I had left the reception to go up to the bedroom and change into my going away outfit. Standing in front of the mirror, I admired myself for one last time in the ivory silk wedding dress, with its fitted bodice and tie-up corset back. The designer dress showed off the swell of my 34DD breasts, slender waist and firm bum. My long blond hair was up with an elegant bun, held with a pearl barrette. I looked every inch the perfect high society bride.
Lost in the moment, I barely heard the door open. Silently, he entered the room and the door clicked shut. Turning the key in the lock, he looked at me and smiled.
“I thought you’d never come,” I remonstrated in a low voice, looking at him in the mirror as he closed on me.
“It took a little while to make my excuses,” Henry explained, loosening the ties on the corset and then leading me across to the foot of the bed. Turning, he pressed me back against the footboard. Dropping to his knees, he pushed up the voluminous silk skirt to reveal my ivory stockings, suspenders, and lace thong.
“Nice touch,” he commented wryly, twanging the baby blue garter belt on my left thigh, and running his hands along my long shapely legs.
“Your mother lent it to me,” I murmured, the feeling of arousal building, “something borrowed, and something blue.”
“How very thoughtful,” he chuckled, his fingers tracing over my hips and onto the soft downy flesh of my buttocks. I trembled as Henry lightly kissed his way up my inner thighs, causing me to gasp and spread my legs slightly at his touch. Slowly sliding the lace thong down and letting it fall around my ankles, he continued to move his lips across my mound.
Moaning softly, I lifted wedding my dress and then let it fall back down, encasing him under it, as his tongue ran along my shaven pussy. Pushing my bum back against the footboard, he teased open my moistening labia and began to slide the tip along it and onto my hard clit. “Fuck,” I gasped softly, my hands on the ivory silk material, pushing his head firmly into my pelvis.
Holding me against the bed, he repeatedly flicked my clit with his eager tongue, whilst pushing two fingers in and out of my fanny. He increased the pace of his invasions in time with my now heavy breathing, keeping me pinned back as I writhed under his touch.
“I’m so close,” I whispered hoarsely, not quite believing how quickly he had brought me to the edge of an orgasm. The silk of my skirt rustled as he moved, his fingers plunged in and out of my squelching pussy, his mouth clamped on my bud. Unable to hold back the climax, I came hard, writhing against him and emitting an uncontrollable series of moans.
As I leant back against the bed, Henry emerged from under the virginal ivory dress, rose to his feet, slipped off his morning coat, and pulled down his trousers. His hands on the corset, he tugged at the bodice, revealing my full, firm boobs, onto which he dropped his mouth. I purred in response to him taking my rock-hard nipples between his lips, whilst his strong hands ran across the swell of my heavy breasts. Gently at first, but then with a little more force, he bit each nipple in turn, causing me to gasp and tug at his hair. “Take me,” I whispered.
Releasing my nipples, Henry looked at me and smiled, “Your wish is my command, Mrs Jones.” Turning me around, he pushed me forward over the footboard and rucked my wedding dress up around my waist.
“Great arse, Arabella,” he complimented, positioning his throbbing cock against my soaking quim, “always thought you had a great arse, but it looks even better with you bent over and at my mercy.”
“Just how a blushing bride should be on her wedding day,” I replied coyly, looking over my shoulder at him with a pout.
Placing his hands on my hips, he gently eased the tip of his member into my pussy. “Oh God, yes,” I whispered, as he entered me, holding himself there and then pulling slightly back. Slowly and softly, he repeated this movement; an exquisite tension ran through me as he almost pulled out and then parted me afresh by slipping the head between the lips of my labia.
“Oh my God, that feels so fucking good,” I sighed, my fingers digging into the bedsheet, “I want you deep in me, but I don’t want you to stop doing that yet.”
“Decisions, decisions, eh, Mrs Jones?” Henry laughed gently, continuing to tease me with the bulbous head.
I looked up at him with hooded eyes, my breathing shallow, and full red lips parted to reveal perfect white teeth, as he revelled in the total control he was exerting over me. “Stop teasing; just take me,” I pleaded despairingly, trying to push back against him.
“Is this what you want?” he asked, pushing himself home.
“It’s what I need,” I corrected him hoarsely, his hands firmly gripping my hips for balance whilst he began to pump in and out of my squelching pussy.
“So, I take it the promise to obey referred to your urges,” he laughed over the slap-slap of his pelvis against my exposed posterior, and the loud laughter and chatter from the wedding reception, still in full swing below us.
“Not my fault I need it so badly,” I groaned, the bed sheet rucked up in my grasping hands, biting my lip as a fresh climax built deep within me.
“Well, you can have it whenever you want it, now,” he reassured me, breathing hard in time with each thrust of the hips.
“Promise me,” I implored, an almost unbearable feeling of arousal welling up.
“You’re mine now, Mrs Jones,” Henry grunted, taking me with increasing vigour.
“Oh God, don’t stop; please don’t stop; I’m coming; oh fuck, I’m coming, I’m coming…” I wailed before falling silent, my mouth in a perfect O and my eyes widening as an intense orgasm tore through my supple, toned body.
There was no let up in his thrusts as he fucked me from behind, the silence of the room broken by his panting, the continual slap of flesh on flesh, and the noise of voices in the room below. Suddenly, the tone of his breathing changed, and he tensed. Rapidly pulling out, Henry positioned himself over me and, with a drawn-out, “Fuckkk,” he shot streams of sticky, milky-white mess over my pert arse and onto the virginal ivory silk of my wedding dress.
“You are an amazing fuck, Arabella Jones,” he complimented me, dressing himself, whilst I lay, bent over the footboard, in a post-climatic glow.
“But right now, you need to get into your going-away outfit. And I need to go and get the car, and tell my brother that his wife will be ready to leave for their honeymoon in ten minutes.”
