Arriving in Ireland for a wedding, I was a little nervous. It was my first experience of my man’s family en-masse; most, I’d never met before. He’d told me everything would be fine, but that didn’t really help.
Pulling up at the hotel, I felt rather out of my depth. You know that feeling when you sit on a high stool and can swing your feet like a child? How it makes you feel small and a little giddy, I felt like that with my feet on the ground. Alcohol was needed. As was the man beside me.
The hotel itself was plush. A country house hotel, no less, with big picture windows looking out over beautifully kept gardens. Our room was large: a massive bed full of cushions, sofa, dressing table with a nicely lit vanity mirror so I could make myself gorgeous. The ensuite was about half the size of the room with a massive shower area and twin sinks.
I unpacked my case, hanging my dresses carefully for the following day, and headed for that shower. The head was adjustable, so I fiddled with it until the water blasted me with hard needles of warmth. Bliss.
Standing so the water hit my shoulders, the shower worked the travel knots from my shoulders, making me feel more human. Swaying slightly, the water directly hit my nipple sending a jolt of sexual pleasure through me. Travel doesn’t make me horny, so it was a surprise, but a welcome one.
Moving in the flow of water, I found a rhythm that hit each nipple in turn and back again. Damn, that was nice. Naturally, my brain gave me a question: If the water felt that good on my (not overly sensitive) nipples, how good would it be directed onto my now throbbing clit?
Leaning against the wall, I rested one foot against the opposite wall, holding my labia lips open to the spray. The water hitting my little nub felt good, but not quite good enough. Taking the shower head out of its holder, I dropped to a squat with my knees spread wide. (Burlesque classes had helped with poses and flexibility.) Playing around with the height to hold the shower head at, and the angle, I found just the right spot. Sensations flowed from my battered clit, my head fell back against the tiles, my spare hand tweaked and twisted the nipple that started it all. My orgasm broke over me like a glorious wave, leaving my clit super-sensitive and my legs a little shaky.
After food and a few drinks, which was organised to introduce me to some of the family, I was feeling a little more comfortable about the following day. We returned to our hotel and opted for a nightcap. I went to the bar while my man stopped by the gents for a comfort break, and got chatting to the barman. It was quiet, so he had the chance to chat. Nothing overly notable, just the usual topics of what I was doing in Ireland, had I been before, that kind of thing.
The barman himself was note-worthy though. Just shy of six foot, fairly broad in the shoulder, with short brown hair and startling blue eyes. If I had been single, I could’ve been interested. Oh and at least ten years younger! Ben, as his name tag proclaimed, must’ve been early-twenties, certainly no older than twenty-five.
My man returned from the bathroom and we took our drinks to a window seat, to enjoy some time alone. I’m not sure whose hand wandered up the other's leg first, but we soon mutually agreed to finish our drinks quickly and head up to bed. Depositing our empty glasses on the bar on the way out, I tipped a wink to the barman as he wished us goodnight.
While we waited for the lift, I bent over to remove my heels, making sure my bum pushed against my man's groin and giving a little wiggle. The lift arrived at the perfect moment, as I picked my shoes up in one hand and squeezed my man's yummy bum with the other. Just as we selected our floor in the lift, another couple stepped in so we had to behave.
Giggling like children as we left the others in the lift and legged it to our room, we practically fell through the door. Ditching our clothes as we kissed our way to the bed, he put one hand in my hair and pulled my head back to expose the sensitive skin on my neck to his lips and teeth. The other hand tweaked a nipple on the way down to my snatch, stroking my labia gently before dipping a finger between to find my wetness. My juices instantly coated his fingers as he thrust two inside my pussy.
My hand was on his balls at this point. He loves having them played with, and I admit to being fascinated with them, so was very happy to roll them around my fingers. He groaned as he filled me with his fingers, whether it was from his moistness discovery or my ball play, I don’t know. Turning me around, he bent me over the foot of the bed, spreading my legs with his knee, then thrust his fat cock straight into me. The whole length in one smooth move, drawing a guttural moan from me. Pulling almost the whole way out, he drove into me again and again. Damn, that felt good. It must’ve felt good for him too, as it wasn’t long before his cock spurted cum deep inside me.
