Wedding Day

"Connor... are you there? Are you looking out the window?"

"Yes," I called out as the door creaked open and then shut behind me. I heard the click clack of heels across the hardwood floor, the rustle of fabric. I resisted the urge to turn to Emma and focussed my gaze out the window as I'd been instructed, looking down the long green lawn to where the caterers were putting the finishing touches to the marquee.

Twenty minutes had passed since Emily, the maid of honour, had knocked on my door. I felt a momentary panic, thinking Emma was calling the wedding off. I was assured otherwise, then handed a small white envelope and given the instruction to go to the bridal suite and wait by the window.

"I missed you last night," she said over my shoulder. She was close enough that I could smell her perfume and if I kept very still, I could feel her breath on the nape of my neck.

"Did you open the envelope before I arrived?"

"No, I was told to wait for you. Given very strict instructions."

"Good. I wanted to be here when you opened it," she said. I could hear the smirk in her voice as she said the words.

I looked down at the envelope in my hand. The contents were too thick to be a letter. I had puzzled over this while walking to the suite. We were due to get married in an hour, to say our vows and exchange our rings. What was so important that it couldn't wait?

"Go ahead," Emma encouraged me gently. "Open it."

I opened the envelope and pulled out its contents. It was a polaroid photo of Emma wearing a set of ivory silk and tulle lingerie with floral embroidery detail and a matching garter on her thigh. The bra cupped and lifted her small breasts and beneath the tulle, I could make out the soft blush pink of her nipples. My gaze moved over her belly, toned from months of pilates before the wedding, to the matching underwear and the dark wiry wisp of her bush hidden in them.

I felt my cock stiffen as I imagined her slipping into her lingerie, standing in front of the mirror and admiring her body encased in ivory silk.

"It's Agent Provocateur," she said softly. "Do you like it?"

I could barely stutter out a yes as my cock strained and bulged in my trousers, as if my anatomy was trying to give a much more affirmative answer than my mouth could. I reached down to adjust myself awkwardly when the instruction came.

"No... unzip your trousers. Push them down, and your briefs. Don't turn around."

I hesitated for a moment before I felt Emma's left hand hug my waist. I reached for my waistband, my fingers working at the button clasp of my wool trousers. My cock was stiff now, and every second of delay was making me harder. I pushed my trousers down over my thick hairy thighs, then dug my fingers into the waistband of my white cotton briefs and sent them the same way. My cock dangled free between my legs, bouncing as I stood back to attention.

I felt Emma's right hand on my arm, reaching under and hugging my chest from behind. I watched as her hand moved down over the crisp white cotton of my shirt. When I cooked for her at home, she liked to stand behind me like this and watch, her hand reaching under my shirt to rest on my hairy stomach as I prepared dinner.

Now her hand moved lower, over my neatly trimmed pubic hair already flecked with greys. My breathing was ragged and I looked down into the gardens, wondering if some caterer or waitress would look up and catch a glimpse of us.

My worry melted away as I felt Emma's hand grasp my cock. It was a point of pride for me that she could barely close her fingers around it, but it was a point of pride for her that she could take every inch of me and that she loved doing so. I had to admit that I found her achievement more impressive.

Emma began to stroke my cock gently, the way she would on a lazy Sunday morning. She knew how to handle me after all this time, like a rider who knew when to push her horse and when to pull on the reins. I gasped as she ran her thumb over the tip and some of my silky pre-cum dripped out onto the herringbone floor.

"I missed your cock in me last night. I lay in that big bed in the bridal suite and imagined you slipping down the hall to come and fuck me one last time before you married me," Emma whispered in my ear, her hand working my shaft firmly.

I shut my eyes and pictured it. I would make my excuses with the groomsmen in the lounge downstairs, telling them I wanted a clear head tomorrow. I'd ascend the stairs and instead of turning right to my room, I'd kick my shoes off and pad down the hall to where she waited for me.

Emma had her rhythm on my cock now and I let her work me, her right hand on my shaft, her left hand still on my waist. I wanted desperately to turn to her, to grip her by the waist and lift her onto the table by the door, to push the silk of her dress up and pull the silk of her underwear down and to slip my hard cock inside her.

A giggle passed her lips, like she could read my mind. "No turning around, Connor," she said gently but firmly. I wanted to whimper and plead my case, to tell this woman that I needed to feel her take me. But I accepted that Emma was in charge of this moment, from the room to the act to whatever end she chose for me.

"Tonight, when we come back to this bedroom, you can have me," Emma said softly. "You can tear my dress off and take me right here against this window." I let out a gasp, my brow furrowing as I tried to remain cool even as my face flushed at the thought. She always knew when I badly wanted her.

"I want you now, Connor," she continued, her pace on my cock quickening. She moved her hand up to the tip to gather my pre-cum and slather it over my cock, then returned to her firm grip on it. I could feel a climax building in me, and raised my hand to the window frame to support myself.

"I want you to look at the photo as you finish, Connor," Emma said. I opened my eyes and looked down at the photo on the windowsill. "I want you to know that I'm wearing that lingerie under my dress all day and tonight, you get to take it off me."

My breathing was ragged as I studied the photo, my eyes drawn to her navel where I'd finished so many times in our life. I rested my head against the window, the glass cool against my skin. I imagined myself kneeling on the bed behind us, kneeling between Emma's thighs as she looked up at me. I was stroking my cock and she was naked except for the ivory garter on her thigh. She bit her lip and laughed because she knew how close I was to climax, lifting her foot to gently rest it on my hairy chest.

"I can't wait to be your wife," Emma said, lifting me from my reverie, her hand still working my cock as it came dangerously close to the point of no return. "Tonight, when the champagne is finished and everyone is tired from dancing, I want you to come back to this room and fuck me. I don't care how tired we are. I want you to pick me up and carry me to that bed and fuck me. And I want to look at your face as you finish inside me."

Emma and I had never been shy about our desires but hearing her make this demand of me sent me over the edge. I grunted as my climax hit and my cock spasmed in her hand. She continued to stroke me as ropes of cum shot from the tip of my cock and splattered against the window. My eyes screwed shut and what little focus I had centred on keeping quiet.

I felt Emma slow her pace, nursing a final spurt of cum from my cock before letting it drop back between my legs. Her hand withdrew and I heard her lick it with a satisfied murmur. I shuddered and took a deep breath, looking down at her effort splattered over the window and dripping onto the sill next to the picture of her.

"I'm going to leave now. You're not going to turn around until I'm out of the room, then I want you to put yourself back together and get ready to marry me," she said, planting a soft kiss on the nape of my neck. Her dress swished as she turned, her heels clicked back across the herringbone wood floor and the door creaked open.

"I've always loved watching you finish," came her voice from across the room and then the door creaked again and she was gone. I stood at the window and gathered my breath. My cock was still half-stiff between my legs as I reached down and pulled my briefs up and then my trousers. I felt a sweet ache in my thighs and calves, not realising I'd been tensing them, and I savoured it for a second as I walked to the mirror.

I stood readjusting my shirt and trousers until I looked like a respectable groom again, and then walked back and picked up the polaroid, slipping it into my pocket and making a note to keep it in my desk drawer at work. Emma would like knowing that.

I glanced down at the window where my cum had now mostly pooled on the windowsill. I considered taking some towels from the bathroom and cleaning it but decided against it before turning and leaving the room. In an hour, Emma would be my wife and she could paint every window in the house with my cum.