*Post got deleted. Reposting because people wanted to read it. No need to upvote*
Do you know how some couples never get in fights, and always just seem like their relationship is perfect? Well, that’s what I felt like my relationship was like with Phil. We liked all of the same things, had many of the same hobbies, never fought, and our sexual chemistry was off the charts. We started dating during my last year of law school, and he proposed at my graduation. When he got down on one knee and asked me to marry him, it was easy to say “yes.” Well, I actually said “yeah,” which is super embarrassing. Who says “yeah” when being proposed to?
Phil was the closest I have ever come to getting married. It didn’t work out, but I won’t get into that in any further detail with this story. I want to keep it light, fun, and sexy!
Our families were so happy for us, especially my Dad, who had recently been diagnosed with cancer, since he would (hopefully) get to walk me down the aisle.
Sorry more sad things.
PENIS. Haha. There, now we’re all smiling again.
Anyway, it was hard to plan for a wedding. So many choices to make! There was one thing about my wedding, however, that I had always known what I wanted. I wanted to wear my mother’s wedding dress…. with alterations, of course. Growing up I used to look through my parents’ wedding album and stare in awe at how beautiful my mother was in her dress. My parents married in the Eighties, when people loved the high-neckline-poofy-shoulder-and-too-much-tulle-look. I planned to get rid of the long sleeves and excess lace and tulle, and lower the neckline. My mom loved the idea of handing down her dress to me, so about a month after we had gotten engaged she gave me the dress so that I could get the alterations started.
The day before I was going to take it in for alterations, I wanted to try it on to see the fit and how it looked, but I wanted to look pretty for it. I didn’t have class that day as I had scheduled my semester to have two days off every week, so I took my time getting ready. I showered and shaved my legs and underarms. I put on some white cheeky lacy panties (no bra needed because the boddice of the dress had a bra built in), some white thigh highs and a matching garter to keep them up. I dolled myself up more than I usually would on a Tuesday morning and removed the dress from its bag that it had been sleeping in for around 30 years and put it on.
It actually fit pretty well. Mom was about my same size when she got married, though she is two inches taller than me, so it was a tad long. The dress had a fitted bodice that squeezed the girls together quite nicely. It hugged my waist tightly and the skirt then gradually flared from the waist, which I thought flattered my body. I modeled for myself in the mirror, turning each way, and noticed the short “brush” train. I liked that. For how much I liked the fit of the dress, I couldn’t help but giggle at the high neckline, poofy shoulders, and extra fabric—it just felt so extra. I put on some heels to complete the look and took some pictures and sent them to my bridesmaids, who all (nicely) gushed about how “hott” I looked, poofy shoulders and all.
I decided to send a picture of it to my fiancé. I know. “The groom can’t see the bride in her dress before the wedding. It’s bad luck.” I thought of that too. Well, maybe they were right since we never actually got married, but I just thought, “the dress is going to look so different after alterations, it doesn’t matter.” So I sent it to him with a message.
“What do you think?”
Phil was actually at a golf outing with his firm. He was a year ahead of me at law school and had graduated a year earlier. Since he was one of the better golfers at the firm, they always invited him to those things as sort of a ringer to make them all look good. I didn’t think that he would respond very quickly.
“Nice shoulder pads.” His response came in maybe 30 seconds after I sent the initial text. Another text arrived before I could respond.
“JK! You’re going to make a sexy bride, babe. Shoulder pads and all.”
I smiled to myself. “Well,” I thought to myself, “if he’s going to tease a little, nothing wrong with me teasing a little back!”
My fingers scurried over the glass of my screen. “You’re going to love what I’m wearing under it for you.” I knew that would get his blood pumping.
No immediate response this time. Stupid golf.
I got out of the dress and laid down on the bed in my undies after putting a matching lacy half-cup bra on and took a picture for him and sent it with another message.
“Can the partners tell how badly you want to finish golfing so you can come home and fuck your future wife?”
Still no response. So I decided to text bomb him.
“How much you want to push your fiancée to her knees.”
“In front of the mirror.”
“Her mouth on your dick.”
“Your hands in her hair.”
“Guiding her head.”
“Choking her with your cock.”
