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Most of Becci’s friends and family still thought of her as a timid and private girl; they were stunned by her wedding dress. She had spent months agonising over the design with her dressmaker to create an honest and exhilarating expression of her true self. It was strapless and the neckline plunged two inches below nipple level, but the gap was carefully tapered and her modesty was preserved by a barely visible transparent tie. Even when she fully twisted around only the inner curve of her breast was exposed. Of course roving eyes would follow her as she walked and danced, hoping in vain for a glimpse of more.
She knew her back was elegant and it was shown off through the finest sheer lace. Her flawless skin was visible down to just above the dimples in her lower back, while the simple plain silk below clung to the curve of her hips and thighs. Even a delicate strapless lace bra would have been on display at the front, and clearly visible at the back. She could have worn separate adhesive cups, but she opted for nothing and felt incredible. Just one layer of silk concealed her breasts on her wedding day.
The Louboutin’s her sister had bought her provided the perfect finish. The elegant 100 mm stiletto heel was matched by the iconic Chinese Red sole. Her legs appeared longer, her bum lifted higher and back arched a little more. At the front her modest but firm breasts were pushed forward.
Wearing these heels made her feel so sexy and desirable, not least because they transformed her walk. She crossed one foot ever so slightly over the other, adding an enticing shimmy to her body, and particularly to her pelvis. The little flash of red with each step was sensual and alluring to most, although scandalous on a bride to a few.
Becci had spent months practicing this walk in the privacy of her home, either in lingerie or nude. She videoed her efforts for subsequent self-critique. Once perfected it felt like her Louboutin’s made sexuality flow from her in all directions. The once timid shy girl was finally proud of herself, her bullies and demons defeated. Far from being an affront to feminism, to her they were liberating.
Becci approached the alter on her father’s arm, her eyes twinkling with a mischievous smile as she wondered how many men present were aroused by the vision before them, and deeply jealous of Paul. When she took her vows she at least had the decency to blush as she uttered the words “And forsaking all others.” Her colour deepened when she realised the priest had noticed.
Later at the reception she hung on every word Paul spoke and declared her undying love and commitment to him, bringing tears to a few eyes. She made sure that everyone recognised the depth of her true feelings for him, and that it was as much his day as hers.
Becci loved and wanted him, but since that conflicted and lurid night sex between them had been awkward and vanilla. She hoped they could put it behind them now they were married, and that he would once again take charge and more importantly fuck her properly. She wanted a honeymoon to remember for the best reasons. She wanted a full life with him. After all, even though he didn’t know she had discovered his infidelity, they were more than even now. They were going to spend three weeks touring some of the most romantic cities in Europe; surely that would help.
Paul was still wrecked with guilt and hesitant with her. She wanted him to be overwhelmed by desire for her, to throw her on a bed and ravage her, or lift her ankles onto his strong shoulders, pull her panties down and nail her as she sat on an armchair or sofa. Yet he was infuriatingly gentle; worse still he kept asking her for permission. He had switched from wolf to lamb in the bedroom, just as she had realised how much she desperately wanted and needed him to be so much more. From they first met his lust for her had fed her desire for him. Becci was sick of him repeatedly asking if this or that was alright.
Their first destination was Paris and Becci had booked a period hotel with a Michelin starred restaurant; Le Lancaster. There was a roll top bath sitting in full view in their bedroom. She bathed frequently, but it was closer to an erotic water dance as she caressed rather than washed her body, smiling invitingly in Paul’s direction. She always offered to join him when he bathed. Even that failed; she deserved fresh clean water unsullied by him.
The next city was Prague. On their second night and under the influence Becci jumped at an invitation from a wealthy couple to join a party in their villa on the outskirts of town. They arrived as the sun set and she realised there were only three other women present. She was easily the youngest and yes, the prettiest girl there. She was the centre of attention.
Absinthe was produced and consumed with abandon. Paul drank too much and too quickly; within a couple of hours he became incoherent. Becci joked that he had “An absinthe absence.” She helped him to his feet and their host guided them to a guest room as they staggered aydınlı escort behind him, hanging off each other.
