"It's December eighteenth. Three days till the end. Let's make this time count."
Brittany nods solemnly, because marriage is a solemn occasion, and so is the end of the world. They could travel, try to see the world in three days, but she rejects that idea. Family is the most important thing in a time like this. That's what she told her mom and dad, but they left for Saint-Tropez anyway. But it's fine because Sam is her family now. Her husband.
Wow, her husband!
And she and her husband have the house themselves for the rest of time.
She's never dated someone this long before having sex with them. Actually, now that she thinks about it...she's pretty sure she's always had sex first, and then started dating. Or not started dating at all. It just proves that Sam is special, that he really is the one, her soulmate, the one she's destined to spend eternity with in Mayan heaven.
"Let's go have our honeymoon at my...our house, husband."
Sam smiles. "That's the best idea I've ever heard, wife."
Brittany drives them home. "Are you sad that you'll never see your parents again?" Sam asks her.
"A little," she says, "but I texted them and told them I forgive them for leaving."
"What about your sister?"
"Yeah, but I'm glad that she's with my grandma, because I don't think either of them know, and it's best that way."
Brittany doesn't ask if Sam is sad that he'll never see his family again. He is, but he decides not to call them to tell them good-bye. Like Brittany said, it's probably best for them not to even know the end is coming. He'll just call on the twentieth and tell them he loves them.
They reach Brittany's house—their house—and Sam carries her over the threshold. He sets her down on the couch and kneels in front of her. He takes her hands and looks into her eyes and says, "I love you, Brittany. And now that we're married I think we should be completely honest with each other." She nods, and he continues: "I've been really nervous about...having sex with you..."
"I know that," she says. She can tell it's not because he doesn't think she's hot.
"I've only done that a couple times, and never with anyone I'm crazy about, and—"
"And you're worried you won't be any good?"
"Kinda," he admits.
"Don't," she says, brushing her fingers through his hair. "Lots of guys aren't that good, I'm sort of used to it. I can always make myself come if you can't do it."
"Oh," he says. It's not exactly the reassurance he was hoping for.
"Besides, you have three whole days to practice. That's like...let's see, three times an hour, times...how many hours in a day?"
"You're the best, Britt." He pulls her left hand closer to himself. "I wish I could've bought you a ring."
"Jewelry's not important to me."
He kisses her hand, the knuckle of her ring finger. "It would have looked really pretty on you though." He licks a circle around the finger, where a ring would go, then pulls the finger into his mouth and sucks on the tip. He kisses her wrist and starts kissing up the inside of her arm, but stops because the lacy sleeve of her wedding dress tickles his lips, and anyway he doubts she can feel it too much.
"This dress can come off, you know," Brittany says, reaching for the zipper in back.
He takes her hand to stop her. "Yeah, I know. But you look so beautiful in it. Do you mind leaving it on for a little while?"
She shakes her head and says, "I don't mind. You look super hot in your suit too."
Sam gets up off the floor and straddles her on the couch, not quite sitting in her lap but more hovering just above it. "I love you, wife," he says, just before he leans in and captures her lips in his.
Brittany returns the kiss, exploring the inside of his mouth with her tongue. "Wow," she says, "husband spit tastes even better than boyfriend spit."
"Can I find out what wife skin tastes like?"
Brittany nods. Sam traces a line with his tongue from her chin to under her ear. He pulls her earlobe into his mouth gently, being careful not to pull out her earring, and then moves slowly down her neck. He places open-mouthed kisses on her shoulder and chest—only the parts that are already exposed; he doesn't disturb the dress.
Of course, he's tasted her neck and chest before—even her boobs once, and they were awesome—and she doesn't really taste any different now that she's his wife. But there's one part of her he's never seen before, much less tasted...and he can get there without removing her dress. True, her white tights will have to go, but he reasons that if he just pulls them down a little instead of taking them all the way off, it doesn't really ruin the look.
He gets on the floor and kneels in front of her. Her tights—he didn't notice this before, but they have a line of, like, less see-through white going up the back of each leg. He traces one of the lines with his finger, from her ankle to the back of her knee. That's where the couch cushion pretty much stops him. "You wanna see where it leads?" Brittany asks.
"Yes!" Sam says, wanting very much to trace the line as far up as he can.
Brittany stands and turns so her back is to him. He starts at the ankle again, moving his finger up slowly. Brittany's watching him over her shoulder, and when he gets that far she hikes her dress up at the same rate. The lines stop about midway up her thighs and everything turns to lace, and then the lace stops too and Sam gasps.
He's just realized she's got those stockings on that the women sometimes wear in high-class porn, with garters and everything. There are a couple inches of bare thigh, and then a tiny little pair of lacy white panties that show off two round and smooth and irresistible butt cheeks. Honest to god, the whole effect is, like, equal parts virginal bride and expensive call-girl. He's not sure which turns him on more. "Oh sweet Jesus," he says.
