She remembered her wedding night, for all the wrong reasons. Although, perhaps, they were the right reasons. She had changed that night but not in any way she could have imagined.
The day had been everything any girl ever dreamed of. The dress, the cake, the party was perfect and she was one of the increasingly rare breed of women who kept their virginity for their wedding night.
She had finally reached the wedding night. The party was over and everybody had returned to their rooms.
She stood in the bathroom, staring at the image reflected in the wall length mirror, struggling to recognise the woman staring back at her. Her hair, now loosened from the many pins that had held it in place all day, hung in loose curls hinting at the curves underneath.
The sheer fabric of the lace negligee skimming her hardened and pert nipples stopped short of covering the G-string she wore with it. She could already feel the anticipation burning between her legs and, as her fingers wandered to touch between them, the wetness of her excitement was unmistakable.
She held on to the vanity, her fingers whitening as the excitement and the fear collided. Breathing through her nose, she calmed her heart, before pushing herself back and straightening her shoulders. She took one last look in the mirror. “Okay Lou, you can do this,” she said to her mirror image, who looked much more confident than she felt.
She turned to pull the door to the bedroom open. Along with everything else about the wedding, the bridal suite was picture-postcard perfect. Hiring a castle to themselves had been an inspired choice. So wonderfully suited to the romance of her ideal wedding.
The gentle light flickering from the crystal side lamps cast colours in a magical dreamlike state across the walls. The draped red silk hanging around the four-poster bed was tied to the solid wooden posts by thick silk cords and, much as she didn’t then understand why that one thing sent such a rush of excitement through her, a tantalising icy shiver raced down her spine.
Tom was already on the bed, looking dangerously close to falling asleep until he saw her. He sat up, his open mouth spreading a smile across his face.
“Wow, Louise, you look drop dead gorgeous.” He stood to move toward her. “I am the luckiest man alive,” he said, standing in front of her, placing his hands on her face, cupping her cheeks and kissing her. His body responded to her hips thrusting against it. With a swift movement, he wrapped his arms around her, lifting her the two steps to the bed.
As she landed on the bed, she found she couldn’t take her eyes off the bulge fighting its way out of his boxers.
He stood next to the bed, gazing down at her. “That is a beautiful nightie. Was it expensive?”
He leaned forward to kiss her lips, moving down from her neck until he found a pert round nipple. His fingers pulled at the thin straps holding the negligee up and, with a ripping sound, he pulled it down. “That’s why. I’ll buy you ten more, one in every colour.” He smiled at her before lowering his lips to suck and lick at her nipples.
She writhed at his touch, desperate to feel him, and as if he knew what she was thinking, his hands moved from her view and she knew he was naked. Her hips thrust upward to rub about his bare cock, hard and pulsing.
“I love you,” she said, her eyes staring into his.
“I love you, too,” he said, rubbing his cock against her clitoris and then thrusting it inside her. She winced at the pain, resisting the urge to scream. His deep plunging motions did nothing to help her discomfort but thankfully after a few minutes, he let out a loud groan and then his body stiffened. She realised it was over.
He lay next to her, his arm draped over her, having fallen asleep almost the second they had finished. She lay there trying to feel happy.
It would get better, wouldn’t it?
Was that it?
No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t sleep, and eventually with tiny movements, she squirmed herself free from under Tom’s arm, to land on the floor.
She stared down at him, battling to defeat the tears that threatened to ruin her makeup. The lump forming in her throat forced her to retreat to the bathroom as she resigned herself to the reality of the unstoppable tears.
She locked the bathroom door and turned on the shower, hoping to drown out the sound of her sobs. She loved Tom and knew she was one of the luckiest women alive. Could she live with this, if that was as good as it got?
She crawled into the shower, curling up in a crying ball on the floor of it. The water washed away the last signs of her perfect wedding. Her curls and makeup now a memory, assigned to wedding photographs.
Now washed and dried, she knew she couldn’t sleep and staring at Tom, snoring on the bed, did little to raise her spirits. Rummaging in the suitcases for something warm and practical she allowed herself an exasperated sigh as she fingered all the sheer and sexy lingerie and nightwear.
