The Gavin McClain Stories 3: Erica's Big Day - Chapter 3: One Flesh free porn video

It's the evening of Erica's wedding day and while her husband entertains guests downstairs, she must meet with her ex-boss Gavin to meet his bastard blackmailing demands.

Erica stood on her own in the broad corridor, checking fearfully in case she might be seen, by whom she was not sure. Then the other elevator doors drew apart and Gavin’s imposing form was looming over her, his petite helper standing innocently by his side. The fragrance of his Givenchy Pi Neo drifted over her and she recalled his arrival that morning, that momentary pang in her parents’ hallway. She recognised it now as one of regret—that she had never been taken by this man, never been alone and naked with him in a moment of utter surrender. Well now she was about to get what she thought she’d missed. Not that they’d be quite alone ...

“Take us to your suite,” Gavin instructed. “We’ve got limited time and I don’t intend to waste a minute.” She gulped at the words and her pussy responded as it had done the night she promised her body to him and her heart to Stephen.

She moved urgently, the skirts of her dress filling up the brightly-lit passageway as she progressed, plastic card clutched sweatily in her hand. Gavin and Clementine matched her pace. “It’s fine—the staff here are very discreet; they won’t ask questions if they see us,” her ex-boss assured her as they arrived at the Infinity Suite and she fumbled to fit the card in the slot.

“I know your … friend is here to help,” she said tersely as she jabbed at the lock mechanism, “but can’t we do this alone? You know, the main part of it?”

“Clementine has a multi-functional role,” Gavin informed her, as she finally succeeded in accessing the room. “She’ll be leading a short ceremony, won’t you, sweetheart?”

Ceremony? What the hell …

“Yes, I’ll make myself very useful,” Clementine assured Erica as they followed her inside. “But if you want some special time alone with Gavin, I’ll totally understand.”

The younger girl was already gazing around at the lavishly-furnished Infinity Suite, as Gavin toyed with the room’s lighting system. Erica too had the first sight of her bridal boudoir, outside of the hotel’s on-line brochure. In other circumstances she would have pored in enchantment over the living-room’s vast space, with its cream and ivory décor, its dark maple furnishings strewn with vases of thick-bunched dark-red roses. Right now Clementine was doing that in her place. Gavin had already locked the door and was operating the curtains so that they glided smoothly around the great curve of the room’s far wall, shutting out the London night-lights. Erica could only wrestle down her mounting anxiety as the event unfolded.

“Stephen’s provided you with quite the magnificent backdrop,” Gavin observed, Clementine gasping her agreement. “Unfortunately I won’t have the luxury of appreciating it fully. We need to move things along. Clementine, do you have the vows?”

The young blonde was already withdrawing two gilt-edged cards from her hefty shoulder-bag. “Right here. It’s okay, I know my part.”

Erica had been shocked so many times today her dread was giving way to indignation. “Vows? What the hell is this, Gavin?”

“Hush.” He planted a finger lightly on her lips. The quiet command of his one syllable disempowered her utterly, reminding her how completely she was ensnared by this domineering man. “For one short hour you’re mine completely,” he told her, drawing away his finger. “You’ll do everything I say without question, if you’re a smart girl. Do we have an understanding?”

Stephen Laughton’s bride stared into the calm, hard face of the man who owned her. There were no cards to play, no reason left to panic. She was at his mercy and she knew now beyond doubt that he would show her none. He would take the bride however he pleased, completing his corruption of her day, and she would submit. Within herself she might try and cling to some form of loyalty, but outwardly she knew to whom she belonged. Maybe it was a fitting punishment. She nodded and let Gavin take both her hands—and it began.

“We are gathered here,” Clementine began, standing between them and speaking her lines like a precocious student in a school play, “to witness the first sexual union of the newly-married Mrs Erica Laughton, with her prospective debaucher Mr Gavin McClain. We are here to fully enjoy their coupling and to encourage them by our presence in their erotic activities. I wrote this part myself, it’s kind of the royal ‘we’,” she added delightedly to Erica, before turning to the ‘prospective debaucher’. “Mr McClain, would you like to read your vows first?” She handed him one of the cards and, having briefly referred to it, he began, staring into Erica’s helplessly mesmerised eyes the whole time.

“I, Gavin Drummond McClain, take you, Erica Louise Laughton, to be my sexual slave for this next hour. I will enjoy your body relentlessly and will endeavour to make you forget your wedding day as you surrender to adulterous orgasm, even in this sanctum of your marital love.”

Erica was stunned by the quiet conviction with which he uttered the words. She recalled his promise to her that morning as she had hung limp and molested in his arms and recognised the challenge ahead, one to which she must surely rise. As long as she did not climax, as long as she resisted the thrill that was bubbling up in her stomach, he would not have her totally. She would not lose herself. There would be something left for Stephen.

