Slutty Whore Fianc eacute e Part 1
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Slutty Whore Fiancée (Part 3) free porn video
Slutty Whore Fiancée (Part 3)
(see Parts 1-2 first)
When I woke up in the early afternoon, she wasn't in bed with me. The blinds were pulled, making it look like twilight instead of broad daylight. I felt hung over and like I'd been beaten up. I didn't notice the light under the closed bathroom door until I'd staggered halfway across the bedroom. I slowed down and heard faint sounds coming from the other side of the door, too. Helen was in there. The noise was water sloshing and her moaning. My cock was suddenly hard with more than piss. I eased the door open and peeked inside.
She was in the full, steaming tub with her eyes closed. She'd washed her face but left on the waterproof mascara and touched it up, by the looks of it. Her lips gleamed with one of the lipsticks we hadn't gotten around to using - a tremendously bright almost purple color. Her massive tits floated on the water, their nipples long and fat, still red from the slaps and pinches of the long night before. One hand was running a dildo in and out of her cunt. The other was opening the valve on the enema bottle. Her ass muscles were clamped tight around the oversized nozzle.
I watched her play with herself for at least five minutes, until I was sure she was right on the edge of a huge orgasm. She was breathing harshly through her whorish lips and slopping water on the tile floor with the energy of her grinding hips. I crept inside. She didn't know I was there until I was almost in position. She must have finally heard me. Her eyes jerked wide open and saw me, standing with one foot on either side of the tub, aiming my swollen cock straight at her face. I forced a stream of piss out. Mostly, it splashed in her wet hair, but some hit her gasping violet colored mouth.
She came so violently she was almost paralysed. The dildo was rammed in so far only its end stuck out of her. The nozzle shot out of her ass and she shit into her bathwater. My stream of piss was a jerky yellow jet on her slutty face. Instead of gagging and choking and trying to get away like I expected, her eyes got a crazy look and her mouth opened even wider and she started swallowing.
That's the way our Saturday started. Neither of us was through. Despite the fact that we had to go to a huge family dinner that evening, for the rest of the afternoon I kept her
fully painted and totally fucked. I was so out of control that it took a huge effort not to make her go to dinner in her sleazy whore's dress and makeup. I was positive she'd have done it. She was even further gone than I was.
I compromised with my lust. I screwed her loose, shit-free asshole while I made her clean her face and take off her slutty fingernails. But, after she sucked me off in the shower, I told her to shave her cunt.
She licked my cum off her pale lips and looked up at me in shock, but went right to work with her razor. The sight of her naked pussy hanging open and drooling her fluids was almost too much for both of us. I managed to keep my hands off her, and make her hands stay away from her hot slit, too.
I led her to the bedroom and told her to stand perfectly still. I stretched the sexiest of the new bra and panty sets, a lacy, tiny pair of scraps of red, on her. Her tits were almost totally naked. Her ass was bare, except for the thin string running up the deep crack between her cheeks. After wrapping the garter belt around her waist, I made her sit while I rolled seamed black hose up her legs. She was getting the bed wet, she was so excited.
Next, I spread a coat of the KY jelly I'd bought on her sagging, unpainted mouth. She watched me with haunted eyes and licked the ass-lube as I dropped the tube in her purse. The smallest of the dildos barely fit in her handbag beside it. I warned her again not to move and I went into the bathroom. I came back with the lipstick she seemed to like the best, a red so deep it was almost black. My hands shook when I blotted her exposed, irritated cunt lips dry and painted them. She had another orgasm before I was done, but somehow managed to sit pretty still. Unable to make myself stop with that, I stretched the bra enough so I could use the color on her bullet-like nipples, too. I slipped the lipstick into her purse, then ordered her to put on the long, plain, loose dress and her old
pair of three inch heels.
"Hide yourself, whore. All night, you'll hide how slutty you really are under these ugly clothes."
She again tasted the grease on her still swollen, puffy lips. "What . . . why do you want me to carry these . . . things . . . in my purse?"
"Never mind. Come on, cunt. Let's go."
We both acted a little weird in the fancy restaurant, I guess. Our friends and family wrote it off as wedding jitters and kept reassuring us. I kept touching Helen's thigh under the table. Every time I did, she stared at her food, but swung her legs apart for me. While the waiter was taking our plates away, I whispered to her that I could smell her cunt juice.