Pulling on a lace nightie and a hotel fluffy white robe, she stuffed a packet of cigarettes and a lighter in the pocket and pulled on a pair of white lace stilettos she had worn for the wedding party. Nobody would see her, so it didn’t really matter how weird she looked. It was decent and that was all that counted.
She pulled the door open, making sure not to wake Tom. An eerie silence filled the castle, so in contrast to the fun and laughter that had filled the rooms hours earlier.
She padded down the stairs, her feet unsteady in the stilettos. They looked good but were not practical. Reaching the bottom of the stairs her shoes clicked on the slate floor, echoing around the vast entrance hall, filling the space with the sound of her weak retreat.
She heaved the heavy old wooden door with two hands, cringing as it creaked. For a second, she paused to listen for sounds of life, listening to the niggle at the back of her head, worrying about waking her guests. It was her wedding night. She didn’t want to have to explain why she wasn’t in bed with her perfect husband.
A small pang of a new feeling, that she didn’t want to name, pierced her heart.
She pulled the door behind her, leaving it slightly ajar to allow some light to battle the darkness of the night. Gazing at the beautiful black sky, bejewelled by the most glorious sparkling diamonds, she felt a sense of wonder. The half-moon managed to illuminate little else other than the tops of the trees.
The cold of the night soon bit at her flesh and she pulled the fluffy dressing gown tighter with one hand, while pulling out a cigarette and lighting it with the other.
She stood enjoying the calm and peace of the darkness that enveloped her, making her invisible. The chill in the air caught at her throat as she smoked, waking her and sending goosebumps across her body.
Her nipples stood hard and pert, more excited by the cold than by her husband.
She sighed and stubbed out her cigarette, turning and plodding unsteadily in her shoes toward the sliver of light emanating from the front door.
Pushing the door slowly, to avoid the creaking hinges waking the guests, her attention was drawn towards muffled sounds of life coming from the drawing room. She nudged the door an inch or two, just enough to peer through the space left between the hinges.
The fireplace still roared with an open fire, casting shadows across the room. It was as her eyes followed the shadows that she noticed the naked bodies on the rug.
The deep and pleasurable moans of a woman seemed to be keeping time with the rounded muscular arse of somebody pounding her from behind.
The passion and crudeness of the vision held her attention and despite her brain’s desire to turn and run, pretending she had never been here, she found herself intrigued.
The woman, with long red hair that she recognised as belonging to her oldest and best friend Jemima, was on all fours in the centre of the antique rug. Her hips gyrated to a rhythm that needed no music, a primal rhythm that came from her soul.
Her panting was replaced by deep moans of pleasure as the man ran his fingers through her locks, pulling them. A twinge, a fluttering of lust, spread through Louise as she watched. A warm burning glow, that originated from the throbbing between her legs, sent waves of tingling desire through her. She recoiled, confused by her feelings and knowing that she shouldn’t be watching, but she couldn’t pull her eyes away.
She watched, aware only of her own growing passion and her own wetness, as Jemima lost all inhibition and the muscular man that she still couldn’t identify satisfied her until she landed in a drained puddle on the floor and turned to look up at him.
“You are a very naughty girl,” came the voice, as she recognised Tom’s best man, Sam.
Inwardly she cringed, embarrassed by her spying and her obvious pleasure at watching. Sam moved to sit on the floor, his taut and sweating muscles glinting in the firelight. She realised his eyes weren’t on Jemima but on the mirror above the fireplace.
He was looking at her. She had been seen.
She flushed and panic started to rise, pumping the blood around her body faster and faster. She could feel her heart pounding against her chest. Her eyes darted around the space, knowing she couldn’t make it up the stairs without being caught. She dashed to the study door opposite and darted inside, hiding behind it.
Her breathing was so loud she was sure everybody must be able to hear it. She fought to control it, even tried to hold her breath, but knew the futility of it. She curled herself as small as she could, while still balancing on the heels she now wished she wasn’t wearing but she was too scared to try to remove.
She hid there, listening to Jemima’s voice growing weaker as it moved upstairs. When she heard Jemima’s room door close, she sighed and slipped to the ground, her backside landing on the cold slate flooring. A groan filled the room and she placed her hands on the floor to push herself up.
“Ah, the blushing bride,” said Sam’s voice.
