A vow doesn’t count if I cross my fingers … does it?

Tomorrow, I’ll walk down the aisle. But tonight, I walk on the wild side. And it’s fucking glorious.

This is a totally fictitious story. I’m not married yet - but every little girl dreams about the perfect wedding doesn’t she? Mine will be glorious. With flowers. A flowing dress. Tastefully romantic. And, of course, the bride leaking white onto the Church floor.

My mind drifts. The sun dips low on the horizon, casting a golden glow over the upscale restaurant where I sit, my strawberry blonde hair tumbling over my shoulders like a cascade of caramel. Richard, my soon-to-be husband, sits beside me, his strong, handsome face lit with a smile as he regales the table with one of his witty anecdotes. He’s perfect—wealthy, dependable, and utterly clueless. Utterly clueless that just inches away, beneath the linen-covered table, my hand is wrapped around the hard length of another man’s cock.

I glance at the man sitting on my other side, Jake, one of my many boyfriends. His dark eyes meet mine, a silent challenge passing between us. Richard’s laughter fills the air, oblivious to the tension simmering beneath the surface. I smirk, my fingers tightening around Jake’s shaft, stroking him slowly, deliberately. The risk thrilling me. The possibility of being caught only heightening the pleasure.

“Abigail, darling, what do you think?” Richard’s voice snaps me back to the conversation. I blink, feigning innocence, my brown eyes wide and guileless. I’d been far too preoccupied with my sexy little game.

“Hmm? Oh, I think it’s a wonderful idea,” I reply, my voice smooth and articulate, as I always am. I hope to God that whatever I’d described as “wonderful” is appropriate for a blushing bride. If it was “Abigail, you should have breakfast in bed tomorrow”, I’m fine. If it was “Abigail, you should have your Dad visit you tonight” then I was stuffed. I’d ridden Dad last night after Richard fell asleep. The greedy cunt has been fucking me since I was ten. I want something adventurous and fun on the eve of my wedding. My free hand toys with the stem of my wine glass, my nails painted a deep crimson that match the flush creeping up my neck.The satisfying feel of Jake’s meat in my hand. Rigid, yet oddly soft.

Jake’s breath hitches as I increased the pressure, my thumb brushing the sensitive head of his cock. He shifts in his seat, his hand resting casually on the table, inches from Richard’s. The irony wasn’t lost on me. Tomorrow, I’ll be walking down the aisle, my vows echoing through the church, while Jake’s seed will still be warm inside me. And hopefully not just his seed - the night is young - picking up a random hunk at a cheap bar and fucking him without ever knowing his name … the corners of of my mouth formed my innocent sweet little Mona Lisa smile. Sitting beside my clueless fiancé. Stroking off my sexy boyfriend. Thinking about fucking some random guy. No - random GUYS I corrected myself. Maybe I’ll get one or two of the Randoms to cream my shitter? After all, I muse, shouldn’t the bride be pampered on her special day?

I’ve always been this way. The good church girl who discovered sneaky filthy sex and decided she liked it—a lot. Sneaking around behind Mum’s back and creaming Dad in the next room. Or my uncle. Or even one time, the Parish Priest - me riding his cock - while he talked to Mum on the phone - explaining what a good little Altar Girl Abigail is. “No I don’t think 10 is too young to serve the Lord” he tells her. ‘Yes I’m having my afternoon run early” he lies as his cock pistons into her eager daughter’s little cunt.

And today Mum’s teary because her sweet little girl is about to become a woman. She sits me down to have our long overdue “mother-daughter” talk. “Abigail, a man has needs. You should not be too shocked. It’s messy and it’s ugly. Grit your teeth and you’ll get through it.”

I put us both out of our misery “Don’t worry Mum, I learnt about all that at school.” I don’t mention that every boy in my class gave me that lesson. Actually I tell a lie. Now that I think about it - it was usually me who gave the lesson. A little boy comes to school - Virginia sends him home a man.