"Lift you skirt, slut, and run a finger in that shaved hole. I want to watch you lick it off." She blushed. She was scared. But she did it, and had a hell of a time controlling her expression.
"My cock's hard," I whispered. "But not hard enough. Before they bring dessert, go the the ladies' room and lube the dildo and put it up your ass. Leave it inside and come back." She turned to me, and I expected her to refuse. But her need was written all over her lovely, plain face. She whispered back, "Can I make myself cum? Please?"
I shook my head and smiled. I wondered, as I watched her excuse herself and hurry away, if she'd be able to resist her overwhelming urge. She managed, I guess, because she came back just a couple of minutes later. I could tell by her walk and her face that the fake dick was buried in her guts. She suddenly wasn't hungry for her dessert. Her hands were knotted into fists as she tried to listen to the table talk. Her thighs kept rubbing together in a slow rhythm.
The dinner went on and on. She begged me in faint whispers to help her. She pleaded with me to get her out of there, to take her home, that she was going crazy, that she was so hot she was going to forget where she was and explode, right in public. I refused every request, made her suffer horribly until after ten o'clock.
She bit her lip all the way to the car, whimpering about how her ass was on fire. Once we were on the road, I told her to lift the long dress out from under her and show me her whore's panties and the stub of the dildo. The little red triangle covering her shaven cunt was sopping wet and the end of the fake dick jumped a little with every heartbeat. Despite the darkness she was real scared that somebody'd see her exposing herself on the interstate.
"Turn on the interior light," I told her.
"Ron, please, no."
"Don't give me any shit! Turn it on and use the lipstick, whore! And I want to be able to see every bit of your legs, all the way to your sloppy cunt."
She obeyed, and I was pretty sure she wasn't as reluctant as she acted. The way she was bouncing a little, fucking her ass with the imbedded plastic prick, was a dead give away.
"Now take it out of your ass and use it in your cunt, slut."
I let her turn off the light first and made her count her orgasms out loud, all the way home. She made it to five, and forgot all about where she was. By the time we reached our apartment, she'd unbuttoned the top half of her loose dress and was openly fondling her tits, not giving a damn about being seen or anything but reaching number six.
"Stop, whore. Pull it out right now." I had to slap her face to get her attention, and she whined her frustration. "Now lick it clean. Then we can go inside and get you sleazy again."
The rest of Saturday night and all day Sunday was pretty much a replay of what we'd done Friday. No matter how far I pushed her, she never said no, and she never got enough. Late Sunday night, she cried for an hour when I made her clean herself
up and put everything away in her biggest suitcase. Makeup, clothes, dildos - all of it I locked up in a storage room she didn't have a key to.
"From now on, there'll be no more secret fun, Helen. No more sneaking around and playing slut without me. Got it? No buying whore's clothes without permission. No painting yourself and masurbating - unless I tell you to. Understand?"
She cuddled up beside me and sighed. "I love you, Ron. We're perfect for each other."
I had to agree.
//***//
I have to give Helen credit. She never once broke her promise not to act slutty in secret any more. Maybe that's part because I was so hooked on the game myself that I never let more than a month or so pass without silently handing her the key to
the storeroom. She knew what to do with it.
And it usually happened more than once a month, to tell the truth. It was only the day after I'd locked it all up in the suitcase that I told her I wanted her to go out and buy the nastiest lingerie she could find to wear under her chaste white wedding gown. She called me at work from the mall sounding breathless.
"Oh, honey! Thank you! I found just the perfect things!" Her voice dropped. "Do you want me to tell you about them or would you rather wait and see them for yourself?"
"I'll wait, slut, until after the wedding. Oh. There's one more thing."
"What?" she wondered expectantly.
"Did you finger your cunt in the dressing room?"
I could almost see her blush across the miles. "No. You said -"
"Well, since you're such a hot fucking bitch, you can do it before you take it off."
She sounded choked. "You're sure it's okay?"
"I want you to, whore. I want you to stand in front of the mirror in that little room and fuck yourself with your fingers until you cum. Just once. I want you to be quiet, though. No screaming in the mall."
"Ohhh," she groaned. "Oh, fuck, Ron! That's so nasty."
"You want to, don't you?"
"Oh, God yes! But what if I get caught? What if somebody walks in on me or there's a security camera or something?"
I laughed at her. "You fucking slut. Don't give me that shit. We both know you don't care. Look at what you did at the restaurant Saturday night in front of your own mom and dad, and on the way home. All you care about is getting fucked. So go do it."