“And now you, Mrs Laughton?” Clementine passed her the other card. She sought for resolve, sought to rise above whatever she might be made to do. This was simply a task. She was mouthing someone else’s words, their fantasy. It meant nothing. As she scanned the elegantly-printed script and read it out, however, she trembled.

“I, Erica Louise Laughton, give my body over to your pleasure, Gavin Drummond McClain, for this next hour. I will submit myself to your hands, your mouth and your … your cock and will do all in my power to prove myself a … a good and willing f … fuck-slut.” She could not meet Gavin’s eyes.

Clementine retrieved the cards, clearly pleased with the proceedings thus far. Her voice, as she concluded, held all the sweetness of a true romantic. “I declare you Defiler and Defilee. What we have brought together, let no one put asunder for the duration of this hour. Gavin, you may now fuck the Bride.”

“Oh I will,” he replied, and his normally restrained demeanour burned with intent so fierce that she simply had to look at him. “I’ve been saving myself for her.”

There was a moment’s exquisite, excruciating tension. Clementine’s gaze scarcely mattered to Erica now. The fingers of her right hand lingered softly in Gavin’s grip. Her nipples, she realised, were swelling against her corset and her loins tingled as though the egg was still in place. She opened her mouth to voice some statement of defiance, some avowal of her love for Stephen, but before she could make a sound, he was on her.

Gavin’s powerful hands seized Erica’s corseted waist and his lips descended to her neck, claiming the sweet-spot he had discovered that morning, the one which made her knees buckle and her pussy melt. She sucked in a great gasp of air, as heat from his mouth rushed over the entire surface of her body. He pulled her tight to him. She could feel the tension throughout his tuxedoed frame, and knew that the layers of her dress were cushioning that great rigid slab she had encountered earlier. Her breasts were heaving against the tight bodice of her dress, like they were trying to burst free, nipples pumped so hard it was painful.

As his tongue traced the same route to her ear it had tested before and his teeth bit on the lobe, her head went light. She hung limply in his grasp like a cliché in a historical romance, weak from the day’s demands, her body giving itself up to his lustful onslaught. Stephen’s face was hovering vaguely in her consciousness, but as Gavin’s tongue writhed in her ear all was being blotted from her mind other than one treacherous thought: this is how a bride should be taken on her wedding night.

Erica rebelled instantly against the notion, but then Gavin’s mouth was on hers, his tongue thrusting inside, tasting of menthol and cabernet sauvignon. His hand slid up the laced back of her dress to clutch her head as their mouths locked. She tried not to respond, but was being overwhelmed from within as well as without. She felt welded at the lips to Gavin, the muscle of his tongue invading and conquering her in prelude to that other imminent invasion. He broke from her and his lips curled into a savage smile as he registered the look on her panting face.

She was hopelessly revealed before him.

“You want this,” he said with quiet satisfaction. “More than that, you need it.” He cradled her jaw in one hand, slipping his thumb between her lips. She felt its pressure on her tongue as he stared into her eyes. “My beautiful bride,” he said softly. “You’re so ready.”

He bent down, wrapping one arm around her back and scooping the other beneath her ankles, below the folds of her skirts. Then he lifted her voluptuous five foot eight off the floor with ease. She cried out in surprise, linking her hands involuntarily around his neck as he raised her. Clementine was already opening the door to the master bedroom, so that he could carry his bride smoothly over the threshold, her veil draping behind her; Erica glimpsed the girl’s excited smile as they passed inside.

Gavin set Erica down next to the room’s king-size centrepiece. Clementine had already brought the room’s lighting up to a warm glow, throwing its rich dark colours and textures into relief. Then Gavin was turning her around and pushing her onto the end of the four-poster bed, its drapes all roped back to expose the expansive linen surface. Erica had an image of pristine sheets folded back over a gold-embossed bed-cover, red and white rose petals scattered in preparation for the happy couple. The scene for her perfect first evening with the knight who had claimed her heart, only now the story’s villain was going to have her here instead. So wrong, so vile. And yet as the side of her face was pressed firmly down into the centre of the bed, her chief emotion was heart-thumping excitement.

“Stay there. Don’t move.” Gavin’s instructions were hard and simple. Then to Clementine he said, “Okay, help me out.”

Erica gasped once more as the full satin folds of wedding skirts were lifted and piled about her waist; the conditioned air in the suite was cool against her suddenly exposed flanks. The legs and buttocks she had worked so hard to tighten and sculpt for Stephen’s delight were stretched taut over the bed, so that Gavin could gaze on them instead in all their lingerie-clad glory. He slipped the tuxedo jacket from his shoulders and threw it casually onto a chair, then ripped his bow-tie loose, before pinning her skirts against the small of her back with one hand and commencing to tear at his bulging trouser flies with the other.