She focused her eyes on the floor, too embarrassed to look up to see him but equally feeling very vulnerable on all fours in her nightwear. “I’m sorry, I just came down for a cigarette and…”
“And decided to watch?” His voice, deep and casual, held a laughing under-current which caused her to look up.
She pushed herself up, no longer caring how she looked. Taking a second to balance on her shoes, she stepped forward to look him in the eye. “It most certainly isn’t my fault if you can’t keep it in your pants,” she hissed through her teeth. Her hands moved to her hips and her voice grew louder. “Would it have killed you to use a bed, like a normal person?”
She glared at him, waiting for him to answer when she realised he was no longer looking at her face. A smile spread across his face as he took in the lace negligee and stilettos.
“My God, you are beautiful,” he growled, taking a step forward.
She stepped back to feel her back against a bookcase, pulling her fluffy dressing gown around herself.
“No point now. Now, it’s just teasing me, knowing what’s under there.” His hand reached inside the dressing gown as his eyes locked with hers.
“What do you think you’re doing?” she demanded.
His hand moved up from her waist to cup her breast, his thumb rubbing her nipple. “Tell me to stop and I’ll go to bed and leave you alone. I don’t want anybody who doesn’t want me. Even somebody as beautiful as you.”
She opened her mouth to speak, when his lips latched onto her nipple, teasing it through the lace. Instead of words, a low desperate moan came from her mouth. Her head fell back and she arched her back, pushing into the rock hard bulge in his pants.
He suddenly pulled back, pulling her by the neck of her negligee, and she could no longer find the words to argue. His hands slipped under the dressing gown and rubbed her shoulders, pulling the dressing gown off as his hands ran down her arms.
With the dressing gown on the floor and his mouth kissing that sweet spot on her neck, she could no longer argue. Her guilt could wait. Watching had made her need intolerable. She needed relief and Sam was offering it.
His hands ripped her negligee in one swift movement, leaving her bare in front of him, wearing nothing more than a pair of stilettos. His mouth moved from her neck, kissing her shoulders and her chest, but as she gasped in anticipation, he avoided her nipples and licked his way down to her stomach.
Her nipples pulsed, so hard they were almost painful, and she let out a sigh.
“Problem?” he asked, a suppressed smile creasing the lines around his eyes, softening his face.
“No. I…” she blushed and he stood to look in her eyes. She looked away, embarrassed at the situation and how obviously she had revealed her frustration.
While he looked at her, his fingers loosened his belt and placed it loosely around his neck, like a scarf. “You get what you need, not what you want. Trust me, they aren’t always the same thing.” His tone, softer than before, sent a tingle down her spine.
He scooped her up with arms and she wrapped her legs around his waist. The hairs of his chest, soft and gentle, tickled and tortured her breasts. His lips pursed around her nipple, his teeth gently nibbling.
“Oh!” she exclaimed.
He rested her on the desk, her legs still wide open, from where they had been wrapped around him. He leaned around her, grabbing her wrists, pulling them in front of her, and tightening his belt around her wrists.
“No…” she whispered.
“Are you telling me to stop?”
She shook her head.
He bent to lift the remnants of her negligee from the floor and in a slow movement lifted it to tie it around her eyes. She went to hold up her hand to stop him. “No. That’s a no,” she said, squirming toward the edge of the table.
“That’s fine, but I think you want to feel, not see. This way you can pretend I’m Tom.”
Her husband’s name in his mouth created a wave of guilt and as if knowing what she was feeling, Sam knelt between her legs and with his tongue licking and probing her clitoris he dispelled the guilt. Her body wriggled on the desk and as he stood, again holding the lace remnant, she nodded.
Surrounded by darkness and unable to see him, she listened intently, desperate for his touch. She leaned forward, her mouth reaching for him, until suddenly and silently his fingers ran down her sides, sending spasms of ecstasy through her, and she arched her back.
He leaned over her, pulling her legs toward him.
“Lie back,” he whispered in her ear. “I’ve got you.”
She slowly tilted back until she felt his hand support her. Once she lay on the desk, he removed her shoes, throwing them on the floor with a dull thud, and placed her feet on his shoulders.
He kissed the inside of her thigh and she wriggled, anticipation building and consuming her. By the time his mouth reached her clitoris, she was moaning and struggling to stay still.