"Okay," she whispered meekly.
"Oh. I almost forgot. I want you to buy some white high heels, too. With open toes and about a six inch heel if you can find it."
"I will, even if I have to go everywhere in town."
"Good cunt. See you tonight."
She was sitting in the living room when I got home. Her hands were clamped between her knees and there were boxes on the coffee table.
"Is this what you bought?" I asked.
She nodded nervously.
"Good." I locked it up without peeking. I smiled at her when I got back. "How was it?"
She smiled back, her embarrassment fading as she told me how slutty she felt, how hard she came, how much I was going to love our wedding night.
It was spectacular. The wedding itself went off without a hitch and the reception was okay, too, but we were already thinking about what was coming next and were pretty impatient to get the formal shit out of the way. We escaped a little after eight that evening and lost the handful of cars trying to follow us to our motel.
As soon as the last car's headlights vanished around the corner, I spoke the words I'd been waiting for all night. "Lift your dress, cunt. Let me see your goodies."
She showed me that she'd been waiting for those words, too. She made a hell of a show of it, first sliding her hem slowly up to her knees, then swinging sideways and putting one towering white high heel right square in my lap.
It was the first good look I'd gotten of the new fuck-me pumps and the rose patterned hose. I rubbed the shoe against my swelling prick to let her know how much I liked it so far.
She licked her lips and went on with her tease, slowly opening the ten-thousand little pearl buttons from her neck down. Little by little, her deep cleavage came into view. Finally, real playfully, she showed me her bra. It was strapless and snow white, but really not much more than a pretty platform for her great tits to sit on. And already her nipples were swollen. She glanced nervously out the car windows like she was scared to be seen, but I knew part of the rush was just that risk. It was for me, too.
I gently reached over and lightly circled her nipples with tickling fingers. She was rubbing her fingertips up and down the stockings above her knees and starting to breathe deeply.
"Show me the rest, slut. Show me your hot cunt."
It was hot! The white garters were the perfect frame for her holes. Her panties were barely a white g-string made of lace. Even if she was dry, I could have seen through it and glimpsed the hairless pussy beneath. But, wet as she was, it was almost invisible. Her big pussy lips were flattened and held a little open by the tight fit, and her clit was trying to poke through the lace.
"Do you like it," she murmured. "Does it make you want to fuck me?"
"Yeah. Come over here. Unzip my slacks. Pull my cock out."
She didn't hesitate for an instant.
"That's it, cunt. Jack it for me. Now get it nice and hard with your mouth."
Right there in the car, she gave me a fantastic blow job. I warned her I didn't want to cum in her mouth until she'd painted it, so she held herself back and did more kissing and licking than deep throat.
We were traveling light. The only thing we brought with us was that one special suitcase. We planned to go back and pack what we needed for our honeymoon the next day. I carried her over the threshold and straight to the motel bed. She tried to pull me down on top of her, but I pulled away.
"Take off the dress, bitch. Just the dress. I'll be right back."
She was laying there, a vision of beauty, when I got back. Her fingers were tickling her thighs. Her breasts were heaving with expectation.
I worked the latches on the suitcase and opened it with tantalizing slowness. "I bought you a little something special for tonight, slut. Your own private wedding dress to go with what you're wearing."
I held it up. What there was of it was white. Like her lingerie, there wasn't anything virginal about it. It was a two piece outfit. The skirt was made of tight, stretchy lace and so short it'd leave her garters showing. Everything else would be visible through the gaps. The top was just like it and would leave her belly and almost all her tits naked.
"Put it on, slut-bride."
She quickly slithered into my gift and posed for me as sexily as she could - which was hot enough to fry eggs. It was hard to believe that this was the virgin I'd met less than a year before, the one who'd cried when I popped her cherry only six months ago. She displayed herself like she'd been showing off her tits and cunt in slutty clothes all her life. I double fucked her with the dildos while she made her face match her clothes. By the time she was finished, she'd cum twice and shed every inhibition she owned. She looked and acted like the biggest whore that'd ever lived.
I made her stand in the middle of the room and lick the dildo that'd been buried in her ass clean. I watched her angle her head up and deep throat the twelve inch rubber prick while fucking her slick, naked cunt with its slightly littler brother.