Then he paused. “I wonder would that mirror move?” He strode on impulse to the other side of the room. She heard the sound of some heavy piece of furniture being shifted from wall brackets. “Yes,” he mused, “I think the bride should have a good view.” The mirror was heaved into place before her, one more reminder to the bride that on hers and Stephen’s wedding day, she was being mastered by someone else. And still she couldn’t quell the thrill in her belly, the relentless moistening of her loins, as in the periphery of her vision that great cock sprang free. Damn—it really was as huge and angry as she remembered from the morning.

Clementine’s soft hands began to unhook the straps from her suspender-belt, the girl waxing poetic as she busied herself, sampling the smoothness of the bride’s hips with her palms. Even this sent a frisson of excitement to the peaks of Erica’s breasts. “That’s it, babe, let me undo everything and take off these pretty silk panties. God, you’ve got them wet today, haven’t you? Poor darling.”

The sodden fabric was tugged free of Erica’s ass and drawn smoothly down over her thighs, suspender-straps now dangling from the tops of her stockings. “Step out, darling,” Clementine said sweetly as they reached her ankles. She slipped her pump-shod feet free of the garment, so that the little blonde could pass it to Gavin. He relinquished his hold on her and moved behind, letting Clementine take possession of the skirts and keep them hoisted free of her naked ass.

She could raise her head now and look into the great ornate mirror, and somehow she had to—at the beautiful forlorn bride with mascara running and tresses of hair pulled awry, prone on the marital mattress with a ruthless debaucher readying himself behind her. His shirt was ripped partway open and his trousers were around his thighs, that huge weapon barely disguised by her bunched dress. Elsewhere in that same building Erica’s friends and family were drinking and dancing in here honour, her husband downing celebratory pints with his friends, while here on the bridal bed she was about to get fucked by another man.

And never in her life had she been so insanely aroused.

Gavin was gazing at her in the reflection, letting her see him press the silk knickers to his face and inhale her musk. “God you smell good,” he said. Then as if they had served to whet his appetite he threw them onto the bed beside her, dropped to his knees and claimed her ass with both hands.

She cried aloud as he pulled her buttocks apart and buried his face between them, driving his tongue into her already wet slit. He kissed and lapped and made fierce oral love to her cunt, making her wetter still. She writhed and moaned like a heroine in direst peril as he devoured her, slathering his tongue from her pussy and diving into her tight, shocked anus, the first man ever to do so. He wriggled and probed his tongue inside her puckered hole, chiefly to draw out and enjoy her shocked response—she was sure of it. Then he returned with relish to her pussy and feasted there some more, tongue lashing back and forth furiously, hands massaging deep into the muscles of her ass. God, the bastard knew from her every moan that she could not help loving it.

Gavin emerged from the depths, his face wet with her juices. He leaned over and kissed Clementine, allowing the elfin girl to sample Erica briefly on his tongue. The bride was too suffused with panic and desire even to care. There was a brief flash of that great erect pole bobbing up from beneath Gavin’s shirt-tails and she knew what was next; she watched him reach down so he could fit himself to her, then felt the dome of his cock search out the slick opening which his tongue had made ooze. He pushed and the massive head split her lips, causing her to gasp in erotic trepidation. The first of Gavin McClain had entered her, the rest of those inches cued up for the big push into her tiny-seeming hole. Escort Clementine might be used to such dimensions—Erica was not. Her fingers clawed into the bedspread and her whole body braced, fearful but wanting.

“Keep looking, Erica,” Gavin said with grim exuberance, and one hand came to rest firmly in the small of her back. “It’s only right I fuck the bride in her dress, right? At least to begin with.”

Oh god, get on with it, you bastard, fucking do me!

He thrust, burying at least half of his cock-length inside her, letting her feel his substance as it opened her cunt wide. She yelled out in response to his massiveness inside her, yet was surprised—relieved? disappointed maybe?—that he had not plunged in further, not driven as far as he could go. Then he withdrew and began a slow piston in and out, probing deeper on each stroke, testing her wetness, her preparedness. She ached at having cock—his stiff, unlawful cock which had no business to be there—gliding easily against the tight-stretched walls of her cunt. Coupled with the enjoyment all over Gavin’s handsome face it was unbearably, cruelly sexy.

She stared, breath bated, hands clenching fistfuls of linen, as Gavin sped up, fucking harder, deeper … Then satisfied all was ready, he pulled out almost to the tip, pausing to let her know what was on the way.

He rammed hard, burying most of himself inside her. She could see the look on her own face as her cunt was crammed with more cock than it had ever taken before. Her eyes were staring wildly, her mouth a wide-stretched scarlet O, her whole face a testament to being penetrated so deep and stretched so wide. As for Gavin’s face, that was a picture of the most profound pleasure. His delight in being thrust so far inside the bleating bride was etched all over his stony features. He retreated, gripped her sides with both hands and drove deep, sinking himself utterly inside her, so that his quadricep muscles impacted hard against her ass. She wailed in helpless ecstasy as her tight pussy took all of him, every other thought erased by the sheer sense of being expanded and filled by this ruthless bastard.