"I thought you'd like it."
"I'm seriously the luckiest guy ever. You're my wife, mine forever."
"Forever and ever," Brittany agrees. Holding the skirt up to her waist, she turns 360 degrees for him to see her from every angle.
Sam slides his hands up under the panties, and he's totally groping her ass, and it's his wife's ass and he can grope it whenever he wants! It's not what he most wants to touch, though. He turns her so she's facing him and lightly grips the panties' waistband. "Can I take them off?" he asks softly.
Brittany nods and silently unfastens the garters. Sam slowly pulls the panties down to her knees. She's not completely shaved, which surprises him, since all the girls in porn are. But Brittany has a little patch of soft blonde hair, and it's somehow the sexiest thing Sam has ever seen. He touches it—tentatively, as if he's afraid he might hurt her—and it tickles his fingertips.
He finds himself wondering like crazy what she tastes like down there. He's never gone down on a girl—in fact he's never really seen a girl's junk up close. The couple times he had sex with that girl in Kentucky he lost his virginity to, they were in the back of her car and trying to finish before getting caught, so there really wasn't any exploring going on.
Normally he'd be kind of terrified to try it for the first time with Brittany because, let's face it, if anyone can tell a good eating-out from a bad one it's likely her. But...YOLO, and only for three more days, so...
He puts his face right up to her mound, the little patch of hair tickling his lips and chin. He breathes in heavily. He feels like he could get drunk off her scent, and he's not even at its source yet. He opens his mouth and sticks out his tongue...
"Oh! Sammy!"
Sam looks up at her, worried. "I'm sorry, I didn't ask if that was okay!"
"More than okay," Brittany says. "Can I make it a little easier for you?"
Sam nods eagerly. Brittany wiggles the panties down to her ankles and steps out of them. She sits on the edge of the couch, dress hiked up to her waist, and opens her legs. Sam immediately has his face in her crotch again, and he's still moving slowly and gently, but somehow less tentatively now. He kisses her lips and glides his tongue along her slit. Up and down, moving just a tiny bit deeper with each pass.
Finally he separates her lips with his fingers, and wow! Everything inside is so pink. And wet—so apparently he's doing something right. There's the little bud of her clitoris, all puffy and inviting. He really wants to just go for it, but he doesn't, because he wants to taste every other part first. He starts by licking a long, broad stripe that stops just short of her clit.
And, fuck, if he thought Brittany's scent was enough to get him drunk before, now it's just...the scent is actually making him lightheaded, and the taste and the feel of her on his tongue is even better. He's completely immersed in her sex, it's overwhelming every one of his senses, he could swear he can even hear her blood pulsing.
Brittany moans and puts her hand in Sam's hair. She squirms, in part because she can't help it, and in part because she's trying to get him to touch her clit. At first she thought maybe he didn't know where it was, but now she's convinced he's avoiding it on purpose to drive her crazy. And it's so working. By the time his tongue plunges inside her pussy she's nearly out of her mind. He starts fucking her with his tongue, and it's so good, and if he would just...
She's about to...she doesn't know. Beg...or order him to touch it...or take matters into her own hands, when she feels the tip of his tongue moving toward it. "God, Sammy, please don't stop," she says.
He doesn't stop. He flicks her clit a few times, sending shocks of joy through her. He flattens his tongue against it and basically just holds still because by this time Brittany can't contain herself at all and is pretty much humping his face. "Sammy, Sammy, Sammy," she chants. He starts to suck, and she loses it.
She wails as she tries but fails not to squeeze Sam's head between her thighs. It's so good, all she can do is thrash and scream as her orgasm crashes through her. It doesn't slow down, in fact it keeps building. Brittany thinks for a minute that this is actually how she's going to die and that it'll be the best death ever. By the time she finally reaches the peak, her throat is raw from screaming but she manages a final, "Fuck, fuck, fuck!" and she feels a final gush of juices flood Sammy's mouth. Her thrashing slows down to rocking, and she whimpers softly as her thigh muscles relax and release Sam's head from their grip. He continues to kiss her until she's completely still.
Sam rests his chin on her knee and says, "That was awesome."
Brittany opens her eyes and looks down at him. His hair is rumpled. His cheeks are pink and his face is wet and glistening. His ears are red. "Sorry I squeezed you so hard."
"It was totally worth it."
"You are...amazing at that. I kinda thought you had never done it before."
"I hadn't, that was the first time."
"For real?" Brittany asks. People have told her before that she's too gullible, but she doesn't think Sam would lie to her, even if it is hard to believe. "Well, let's not let it be the last time. But first I think it's my turn."
Sam perks up. "Yeah?"
"Uh-huh. Why don't you stand up?" Sam stands in front of her, and Brittany scoots forward on the couch. Seeing the bulge in his suit pants, she licks her lips. She thinks Sam is pretty big, but she's only seen and felt his cock through clothing before, and even then it's just been incidentally.