That's when I broke out the camera. "Wedding pictures," I told her, filling the room with the flare of the strobe unit. Fucking for the camera turned her on even more than doing it in front of the mirror did. Her crazed lust surprised even me. I shot close ups of her hooked red nails guiding a dildo, shining with her cum, deep into her completely exposed cunt. She was on her back on the floor, staring between her legs, her searing red
lips wide with joy.
"Give me the other one," she gasped. "I need them both."
I expected her to use the second one on her ass. Instead, she forced it in beside the first, stretching her cunt so wide I was afraid she was going to rip herself open. Her screams were ecstatic, though, not agonized, and I burned a whole roll of film before she shrieked even louder and came so hard she shook the floor.
I gave her a few minutes to recover, helped her onto the bed, and held her close, petting her sweaty hair. She nuzzled in my lap with her eyes closed, her long black lashes brushing her heavily powdered cheeks, her metallic coated lids shimmering in the soft light. Her tender, slick lips nursed on my aching cock like it was as satisfying as her mother's tit. She showed no strain at all as she swallowed my whole ten inches like her
throat was designed to hold a prick. Her cunt pressed against my knee and she humped it slowly. Her lower lips were open, like she was trying to leg my leg inside her. Two inch long red nails lazily dipped in and out of her asshole.
When I filled her mouth and throat with hot cum, she moaned and didn't miss a drop as she sucked me dry and had her own gentle orgasm.
When I eased out from under her, she sighed and gave me a loving look, her hands drifting slowly to her gaping slit to replace my knee. I fetched her lipstick and powder. She repaired her face with luxurious, slow appreciation while I put
the camera on a tripod and focused it. I told her to stuff a pillow under her beautiful ass and ran a soft rope under the bed and pulled her knees wide apart. I added another loop to keep her narrow waist on the mattress. "That should be good enough for now," I told her. She gave me a theatrical pout with her thick, freshly painted lips and rocked sensuously to test my knots.
"Spread you pussy for me, whore. Show me how big and loose it is. Look at the camera. Show me how big a slut you are." Then I started playing with her cunt. Three fingers fit with no trouble at all. I sloshed them around inside her then added my pinky and thumb and snapped a shot of that, too. She was hot as a wildfire, wet as a sea. I was glad I'd tied her waist down, because she was pushing hard into my hand. I fucked it in and out of her, and she was urging me on in the crudest possible terms all the while.
Without warning, I forced my knuckles past her resistance. Very slowly, like she was swallowing it, my whole hand slipped inside her. I fired off three quick flashes, freezing her agonized expression for all time, as I buried myself in her to the wrist. She was making garbled, tortured noises and thrashing her head wildly from side to side.
Then I started making fucking motions, stretching her insides as much as her outer lips. It took only two or three thrusts before I managed to get in so deep that I bottomed out against her cervix. When I touched it, she came. I felt the rhythmic contractions of her cunt walls ripple down my forearm, watched her face change from pain to bliss, felt her wrists wrap around my elbow and she tried to pull me even deeper. I got that on film, too.
Then, I made a fist of my hand and kept fucking her. She was shouting every obscenity she knew, screaming at the top of her lungs what a cheap, nasty slut she was, how much she loved what I was doing to her, that she was cumming non-stop now and never wanted it to end. I kept pumping her and snapping off flashes until my arm got tired. By then, she'd gone incoherent again, was just making grunts and growls. When I was through, I eased out of her and I finished the roll of film on her gaping, gushing cunt.
She was bathed in sweat. She'd chewed her lower lip until it bled a little.
"Fix your face, whore."
I slid my huge erection into her, marvelling at how loose she was, and stared down at her unevenly made up, slutty face. Her hands were clawing at my back. Luckily, I still had my wedding shirt on or she'd have made ribbons of my skin. I slammed into her as hard as I could, telling her how much I loved her when she was like this, all loose and wet and sleazy. Her cunt was slimy with her cum, and it slopped easily past my prick while I rode her hard.
It was a long night, and I'm afraid the people in the rooms to either side of us didn't get much more sleep than we did. Between her screams and my shouts, we'd have woke up the dead. Before the night was over, she'd tried on all the slutty stuff we owned and made herself up more times than I can count. And that was only the start of our week long honeymoon.
Helen and I've been married almost two years now. On the outside, we're just as middle-of-the-road as ever. To look at us, you'd think we were just an above-average looking couple still as deeply in love as two people can be. And we are the last part. But behind closed doors, we aren't anything like what you'd expect.
