The Lie(95)

“Are you nervous?” Brigs asks, coming over to me.

“No, are you?” I ask.

He shakes his head. “Not a bit.”

“Are you lying?”

“Maybe.”

I reach down to adjust my shoes. I’m wearing white Converse. No one will know and heels have been killing my back lately, along with everything else.

“Bloody hell, your tits look fabulous,” Brigs murmurs and just the silky way he says “tits” has my blood flowing hot. I glance up at him and he’s staring right down my cleavage. My boobs are absolutely out of control, which drives him crazy.

“Don’t f*cking say tits,” I scold him, trying to straighten up.

He puts his hand on my shoulder and pushes me back down to my knees on the plush rug. “No, no. Stay down there. Don’t ruin this view. I doubt I’ll get to see this again.” His voice is so low, sliding over me like butter. “You in a white dress, with those tits. So f*cking innocent looking.”

I know we don’t have a lot of time, but I don’t really care.

“Only I’m not so innocent,” I tell him, playing along. I reach for his zipper and undo his pants, shoving them down his hips. His cock juts out in front of me, thick and long and beautiful. Completely mine now.

I’ve married this cock.

I take it in my hands and lick him, suck at his precum and let the taste hit my tongue like a tonic. I don’t care what any woman says, when you’ve got a dick as big and excessively thick as his, giving blow jobs is f*cking addicting.

He gives off tiny grunts and low moans as I find his balls, knowing exactly where and when to tug, as I bend and lick around his crown and all the way along his rigid shaft, the heat coming through his skin. The desire inside me is building until I’m tempted to slip a hand between my legs, and I can actually feel him get bigger, thicker, inside my mouth as I work at him.

“You’re going to ruin me,” he groans. He goes to grab my hair and then stops, remembering my hairdo. “Sorry,” he says, his voice breaking with lust, making fists at his side.

I suck harder, aching for him to come, to feel his release down my throat. First blow job as man and wife and I don’t want to hold back. I want to set the tone for the rest of the marriage. I grab his ass, feeling his muscles flex as he pushes into me, slowly at first, then his thrusts become wild, his voice louder and I want his cum so f*cking bad. Everywhere, anywhere.

But he grabs his cock at the base and pulls it out of my mouth, sliding past my lips with a delicious heaviness.

“Turn around,” he says breathlessly, stroking himself as he gazes down at me with sex-dazed eyes. “On all fours.”

Fuck yes.

I do as he asks, insatiable and trembling with anticipation.

He drops to his knees behind me and flips up my dress until it’s bunched around my waist.

Then I hear him suck in his breath.

He lets out a f*cking laugh.

“What is it?” I stiffen, trying to turn around and see.

“Are you…” he starts, still laughing. “Are you wearing Sponge Bob underwear?”

Oh, right.

“Uh, yeah,” I admit. “It’s one of the few pairs that fit me now.”

“Is it wrong that I’m terribly turned on?” he asks lightly.

“If you don’t f*ck me like you’re terribly turned on, then yes, it’s wrong.”

“Let me see the other side, turn around,” he says, grabbing hold of my hips and trying to twist them.

“No!” I cry out but then he grabs my waist and flips me around until my legs are spread and he’s staring directly at Sponge Bob’s crazy smile.

“That’s just…very you,” he says, grinning. I can’t tell if he’s smiling for me or my underwear. He could practically have a conversation with Sponge Bob at this point. “But, sadly for Mr. Square Pants, your pants are coming off.”

Impatiently he yanks down them down my thighs and tosses them aside. I’m glad Winter is out with Shelly right now because he’d be making off with them already. That dog loves my underwear as much as he loves Brigs’ shoes.

Brigs then slips the straps down over my shoulders and pulls down the bodice until my breasts bounce free. His eyes burn over them and desire pools between my legs, begging for his touch. He cups my breasts, heavy in his hands, and turns his attention to one as he licks in long draws of his tongue, teasing, until he closes his mouth over my nipple and sucks. I feel myself stiffen in his wet, hot mouth, everything so heightened, so sensitive and I’m moaning, wanting more, so much more.

He does the same to my other breast, sucking it so deep in his mouth that my spine arches and I feel like he might just consume me here and now. I grab the back of his head, not caring if I mess up his hair, and dig my nails in, moaning. My breasts spill in his hands, too much for him to handle and he’s hungry, frenzied, wanting more.

“Fuck, Brigs,” I swear, unable to take it. “Fuck me.”

“Yeah?” he asks softly, his voice thick with desire.

I nod and quickly flip back on my hands and knees. This won’t take long at all.

But Brigs isn’t always one to rush. At least he doesn’t rush on the one day he needs to rush.

He places his wide palms on my ass and pulls my cheeks apart before lowering his head. I tense up as I feel this tongue between the crack, swooping down into my cunt and up again. My whole body seems to flinch until his tongue, relentless, tireless, starts to wear me down, skirting over the most delicate areas until my skin swells with need.