Becci was incredibly horny; it was her honeymoon after all. Earlier she had drunkenly and openly asked Paul for “A proper good hard fuck,” much to the amusement of their new found friends in the villa. Perhaps it was the attention lavished on her by the many men present, from the young and muscular to the more mature and cultured. In reality each played a role, fuelled by an excess of alcohol. But yes, she enjoyed the attention, and she did nothing to dissuade them.
Paul flopped onto the bed and fell asleep still dressed. Becci pulled his shoes, jeans and boxer shorts off feeling his balls and semi-erect cock. Oh he had such a gorgeous cock! She simply knew that women who said cocks looked horrible were lying; cocks could become erect and stand so proud. Men could put them inside other people, literally inside them! That was so unfair; God was a sexist bastard.
She took him in her tender mouth while caressing his chest and firm buttocks, but he was too far gone and barely woke. Her efforts were futile. She sighed and covered him with the sheet. In the distance music beckoned.
Becci returned to the party, carefully choosing a single armchair. Surely that would keep her safe from herself and others, securing a little personal space. Yet everything about her screamed fuck me; her heels, stockings and revealing dress, her twinkling eyes and coy smiles. She leaned invitingly towards the men around her as they spoke. The truth was that she had only slept with one man other than Paul before her tryst with Nick and John.
To Paul she seemed so innocent when they first met, but from her teens wild thoughts and fantasies raged through her mind. On that night she’d broken so many taboos and was incredibly aroused by doing so, even when the turn of events also shocked and frightened her. She had a very conservative upbringing and whilst she had come to deeply regret how few experiences she’d had before she got engaged, she was sure that everything would have been different if only Paul hadn’t cheated. She could have released her inner erotic demons just for him and been his eager little fuck-bunny. She would have done pretty much anything he asked if it fed his desire for her.
Becci felt an awakening surging inside her, something that should have been realised five years ago. Perhaps if it had been released and satiated then she could have cleansed it from her system once and for all. She mustn’t go down that road again, certainly not on her honeymoon. She now knew she could be a slut, a whore. That things she once pretended to be appalled by excited her, much more than that, she was inexplicably drawn to them.
The thought of leading such a life filled her with fear and dread, not least because suddenly she knew it was a real possibility. The arousal and excitement she felt from recalling erotic dreams and entertaining awake imaginings was intoxicating. Her thoughts returned to Paul, to the wonderful man she had chosen to spend the rest of her life with, and to the shame and regret she felt after her previous elaborate and deliberate betrayal.
More absinthe flowed and Becci’s focus wondered. There was now a group of men gathered around her; she couldn’t see or hear anyone else. She giggled like a schoolgirl at their jokes and blushed at their compliments. As she passed the point of discretion her gaze strayed over their muscular bodies and bulging groins. Her nipples were painfully engorged and pussy moist and tingling. With a last glass of absinthe a fog descended upon her. In the haze, she was only intermittently aware that she was not alone.
Becci felt as if she was in a hinterland somewhere between the world of dreams and wakeful fantasy. She became increasingly aroused and carelessly stroked the side of her breast, only for her hand to be joined by another. She instinctively pushed her chest forward as the hand engulfed her sensitive flesh, murmuring “Squeeze my little tit… hard… squeeze it hard!”
She had recurring fantasies in which a rugged handsome stranger could not restrain his desire for her and took her by force. In others it was she who instigated their coupling, fucking him like a filthy little slut. Latterly it was rarely just one man. But they were just fantasies, and that was allowed.
Becci’s breathing became heavier as he gently teased her nipple and stroked the side of her breast. She mumbled “Paul… hmmm…” No, no Paul was asleep, it must be someone else! She had returned alone to the party. Oh God, but that felt so good! What was she doing? Perhaps she could have just a little playful fun, just as long as she didn’t let it go too far. Not too far.
Another man’s hands caressed her slender legs, slowly and gently working up her inner thighs with each stroke, bunching her dress up around her waist. Someone was tugging at the zip. The cool air hit her skin and briefly revived bağdat caddesi escort her senses. The man kneeling before her was clean shaven with keen bright eyes and strong but elegant hands. Four others were gathered around her in various degrees of undress. One standing on her right hand side was stripped to his waist and placed her hand on an impressive bulge in his shorts.