Dirty talk was one of Phil’s biggest turn-ons, and I was taking advantage of that knowledge. Even though he hadn’t responded, sending the dirty texts certainly had an effect on me. I positioned myself on my bed so that could see myself in the mirror, pulling my underwear to the side. I began to touch myself as I imagined myself on my knees in front of it and Phil face fucking me. I was soaked, but I didn’t want to finish yet. I wanted to wait for him to get home, and I wanted to fuck his brains out.
I could see he was texting back.
“Holy shit!,” he wrote. “Just finished the front 9. Can’t wait to get back home!”
“Can’t you leave now?” I pleaded.
“I can’t. It’s stupid, but I have to finish. Don’t hate me. I want to have the sex with you.”
I thought about punishing him by not fucking him when he finished golfing, but that simply wasn’t an option. I could masturbate with one of my toys, but it wouldn’t be the same. Any substitute for his actual dick inside me would not suffice, and I resigned myself to waiting. I tried to distract myself by reading for Constitutional Torts, but it didn’t work. If he was going to torture me, I might as well torture him. My thumbs hit the screen once more to bombard him with a new set of texts sent in periodic intervals for the next hour and half while I tried to entertain myself by surfing social media.
“I’m ready for you, baby.”
“I need you.”
“I’m so fucking horny.”
“You like fucking me, don’t you baby?”
“You like me on my knees, licking you?”
“Sucking you?”
“I’m touching myself.”
“Do you want me to ride you?”
“Wearing slutty lingerie for you?”
“I’ll let you fuck me anywhere you want.”
“We could fuck at home.”
“Or somewhere else.”
“At your office?”
“At school?”
“I’m craving your cum.”
Finally some text bubbles. “You belong to me.” Another text appeared. “Put the dress back on. I’m coming home to fuck you in it right now.”
————————————-SEXY TIMES—————————————-
It felt like forever, but eventually he walked through the apartment door. I heard him come in and I appeared at the door to our bedroom modeling my soon-to-be-altered wedding dress as requested.
“Wow,” he said.
“Yeah?” I asked. “Even with the poofy shoulders?”
He smiled. “Wow,” he repeated, and walked over to me and we kissed. Softly. Sweetly.
Our lips parted and I stared Phil dead in the eyes. “Enough romance, Casanova. You said you were coming home to fuck me.”
He smiled wider and kissed me again, this time with abandon, running his hands down my back to my ass before squeezing it and then breaking the kiss to sit on the bed. “Come.”
On the edge of the bed, Phil took off his dress shoes as I sauntered over in my dress, careful to accentuate the movement of my hips while simultaneously trying not to look too much like a newborn calf learning how to walk. I leaned into him and opened my mouth to kiss his neck, the warmth of my tongue gently brushing his skin. He let out a moan as I egged him on. I continued kissing and then sucking his neck while I unbuttoned his shirt, unlatched his belt and slid off his pants, leaving hints of my lipstick on his neck.
With all of his clothes off but his briefs, my fiancé stood up, took my hand, and walked us in front of the mirror. The love in his eyes when he first walked in the door had been replaced by a hardened look of lust.
“On your knees,” he ordered.
“Mmmmm,” I moaned in anticipation. I looked down to smooth my mother’s old dress and dropped to my knees. I pulled the elastic of his waistband out and down and my fiancé’s penis sprang to life, already fully erect. He looked down at me as I took his penis in my hand, ovalled my lips, and slid him in my mouth. He groaned as I watched him react to my mouth. He was watching me in the mirror, and I looked over and saw my head bobbing and instantly felt myself getting wet.
Phil grabbed my head and with a single thrust hit the back of my throat and held still, causing my back to arch as I gagged on his cock, tears forming in my eyes. He let go and I coughed, relieved at the ability to breathe out of my mouth again. He smiled down at me as if taunting me, and I took his dick in my left hand, showing off the diamond that he bought to ward off other men. I began again to bob my head on his cock, but as soon as I was in a rhythm, he took me in his hands again and thrust back into my throat. My back arched once again as I fought my gag reflex before he released me again.
“Suck my balls, Jenni,” he ordered. Phil wasn’t usually the aggressor when we had sex. His confidence and demeanor was definitely doing it for me though.