Richard thought he was marrying a virgin, a pure and repressed soul. He had no idea his bride-to-be was a blasphemous slut who broke every rule she could find. And I loved it. The riskier, the better.

As the dinner progressed, I grew bolder. My hand moved faster, on Jake’s rigid cock, my touch more urgent. Only pausing to innocently lick his pre cum off my fingers. In front of my future in-laws. My innocent Mona Lisa smile masking my raging lust. I return to the task at hand in earnest. Jake’s eyes darken, his jaw clenches. I feel his control slipping, his need mirroring my own. Richard, ever the gentleman, refills my wine glass, his touch brushing my hand. I smile sweetly, my heart pounding in my chest.

“You’re so good to me,” I murmured, leaning into him, my lips brushing his cheek. My free hand lifting my fiancé’s hand to my cum smeared lips. His arm wrapped around my shoulders, possessive and proud. I shiver, not from his touch, but from the thrill of what is happening beneath the table.

Jake’s hand finds mine, wrapped around his cock, his fingers intertwine with mine as I stroke him. His other hand slips under the table, finds the hem of my dress. I gasp softly, my breath catching as his fingers brush the lace of my panties. They’re already damp, evidence of my arousal.

“Margi, are you alright?” Richard’s voice is concerned, his eyes searching mine.

“Perfect,” I whisper, my lips curving into a smile. “Just thinking about tomorrow.”

He smiles, his hand squeezing my shoulder. “It’s going to be the best day of my life.”

I bite my lip to stifle a laugh. The best day of his life? The horniest day of mine! I’ll be walking down the aisle with cum dripping from my cunt and shitter. Precisely how many men? Finding that out will be exciting. The thought sends a jolt of heat through me, my cunt aching with need.

Jake’s fingers slip inside my panties, his touch bold and demanding. I shift in my seat, my legs parting slightly to grant him better access. His thumb presses against my clit, I smile innocently at my soon to be in-laws, his fingers enter my cunt, his rhythm matches the stroke of my hand. I’m close. So close! The risk only fuels my desire.

Richard’s attention is diverted by the arrival of dessert, a rich chocolate cake that he insists on sharing with me. I take a bite, my eyes fluttering closed as the sweetness melts on my tongue and my cunt begs for more of Jake’s hand. I gaze into Richard’s eyes, my arousal masquerading as devotion. Richard slides the spoon into my mouth for a second bite, my cunt slides forward to swallow Jake’s fist. Jake’s fist pushes deeper. I moan softly, the sound masked by Richard’s laughter.

“This is amazing,” I breath, my voice trembling.

“Just like you,” Richard replies, his eyes warm and adoring.

I smile, my hand tightening around Jake’s cock. He’s close, I can feel it, his body tense with anticipation. I lean into Richard, my lips brushing his ear. “Excuse me for a moment, darling,” I whisper, my voice low and husky.

He nods, his attention already turning back to the dessert. I slip from the table, my heart racing as I make my way to the restroom. Jake follows, his steps purposeful.

The restroom is empty, the marble counters gleams under the soft light. I turn to him, my dress hiked up, my panties discarded on the floor. He presses me against the wall, his lips crashing down on mine, hungry and desperate.

“You’re playing with fire,” he growls, his hands gripping my hips.

“I love the burn,” I reply, my fingers threading through his hair.

He doesn’t need another invitation. His pants are undone in seconds, his cock hard and throbbing. He lifts me, my legs wrap around his waist as he thrusts into me, filling my cunt completely. I gasp, my head falls back as he moves, his rhythm urgent and primal.

“Say it,” he demands, his voice rough. “Say you’re mine.”

I smirk, my hands gripping his shoulders. “I’m whoever I want to be,” I whisper, my voice laced with challenge.

He growls, his thrusts deepening, his control slipping further. “You’re mine tonight,” he insists, his lips brushing my ear.