Original title: Acting Out / Slightly edited by me
(see Parts 1-2 first)
When I woke up in the early afternoon, she wasn't in bed with me. The blinds were pulled, making it look like twilight instead of broad daylight. I felt hung over and like I'd been beaten up. I didn't notice the light under the closed bathroom door until I'd staggered halfway across the bedroom. I slowed down and heard faint sounds coming from the other side of the door, too. Helen was in there. The noise was water sloshing and her moaning. My cock was suddenly hard with more than piss. I eased the door open and peeked inside.
She was in the full, steaming tub with her eyes closed. She'd washed her face but left on the waterproof mascara and touched it up, by the looks of it. Her lips gleamed with one of the lipsticks we hadn't gotten around to using - a tremendously bright almost purple color. Her massive tits floated on the water, their nipples long and fat, still red from the slaps and pinches of the long night before. One hand was running a dildo in and out of her cunt. The other was opening the valve on the enema bottle. Her ass muscles were clamped tight around the oversized nozzle.
I watched her play with herself for at least five minutes, until I was sure she was right on the edge of a huge orgasm. She was breathing harshly through her whorish lips and slopping water on the tile floor with the energy of her grinding hips. I crept inside. She didn't know I was there until I was almost in position. She must have finally heard me. Her eyes jerked wide open and saw me, standing with one foot on either side of the tub, aiming my swollen cock straight at her face. I forced a stream of piss out. Mostly, it splashed in her wet hair, but some hit her gasping violet colored mouth.
She came so violently she was almost paralysed. The dildo was rammed in so far only its end stuck out of her. The nozzle shot out of her ass and she shit into her bathwater. My stream of piss was a jerky yellow jet on her slutty face. Instead of gagging and choking and trying to get away like I expected, her eyes got a crazy look and her mouth opened even wider and she started swallowing.
That's the way our Saturday started. Neither of us was through. Despite the fact that we had to go to a huge family dinner that evening, for the rest of the afternoon I kept her
fully painted and totally fucked. I was so out of control that it took a huge effort not to make her go to dinner in her sleazy whore's dress and makeup. I was positive she'd have done it. She was even further gone than I was.
I compromised with my lust. I screwed her loose, shit-free asshole while I made her clean her face and take off her slutty fingernails. But, after she sucked me off in the shower, I told her to shave her cunt.
She licked my cum off her pale lips and looked up at me in shock, but went right to work with her razor. The sight of her naked pussy hanging open and drooling her fluids was almost too much for both of us. I managed to keep my hands off her, and make her hands stay away from her hot slit, too.
I led her to the bedroom and told her to stand perfectly still. I stretched the sexiest of the new bra and panty sets, a lacy, tiny pair of scraps of red, on her. Her tits were almost totally naked. Her ass was bare, except for the thin string running up the deep crack between her cheeks. After wrapping the garter belt around her waist, I made her sit while I rolled seamed black hose up her legs. She was getting the bed wet, she was so excited.
Next, I spread a coat of the KY jelly I'd bought on her sagging, unpainted mouth. She watched me with haunted eyes and licked the ass-lube as I dropped the tube in her purse. The smallest of the dildos barely fit in her handbag beside it. I warned her again not to move and I went into the bathroom. I came back with the lipstick she seemed to like the best, a red so deep it was almost black. My hands shook when I blotted her exposed, irritated cunt lips dry and painted them. She had another orgasm before I was done, but somehow managed to sit pretty still. Unable to make myself stop with that, I stretched the bra enough so I could use the color on her bullet-like nipples, too. I slipped the lipstick into her purse, then ordered her to put on the long, plain, loose dress and her old
pair of three inch heels.
"Hide yourself, whore. All night, you'll hide how slutty you really are under these ugly clothes."
She again tasted the grease on her still swollen, puffy lips. "What . . . why do you want me to carry these . . . things . . . in my purse?"
"Never mind. Come on, cunt. Let's go."
We both acted a little weird in the fancy restaurant, I guess. Our friends and family wrote it off as wedding jitters and kept reassuring us. I kept touching Helen's thigh under the table. Every time I did, she stared at her food, but swung her legs apart for me. While the waiter was taking our plates away, I whispered to her that I could smell her cunt juice.
"Lift you skirt, slut, and run a finger in that shaved hole. I want to watch you lick it off." She blushed. She was scared. But she did it, and had a hell of a time controlling her expression.