“Oh god, that’s it,” Gavin’s voice grated, as he slammed hearty strokes into her, his groin whacking against her now on each deep-delving thrust. “That’s it, Erica, take it. Take it all.”

Amazingly she found that she could. Her body was opening up to the severest probing of his cock, accepting it fully, welcoming it, however wrong she knew this to be. Now that he had opened her up fully he abandoned all pretence of tenderness. His assault on her pussy was sustained and hearty; when she glanced up again she could see him staring downwards at the repeated collision-point of their sexes, gauging whether or not he was fully delivering on his promise of the morning.

“What do you think, Clem?” he asked his young associate through clenched teeth. “Is this a fuck worthy of the occasion?”

“Yes, baby, it’s perfect …” There was an ache in Clementine’s voice. The girl was gazing in awe on Gavin’s penetration of Erica, clutching the dress with one hand and stroking the bride’s thigh with the other. Her face seemed to register what Erica was feeling—sheer astonishment that this pussy was swallowing up Gavin’s cock so completely on every stroke of his protracted shafting. There was something bizarrely hot, Erica found, about the petite escort’s enjoyment of the fuck. It was still nothing more than dressing, however, to her ravishment by this gorgeous despicable man. That and the scary truth that she did not want it to end.

Eventually Gavin pulled all the way out, leaving the bride squashed and empty on the bed as he ripped the shirt from his broad torso. “Right, strip her out of the dress,” he ordered Clementine. “I want to get close up.”

The words made Erica shudder with anticipation. Her already well-pounded cunt throbbed with expectation of more. Gavin’s aide jumped to her task with glee, unhooking the bride at the nape of her neck and unlacing downwards. As she was undressed, Erica could see Gavin stripping off the last of his wedding gear, his lightly-haired athlete’s chest, his superbly developed ass and legs all enhancement to the focal point of that mighty thrusting prick. So wrong, so screwed-up, for evil to be this gorgeous. Naked, the man was spectacular.

“There—up you get, let me help you out of this, make sure it doesn’t get spoiled,” Clementine was saying, her voice breathy with arousal. She drew the unsteady Erica to her feet and helped her climb free of the skirts, till the bride stood in her veil and the last of her scant lingerie. Gavin’s eyes roamed all over Erica’s trembling beauty.

“Clementine …” he said, without diverting his gaze, “I hate to spoil your enjoyment, but would give us some time alone? I don’t want any further distraction for our bride.”

“Yes, I understand,” she said, her chirpiness betraying a hint of disappointment. “I could go run the bath for after, if you like.”

“Good idea.” Erica was vaguely aware of the girl skipping off to the en suite.

“Come here,” Gavin said once they were alone, and he gave her no choice had she wanted one. He pulled her roughly to him and spun her around, so the clasp at the back of her corseted brassiere could be wrenched open. Then he turned her back again like she was a mannequin and, seizing the garment from the front, ripped it off her tits so that they bounced freely before him.

She was already gasping in renewed excitement when he grasped both her full orbs and squeezed them, accentuating the swollen peaks. He sucked briefly and hard on each nipple in turn, forcing ecstatic whimpers from her throat. Then he grabbed her to himself and kissed her fiercely. It caught her off-guard and something instinctual within her responded; she kissed back and found her tongue inside Gavin’s mouth before she knew what she was doing. He released her from the embrace and she stared into his amused face, guilt and confusion pricking her own visage.

“Erica,” he said, mockery in his voice, “stop trying to deny you’re enjoying this.” She made to protest, but could find no words; she was too much aware of the trickle from her throbbing pussy. “On your knees,” he ordered abruptly, and she found herself propelled to the carpet so that Gavin’s marble-sculpted cock towered before her. “Now suck, like we both know you enjoy.”

There was no point in being coy, or even in fighting her own desire, so she seized the huge man-length, levered it down and gobbled up the head. It filled her mouth—she had never had to stretch her lips so wide to accommodate a dick—but she devoted herself to the task, got around all that hard velvety man-meat and sucked. She was slurping up the flavour of her own cunt as it suffused her nostrils and her taste-buds, glutting herself on Gavin McClain’s pulsing prick, working harder as he groaned his approval. She wrapped her fingers as far round the base as they would go and wanked him briskly while sucking—not because she was a slut or a cheating whore, not because she wanted this huge throbbing delicious cock in her mouth, but because it served her to. Yes, that was why. That was all. Give him what he wants and get this done. Get back to my new …

That thought was far too troublesome, so she simply went on fellating. She sucked and licked till she had washed the great standing pillar completely and drawn grating moans from Gavin which belied all his suaveness. The blow-job of her life, delivered on the day she married. Just not to her husband.