“And later?” I tease, my nails digging into his skin.

“Yeah you’ll have your pick of them later,” he admits, his voice tight with frustration. “But right now, you’re mine.”

I moan, my body tightening around him, my orgasm building. “Then take me,” I breath, my voice a plea.

He doesn’t hold back. His movements became frantic, his hips snapping against mine as he chases his own release. I cry out, my body shaking as pleasure washes over me, waves of ecstasy crashing through me. Jake follows, his groan muffled against my neck as he spills himself inside me, his seed filling me completely.

For a moment, we stand there, breathless - the risk - the pleasure - intertwining in a heady rush. Then, with a final kiss, he sets me down, his hands smoothing my dress back into place.

“You’re playing a dangerous game,” he warns, his eyes searching mine.

I smile, my heart still racing. “That’s the only way I know how to play.”

I return to the table. Jake follows a respectable two minutes later. The tension between us electric. Richard looks up, his smile warm and unsuspecting. “Everything alright, darling?”

“Perfect,” I reply, sliding into my seat, my hand brushing Jake’s under the table. “Just perfect.”

As the evening draws to a close, I can’t help but feel a sense of satisfaction. Only Jake and I know the passion that passed between us. Oh, and of course the cute little waiter I blew earlier. Just a little bribe, so he kept watch while Jake became my main course. It’s unlucky to see the bride before the wedding. Tomorrow, I’ll be Richard’s wife. But tonight, I’m mine. And as I lean into him, my lips brushing his cheek, I know that no matter what vows I take, I’ll always be the girl who breaks the rules. The girl who loves the risk, the thrill, and the burn of forbidden pleasure.

As we leave the restaurant, Jake’s hand brushes against mine one last time. I know this is just the beginning. In my mind I’ve already moved on from Jake. I’m already sharing giggles with my maid of “honour”. Fantasising about the randoms she’ll soon help me seduce in a cheap bar. My maid of “honour” my “wingman” by my side. Tomorrow, I’ll walk down the aisle. But tonight, I walk on the wild side. And it’s fucking glorious.

—————————————

I hope you don’t mind me sharing my wedding plans. I’ve got no shortage of guys who’ll tie the knot - but I’m holding out for a cute cherry boy. I’ve made more little boys into men than I can count. But I’m an old fashioned girl in some ways. Deflowering my new husband on our wedding day is the way God intended it. Who am I to argue with God’s will? Teaching my new husband how much I enjoy him licking my recently used cunt. Spreading my arse cheeks so he can kiss my shitter properly (“it’s so wet because I’m excited - now be a good boy and eat it all up”)

I know all you guys are perverted fuckers, just like me, and prefer stories about when I was just a little girl. So as an apology I’ve included some photos taken just after I got home from my trip through Europe. . (In Australia, almost everyone takes a year off after school ends to “see the world”). Back then, me and my friends used to do the party circuit following a few guys around to different parties. We were almost always at parties in Uni share houses - so they were pretty grungy.

They’d take a DVD of the party and sell it at Melbourne Uni. Then they’d sell tickets to the next gig with us as the main entertainment! I’d get free drinks and all the guys and gals I could fuck - so it was fun. The guys organising the parties were fantastic to fuck.

They always let me slip in some “ordinary” random guys to fuck if one or two (or three 😉) caught my eye. The randoms were the most fun - they’d really get into it. The guys organising it would check their student ID (for age) and do a rapid HIV test and we were good to go! (HIV is amazingly rare in Australia), Not as many people want to be photographed fucking as you may think - so for the first half hour I’d be wandering around the party, smiling sweetly, and begging guys. “Excuse me sir, sorry for interrupting. But will you pretty please, with sugar on top, fuck my brains out? I love it up the shitter if you’re into the dark side sir.”. Anyway, have a Captain Cook. I promise that next time it will be a memory from when I was just a little girl.