After a decent sleep, the alarm rudely woke me. We had an hour or so to get breakfast, so there was no rush. After brushing my teeth and tongue, I slipped back into bed, pressing my nakedness into his back, just in time for the snooze to have run out and the alarm trilled again. I leaned over him, dangling my breasts over his face, and turned the alarm off.
Morning glory or a reaction to my breasts in his face and naked body sprawled over him, his cock twitched into life. Kissing him deeply as I climbed over his awakening body, I threw the covers off him and offered him a hand. As he stood, he gave me a quizzical look, but I just took hold of his thickening cock and pulled him to the ensuite.
I flicked the shower on, as realisation dawned on his sleepy face, which quickly changed to pure adoration as I dropped to my knees and took his cock into my mouth. I know oral in the morning is a favourite, so I looked up at him as I licked from balls to tip, then pulled his smooth bulbous head between my lips, flicking my tongue over his head. He groaned as I worked the head of his cock in and out of my mouth, my tongue flicking around the rim as I went.
Just as I started finding my rhythm, he stopped me and gestured to the shower. Putting myself under the spray, I leant forward to rest my forehead on the tiles and reached back for the cock that I had so recently been feasting on. Guiding him into me, I rubbed my clit as he thrust in and out of my body. His finger rubbing my asshole was just the hurry-up my clit needed and as he pushed into my ass, I came around his cock. My orgasm made my internal muscles massage his cock, making him groan in pleasure. Reaching to squeeze his balls, I issued my own hurry-up, and he filled me full of his cum once again.
After an incredibly long wedding ceremony, and a semi-amusing wedding breakfast, we slipped back up to our room before the evening festivities got going. My man “rested his eyes” while I changed, which apparently is the normal expectation. Slipping my long dress off, I folded it carefully into my case, as we were leaving in the morning. Sitting at the dressing table, I removed my day make-up and carefully went about making myself proper gorgeous for the evening.
Dark blue eyeliner to my upper eyelids to compliment my dress, black to the lower, a light dusting of blush to my cheekbones, and a deep red to my lips – just the colour my man loves seeing around his cock. Changing my underwear to a deep blue lacy halterneck set, partly for the dress and partly as my day panties were soiled as his cum leaked out of me during the ceremony, I noticed my man was awake and watching me.
I slowly rolled my glossy black stockings up my legs and hooked them into the suspender belt. Stepping into my favourite heels, making sure to bend at the waist as I did the zip up at the back of each shoe, I gave him a full eye full. Turning to face him, I blew him a kiss as I slipped my blue halterneck dress over my head and checked my breasts were contained correctly within it. He zipped me up and planted kisses down my neck.
Returning to the festivities, I noticed the barman from yesterday was working on the reception, guiding the wedding guests to the event and pointing out the facilities to them. My man was briefly distracted by a great-aunt or a cousin three times removed or someone (I’d given up trying to place them all, by this point), and I noticed that Ben (the barman-reception lad) had spotted me. Looking me up and down, he mouthed “Wow” at me – my first compliment of the evening. Giving him a smile in thanks, we went through to the party.
A little later, when the dancing got a little over-zealous, we slipped out to the quieter lounge area that adjoined the reception and the bar we had our nightcap in the night before. Although I’d managed to moderate my alcohol intake as much as possible (buying myself orange juice whenever I went to the bar, rather than the vodka and OJ everyone else bought helped), I was feeling pretty tipsy. So when my man’s hand began wandering over my stockings while we kissed on the sofa, I didn’t object.
As his lips moved to my neck, I saw that Ben was standing solo at the reception desk, in direct view of our sofa. Giving him a wink, I returned my attention to my man. His hand had drifted higher, taking the hem of my dress with it, flashing the tops of my stockings and the creamy skin above. I should’ve objected as I knew we were being watched, but knowing my man has a liking for that, I let him carry on. Besides, it felt good.