"My cock's hard," I whispered. "But not hard enough. Before they bring dessert, go the the ladies' room and lube the dildo and put it up your ass. Leave it inside and come back." She turned to me, and I expected her to refuse. But her need was written all over her lovely, plain face. She whispered back, "Can I make myself cum? Please?"
I shook my head and smiled. I wondered, as I watched her excuse herself and hurry away, if she'd be able to resist her overwhelming urge. She managed, I guess, because she came back just a couple of minutes later. I could tell by her walk and her face that the fake dick was buried in her guts. She suddenly wasn't hungry for her dessert. Her hands were knotted into fists as she tried to listen to the table talk. Her thighs kept rubbing together in a slow rhythm.
The dinner went on and on. She begged me in faint whispers to help her. She pleaded with me to get her out of there, to take her home, that she was going crazy, that she was so hot she was going to forget where she was and explode, right in public. I refused every request, made her suffer horribly until after ten o'clock.
She bit her lip all the way to the car, whimpering about how her ass was on fire. Once we were on the road, I told her to lift the long dress out from under her and show me her whore's panties and the stub of the dildo. The little red triangle covering her shaven cunt was sopping wet and the end of the fake dick jumped a little with every heartbeat. Despite the darkness she was real scared that somebody'd see her exposing herself on the interstate.
"Turn on the interior light," I told her.
"Ron, please, no."
"Don't give me any shit! Turn it on and use the lipstick, whore! And I want to be able to see every bit of your legs, all the way to your sloppy cunt."
She obeyed, and I was pretty sure she wasn't as reluctant as she acted. The way she was bouncing a little, fucking her ass with the imbedded plastic prick, was a dead give away.
"Now take it out of your ass and use it in your cunt, slut."
I let her turn off the light first and made her count her orgasms out loud, all the way home. She made it to five, and forgot all about where she was. By the time we reached our apartment, she'd unbuttoned the top half of her loose dress and was openly fondling her tits, not giving a damn about being seen or anything but reaching number six.
"Stop, whore. Pull it out right now." I had to slap her face to get her attention, and she whined her frustration. "Now lick it clean. Then we can go inside and get you sleazy again."
The rest of Saturday night and all day Sunday was pretty much a replay of what we'd done Friday. No matter how far I pushed her, she never said no, and she never got enough. Late Sunday night, she cried for an hour when I made her clean herself
up and put everything away in her biggest suitcase. Makeup, clothes, dildos - all of it I locked up in a storage room she didn't have a key to.
"From now on, there'll be no more secret fun, Helen. No more sneaking around and playing slut without me. Got it? No buying whore's clothes without permission. No painting yourself and masurbating - unless I tell you to. Understand?"
She cuddled up beside me and sighed. "I love you, Ron. We're perfect for each other."
I had to agree.
//***//
I have to give Helen credit. She never once broke her promise not to act slutty in secret any more. Maybe that's part because I was so hooked on the game myself that I never let more than a month or so pass without silently handing her the key to
the storeroom. She knew what to do with it.
And it usually happened more than once a month, to tell the truth. It was only the day after I'd locked it all up in the suitcase that I told her I wanted her to go out and buy the nastiest lingerie she could find to wear under her chaste white wedding gown. She called me at work from the mall sounding breathless.
"Oh, honey! Thank you! I found just the perfect things!" Her voice dropped. "Do you want me to tell you about them or would you rather wait and see them for yourself?"
"I'll wait, slut, until after the wedding. Oh. There's one more thing."
"What?" she wondered expectantly.
"Did you finger your cunt in the dressing room?"
I could almost see her blush across the miles. "No. You said -"
"Well, since you're such a hot fucking bitch, you can do it before you take it off."
She sounded choked. "You're sure it's okay?"
"I want you to, whore. I want you to stand in front of the mirror in that little room and fuck yourself with your fingers until you cum. Just once. I want you to be quiet, though. No screaming in the mall."
"Ohhh," she groaned. "Oh, fuck, Ron! That's so nasty."
"You want to, don't you?"
"Oh, God yes! But what if I get caught? What if somebody walks in on me or there's a security camera or something?"
I laughed at her. "You fucking slut. Don't give me that shit. We both know you don't care. Look at what you did at the restaurant Saturday night in front of your own mom and dad, and on the way home. All you care about is getting fucked. So go do it."
"Okay," she whispered meekly.
