When Donna lifted her veil, I thought my heart would burst. Could it really be that this woman – this angel – had agreed to be my wife?
I swallowed and glanced back down the aisle. The pews were packed with our friends, family, and the other assorted acquaintances and business contacts that one is compelled to invite to the notable events in your life. The soft spring sunlight cascaded through the stained-glass windows, giving the interior of the church a magical radiance. I was, at that moment, the happiest man in the entire world.
And it’s fair to say that, even in these hallowed surroundings, my cock stiffened at the thought of what my wedding night would bring.
The ceremony passed in a blur, and we adjourned to the reception – the wedding feast, as Donna had referred to it throughout the planning, emphatic italics firmly in place, as if the gluttony and excess of the celebration would prepare us for the indulgences that would follow. The two of us ate only a little, and drank still less, reluctant to dull our senses before the big event.
It had started when we were discussing her wedding dress, back when the event was nothing more than a few sketchy plans made on some unlined paper. Neither of us were virgins, not by any stretch of the imagination, but Donna still favoured wearing white – a colour she would be entitled to wear, she reasoned, if she was willing to give up some other virginity on her wedding night…
Finally, after what seemed like hours, we made our excuses, enjoyed a final turn on the dance-floor, and retired to the luxurious suite I had booked for us. We were barely through the door before we were kissing, a burning urgency driving us into each other’s arms.
Suddenly, Donna broke the kiss and eyed me voraciously. “Strip,” she ordered me simply.
“You too?” I whispered, but she shook her head.
“I want to fuck in my dress,” she hissed, and I grinned in response, already shedding my suit. In a moment I was nude, and Donna eyed my body lustily, chewing on her sensual bottom lip. We kissed again, our tongues hot and adventurous, tasting each other as if for the first time. Her fingernails traced white scratches over my shoulder-blades as I held her tightly and explored the body beneath the dress. Finally, our kiss ended, and we held one another, the air thick and charged with excitement.
“Let me see it,” I moaned, my breath warm against her lips. She grinned wickedly, and turned around, lifting her skirts to reveal the backs of her stockings, the smooth, creamy flesh above, and, finally, her beautifully round bottom. My heart pounding, I reached forward and pulled down her panties, revealing the blunt, flesh-coloured end of the butt-plug that had been stuffed inside my new wife’s asshole since early that morning. The knowledge that this wicked toy had been stretching her ring throughout the ceremony and the reception afterward had been exquisite torture all day long.
I knelt behind her and, one hand on her hips to hold her in place, I slowly withdrew the plug – four thick, stubby inches of phallic plastic slipped smoothly from her gaping, slippery hole.
She gasped softly, and her knees trembled as it finally left her body. The scent of her arousal was strong in the still air of the suite.
“Oh, God…” she whispered. “My husband, my darling, I need you inside me. I’m so – oh, my love, I’m so empty without you.”
I squeezed a generous handful of lube into my left hand, and massaged my steel-hard prick while rubbing Donna’s ass with smooth, reassuring strokes that only seemed to fuel her desire.
“I’ve never done it, never. You’ll be the first, my husband, my love – uh!” she grunted sweetly at the moist tip of my thick, uncircumcised prick pressed into her gaping, slick hole. I tried to hold it there, I swear I did, tried to tease her to torment her the way she had tormented me all day long, but I was powerless to resist. With a smooth, easy movement, I squeezed every slippery inch of my fat cock into her tight, hot asshole, plundering her virginal hole with unrestrained lust. She rocked forward, then pressed back hard, grinding her body against me, my balls slapping gently against her wet pussy. The sensation of being buried in my new wife’s virgin ass was everything I could have dreamed – and when she squeezed hard on my and whimpered softly, her eyes rolled back in her head, my tongue wet and soft on her lips, I knew that Donna loved it as much as I did.
Control was impossible. I ground my teeth together and fought the urge to cum long enough to deliver a half-dozen deep, strong strokes, each one making Donna quiver and gasp, but then I was done – a surge of creamy cum jetted from the end of my penis, pumping deep into my lover’s bowels, filling her with my essence.
“More,” she moaned, “give me it all!”
Another thick wad of jism drenched her insides, and I slid out, my cock falling from her spasming hole as she built up to her first orgasm as a married woman. I fell to my knees behind her, my fingers seeking out her pussy, my free hand grabbing the discarded butt-plug from the thick carpet and thrusting it back into her cum-drenched asshole, pumping it in and out as I teased her clit and kissed the soft, unblemished flesh of her butt cheeks. Her knees trembled, and her breath came in ragged, gasping sobs – and then, beautifully, my angel orgasmed, grinding back eagerly on the butt-plug, each new thrust sending droplets of my cum from her gaping asshole to the expensive cream carpet. She moaned and trembled, gasped and grunted, screamed and swore and finally collapsed, exhausted and sated, on to the thick rug. Her dress was in wild disarray, her perfect skin sheened with sweat. I lay down beside her and held her tightly in my arms.
My wife. My lover.
My anal angel.
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