“Mmm, I love it when you talk dirty to me, babe. I’m getting so fucking wet.”
I took each of Phil’s testicles into my mouth in turn as his meat rubbed my face.
“Fuck! What a good obedient slut.” My pussy pulsed when he called me a slut. He had never called me that before. Part of me wanted to be offended, but the stronger part of me craved for more.
“Mhmmm” I looked at him with his balls in my mouth, slightly nodding my head in agreement.
He gently pushed me off of him and grabbed his phone then returned pointing his camera down at me.
“Open your mouth, stick out your tongue, and keep it open.”
I did so and he placed his cock on my tongue and took a photo. Up to this point, we had never taken photos, well, doing it. He always would have been too timid to do something like that.
“Suck my cock.”
I returned to my previous endeavor and I can hear him snapping photos on the camera as my mouth slid on and off of his shaft. At this point, I feel like I have completely soaked through the panties under my dress. My jaw was starting to hurt when he grabbed my head in his hands again and thrust in.
“OH SHIT! FUCCKK!”
My stomach contracted and my back arched once again as I felt my man’s cum splash the back of my throat. His orgasm seemed to go on longer than it normally did.
“YES! FUCK YESSS!” He cried as he came in my mouth.
Semen is interesting because it never tastes exactly the same, and in my experience varies depending on the person and their dietary preferences. Phil’s was usually a little bitter, but mild enough to swallow without much issue. This time was no different.
We both moaned as my fiancé pulled out of my mouth careful not to let any drip onto the dress. I made a display of showing him his cum in my mouth and swallowed the whole load for him before smiling up at him.
“Somebody enjoyed that, and I know it wasn’t just me.” I teased, tracing the corners of my mouth and then smacking my lips.
Phil didn’t respond at first, and then “that was amazing.”
Another pause, “get on all fours in front of the mirror.”
I purred before getting into position. He kneeled behind me and lifted the dress that we would be pronounced husband and wife in for the first time to reveal my underwear and the garter holding up my thigh highs. I knew what was coming and it couldn’t come soon enough. He peeled my panties around my butt and began to eat me out from behind. Watching him eat me like that in the mirror was one of the most erotic things I have ever seen. His tongue lapped on my pussy as he reached under and began to play with my clit simultaneously. It was my turn for some selfish pleasure and I felt my climax building.
“YES, FUCK, BABY!” I pushed myself back onto his face as he added pressure with his fingers and I felt my body about to erupt.
“OH MY GOD, FUCK!”
But before I climaxed, Phil stood up, cock hard as a rock once again in his hands. He bent his knees, crouching over me, and started to paint the lips of my kitty with his dick.
“Dear God, put your fat cock in me, please!” I begged at his reflection as I arched my back to better his angle for penetration.
“Holy fuck, you’re wet!” He groaned, while pushing in with practically no resistance. I looked up at us in the mirror, my naked future husband and me in my mother’s old wedding dress about to get fucked. My mind went numb as he started pumping himself into me. Finally
I loved the way Phil felt inside me. He didn’t have the biggest cock in the world, but it was a good size and it seemed to touch everything I needed it to. His hands held my hips in place with every new thrust. We were both just gasping and moaning until I looked up to meet his gaze in the mirror and saw him raise his hand.
*SMACK!*
He started slapping my ass every other thrust—to my elation. I yelped and moaned with every new spanking and could feel my ass getting red and raw. “Take it, yes, take it!” my fiancé grunted through gritted teeth. I steadied one hand against the mirror and reached under to rub my clit.
“Mmm, rub your clit while I fuck you, slut.”
This drove me crazy and I start pushing back on his dick, trying to get it as deep as I could as my breathing sharpened. I thought my fingers might be pruny with how wet I felt.
*SMACK!*
I yelped after a particularly hard smack and had to steady my hands back on the floor from the pain.
He pulled my carefully arranged hair so that we were again both watching our sex scene unfold in the mirror. He moaned and started thrusting even harder and I try to meet each one of those thrusts by pushing backward as his balls slapped against me. I watch as he drooled his saliva down onto my ass and started rubbing it around my asshole Luckily, he just kept rubbing my taint while he fucked me from behind. No surprise anal, yay!
“You like that big dick in your pussy, Jenny?” He asked.