“That’s it, Erica,” Gavin said, raising her easily up from the floor. His eyes were fierce with lust, but amusement still flickered on his lips. “You’re getting the idea. Love, honour and obey my cock.” She balked at the wedding-day profanity, but he shoved her in reverse before she could respond, so that she fell bouncing onto the bridal bed, veil laid out behind her like a shimmering fan. He was on top of her in an instant, wrenching apart her white-stockinged legs and pressing his rampant spear to her wide-spread entrance.

“Come on, Erica, tell me you don’t want this. Tell me like you mean it.” She knew now that it was not enough for this man to blackmail and fuck the girl who had given herself to another, not even enough to do it on her wedding night. He meant to draw out her wild, sweating enjoyment as he debauched her on the bridal bed. And as he held her stare and read her face, she knew with a failing heart that she could not even deny him that much. Words failed her.

He thrust, plunging himself inside her to the balls, making her scream as he filled her up completely with his hard manhood. “Fuck yes, get your legs around me, open up to it, that’s my good girl,” he said through tight-set lips, as he surged in and out, making her feel every stroke. She wrapped her legs around his buttocks and took his mighty fucking, moaning and squealing as he clutched her back and pressed his pectoral muscles tight to her cushioning breasts. His sweating, impassioned face almost brushed hers as his driving pelvis worked her cunt.

He slowed inside her, halted and then rolled over onto his back, taking her screaming with him so that she ended up astride his loins, still impaled. “Ride me, Erica. Go on, ride my cock. Show me you know how to fuck.”

There was momentum now—the momentum of a lust so strong it blew all else to hell. She clutched his chest, pumping herself lustily up and down on him—flowers in her hair and bridal veil flowing all down her back, while her perfect naked tits oscillated before his gaze. She knew what a sinful delight she must appear to him and the thought made her crazily hot.

“That’s it,” Gavin snarled, arrogance fusing with passion on his grimly handsome face. “Go on, harder.” He gripped her jaw with one hand and slapped her breast firmly with the other, making it smart. She fucked more vigorously, wondering how she could hate this man yet love his cock inside her on the day she married someone else. He slapped again on the same quivering globed surface and tugged hard on her nipple. That morning the pain would have stunned her; now it only served to fuel her desire, made her fuck harder, working up friction on Gavin’s shaft. Her pussy clutched and massaged his dick and she realised that she had never fucked Stephen like this, had never felt such impetus. There was a swell of shame within her, but she ignored it and kept pumping.

“Keep at it,” Gavin said fervently, “that’s it, Mrs Laughton, show me what that cunt’s for.”

“Don’t call me that!” she raged, and she slammed herself hard, frantically, onto his pole, manicured nails digging into his flesh. “Don’t fucking call me that!” He responded by clapping both hands to her waist and driving his pelvis in a hard spearing barrage. “Oh my god … Oh my god …” she screamed out, her tits mashing against his chest and her clitoris against his pubic bone as he screwed her to the depths. She was suddenly scarily close to coming.

“Yes, Erica, this is what I want, this is what we both fucking want …”

He relented suddenly and they stared into each other’s charged face, united and panting in the thrill of sex. Erica was only just registering how much she had given away, only vaguely aware of her original orgasm-avoidance plan, when Gavin grabbed her ass and prised himself off the bed still supporting her. She wrapped her limbs around him in panic and found herself being carried across the room, still sunk down to the root of his cock. It seemed he was eager to have her all over the suite, for he deposited her bum on the edge of a dresser, brushed the veil away so it spilled prettily all about her and instantly recommenced the shafting.

Erica’s thighs were splayed wide, her hands clutching her lover’s muscular torso, as he gripped her ass and flung into her the fuck of her life. Her cunt took him all and craved it to continue. All pretence had been stripped away. If her family and groom had poured into the room at that moment, she could scarcely have reigned in her enjoyment. His meanness, his game-playing, all were incidental. None of it mattered now in the light of this outpouring, this dam-burst of primal lust from behind that calm, svelte exterior. She was glad to be the focal point of this man’s desire, the object of this fabulous screwing. The cruel thing was that he had not done it a week before her wedding.

“Rub your clit,” Gavin told her as he continued his rigorous pumping. “Rub you clit, Erica. I want to see you come.”

Every instinct sent one hand searching for that hot protrusion of lust, but some final vestige of pride made her pause. “No … No Gavin, please, I can’t …” She had sworn to herself as she went in that she would not show this type of weakness and now shame burned within her.

“Touch yourself,” he said, slowing the pace of his strokes. “You want to. And I want to watch your face as you come all over my cock.”

