She never did anything by convention, Sally thought. Standing in front of the full-length mirror in her hotel room she admired the wedding dress. The too-tight strapless bustier across her boobs, the flowing satin train and the tiny white flowers set in her mousy hair. White satin shoes and a small fragrant bouquet. After they’d finished helping her, she’d sent Anna and Paula, her bridesmaids, ahead to the church. She’d manage on her own from now until the car arrived.
Three hours to go until she married David. It felt strange in this small country town where she knew virtually no one. Aged 32, her parents refused to attend the ceremony. ‘Fuck them’, she thought, she’d walk up the aisle on her own, head held high.
She loved David from the moment they met and the wedding was the culmination of three years living together in London. She liked his family too – they had made her so welcome from the outset. And now this: ‘the most important day of your life’ everyone had said. She just wanted the ceremony to be over so that everyone could enjoy themselves. Nerves were kicking in.
The knock at the door surprised her. It was the car and it was early. “Shit!”
“Hi, you must be Sally,” he smiled. “My name is Robert and I’m driving you today. Sorry, I know I’m early, but thought you might like a drive round to calm your nerves before the big event. Most brides like to on the day.”
It was almost like a scene from a comedy, Sally thought. She in her wedding gown at the door, talking to a chauffer in full gear of cap, uniform and boots. David had promised her the whole deal, and she knew it would be a white Roller even before she stepped into it.
“Ok, give me five minutes and I’ll be down,” she replied.
Bouquet in hand she walked across the sunny car park to the gleaming limo. “Here, let me take that from you,” said the chauffer as she settled into the cream luxury leather interior. “There’s a glass of champagne in the holder by the door. Now just relax, it’s your day, so you should enjoy it. Perfect weather, you’re lucky.”
The car purred into life and they set off from of the hotel.
“Nervous?” he asked, his voice betraying a slight country accent.
“Bloody terrified,” she replied, “but the fizz is helping, thanks. So where are we going, er, sorry I forgot your name?”
“It’s Robert… Rob” he laughed. “Don’t worry, you have enough to think about today. Well, it’s up to you really, but I just tend to drive around the countryside a little. Seems to calm the jitters.”
“Ok,” replied Sally, sipping her bubbly, “you’re the pro on this, so I’ll leave it up to you.”
The car wound through leafy lanes, across dry stone bridges, passed country pubs and fields of wheat or quietly grazing sheep. She refilled her glass and considered her driver.
She guessed he was in his late 30’s, reasonably tall, clean-shaven with thick dark hair. Could be a rugby player maybe, but not too bulked. Square shoulders, large clean hands, dark eyebrows and a hint of aftershave that went well with the cars’ leather interior. Nervous and a little embarrassed she decided to chat.
“This must be a weird job for you, ferrying people to weddings. Do you enjoy it?”
“Yes, love it,” he replied. ‘Every one is different. I normally only do this at weekends, just to earn a few extra bob. We’re saving up to get married.”
“And then she’ll be the one in the back here,” said Sally. And they both laughed.
A little further on he asked: “How are you feeling now?”
“Better, but still a bit shaky,” she replied.
“Wanna smoke?”
“No, gave them up a couple of years ago.”
“I’m not talking about tobacco.”
“Aah,” she said, the penny dropping at last. “Umm, ok, if you reckon it’ll help.”
“Ok, I’d better pull off the road,” he said. ‘Don’t fancy us getting nicked on your wedding day.”
A little further on they pulled into a quiet lane and then up a long track away from the road. He turned off the engine. It ticked quietly.
She watched as he reached into his inside pocket and pulled out an already rolled joint. He lit it and passed it to her along with a glossy magazine.
“Hold it under you, so you don’t get burn holes in your dress,” he said.
“Thanks,” she said and inhaled deeply on the spliff. The herbs crackled and fizzed. She coughed a little then relaxed, feeling the warmness entering her lungs and spreading a soft glow throughout her body. It felt so good. He reached round in his seat and she passed it back.
