A few weeks ago, M and I were moving my mother into a new house. While cleaning out her basement, I came across a giant white box wrapped in plastic. My wedding dress.

“Think it still fits?” I ask him, holding it up.

“Mmm. I bet,” he said. “Can’t believe I never fucked you in it”

Fast forward 12 hours and we’re in our bedroom. I’m wearing white thigh highs with black bows on the back, a corset and my wedding dress.

We have a few drinks while we hang out in bed. “How did I not fuck you in this?” he asks as his hands graze against the top of my breasts where they swell out of my gown.

I laugh. “We were young and dumb.” I think of us then and now. I loved him then, but it’s so much more now, so much deeper.

As we talk and reminisce, his hands find their way to the bottom of the dress. They sneak under layers of tulle and satin and work up my stockings until they flutter along the skin at the top of my thighs. His words trail off as his lips fall to my shoulder, my neck, my collarbone. When his lips meet mine, his fingers dip under the stockings. He tugs them, then lets them snap back against my skin.

Before I know it, I’m on my back and M’s face is buried between my legs, his fingers pulling my white panties to the side as his tongue flicks across my clit. The fingers on his other hand move through my folds and I’m lost. It doesn’t take long before he’s got me at the brink of orgasm, withering beneath him.

Two fingers bury themselves deep inside and I’m cumming around him, juices pouring out of me as I grip my fingers in his hair, holding him to me so I can ride out my orgasm on his mouth.

A few orgasms later and I find myself sideways in bed, M’s fingers still playing, pushing and prodding and rubbing, making a mess out of me while I lick his cock from base to tip. My tongue swirls around the head and the sensitive area right beneath as my hands massage his balls. Within moments, I’m excited and don’t want to wait any longer. I rise up so I can take the length of him into my mouth all the way to the base of his cock.

His groan of approval sets me off and my mouth moves up and down on him as his fingers play and stretch my cunt. I start to cum again and push his cock deep in my throat until I’m gagging on it. His free hand wraps into my hair to hold me in place and I start cumming.

Then I’m on my knees, his cock buried deep in my pussy. He’s got one hand holding the back of my dress while the other runs across the skin on my ass. He’s mumbling words of love and sex, although I can’t concentrate enough to hear him. My pussy’s on edge, already racked by multiple orgasms. I’m pretty sure I’m whimpering nonsensical things -“Yes Daddy,” “Please,” “Fuck, fuck, fuck”- and my body’s to the point where I can no longer determine when I’m cumming and when I’m not.

His hand connects with the skin of my ass with a loud smack and I’m clenching him, soaking the dress and sheets beneath me. Again and again, I’m lost and panting and moaning and cumming and crying and I want it to stop right now and I want it to last for ever and ever.

For hours he tosses me around the bed, fucking me this way and that. My mouth, my pussy, my hands. When he finally cums, I’m on my back, pillows piled beneath my ass, both my ankles over his shoulders while he leans down to kiss me. We’re both covered in sweat and cum and he reaches behind my head and pulls my hair, making me arch beneath him, exposing my neck. I growl out his name as my pussy squeezes his cock.

“Fuck pretty girl. I’m cumming,” he says through gritted teeth, thrusting deep and hard into me until he explodes. He rides it out for as long as he can, and I watch him savor the feelings until he slows and lowers himself onto me.

A little while later, I fall asleep wondering how different things would have been if our first wedding night had been like this….