“No, no I can’t …”

“Why not?”

“It’s … It’s …”—her final breathy plea, wrung from whatever sense remained of right and wrong—“… my wedding day.”

“Fuck all that.” Gavin’s response in her ear was quiet and hard. His lips found her neck’s hot-spot again and his cock sped up inside her. “Fuck the church … and the flowers … and the speeches. Fuck all the promises before God.” Blasphemous words, punctuated by kisses to her neck, her face, her mouth. “This is all you care about—my cock in your cunt. Right here, right now. Fucking you long and deep and hard like you need.” One hand gripped her jaw, strong but restrained. His lips hovered against hers as he spoke. “Show me, Erica. Come for me. Come like you’ve never come before.”

She abandoned all restraint, all shame and all hope. Her hand dropped to her wet pulsing button and rubbed it desperately, as Gavin surged in and out of her with renewed vigour. He grabbed her asscheeks hard again and plundered her with his cock—something Stephen had never really done, not like this. Not so hard and fevered and unrelenting …

“That’s it, Erica, that’s it, let it all out. Let me hear you.” Her fingers went frantic on her clitoris as he crushed her to him, his cock savaging her beautifully.

“Oh god… Oh god …” It mounted up within her like the onset of a joy she wished would obliterate all else—the hotel, the guests, the groom … With her flowers still in her hair and her lucky pearls still about her and the last of her silky lingerie clinging to her body. So wrong, so wicked, so wildly enthrallingly sexy. Here comes the bride …

Erica’s whole body exploded into rapturous orgasm. She could hear her own full-throated screams filling the bridal suite, as her cunt spasmed hard all around Gavin’s deep-driving cock and every inch of her flesh shuddered with delight. He surged even more furiously inside her as she clung to him, his cock the bone-hard centre of her climactic fire.

“Ohhh yes, that’s it,” his voice grated. “That’s it, my whore-bride, my beautiful fucking slut.” He pulled out of her and wrenched her tight-gripped hands off him so that she fell backwards, flailing about for support. The excitement was still pumping through her thrashing body as he grabbed his pulsing cock and jacked it hard, shooting great pearly jets of cum high over her. She could hear his rage of pleasure, feel his essence splattering hot and thick on her tits and stomach as her ecstasy subsided and she drooped back limp on the dresser.

It was some panting moments before Erica had any clear awareness of her surroundings and situation. She found herself lying on the dark-polished dresser among her own crushed veil, crystal ornaments scattered around and semen running down her breasts to pool copiously on her sternum. Her first instincts on regaining her rational mind were of self-preservation. She was wriggling on the smooth surface to peel the suspender-belt away from her tummy before it got soiled any further with cum. Then she began sliding it along with her stocking from off her legs.

“I’d help out,” Gavin explained, his semi-stiff cock still leaking spunk, “but my hands are a bit sticky. Clem, you there?”

The blonde minx had been listening proactively at the bathroom door—that much was obvious—for she walked out on cue, naked and flushed, her face mirroring at least some of Erica’s delirium. “God yes, I’m here,” she said, bringing her lithe young form over to the adulterous couple, flushed and excited to be nude with them. “I couldn’t help myself, I had to get off to the sound of you two. I hope you don’t mind. You were so amazingly hot together. Wait, Erica, let me help you with that.”

Erica was too hazy to do anything other than let Clementine tug her remaining garments away from her legs. The veil and floral band were then unclipped from her hair and the jewellery removed right down to her slim wristwatch, leaving her totally naked. She slid herself off the dresser and looked about, trying to be practical, to assess her current situation. “Is that … Is that it, Gavin? You done with me now? I need to get back …” Urgency was returning as her head cleared.

“That’s all,” he replied, his calm restored. “It’s time to clean up now.”

“I’ll see to that,” Clementine said. “Gavin first.” She was already on her knees before him, sucking his wilting cock clean of its final spendings, lavishing her willing tongue all over him. Erica didn’t wait to watch—she took her sperm-plastered self to the bathroom. She had no desire to see another mouth around the organ which had fucked her so sensationally.

Water was bubbling up from the bowels of the room’s huge chromotherapy bath and a sequence of lighting effects—blue, green, amber and soft red—were radiating through the surge, bathing the whole place in an ever-changing ambient glow. “Think of how you’ll be able to relax in this later,” Clementine said, catching up with her. “I know we haven’t got time now. Slip into it and let me wash you down.” Erica might have protested, but saw that Gavin was already taking the shower, so she allowed herself to be led, dazed and panicking, into the spa bath by her similarly naked helper and guided down into its gently surging waters. After all else that had happened, their nude proximity did not seem a huge deal.

“I’ve got to get back, they might come looking,” she fretted. Clementine was already reaching out and calmly sponging semen from her breasts.

