Our Daughter's Wedding

When the gals exited the loo, neither looked dishevelled, but the lusty look in my bride's eyes, when she saw me, told me everything was still go. She whispered something to her maid of honour, who giggled and winked at me as she went passed. My wife grabbed my hand, her eyes locked on the bulge in my pants.

"Touch it," I dared.

She glanced about nervously but then her free hand caressed my hardness through my pants, the tips of her fingers dancing around the outline and then up from base to tip along the swollen shaft and head. We kissed deeply and then I led her to our improvised hideaway.

"Close the door," she breathed into my ear, dragging me through the coats until her ass struck a wall.

I complied with a backward kick, hearing the closure click with no telltale slam. By then, my bride's tongue was again down my throat, her belly pressing against mine, though the mound of dress fabric sort of defeated the purpose. My hands grasped bunches of crinkly fabric and hoisted the skirt to her waist, exposing a naked pussy.

"I didn't bother pulling my panties up after I peed," she giggled naughtily as she broke our smooch. "Natalie has a real souvenir of our wedding in her handbag."

My fingertips found her slit, and confirmed that she was very wet. Maybe she and Natalie had done some girly play together? I lifted my fingers to my lips and tasted pee for the first time, surprised at how I enjoyed the saltiness. While I was distracted, my bride had unfastened my pants and swiftly fished my cock free.

She cupped my swollen scrotum in her palm and gave it a heft.

"Hubby, you are so full, I'm glad we skipped a few days of relief because our first time really fucking will really fill me up with great gobs of goo."

Her fingers teased my heavy sagging balls, toying with them, before her little finger slid up the back of my sack so that she could tease my taint. I sighed with joy as her nail teased my anus open, her touch to my sensitive nerves sending electric shocks around and up the length of my cock, where they seemed to explode out the tip.

"Be careful - one touch of my prostate and I'll likely blow before you get me inside your virginal cunt." I warned.

"I know, silly. We might not have fucked yet, but I think I deserve a PhD. in ass play."

Her finger continued to wiggle in my rectum, but she avoided my prostate as I fingered her wetness, working my fingers around, but not touching, her clit.

"Enough foreplay, hubby of mine. I'm ready, and that cake should be ready soon..."

Only then did I realize that I had no idea how to fuck my bride, half a foot shorter than me, standing up. She, as usual, was a step or six ahead. Without realizing it was happening, I suddenly found my ass planted on that empty chair, my erect phallus extending upright. My bride hiked her skirts and swiftly settled herself on my lap. Without any of the ceremony you might think befits a deflowering, my cock slit effortlessly up inside her, like a finger in a glove.

She began to move, short sharp humps up and down, the muscles within her youthful cunt stretching to accommodate my girth and length. I could feel her climax build soon after I entered her as she reacted to the new sensation of my cock prick driving in and out of her pussy. She groaned so loudly that she immediately thrust her fist into her mouth to stifle the sound.

"God, honey, I knew that if ass fucking was great, this would be tremendous - or, at least, I prayed that I wouldn't find I liked anal better. So far, I think I love them both, just differently," she moaned, gasping out each word as I felt my balls growing taut in their case.

Her back was to me, so I missed out on sucking her engorged nipples. She instead steered my hands around her body, planting them on the exposed flesh that had burst free from the top of her bodice. My fingers expertly knew how to locate her nubs, and I gave them a good tug, knowing that she enjoyed a touch of pain. As her nipples pulled away from her mounds, her muscles milked my cock.

"Like you, I don't think I can say either is better. All fucking is great fucking," I replied, and then nibbled her earlobe.

That made my bride bounce even faster on my lap. I dropped one hand down her body and found her clit, but she already had her own fingers there, and within seconds, her cunt spasmed, clamped hard around my shaft and she collapsed back against my chest, her entire body quaking in the most massive orgasm of her young life to date. Her wetness flowed down from her gash, ruining the tuxedo pants, but who cared about the cleaning deposit - I still had not climaxed.

My wonderful wife must have realized that as well, because she only rested her head on my shoulder for a moment before leaning forward and driving her body back against my lap, her wet cunt around my hardness.

"Fuck me sailor. Fill me up, cowboy," she demanded, throwing her whole body around violently.

She moved above me, thrusting her cunt up and down my cock, varying the speed, but each fast bit was faster than the last. Soon she was panting, leaning forward, moving in shorter strokes. I could see the joy that this fucking was bringing to her displayed on her glowing face, her eyes unfocussed, but her mouth spread in a wide grin, her tongue lolling along her lazy bottom lip, her jaw slack.

Soon, her entire body was trembling again. I could tell that another climax was near. I felt her muscles tighten around me once more. She threw her head and shoulders back, thrusting my cock deep into her womb, her hips flush to my groin, her back arching A soft moan rumbled up from deep within her belly and transformed into a groan as she rode the waves of orgasms coursing through her flesh.

As her climax rippled through her body, her muscles gripped tightly around my cock which was trapped deep within her.

"Yeah, that's it. Plant me with your seed. We're married now. Make me a baby," she moaned.

Her demand made me feel like a real stud as she continued to ride me, leaning forward again, her hair dishevelled and hiding her face as her fingers traced along the seam of my scrotum and travelled along my taint to re-enter my asshole. This time, I did not caution her and she did not hesitate. With delicate force, she probed my prostate. I found her clit with my thumb and rubbed gently. That was all it took to stimulate another orgasm for my bride, and this time we came together, my cream coating her inner walls and dribbling onto my lap.

She collapsed backward, her head resting on my shoulder as she gasped for breath, tiny after shocks rippling through her body and teasing my deflating cock with twitchy muscle movements. My fingers idly stroked her tits and occasionally I tweaked a nipple. The first real sex we had shared - or that either of us had experienced - had been a smashing success, so I knew that in a few minutes, my cock would recover and we both would be eager to go again.

Then reality intervened, in the form of Natalie's voice from just outside the door to the cloak room.

"You guys sound like you had a great time, but you better hurry up and get it together - everybody is waiting for some cake."

My bride bolted off my lap. I guffawed with gusto at the sight of her tits bouncing in the air unrestrained by her dishevelled dress. She called Natalie to come in and help put her back together. Fortunately, Natalie had the foresight to have found a towel so I could dab the worse smears off my trousers before I went out and stalled for time.

For the past 25 years, I occasionally wondered how many people had figured out how my wife and I had spent that delay. We never did explore anything with Natalie, who married and moved to New York. We did continue to be lusty sexual experimenters though, including the water sports fetish I had accidentally discovered on that wedding day.

Nine months after our wedding, our daughter was born.

And now we were back at the same reception hall for our daughter's wedding.

"It seems there is a delay for the cake again," my wife noticed, "should we..."

She did not have to say anything else. I grabbed her hand and led her back to where that good old cloak room waited. Once again, the attendant was missing, but the door was ajar. I steered my wife into a cozy coat filled corner and started to fondle her, one hand sliding up her skirt, the other exploring her chest. Suddenly, we noticed a rustling sound from across the dark room. I froze. My daughter's face peeped between the coats, no doubt guessing why we were there.

"Mom, Dad, what the hell?" she exclaimed.

Then I noticed that her wedding dress was just as dishevelled as her mother's had been 25 years ago. Her face was flushed, her hair mussed.

My wife laughed lustily.

"Looks like it runs in the family. Since you're the bride, we'll let you have the room."

Which was fine, because she dragged me into that nearby ladies room, where we were undisturbed until our daughter rapped on the door to tell us it was time to watch her cut her cake.