Cradling her champagne she closed her eyes and enjoyed the calm. She felt serene; her insides becoming warm and fuzzy, her mind empty yet clear and a curious tingling beginning between her legs. “This is seriously good stuff,” she sighed.
A little later she felt an attack of the giggles coming on. “Look,” she said, “you’ll do your back in reaching round like that. Get in the back here, it’s easier.”
He got out of the car and pulling down the seat opposite her, got inside.
“Well, Robert” she giggled. “MY BIG DAY! So, do I look like every other bride you’ve taken to church? I feel a bit daft dressed up in all this – just for one day.”
“You look stunning,” he replied quietly. “You really do.”
“Thanks, well, I’ve got it all,” she laughed. “Old, new, borrowed and blue. Shoes are his mum’s, got the regulation blue garter and this bracelet’s Victorian.”
“What about the new?” he asked casually.
Then she remembered the crotchless lace knickers David bought her. She blushed.
“Well, that would be telling,” she smiled, taking another draw on the spliff. “My final day as a free woman. What do you reckon, Robert?”
“I reckon,” he replied slowly, “I’d love to see your garter. Will you show it to me?”
Shocked, she stared at him as if looking for signs of mocking, but found none there. He was serious and silent. It was probably the worst chat up line she’d ever heard. But it was only a bit of fun wasn’t it? She reached down to the floor and taking the hem of the taffeta and silk, slowly pulled it upwards around her thighs to her suspenders. The frilly blue garter was in place against the white silk stocking top.
"Ta-dah! There, like it?”
“Higher,” he whispered, staring into her eyes.
Silence.
“Er, I really don’t think I should,” she said nervously, but suddenly very turned on.
“Please…”
She quickly looked around to check they really were alone, and then rose from the leather seat and pulled the dress around her waist, trying not to crumple it too much. She was breathing heavily now.
“Open your legs.”
Slowly, she did as he said and watched the expression on his face turn to astonishment. Between the two strips of lace of her white crotch-less panties, her cunt was fully exposed; dark pubes trimmed to show off the folds of her swollen labia, which she already knew were wet with her juices.
“Fucking hell!” he gasped. “Open yourself… show me”
Staring at him, she reached down and traced her fingers over her swollen clit, spreading her cunt lips to let him see her wetness. The dope, the champagne and the growing bulge along his thigh made her feel wicked and slutty. She was past caring now and kicking off her shoe she traced the line of his growing cock in his tight trousers with her stocking foot.
“Come on then, Rob, your turn,” she said.
She watched as he unfastened his belt and unzipped his trousers. Reaching inside, he pulled out his hard cock.
“All of it,” she urged. She had a thing about guys’ balls.
He lifted from his seat and eased his pants down to his knees: “I’m not taking these boots off, though. Took me long enough to get the bloody things on.” Then he sat back on the seat, his legs apart, wanking slowly.
“Jesus Christ!” she gasped. He was big; the shaft was thick and covered in veins and muscles, his cockhead purple and shiny and below was the most gorgeous set of balls she’d seen since her favourite porn movie. She began to frig herself faster; the squelchy sound of her sopping pussy the only noise in the quiet car interior.
After some minutes she muttered in frustration: “Oh fuck this,” and falling to her knees took his cock deep in her mouth. Her lips were stretched around his shaft and she cupped his warm, heavy balls in her hand, rolling them between her fingers. She bobbed her head up and down, slurping greedily on him, listening to his low moans, occasionally gagging at his size and leaving a trail of saliva dripping down his length. She took one of his balls in her mouth, using her tongue to roll it around in his sac, getting more turned on at the thought of all the cum inside. His cock throbbed urgently against her cheek.
Moving quickly now, she turned herself around on all fours resting her head on the back seat and reached behind to pull up her dress again.
“Fuck me!” she urged. Her voice was hoarse.
“But what about…?” he was starting to ask.
“Just fuck me!” she commanded.
He knelt down behind her, caressing her full arse framed by suspenders, and probed between her legs where he flicked her hard clit, feeling her heat and the silky wetness of her cunt lips. When he put his finger inside her, she jolted as if electrified and moaned loudly. He watched her arsehole pucker and tighten in a delightful response.