“I checked my phone,” Gavin called, above the rush of shower-water. “Everything’s fine. I think your bridesmaid has everything under control.”

Scott or the photographer or Eloise … One of Gavin’s accomplices was keeping him informed, Erica thought numbly as she was washed clean. Clementine led her dripping from the huge marble tub. It seemed the petite assistant had everything pre-planned and Erica felt it best to follow her lead. Clementine even had her own towels with which to dry them both. She had not seen the girl bring them in and wondered vaguely from where they had come. “There, babe,” the dainty escort was saying, patting her way around Erica’s curves. “I’ll get you all sorted and then tidy up.”

Gavin dried himself off next to them, silent and satisfied, and together they all returned to the bedroom. Erica had only got so far as sliding herself back into her lingerie by the time Gavin was dressed and re-knotting his bowtie.

“I’ll see myself out,” he told her, as Clementine set out her cosmetics and hair tongs, but before he left he revealed an enveloped DVD from his inside pocket and handed it to her. “You’ll be wanting to take good care of this.” He answered her question before it left her lips. “And no, you don’t know that I haven’t got another copy, but honestly, Erica, I have no great desire to see you publicly shamed. I simply wanted what you promised me. And to give you something to think about every time you fuck your husband.” She bridled at the words, but he stifled any spoken response with a kiss to her lips. “Goodnight, Mrs Laughton. It’s been a great pleasure. Clementine will help you with the rest. Oh, let me re-hang the mirror.” He did it easily and then was gone, without another word or glance.

Clementine completed the salvage job efficiently, darting about in her skimpy underwear with her breasts bouncing as she cleansed Erica’s messed-up visage and reapplied the wedding-face of that morning. She was swift with her curling tongs and hairspray, chatting amicably as she brought the bride’s coiffure back up to spec. “You’re lucky, really. I’ve fucked a lot of guys and Gavin is—well, you don’t need me to tell you now. Nothing’s quite the same after. It’s not only how beautiful his cock is, it’s—god—everything. The way he grips you, that look in his eyes, the way he … possesses you. You know what I mean, right? You’ll never forget how your pussy felt, how you felt. I’m glad you got to experience him once before you settle down with your husband. Stephen seems really nice …”

Erica did her best to dismiss Clementine’s stream-of-consciousness. She gave her beautician a few minutes’ start before taking the elevator back to the lobby, transformed now from the just-fucked slut to her original bridal glory. The suite now looked like it had never been used, down to the last petal on the bed-cover. Gavin’s escort-date had completed an impressive clean-up operation.

Helen had been on look-out and came rushing over as soon as Erica stepped into reception. “Everything’s okay,” she assured the bride. “I managed to keep your mum under control and Stephen has been charming all the guests. I kept popping back in, saying you were outside with me taking some air, introducing her to people I knew would keep her talking. How are you? Was it awful?” She looked deeply concerned.

“It was … Look, I’m okay. It’s over. We’ll talk another time.” Erica’s furiously-fucked pussy was throbbing. She could still sense Gavin’s hands all over her. “I need to go and make amends. Would you take these?” She had reached into her purse and handed over to Helen two items. “Can you return the key card when I’m with Stephen and my parents? It might look suspicious that I’ve got it. And get rid of the other thing. I think … I hope it’s the only copy. Destroy it, okay?”

Helen laid a consoling hand on the bride’s wrist. “Poor darling. You’ve done really well. I’ll take care of it, you can trust me. Try and put it all out of your mind now. Anything else that needs dealing with, we’ll do it later.”

Erica felt weepy once more. “You’ve been such a good friend, Helen, and such a good bridesmaid. I don’t know how to thank you.”

“Forget it.” Helen smiled sympathetically. “What’s a chief bridesmaid for? Look, go find your husband.”

Erica had to field outbursts of concern from her mother, Camille and Kate, before she could make it to Stephen, but insisted that she was fine. “Please mum, don’t fuss. It’s been a long day, that’s all.”

“Oh …” Jane Greendale seemed keen to pass something on. “I was speaking to the charming Gavin. He and his friend had to leave, but he asked me tell you what a wonderful day he had, and to wish you every happiness. Wasn’t that nice?”

“Yes, mum, yes, that was very nice. I’d better find Stephen.”

Of her other tormentors there was no sign and truth be told she scarcely cared anymore. Her groom wrapped his arms around her and professed that he wouldn’t let her out of his sight so long again till the honeymoon was over. “I was about to come looking, but Helen insisted you needed a breather. You were gone over an hour, is everything okay?”

“Fine,” she said wearily, head swimming with guilt as she hugged him back. “Everything’s fine.” She wondered miserably if it really was, on any level. In the Grand Ballroom several hundred people were still dancing enthusiastically in her honour. The giant video screen was happily blank. Stephen led her to the dance area once more and she let him, but as the adrenalin of her illicit encounter ebbed, she felt truly exhausted.