“Don’t move,” he said, his voice masterful and commanding.
She moved to lean up.
“Don’t move!” he barked.
She lay her head on the desk. “I… I don’t understand. Where are you?” she asked, as his voice moved around the room.
Suddenly a hand cupped her left breast, while a mouth surrounded her right nipple. She responded, her legs seeking purchase to push her hips up.
“What do you want, Louise? Tell me.”
Her mouth moved to speak but no sound came out. She could feel the heat rising in her, embarrassment mixed with desperation.
“I… want to come,” she whimpered, her voice fading into the silence of the hour.
“That doesn’t seem much to ask.” Even without seeing his face she could tell he was trying not to laugh at her. “I’m sure I can help with that.” His body draped over hers, tantalising her skin as it prickled with the electricity flowing between them. “Remember, you can say stop, any time you want.”
She held her breath for a few seconds as her brain sought to return to reality, but her body was too far gone. She loved Tom, and yet, she needed Sam.
She could feel the warmth of his breath on her neck. His hands reached down her body, tickling her sides, and she laughed. A small chuckle from her stomach.
“You have always had such a wonderful laugh,” came a voice behind her and panic filled her. She knew the voice.
Her hands, still bound in Sam’s belt, flew to her eyes, grasping to remove the fabric blindfolding her eyes. A hand landed on top of hers, a gentle hand that spoke of love and softness. Winding his fingers through hers he pulled her hands above her head, never letting go of them.
He fingered her wedding ring and kissed it before kissing the full length of her arm, around her neck and ending on her lips.
“I love you,” Tom whispered.
Her brain sputtered and misfired. Her body was demanding an end to the agony of waiting, but her heart ached.
What was she doing? What was she thinking?
In response to the unspoken words that he knew were filling her, Tom held his mouth just above hers. The sensation of his mouth, so close, his breath combining with hers, added a new layer of teasing.
“You have never looked more amazing than you do right now, but, you can stop if you want. If this is too weird just say and we’ll leave it right here.”
She knew she couldn’t stop now, knew this moment was shaping her future, and the throbbing inside her was too much to ignore.
She lifted her head, her mouth open, seeking to meet Tom’s lips.
“Not yet,” he whispered.
She knew he was near but couldn’t feel him and a pathetic little meow emanated from her. At the same time Sam’s tongue skimmed her clit and she broke.
“Please,” she begged, in a tone she never heard come from her own mouth. Her feet pushed off the edge of the desk, her hips seeking satisfaction.
His tongue slid further between her legs, to run around the edges of her pussy, now saturated with her desperation. Her fingers spasmed fitfully, seeking to touch Tom, and her toes returned to some primal state, curling and seeking to grasp on to anything to hold herself safe.
Suddenly, Sam’s tongue was replaced by the burning heat of his penis, pushing against her and casting her over the edge.
“Are you ready, Louise?” Sam’s voice became the only sound in the universe and she grabbed on to the sound.
“Yes, please.” Her voice vibrated and wobbled as her vocal cords were dragged, along with every muscle in her body, to tremble at the feet of her new god. Sex.
“Yes, please… who?”
She gasped, unsure of the answer. “Yes, please, oh dear God. Yes, please Sam?”
Sam pulled away, leaving her body to drown in the ache of her unrequited lust.
“Yes, please, Tom,” she stuttered.
Without a reply, satisfied with the answer, Sam probed slowly. His cock entered her and the nearness of her reward heightened her excitement. She moved and gyrated, her pussy trying to grab hold of him.
“Do I need to tie your legs, as well?”
A wail she presumed was supposed to be a ‘no’, filled the study. She was about to move her hands when Tom’s hands gripped her wrists.
“No, sorry,” she mumbled.
Content with her answer, Sam returned his cock, radiating heat and as hard as marble. He began to thrust, slowly at first, and her body responded, wrapping her legs around him.
The heat of his cock and the wet of her pussy fused and it was though they connected as more than two, or three, separate people. For those moments, they were one entity, writhing in ecstasy.
Her body expanded and the explosion of the orgasm racked through her, shredding any remnant of the old Louise.
This moment was the perfect ending to a perfect wedding. The most perfect thing she had never imagined.