mentioned that encounter.