Becci’s lips parted as she felt the outline of his warm cock slowly expanding under her touch. He unbuttoned his fly and let her fingers slip inside. She shamefully slid her hand down to cup his balls, moving them gently in her hand, before returning to his cock and pulled it free. She slurred, “No, no I mus… mustn’t. Just let me… let me feel it. That’s all.”
Becci’s head began to spin and she sunk back towards the haze. A dream, please let it just be a dream. Someone pulled her forward and her face was pressed against rugged jeans. Bulging jeans, with the warmth and scent of another engorged and weeping cock. Did she really lick the precum oozing through the material? No, no, no, she wouldn’t, surely not. This must be a dream, just a fantasy.
Becci smiled; they wanted to undo the clasp of her bra. As the restraining band loosened it felt so good, so liberating. “Yes, yes that’s so… Oh so much better…” she whispered with a little smile. She loved to take her bra off at the end of a night, the release always felt incredible. Becci was gently eased back into the chair while several hands continued to caress her body. Two hands ran up her legs and grasped her panties, sliding them down over her petite yet curvaceous buttocks and legs, clumsily catching them on the spiked heel of her shoes.
The fog closed in a little further; it seemed as if she was watching this happen to someone else. Becci became aware of a warm, hard, musky cock pressed against her face, moving up and down her cheek. Her lips parted and accepted him, she could feel, smell and taste him and she began to pleasure him. But no, this couldn’t be real, it must be a dream, she wasn’t actually doing this. As much as she wanted to, as much as she fantasied about such things, she couldn’t, not now.
Someone else groped her breasts, while another kissed her inner thighs. She slowly wriggled her pelvis down towards him; it felt incredible! “Hmmm… higher… pl… please.” His face pressed between her thighs, pushing them open. His warm tongue traced the outline of her outer and inner labia, “Ah… ha… Ahh!” He reached her clit, licking and sucking it, then gently nibbling her. She writhed exclaiming, “Oh my… Oh my God!” The tip flicked down to her vagina, probing into her, then returned to her clitoris.
She was so aroused now and in that instant truly and shamefully aware of what she was letting them do to her. She could still stop this, but the cunnilingus felt so good! Perhaps she could let him continue for just a little longer, and do no more. Yet deep down she recognised that she was disinhibited by absinthe and arousal, and that things were only escalating.
A firm hand pulled her face to the other side, and a different cock pressed through her lips. Her hands were stretched out to both sides, feeling the muscular legs and bodies of the men surrounding her. It was all still so surreal. One part of her desperately wished that this was just a vivid dream, another simply wanted to give herself to them all.
One cock was in her mouth, her tongue flicking its underside, another was moving against her naked breast, and “Ah…ahh… oh yes,” lips were still on her pussy! Her legs quivered as he held her on the edge of an orgasm that suddenly engulfed her.
Becci hadn’t regained her composure before she was pulled down until her bum was on the edge of the chair and her ankles were hauled up onto strong shoulders. She could see one of the men towering above her. Her vagina felt achingly empty and oh so, so ready for him, just like in her dreams. If only this was a dream, but she knew now it was real. This was happening to her, a powerful naked man was about to take her and she wanted him to, she was going to let him.
Becci felt pressure at her entrance; she was tight but invitingly wet. She sensed the rings of muscle in her vagina yield to his advancing cock. His rhythm built. Oh Christ, he was fucking her. He was really fucking her! Becci’s breathing became erratic as he began to pound her, groping her and savagely thrusting into her.
Her hands were tugging on two of the other cocks. Every muscle in her body tensed as a second orgasm built. Oh God no! His grip tightened and he grunted, sinking balls deep into her as his cum spurted into her womb. Incredibly he was still hard enough after he came to start fucking her again.
Strong hands pulled her mouth back onto the engorged cock she had just been pleasuring. It advanced further and further into her mouth with each stroke. She frantically tried to please him, to be the best he had ever bostancı escort had, angling her neck to allow him to slide over the back of her tongue and into her throat. She felt it twitch as he pulled back and the familiar salty taste of cum filled her mouth. Further strands of fluid struck her face and tits; the musky smell was unmistakable.
