The hotel suite door clicks shut behind us, and my heart thumps as Tom and I step into our wedding night. My white dress hugs my body, the lace bodice tight against my olive skin, the long skirt trailing from the vows we exchanged hours ago. My jet-black hair flows past my shoulders, my veil still pinned in place. Tom, my white husband, stands beside me in his rumpled tuxedo, his hands fidgeting, his eyes shadowed with a wild mix of lust and nerves. This isn’t just our first night married; it’s the moment our secret fantasy ignites.
The room pulses with heat before I even see them. Three men are already here, waiting, their presence hitting me like a shockwave. Marcus, a towering wall of muscle, leans against the bedpost, his ebony skin slick with sweat, his shirtless chest rising slow and deep. Jamal paces by the window, lean and tense, his deep brown eyes slicing through me. Tyrone sits in a chair, broad and silent, his shaved head glinting, a quiet storm brewing in him. Their jeans hang low, stretched over thick thighs, and the air crackles with their raw power. I freeze, my breath hitching, and Tom’s knuckles whiten beside me, his cock already stirring—I can feel it in the way he shifts.
“Thought you’d never get here, bride,” Marcus growls, his voice rough and low. My lips quiver, and I glance at Tom. His shaky nod sends my pulse racing—they’re unleashed.
Marcus charges, his huge hands clamping onto my hips, yanking me hard against his sweaty chest. I gasp as his teeth sink into my neck, a sharp bite that burns against my skin. Jamal’s behind me fast, his fingers tearing at my dress—the lace rips, and my breasts spill free, my dark nipples tightening in the air. Marcus squeezes one, his grip bruising, his mouth clamping down, sucking and biting until it throbs. Tyrone’s up now, his rough hands shredding my skirt, hiking it up to expose my bare pussy—no panties, just slick heat. Jamal’s thick fingers shove into me, pumping hard, and I buck between them, a cry ripping from my throat. My body’s theirs, jerking under their brutal hands, and I see Tom stumble to a chair, his breath jagged, his erection straining as he watches.
“Fuck her bare.” Tom rasps, and my stomach lurches. Marcus grins, his eyes flashing, and shoves me onto the bed. My veil tangles as I land on my back, legs falling open, the torn dress bunched around my waist. He rips off his jeans, and his big black cock springs free—massive, veined, dripping. He grabs my ankles, wrenching them wide until my pussy gapes, dark and quivering. He slams into me, his girth splitting me open, my wet walls clenching as he fills me. I scream, my spine arching, nails clawing the sheets as he pounds me, his hips crashing with wet, brutal smacks. My tits bounce wildly, sweat and spit streaking my skin, my juices soaking his bare shaft as it drives into me relentlessly.
Jamal’s on me next, grabbing my hair and yanking my head back. His jeans drop, and his long, rigid black cock bobs free, slick at the tip. He forces it into my mouth, stretching my lips as he thrusts deep, hitting my throat. I gag, drool spilling down my chin as he fucks my face, his balls slapping my jaw. Marcus growls, “Tight little cunt,” his thrusts turning savage, his heavy ball sac smacking my ass, sweat smearing across my thighs. He roars, and I feel him come, his black cock pulsing as thick, hot cum floods me, spilling out around him. My orgasm hits, shattering me, my body convulsing under his weight.
Marcus pulls out, dripping, and Tyrone’s on me. He flips me onto my knees, my ass up, my pussy a swollen, cum-slick mess. His black cock—thick, blunt—stretches me wider as he rams in, his short, savage thrusts shaking me. My veil’s askew; my sobs muffled into the mattress as he grips my hips, bruising my skin. Jamal pulls out of my mouth, stroking himself as Tyrone fucks me, his balls swinging, leaving more sweat on my thighs. “Take it all,” Tyrone grunts, and he erupts, his cum jetting deep, mixing with Marcus’s, dripping down my legs as another climax tears through me.
Jamal shoves Tyrone aside, pinning me flat on my back. He spreads my thighs, my pussy gaping and leaking, and plunges in, his long strokes relentless, churning the mess inside me. I whimper, my body shuddering as he hammers me, his balls slapping my clit with wet, sticky thuds. “Ours tonight,” he hisses and comes hard, his seed spurting in bursts, overflowing me until it pools beneath me.
They step back, panting, leaving me wrecked—my thighs slick with cum and their ball sweat, my pussy raw beneath the torn dress. Tom’s up, his eyes wild, and kneels between my legs. My cunt’s a sloppy ruin, cum drooling out, my thighs streaked with their musky sweat. He dives in, his tongue plunging into the creamy flood, sucking their thick, salty loads from me. I whimper, oversensitive, as he licks higher, his lips tracing my thighs, slurping the pungent sweat their balls left behind—sharp, primal on his tongue. He groans, cleaning me until I buck weakly against him.
But he’s not done. He stands, shedding his tuxedo, his cock throbbing, pale and leaking. He climbs over me, sinking into my ravaged, soaking pussy with one thrust. It’s molten, my walls loose and slick with their cum, squishing around him as he fucks me. His strokes are frantic, sloppy; the wet slaps loud as he drives into their mess, my moans soft and broken. “My wife,” he growls, possessive, desperate, and comes hard, his cum mingling with theirs, claiming me. He collapses on me, our sweat and breath fusing, our wedding night sealed in this filthy, shared ecstasy.