“Yes! Fuck my tight little pussy with your cock!” I responded, thrusting backwards desperately, my hand once again on my clit.
Phil stood up and pulled me into a standing position facing the mirror. His hand replaced mine on my clit while placing the other hand around my throat, my dress now wresting on the small of my back. Our eyes met in the reflection of the mirror once again.
“Fuck me harder, baby!” “Yes, that’s it! Fuck your bride!” I was on the verge of what I was so desperate to have all morning.
“You are my naughty little bride aren’t you?” Phil groaned into my ear smacking my ass hard again.
“YES! YES, I AM!” I screamed as an explosive orgasm ripped through my body, my pussy continuing to grind back on him. “Pull my hips in, baby,” I gasped between contractions. I always ask men to do this because at the height of my orgasm, when I feel that extra bit of length, the climax lasts twice as long. I breathed once it stopped, my man still fully inside of me.
I started moving my hips back again as I looked back into Phil’s reflection and asked, “How is the groom feeling?”
He groaned and started thrusting again. “You little fucking tease. You know why I came at you so hard?”
“Why?”
“My boss saw that photo and those texts you sent!” His pace picked up.
“Which ones?”
“You know which ones, you dirty little slut!”
The word slut triggered me. I pulled off of Phil’s member and spun around so quickly he may have thought I was going to slap him. Instead, I pushed him against the wall and started kissing him hungrily, animalistically as he fondled my ass.
“I’ll show you a slut.” I said as I lifted a leg against the wall, lifting my dress in one hand, and taking Phil’s cock in the other and guiding it back to my entrance before pushing him down deep. I was a cheerleader in high school, so I’m pretty flexible. This position may not be doable for many people, and it was actually the first time that I tried it. I fucked him against the wall. I gyrated my hips and pushed my ass until I felt another potential orgasm stirring inside, our eyes and mouths less than an inch apart. I ground my hips in a circular motion.
“Shit!” my fiancé groaned.
“How does it feel knowing your boss has seen my ass?” I moved my hands to his shoulders as I kept fucking him against the wall.
“Knowing he probably went home to play with his dirty old cock thinking about your fiancée in her underwear? Knowing what a slut she is for your cock?” I gasped as my breathing grew more erratic.
Phil growled, hooked one arm around my leg against the wall, hooked his other arm around my anchor leg, and lifted my ass before fully impaling me on his cock in a stand and carry position. I wrapped my arms around his neck and my legs around his back to provide further stability.
“Oh my God, Phil!” I squealed. “You’re so strong!”
“You’re mine, Jenni!” He said possessively, quickening the pace at which he lifted my ass off and back onto his throbbing cock.
“Yes! Oh Yes! I am! I AM!”
“That’s it! Take it all like a good little slut!” He gripped my ass harder as he pulled my ass up and shoved it back down, again and again.
“AHH YESS! GIVE IT TO ME!” I screamed. I’m sure our neighbors either loved or hated me now.
I was on the edge. I grabbed my man’s face. “Pull me in and hold me tight,” making my first order of the sex session. He pulled me in hard and held me against his pelvis. I held onto my man’s neck and leaned back, angling my clit tightly against him and frantically grinding my pelvis against his, the train of my dress now sweeping the floor.
“FUUUUUUCKK!” He yelled as streams of his hot spunk started to fill me. His shoulders and neck tensed, his teeth clenched, and his eyes screwed shut as he unloaded.
As soon as his cum started shooting inside of me, my pussy contracted around him, doing what nature intended it to, gripping my fiancé’s cock until it was completely drained. “YESSSS! AHHHH!” I screamed as my second orgasm vibrated through me, causing me to lose almost total control of my legs, which thankfully Phil was still holding tightly.
Eventually, as it always does, my climax faded. I bunched up my dress as Phil carried me to the bed and gently laid me on it before unsheathing himself from inside of me. His cum immediately started to leak onto our bedspread.
My lover picked up his phone. “I want another picture,” he said. “Spread your legs.”
Completely spent, I obediently opened my legs and looked up at his camera as he snapped a picture of me leaking his cum while wearing my mother’s wedding dress.
Source: reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/mnzpds/fm_my_ex_fucked_me_in_my_mothers_wedding_dress