The glittering panorama before her seemed an echo of the thousand camera flashes from the daylight hours. The land viewed acted as the perfect vista of calm that she needed. She stood on the hotel balcony with her hands braced on the barrier in her quiet manner listening to the muffled hubbub below as the last guests enjoyed their time together. He sat a few feet back, reclined on the sofa with this same view but all he could see was her silhouette. A reversed negative, her white outline against the night. His beacon in the darkness.
Say hello to the girl who danced to ‘Submission’ by the Sex Pistols on her wedding day.
Not the First Dance, however; we chose something a little more personal that harkened back to our first few months of dating all those years ago for that.
As we took our leave from the remaining members of the wedding party I unravelled one of the sashes from the chairs. A memento, true, but I had immediate plans to be bound by it in the Bridal Suite.
He was directly behind her now, standing with one arm around her waist, the other across her chest to rest his hand on her shoulder. Holding her close, into him. She closed her eyes and breathed peacefully, smile widening in contentment. He was looking out over the water, scanning the horizon with its twinkling lights. Distant enough.
Let’s get you undressed, he spoke softly into her ear and led her to the bedroom.
There had been a point earlier in the evening when I was adjusting my internal scaffolding of my wedding dress that I thought to myself, What if I took off my knickers now? No-one would know. After all, the petticoats of the dress are fairly substantial. But I had gone to the trouble of choosing the right shade of ivory to match my bra and I thought Mister deserved the sight of a lingerie delight once he had wrangled his way through all the buttons that trickled down my spine. There were over thirty of them.
I mentioned in my previous post about regaling you with what it would be like to fuck in a wedding dress, but cometh the hour, cometh the nudity. When it comes to Mister, I tend to like getting naked fairly swiftly. That, plus the dress was a little restrictive in flexibility.
Walking together with only the far away lights from the world outside to guide them, they returned to the wide window of the balcony. They had switched off the light as they entered the living room of the suite. Some anonymity had to remain of their nakedness. They resumed their earlier position and now she could feel his erection pressed against her all the more evidently without the inconvenience of satin between her skin and his. Tilting her head, he moved to kiss down her neck making her squeeze his hands tightly as she melted.
I want you to face the world as I go down on you. He moved to kneel in front of her, a sight she always adored to look down upon. Her eyes gazed past the slight swell of her breasts to fall on the night-lit figure at her feet. His lips kissed at her tenderly, warmly. Tongue soon followed making her fling her hands forward to press against the glass, eyes snapping forward, ahead, darting across the horizon, her slight exhibitionist side revelling in the position.
One of Mister’s long-standing fantasies is to install a ceiling hook or to have some contraption to allow him to suspend part of me a little more vertically. So when we arrived in the Bridal Suite and saw that there was a four-poster bed his gleeful expression was beautiful to behold.
After our initial thirst for one another had been slaked we went to the bedroom where he surprised me by suggesting we test out the beams of the four-poster. Ever inventive when it comes to tying me up, he took the one tasselled rope holding the four poster’s curtains and the blue sash from the wedding chair and looped them over either side of the wooden frame so they hung loosely. Telling me to kneel up, each wrist was carefully knotted into the fabric leaving me spread-armed like some pagan sacrifice in the centre of the bed. Already intensely aroused from ten minutes or so before, it wasn’t long until his combination of spanking and hands over my pussy was all too much for me and I needed to curl up with him into the softest sleep I have had for a long time.
Her knees were feeling delicate on the coarse carpet after she had returned the oral favour to allow him full advantage of the view, her considerations always with him in the forefront of her mind. Her movements had been thickened and deepened by the climaxes he had given her and she savoured every lick and kiss that had intoxicated her. He helped her to her feet and swivelled her body around so they both stood, facing the window.
I’m going to take you now in front of all this. Again she placed her hands against the cold glazing, bracing herself as he pressed into her. As always in this position, she rose on her tiptoes to meet his height a little more easily and held her ground firmly, matching his pressure as they began their dance.
As I’m sure wedding nights must go, ours was sublime. A mixture of well-loved kinks, passion, tenderness and new ground was covered that night. Some I think only right not to divulge too much detail. Something sacred must be kept for us alone on this occasion. It’s definitely reawakened my desire to be strung up, wanting to dig out the over-the-door cuffs before the end of the Summer draws near.
After we climbed down from our wedding high, a few days later we went on a short city break, or our ‘mini-moon’ – of which there are some tasty tales to tell from the next hotel bedroom we stayed in.
Until then, hopefully not too far away, I take my leave as a proudly wedded Lady.