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One thing I had heard from pretty much all of my girlfriends was that they were all too tired at the end of the day to consummate their marriages. That when they finally got to their hotel suite or even just back home, some of them even fell asleep still in their dress.
There wasn’t a lot to our wedding that was staunchly traditional. Most of it we just did because it was easier than coming up with an alternative. But one thing was certain; we would be consummating our marriage that night. Not out of any fancy desire to save ourselves for marriage. No, we’d both crossed that bridge several times over, with each other and before. No, I was determined to have sex that night because we both liked to fuck and why, of all nights, should the night of our wedding be the one night we were too tired?
The only other tradition that we decided was a given was the garter.
We never discussed why we were both committed to the garter toss but I think we had the same idea in mind.
As is tradition, I sat in a chair in the middle of the reception, surrounded by friends, family, and well-wishers, some drunker than the groomsmen and that was a feat.
I sat myself and my full, billowing dress, down on a chair in the middle of the dance floor and smiled at my new husband as he knelt before me. It was the most genuine smile I had in the moment; we were married. I was actually struggling to believe I’d given in to matrimony after railing against it in the past. But we were married and bound to one another for the rest of our natural lives.
That was the plan anyway.
He smiled back at me, his crooked, toothy grin spreading across his handsome face, and lifted the edge of my skirt and half a dozen crinolines. With a crude thumbs up to the best man, he plunged his head beneath my dress, bound for removing my garter with his teeth.
As is tradition, I had a decoy garter positioned near my knee, but I felt his hot breath against the inside of my thigh and realized, with some 70 sets of eyes on the two of us, that he was up to no good.
Or very good, depending on how you look at it.
I drew in a deep breath and slowed my breathing to an exaggerated pace, anticipating what was coming, bracing myself so I could hide my surprise from my guests.
He found, quickly, that I had anticipated what was coming long before slowing my breathing. My panties were in my purse. I felt him breathe hot damp air against my pussy before sliding two fingers deep inside. I couldn’t hear so much as feel the squelching sound as he fingered me, hard, two, three, four times, pumping two, then three of his long, bony fingers deep inside me. The sudden sensation, the risk of doing it while everyone was watching, and the almost romantic notion that we’d both had without even talking about it, combined were enough to leave me soaking wet and he quickly removed his fingers before licking me back to front, pushing his tongue deep inside as he passed it over my pussy.
He reemerged, the $5 throw away black lace garter between his teeth, amid applause from the reserved portion of the guests, raucous cheers from our closer friends. The remaining single men gathered in a row behind him and he deftly shot the elastic band backward over his shoulder.
I nodded to the DJ to announce the bouquet toss, wanting nothing more than to get it over with because I had bigger plans in mind.
I slipped past him, talking casually to his brother, and pinched between his legs as I left the reception area.
He found me standing outside the bridal room and, with a quick glance in either direction, pushed me inside. He had his pants unfastened and around his ankles before I could get the door locked. I dropped the crinolines to the floor, stepping out of them, leaning over with my hands in the seat of the vanity table chair. I held up the skirt of the dress, much more pliable without ten layers of tulle in the way, and exposed my bare sex to his waiting erection, which he took no time to bury deep inside me.
Thrusting hard into me, he reached around and firmly, almost violently, massaged my clit. I pressed my hand over his, encouraging him to be rough. We both knew we didn’t have much time but we both wanted to come. We didn’t have to speak, simply fell into the hard fuck rhythm we’d developed. He pushed forward while I pushed back, driving him, literally balls deep. He pulled back and I pulled forward, nearly removing his cock completely before sinking him inside again, all while fingering me, hard and fast.
In seconds, I could feel his cock jerk and twitch inside me and he held fast, pushing against me, masturbating me with his balls, rubbing them against my throbbing, engorged clit. I wanted to shriek, to howl as I came but he covered my nose and mouth with his palm, forcing me to hold my breath, muffling my scream.
We both finished hard, covering each other with hot, salty cum. Once again, he found his knees and licked my pussy, inside and out, clit to asshole and down my thighs. I pulled away and lifted him to his feet, trading places and finding his waning erection with my mouth, sucking him clean in return.
I stepped back into my crinolines, watching him tuck his cock back into his boxer briefs, wanting it again, wanting to suck it hard, vowing to get another chance before either of us slept tonight. We left the room, hand in hand, not caring who might be waiting outside the door.
My panties were still in my purse.