A man had been holding her leg while she was being used by the others. He was now rocking his pelvis, his cock inside her stocking and pressed against her leg. She felt a dampness. The one inside her pussy slipped from her and eased her legs gently back down to the floor.
Her panic began to settle, her heart slowed and she gradually became less aware again. Their faces became blurred and voices distant as Becci, still very inebriated, drifted back into a trance to the clink of glasses and laughter around her.
It was a dream, yes it must have been a dream she thought as the fog closed in and she drifted off. A wonderful but also a terrible dream. In these last few weeks Becci had tried so hard to live a good life, but her cheating fiancé had destroyed everything. It wasn’t her fault. If it had happened it wasn’t her fault.
Her thighs were parted once again by unfamiliar hands. Another cock slipped into her moist pussy. Her delicate young body jolted and the springs of the armchair creaked with each rhythmic thrust as it moved inside her. She moaned as another orgasm built, pulling her back into the moment. It was a young lad, perhaps in his late teens, but he came much too quickly and was done. Becci’s frustration and hunger were evident.
The couple they first met were beside her now. The woman took a small vibe from her purse and placed it on Becci’s clitoris. Her orgasm surged back as the man gently opened and lifted her quivering thighs. His friends held her splayed open before him as he held his hard, engorged cock at her entrance.
She was looking into his eyes as he thrust into her, “You did ask… for a proper… good… hard… fuck!” The vibe was still surging on her swollen clitoris, her legs restrained by strong men, as he slammed into her again and again. It felt like every muscle in her body was in a spasm; this was too much! “Ff… fuck!” Becci’s petite body bucked against him to meet his thrusts until she finally climaxed.
As Becci’s orgasm faded he withdrew from her and pulled his condom off, spurting jets of cum over her belly and tits. His wife giggled, “It’s my turn!” Becci’s muscles felt so weak and she was too far gone to speak. She realised that her new friends were moving away from her now. She fell into darkness.
The sunlight streaming into the room wakened her at dawn. She was alone. Her mouth was parched dry and her head pounding. Oh God, the smell! The room was heavy with the scent of cum. She was still in the armchair. Someone had thrown a sheet over her, but underneath she was only wearing her stockings and heels.
Oh Christ it was all true, it was real. Cum had dried on her lips, cheeks, neck, breasts, belly, groin and stockings. As she ran her fingers through her hair several stands were caked together by semen. She reached down between her legs and felt a damp patch on the seat.
What had they done? What had she done? She couldn’t remember saying no or trying to resist them. Piecing together a few fragmented memories to her shame she had done quite the opposite! How many had there been? She didn’t mean to do any of this, not on her honeymoon. Now she had probably been fucked by more men in one night than she’d had in her entire life before this. She could barely remember their faces let alone their names.
Becci cleaned herself with tissues as best she could and quickly gathered her things together. Thankfully Paul was still asleep. She stripped naked and quickly showered and dried herself. Wrapping her hair in a towel she slipped into bed beside him. She was trembling, tortured by the recognition of what had happened. Finally she drifted back into a fitful sleep.
She was awoken my Paul’s tender touch; he was spooning her, whispering his love for her. It broke her heart and real tears welled in her eyes. She loved him so much in return. She couldn’t turn around to face him or she would lose all control. She lay motionless, pretending to be asleep or perhaps unconscious. His hands explored her body like he used to do. His fingers found her pussy and spread her sex over her clitoris. His beautiful bulbous hard cock pressed into her.
Her heart was now racing, yet she lay completely still. Her husband was finally taking her properly like he should, like he must. He stopped suddenly; he had heard her gasp! Becci reached back frantically grabbing him, “No… no fuck me… fuck me like the dirty little slut I am… I.. I… I enjoyed it! I’m sorry.” Her sobs now audible, “Grab my tits and slam me down on your hard cock!”
Something clicked in Paul’s brain, she wasn’t referring to this or there’d be no need for tears. She reached back to feel his buttocks as he slammed into her. Suddenly he threw her on her back. Her lips enveloped his, her legs and arms pulled him into her. His hand found her throat. Oh God, she sensed his rage! She submitted herself to him completely. He was pounding her like she deserved, but the world was fading, fading into darkness. “Becci? Becci? Please! Oh.. oh my love…” She had briefly fainted but she was back.
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