She hung limply against her husband as they slow-danced to the Righteous Brothers’ Unchained Melody and wondered if the sweet, romantic man within her arms would ever fuck her half as hard, half as recklessly as Gavin had done. What a terrible thought, as bad a betrayal as the one in the honeymoon suite. But how could she not remember that great hard body against hers, those controlling hands and that skilful mouth, not to mention that selfish ravishing cock …?

Stephen whispered in her ear, as they swayed together. “After this, what say we make our excuses and go to bed?”

Their bridal bed … Seclusion from the massed dancers and drinkers would be wonderful, but she dreaded to be alone with her husband at the scene of her crime. She held Stephen closer and thought of the serviceable love he would make to her, imagining what noises she would make in response to pass herself. To love one man and dream of another’s cock … Had ever a bride been as wretched as the new Mrs Erica Laughton?

“I still feel really headachy, can’t make it go away,” she said, her voice full of apology.

The movement of his body slowed and she could sense his disappointment. Then he drew her closer and kissed her cheek softly. “It’s okay sweetheart. Why don’t we relax tonight? I’ll give you a massage and we can laze in that huge bath for a while. We’ll have all the time we need in Belize. Belize and beyond.”

Erica held him, tearing up. “Thanks darling. Thank you so much.” He couldn’t know all the reasons for her gratitude. She clung mournfully to her cuckolded husband and danced away the last of her big day.

Epilogue: Fiends Reunited

They watched it all on her TV screen, seated together on the floor with a bottle of pinot noir.

“God, Gavin, you fucked the hell out of that girl,” she commented, on viewing the hapless bride being skewered from above on the bed. “I might get jealous. Why didn’t you tell me you were going to record it?”

“I wasn’t sure I could pull it off,” he told her, sipping from his glass. The relish on his face was not due solely to the wine. “Didn’t want to build up your hopes and then disappoint.”

“You had your crack team at work, did you?”

“Yes. Clementine sucked off a bellboy to gain access to the room and Alan and Scott did a very swift job of fitting the spy cameras. Clem had to repeat the same manoeuvre today to retrieve them.”

“She’s a game little tart, I’ll give her that,” she said, grinning with appreciation at his ingenuity. “Thank you for thinking of me. Now I have the Erica box-set.”

“Scott was thinking of doing another edit—maybe swapping back and forth between her vows in the church and her performance in the bridal suite here. ‘I take thee Stephen’—cut to rampant cock-sucking.”

“I fucking love it. Can I have a copy?”

“If you like, I trust you’re not going to get up to mischief with them,” he said idly, casting a casual eye over his on-screen pounding of the bride. “She’ll blame it on me if any of this goes public.”

“Like you give a shit.” She considered his words for a moment. “No, I think I’ve made Erica suffer enough for now. And it’ll be enough fun seeing how much she squirms when I bring up the subject of her wedding day. I’ll get her drunk and insist she tell me it all. I can hold the disc in reserve in case she annoys me again. God, look how excited she’s getting, Stephen’s going to have a hard time satisfying her after this.”

“I almost feel sorry for the bastard,” he said. “No, that’s insincere. I was thinking of flying out to Belize with this disc and give her a good seeing-to on her honeymoon as well. But …”

“Really?” She seemed surprised. “Why don’t you let Scott and Alan do that instead? I’m sure they’re gagging for a turn at her.”

“No.” He was firm on the point. “I like to share with my friends as much as the next man, but this was between me and Erica. They’ve agreed not to use their copies nefariously and I’d ask the same of you.”

She stared at him. “Oh come on, Gavin, please don’t tell me you’re getting soppy about your blackmailed bride.”

“Not at all,” he said lightly. “The girl needed a proper fucking for once in her life and I gave it to her on a very appropriate day. End of story. Unless of course I choose to provide her with a first anniversary tumble …”

“Right, that’s it,” his companion snapped, her irritation spurring her to action. She set aside her wine, prised his glass from his hands and went to work at the front of his trousers. “Shut the fuck up about Erica bloody Greendale-fucking-Laughton. Not another word. Christ, I hope this hard-on is for me and not her.” She grabbed hold of the great erection and went down on it greedily. Then she came up glaring. “I’m going to give this the sucking it needs and then I want you to fuck me at least as hard as you nailed that bitch.”

“Whatever you say, Helen. I do try to please.” He lay back and surrendered to her oral attentions, toying with her hair as she gobbled downwards towards the base of his dick.

Beyond them on the screen that same gargantuan dick rammed itself into a beautiful July bride. Rammed till all her girlish primness was gone and she moaned her guilty joy. Rammed till the lust burst from inside her and she came—like a whore trailing a white wedding-veil.

THE END

Gavin Returns in Twenty-One