"Oh. I almost forgot. I want you to buy some white high heels, too. With open toes and about a six inch heel if you can find it."
"I will, even if I have to go everywhere in town."
"Good cunt. See you tonight."
She was sitting in the living room when I got home. Her hands were clamped between her knees and there were boxes on the coffee table.
"Is this what you bought?" I asked.
She nodded nervously.
"Good." I locked it up without peeking. I smiled at her when I got back. "How was it?"
She smiled back, her embarrassment fading as she told me how slutty she felt, how hard she came, how much I was going to love our wedding night.
It was spectacular. The wedding itself went off without a hitch and the reception was okay, too, but we were already thinking about what was coming next and were pretty impatient to get the formal shit out of the way. We escaped a little after eight that evening and lost the handful of cars trying to follow us to our motel.
As soon as the last car's headlights vanished around the corner, I spoke the words I'd been waiting for all night. "Lift your dress, cunt. Let me see your goodies."
She showed me that she'd been waiting for those words, too. She made a hell of a show of it, first sliding her hem slowly up to her knees, then swinging sideways and putting one towering white high heel right square in my lap.
It was the first good look I'd gotten of the new fuck-me pumps and the rose patterned hose. I rubbed the shoe against my swelling prick to let her know how much I liked it so far.
She licked her lips and went on with her tease, slowly opening the ten-thousand little pearl buttons from her neck down. Little by little, her deep cleavage came into view. Finally, real playfully, she showed me her bra. It was strapless and snow white, but really not much more than a pretty platform for her great tits to sit on. And already her nipples were swollen. She glanced nervously out the car windows like she was scared to be seen, but I knew part of the rush was just that risk. It was for me, too.
I gently reached over and lightly circled her nipples with tickling fingers. She was rubbing her fingertips up and down the stockings above her knees and starting to breathe deeply.
"Show me the rest, slut. Show me your hot cunt."
It was hot! The white garters were the perfect frame for her holes. Her panties were barely a white g-string made of lace. Even if she was dry, I could have seen through it and glimpsed the hairless pussy beneath. But, wet as she was, it was almost invisible. Her big pussy lips were flattened and held a little open by the tight fit, and her clit was trying to poke through the lace.
"Do you like it," she murmured. "Does it make you want to fuck me?"
"Yeah. Come over here. Unzip my slacks. Pull my cock out."
She didn't hesitate for an instant.
"That's it, cunt. Jack it for me. Now get it nice and hard with your mouth."
Right there in the car, she gave me a fantastic blow job. I warned her I didn't want to cum in her mouth until she'd painted it, so she held herself back and did more kissing and licking than deep throat.
We were traveling light. The only thing we brought with us was that one special suitcase. We planned to go back and pack what we needed for our honeymoon the next day. I carried her over the threshold and straight to the motel bed. She tried to pull me down on top of her, but I pulled away.
"Take off the dress, bitch. Just the dress. I'll be right back."
She was laying there, a vision of beauty, when I got back. Her fingers were tickling her thighs. Her breasts were heaving with expectation.
I worked the latches on the suitcase and opened it with tantalizing slowness. "I bought you a little something special for tonight, slut. Your own private wedding dress to go with what you're wearing."
I held it up. What there was of it was white. Like her lingerie, there wasn't anything virginal about it. It was a two piece outfit. The skirt was made of tight, stretchy lace and so short it'd leave her garters showing. Everything else would be visible through the gaps. The top was just like it and would leave her belly and almost all her tits naked.
"Put it on, slut-bride."
She quickly slithered into my gift and posed for me as sexily as she could - which was hot enough to fry eggs. It was hard to believe that this was the virgin I'd met less than a year before, the one who'd cried when I popped her cherry only six months ago. She displayed herself like she'd been showing off her tits and cunt in slutty clothes all her life. I double fucked her with the dildos while she made her face match her clothes. By the time she was finished, she'd cum twice and shed every inhibition she owned. She looked and acted like the biggest whore that'd ever lived.
I made her stand in the middle of the room and lick the dildo that'd been buried in her ass clean. I watched her angle her head up and deep throat the twelve inch rubber prick while fucking her slick, naked cunt with its slightly littler brother.
That's when I broke out the camera. "Wedding pictures," I told her, filling the room with the flare of the strobe unit. Fucking for the camera turned her on even more than doing it in front of the mirror did. Her crazed lust surprised even me. I shot close ups of her hooked red nails guiding a dildo, shining with her cum, deep into her completely exposed cunt. She was on her back on the floor, staring between her legs, her searing red
lips wide with joy.