Sam undoes his belt, but Brittany pushes his hands away, wanting to do it herself. She pops open the button and pulls down his zipper, letting her fingers graze over his still cotton-covered length. His dick is already pretty hard, but she feels it stiffen even more at her touch. She tugs at his pants and he lifts his butt off the couch enough for her to push them down past his hips. "Oh my god," she says. He's wearing black briefs—black mesh briefs. The only part that's solid fabric is the panel covering his cock. "Sammy, will you strip for me? Please?"
"What? Now?" he asks. He's glad she likes the underwear—he bought them special just for this occasion—but he's really hard and he's really eager for her to...
"Not now," she says. "I can't wait that long to suck your dick. But after that? Before you fuck me?"
He feels his dick jump a little at the words fuck me, and he says, "Yeah. Sure."
Her hand slips inside the briefs and wraps around his cock. Sam lets out a low groan. It's not technically the first time a girl's touched him there, but it feels like it. Brittany pulls his underwear down and says, "Oh my god," again.
"What?" Sam asks, slightly worried.
"I had no idea you were this hung," Brittany says. She's had sex with lots of guys who were above average before, even big, but Sam is fucking hung. And she knows they say that size doesn't matter, but it actually kinda does. It's been a long time since she's worried at all about taking a cock, about whether it might hurt. Not that she's exactly worried now—she's totally eager. And if it does hurt a little at first, it'll be like being a virgin on her wedding night! Which her parents always used to tell her would make it special.
She strokes his cock lightly, sort of reverently, in fact. It's almost like she doesn't know where to begin. Actually it's more that she wants to begin everywhere and can't choose. Her eyes are drawn to his huge, heavy balls. She thinks of all the delicious spunk in there just waiting to shoot into her mouth and decides that's a good place to start.
Dragging her fingernails across one, she slowly licks and sucks the other one into her mouth. "Oh, fuck, Britt," Sam says, "I gotta sit down for this."
Brittany reluctantly lets him slip out of his mouth so he can sit, and she moves to the floor between his legs. "Comfy now?"
"Uh-huh."
She goes right back to what she was doing before, but with the other ball in her mouth this time. Sam is kind of pissed at himself for being too shy to mess around with Brittany before this, because she's freaking amazing. But on the other hand he really is a romantic, and he's happy their first time gets to be on their wedding night.
Just when Sam starts to think he might come from ball play alone, she starts to lick all over his shaft—like it's a popsicle and she has to lick everywhere fast because it's melting. She starts to kiss and suck here and there, everywhere except the head. Meanwhile she's stroking him wherever her mouth isn't. Sam leans back and closes his eyes. It's the best...it really is the best thing ever.
Until she starts on his head, that is. "Oh god!" He lurches forward and grasps blindly at Brittany's hair, accidentally grabbing her flowery head-wreath thing instead. He flings it aside in annoyance, totally forgetting he thought it was really pretty on her.
She licks up his pre-come and mutters, "So good," which is exactly—exactly —what Sam is thinking. She licks all around the head before encircling it with her lips. And then she starts to suck, and—oh, Jesus fucking Christ. It's not like the little sucky-kissy things she was doing before (which were great, by the way), but she's really sucking, like she wants to suck all his come right into her mouth.
Just in case she doesn't realize that's what's going to happen, he asks, "Do you want me to warn you before I..." Brittany shakes her head vigorously and starts pumping him. He watches her head bob up and down on him, and then she moans—Brittany moans like sucking his cock is her favorite thing in the world, and that does it for him.
His balls tighten and his cock surges deeper into her mouth, back toward her throat, and spurts out torrents of thick, creamy come. Brittany swallows it—of course she swallows it, she loves come.
When she judges that he's shot most but not all he's going to, she maneuvers his dick so it's not quite as far back in her mouth—not because she's afraid she'll gag or anything (she never gags), but because when jizz goes straight down her throat she doesn't get a chance to really taste it. She manages to catch a pretty decent pool on her tongue. After Sam shudders and pulls out his spent cock, she rolls the come around her mouth, savoring its salty tanginess, before swallowing it.
"Oh my god, Britt," Sam pants, leaning forward to rest his forehead on hers. "That was..."
"Yummy!" she supplies.
"You're really yummy too."
"I know," she agrees enthusiastically. "I can't wait to suck your dick after you've been fucking me for a while."
"Oh Jesus, Britt." He just came—really hard—and already he's feeling another twitch just at hearing her say that.
"Are you ready to strip for me?" she asks.
"Fuck. Can you give me, like, a minute to recuperate?"
She makes a pouty face at him, but just for play, she's not really mad. She says it's fine and rests her head on his lap. And while she's right there and not doing anything else she can't help but play with his cock a little, because she just really, really likes it so much.