Monday, 28 March 2016

Blue Monday

Every Monday I post a naughty excerpt for your entertainment!

Today's excerpt is from my short story Forsaking All Others, which appeared in With This Ring, I Thee Bed - an anthology of wedding-themed erotica.

“It feels strange, don’t you think? To be married?”
“Actually I don’t feel that much different.” Roy put his arm around my waist and kissed my temple. “We’re still us, and I still fancy you even if you are my Mrs.” His grip tightened. “You look hot, Deb, you know.”
“But we are going to be different, aren’t we?” I was trying to grasp my nebulous feeling of unease without raising my voice above a murmur. “I mean, we’ll have to be a bit more grown up now.”
 “You can buy me slippers for Christmas.”
I gave him a poke with one finger. “I mean ... you know. We’ll have to stop messing around. Like, playing with Calvin and Sylvia.”
“Really? Why?”
“Well. We’ll have responsibilities. It can’t go on forever. You know that.”
 Roy frowned a little. “Actually I was imagining us still at it when we need Viagra and Zimmer frames. And maybe, you know, a nurse to help us get into position...”
“Oh be serious!”
 “It’s my wedding,” he said mildly. “The only thing I intended to feel serious about today was the I Do.
“Not the Forsaking All Others?”

   He shook his head, his eyes twinkling. “I sort of saw that as Forsaking All Those Except the Ones My Wife Gives Me Permission For.”   
At that moment one of my aunties came up to talk to us, and the conversation ended abruptly.  

    We went upstairs to our suite where my wedding dress and veil lay out on the bed as I’d left them, but a big pile of fluffy white towels and a couple of bottles of champagne had made an appearance. Roy took me in his arms, just as he had done so many times that day. But this time it was different. This time he kissed me slow and deep, the way that always gets to me, breaking down my barriers. This time he wrapped his fingers in my hair and tugged my head back, and the almost-threat of his grasp sent a spark of arousal right down my spine and through my belly to ignite a glow at my clit. This time his cock started to get hard. His other hand pressed me to him, squeezing my ass, and I writhed my hips.
When we broke I was breathless and already warm.
 “Want to go to bed?” he asked.
“Hmm.” I nipped at his lower lip. “I believe I do.”
“You can come out now,” he called over my shoulder. That was when Sylvia and Calvin came out of the bathroom, grinning. She was holding her own camera.
This is where the second photograph album starts.
Snap: I’m kneeling, out of my dress but back in my veil. It hangs down over my face and torso, so sheer that it doesn’t hide those big breasts of mine cradled in their beautiful lace La Senza bra, or my wide-eyed expression as I gaze out at the camera. The two men either side of me are faceless and fully dressed, only their midsections visible in this print. Each has one hand on my shoulder pushing me down to my knees and another hand tight round one of my wrists, holding it up. My fingers are curled helplessly, my lips parted in anticipation of what’s to come.
 Snap: Head-and-shoulders shot. My veil is flipped back now. I’m kneeling between two sets of bare male flanks and two cocks, erect and angled toward an apex, like swords held at a salute for when the bride exits the church. I’ve got one cock in each hand and my head is turned toward Roy’s – you can tell it’s him because of the dark pubic thatch and the hairier thighs - and my lips are wrapped round his bell-end, sucking hard.
 They’re amazing pictures, the textures of flesh and fabric rendered so finely that even just looking you can almost feel them beneath your fingertips.
 Snap: Closer yet: the two cocks are almost touching over my head. Champagne foam escaping from a newly-opened bottle oozes and slops down their flushed shafts and drips into my open, eager mouth waiting below.
 Snap: I’m topless and pantyless now, leaning back against a male torso, breasts upthrust. Champagne is being poured down my torso from the bottle tilted over my tits; it gushes in runnels off my erect nipples, sluicing over my belly to run into the shaven split below. You can see bubbles freckling my skin. Calvin’s sandy head is between my thighs and he’s lapping champagne and sex juices from between my spread pussy lips. He said it was the “best fucking cocktail” he’d ever tasted. God, we got champagne everywhere. On the towels, on the carpet, on the coverlet ... Everywhere.
Snap: My back to the camera, the veil hanging down to my ass-cleft, my spine a shadowy sinuous line under the transparent fabric. I’m sitting astride Roy’s lap as he perches on the edge of the bed. With one hand he’s holding my wrists cruelly together at the small of my back, and with the other he’s twisting my head sideways so I can suck Calvin’s cock as he stands beside us. 
Snap: Just my spread thighs, poised over the smooth column of Calvin's cock as if I’m about to impale myself upon it. My thighs are glistening with moisture and my sex lips visibly unfurled.
“Can you take it?” Roy whispered in my ear as he held me. 

Snap. Yes, I could. All the way.

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