Gripping her buttocks his first thrust inside her caused her to scream. He pushed himself deep up to his balls. Where before he may have been gentle with a partner, he knew this was just what she wanted. Her cunt sucked him in greedily.
“Oh, fuck!” she groaned, feeling his cockhead banging against her cervix. She longed for her breasts to be touched and reached round to untie her bustier. He helped her with the tiny hooks until her pendulous tits were free against the soft leather and he pinched her swollen nipples hard until she was crying out in pain and pleasure.
They were both breathing heavily now, gasping in time to his thrusting; she, pushing back until his balls slapped against her clit; he, staring down at her beautiful cunt lips stretched around his glistening cock. The car filled with the aroma of sex – her juices, the sweat from his bollocks, the perfume on her neck transformed by lust into a heady, musky cocktail – pure animal scents.
She was frigging her swollen clit, carrying herself to orgasm. Through clenched teeth she urged him on “faster… harder… deeper”! He was slapping her arse, frantically spanking her like a bad girl, and probing her anus with his thick finger. That did it, and with a loud yell, she came. Pushing back not moving, just feeling the contractions of her cunt around his dick, beads of sweat building on her top lip – her body and mind tensed to milk every second of a delicious come.
He continued his urgent thrusts, his grip even tighter on her buttocks.
“Whoah, you can’t come in my pussy!” she yelled. The thought of her walking up the aisle trailing a river of spunk behind her was not an appealing one.
“But…” he gasped.
“Put it where your finger is. Go on, fuck my arse.”
He withdrew from her and they both giggled at her fanny fart. She felt him rubbing her cunt juices around her anus, pushing in one finger then two, gently easing her open. She heard him spit, again moistening her tight hole and then that delicious feeling as his cockhead pushed against her, urging on again and again.
“Fuck it, it won’t go in,” he muttered in frustration.
“Wait,” she replied, reaching in to the soft silk purse on the seat. She passed him a small jar of lip balm. “Try this.”
She turned and watched as he coated his fingers with the gunk and smeared it the length of his engorged dick, adding more to his cockhead, until it was slick and glistening.
“Just take it easy with that thing,” she said, holding her buttocks apart. “It’s a bit of a fuckin’ monster.”
In the silence she concentrated hard, relaxing her muscles until finally his glans broke through the barrier of her arsehole and with a loud grunt he pushed himself half in.
“Shiiit!” she hissed, feeling full and stretched. It was magnificent. She reached back to touch her cunt again and found herself wetter than ever.
“You ok?” he asked, his voice faltering.
“Mmmm,” she moaned. “Come on, a bit harder and deeper now. I can take it.”
He rose above her now, half standing, his knees either side of her hips and began fucking her arse like an animal in the countryside that surrounded them. She was quiet at first, concentrating hard, but moaned each time he thrust deeper, snaking his thick cock into her bowels. Soon, he was pumping her furiously, gasping for breath whilst gripping her flushed breasts. She felt her arse was on fire, a raging heat that spread throughout her body making her clit throb and breasts swell painfully.
“Fuck… you’re so t-t-tight, I can’t hold out much longer!” he wailed.
“Come on baby!” she urged, frigging herself faster, approaching another orgasm. “Come in my arse. Pleeeease. Yes, yes!… shove your cock right in there. Don’t stop, you dirty bastard, please, please don’t stop! Spunk in me NOW!”
Her own orgasm shot through her like a bullet, from the back of her thighs to her stomach, leaving her head reeling. Her anus contracted powerfully on his cock.
His cry sounded like the worst kind of pain a man could endure, but she knew it was the opposite. His cock jerked deep inside her arse, spraying his hot cum in thick spurts, which made her own orgasm even more intense. As his jerks subsided, Sally reached behind and gave his swinging balls a squeeze, milking him of every last drop of precious spunk into her willing arsehole.
She was 15 minutes late at the church. Most brides, on the day, usually are.