"Give me the other one," she gasped. "I need them both."
I expected her to use the second one on her ass. Instead, she forced it in beside the first, stretching her cunt so wide I was afraid she was going to rip herself open. Her screams were ecstatic, though, not agonized, and I burned a whole roll of film before she shrieked even louder and came so hard she shook the floor.
I gave her a few minutes to recover, helped her onto the bed, and held her close, petting her sweaty hair. She nuzzled in my lap with her eyes closed, her long black lashes brushing her heavily powdered cheeks, her metallic coated lids shimmering in the soft light. Her tender, slick lips nursed on my aching cock like it was as satisfying as her mother's tit. She showed no strain at all as she swallowed my whole ten inches like her
throat was designed to hold a prick. Her cunt pressed against my knee and she humped it slowly. Her lower lips were open, like she was trying to leg my leg inside her. Two inch long red nails lazily dipped in and out of her asshole.
When I filled her mouth and throat with hot cum, she moaned and didn't miss a drop as she sucked me dry and had her own gentle orgasm.
When I eased out from under her, she sighed and gave me a loving look, her hands drifting slowly to her gaping slit to replace my knee. I fetched her lipstick and powder. She repaired her face with luxurious, slow appreciation while I put
the camera on a tripod and focused it. I told her to stuff a pillow under her beautiful ass and ran a soft rope under the bed and pulled her knees wide apart. I added another loop to keep her narrow waist on the mattress. "That should be good enough for now," I told her. She gave me a theatrical pout with her thick, freshly painted lips and rocked sensuously to test my knots.
"Spread you pussy for me, whore. Show me how big and loose it is. Look at the camera. Show me how big a slut you are." Then I started playing with her cunt. Three fingers fit with no trouble at all. I sloshed them around inside her then added my pinky and thumb and snapped a shot of that, too. She was hot as a wildfire, wet as a sea. I was glad I'd tied her waist down, because she was pushing hard into my hand. I fucked it in and out of her, and she was urging me on in the crudest possible terms all the while.
Without warning, I forced my knuckles past her resistance. Very slowly, like she was swallowing it, my whole hand slipped inside her. I fired off three quick flashes, freezing her agonized expression for all time, as I buried myself in her to the wrist. She was making garbled, tortured noises and thrashing her head wildly from side to side.
Then I started making fucking motions, stretching her insides as much as her outer lips. It took only two or three thrusts before I managed to get in so deep that I bottomed out against her cervix. When I touched it, she came. I felt the rhythmic contractions of her cunt walls ripple down my forearm, watched her face change from pain to bliss, felt her wrists wrap around my elbow and she tried to pull me even deeper. I got that on film, too.
Then, I made a fist of my hand and kept fucking her. She was shouting every obscenity she knew, screaming at the top of her lungs what a cheap, nasty slut she was, how much she loved what I was doing to her, that she was cumming non-stop now and never wanted it to end. I kept pumping her and snapping off flashes until my arm got tired. By then, she'd gone incoherent again, was just making grunts and growls. When I was through, I eased out of her and I finished the roll of film on her gaping, gushing cunt.
She was bathed in sweat. She'd chewed her lower lip until it bled a little.
"Fix your face, whore."
I slid my huge erection into her, marvelling at how loose she was, and stared down at her unevenly made up, slutty face. Her hands were clawing at my back. Luckily, I still had my wedding shirt on or she'd have made ribbons of my skin. I slammed into her as hard as I could, telling her how much I loved her when she was like this, all loose and wet and sleazy. Her cunt was slimy with her cum, and it slopped easily past my prick while I rode her hard.
It was a long night, and I'm afraid the people in the rooms to either side of us didn't get much more sleep than we did. Between her screams and my shouts, we'd have woke up the dead. Before the night was over, she'd tried on all the slutty stuff we owned and made herself up more times than I can count. And that was only the start of our week long honeymoon.
Helen and I've been married almost two years now. On the outside, we're just as middle-of-the-road as ever. To look at us, you'd think we were just an above-average looking couple still as deeply in love as two people can be. And we are the last part. But behind closed doors, we aren't anything like what you'd expect.
Original title: Acting Out / Slightly edited by me
Lauryn
- 18.09.2020
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