Miss Brain often gives me this, or some permutation of this. Some of the fantasies are wild, and a couple must remain private to me, but this is the most romantic one she allows me. I hope you enjoy it.
Remember, (because it is important) that I very often have to have the right clothes on to masturbate to my fantasies. I often start masturbating, then have to stop to change into whatever clothes Miss Brain needs for the fantasy.
I have just got up off my bedroom floor. I had started to masturbate by the simple expedient of slipping my hand into my panties, but Miss Brain has other ideas. I squelch myself over to my dressing table, and remove all my clothes. Fuck, these panties are a mess! I wipe myself with them, but I know it won’t help much!
Opening my bra drawer I start to reach for the inevitable white cotton trainer bra, but no, not this time. This time, Miss Brain has me reach right to the back of the drawer, to that almost unworn white Lacey number that is a little on the big side, but is, I admit, very sexy. I pull it on and mmmm yes.....it feels rough and scratchy and this, apparently is what Miss Brain (MB) wants.
Right, panty drawer next. Thongs? Nope. Cotton bikinis? Nope. What the......? I had forgotten I had these. A white, lacey, see-through for the most part pair that matches the bra, but wait.....MB isn’t done yet. A matching suspenders belt? What the fuck....?
Finding two white stockings took a while, but apparently it is necessary. I stand there looking at myself in the mirror while MB directs me into the walk-in. I don’t have a wedding dress, (obviously) but I do have a white evening gown....I call it my ‘virgin special’ and I pull that on over everything.
I walk towards my dressing room mirror holding an imaginary bouquet in front of me. This makes my cunny tremble with anticipation.
And so I lie on my bed. I imagine myself walking down the centre aisle, Fr. O’Malley officiating, and I’m suddenly a married woman. The reception flashes through my mind, and all too soon, we are alone in our hotel suite.
How gently he undresses me until I am just in my underwear. I undress him with equal care. Then I get to his pants, I can both see and feel his desire for me. I kneel at his feet and tug his boxers down. His cock stands out hard and proud. Although I’ve never done this before, I take him in my mouth, feeling him resist the desire to thrust. He tastes salty, but it’s the heat and hardness I notice most of all.
I feel myself begin to wet up between my legs. It feels like a tap has been turned on and a sudden flood has been released. I feel it flow from me into my panties. I hope he doesn’t think I’m a slut....but right now, I want to be a slut....his slut. He gently moves my head away and indicates that I should stand up. He kisses me and I almost melt with desire for him. He lays me back on the bed and eases my panties down my legs. For a moment, he looks at me, and I see the love and desire in his face.
He kisses up my stockinged legs, spreading them as he goes. I am frightened that when he sees how wet I am he will be repulsed, because I am wetter than I have ever been. Wetter than those solo explorations between my legs as a teenager. Wetter even than when my first orgasm coursed through me. Wetter than that day at high school when everything that we did or said somehow seemed sexy. That day I had gone to the bathroom at school, sat in a stall and just wanted to do something dirty. That day I had peed in my own panties before masturbating to a shuddering climax. It was the dirtiest thing I had ever done until now.
Now, I’m lying here gasping with pleasure as he licks me. A man.....a real man...is between my legs licking my cunt. But he doesn’t stop there. Oh no. He kisses up my body, between my tits, and then to my lips. I can taste my own count on his lips and it reminds me of licking myself off my fingers.
I feel his hard, angry cock between my legs. He is not in me yet, but I know this will hurt. I am still a virgin, after all. Nothing, not even my own fingers have been inside me. My masturbation was restricted to clitoral only. Just like a good girl should.
He pushes, and a lance of pain shoots through me. For a moment, there’s sadness too as my hymen breaks. Ah well....goodbye old friend. Then I feel myself stretched...stretched almost impossibly wide as he enters me. It’s painful, stingy, ah, but holy fuck it feels good. I catch a look at myself in the mirror. I’m on my back, a man between my legs fucking me. It’s everything I ever masturbated about, and here it is happening for real.
And very real are the sexual feeling building between my legs. I find myself clutching him, crossing my ankles high over his back, but it’s my mouth that surprises me most. “Fuck me.....fuck me harder......faster.....oh fuck...yes..there...just there....” He is banging me hard now, and I can’t get enough of him. “Fuck me. Do me like the cunt I am.”
I feel him cum in me, and in return I cum on his cock. I marvel at how different an orgasm feels when there’s something inside you.
Back on planet Earth in the real,world, I have cum hard in my sexy underwear. Fortunately, my ‘wedding dress’ escaped the flood that happened between my legs. It is creased to fuck, but it will be pressed before I need to wear it for real again.
****
My ‘Wedding night’ fantasy has variations, as they all do. Sometimes, my new husband takes me in the bum. Sometimes, both he and his best man have me. Other times, well, I won’t go into detail, but let’s just say it’s not a Christian wedding service....more of a satanic thing. The sex that follows after that is dark, violent, and utterly glorious.
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