groan. She clearly loved this. He could tell by the way she pressed herself down on his crotch, taking his long cock inside her depths. She had become the one running the show even though Ash was the one who had started it. She moaned over and over again as he thrust upwards, his cock unyielding. Her nipples were still at his mercy, his tongue viciously attacking, his fingers almost violently flicking.
She suddenly gasped when he withdrew his hands and mouth from her nipples and grabbed a handful of her hair. He thrust into her with continuing persistence a she looked into her eyes. His pupils were dilated from his lust from the feeling he had being so deep inside such a wet pussy. “You. Are. Mine,” he said thrusting into her with every word.
“I’ve always…b een,” she said in a low voice as she felt her body betraying her. She tried holding back but it was too late. She was already there. Her pussy squeezed hard on his cock as her body erupted in violent spasms. Her vagina squeezing on his cock was too much for him to handle. He felt himself erupting deep inside her. He released her hair and buried his face in it as he went on thrusting into her as his orgasm rode him on.
By this time, she was crying out, not caring whether Pablo or Franco or whatever his name was could hear her. When he was done, she was still shaking in his arms, the obvious remnant of their violent orgasm. She pulled away and looked at him. “Now, will you tell me?” she asked panting. Just then, Pablo knocked gently on the partition. They then realized that the limo was at a standstill.
“We’re here, Mr. Morgan,” Pablo called out. Ash smiled at Candice as she climbed off him.
“I guess you’ll just have to find out,” he said as he pulled his pants on.
White Dress — Passion from the Past
by Carla Burke
I looked down the aisle, my eyes focusing on my soon to be husband at the end. The music hadn’t quite started yet and there was a gentle buzz of chatter coming from the rows of people waiting for my wedding to start. The large wooden pews were occupied by mine and George’s family and close friends; all of them ready to watch the biggest moment of my life.
George stood straight by the vicars alter, his legs moved nervously underneath him. His best man had one hand on his shoulder for support and hopefully not to stop him running. We had been looking forward to this day for years and now it was finally here. My past was behind me and my future stood mere metres away.
I took my first step forward down the marble path and the wedding march started immediately. The spectators hushed quickly and all eyes turned to me, except the deep browns ones of George. I took in a large breath and pushed my second foot forwards, bringing me even closer to him.
My eyes drifted around the room, everyone was dressed in their finest and all of them were wearing different shades of gold and red. They matched my golden laced dress and the deep red of the bridesmaid’s gowns. Even the rows of flowers leading my way had specks of red amidst the white roses.
The sight looked as though it was out of a fairy tale, everything I had ever dreamt of; almost. Soft light from the summer sun drifted in through the stained glass windows illuminating my path in a warm red glow. I took a few more steps forward, letting the bridesmaids carry my train behind me; I was almost half way up the aisle now.
George still stood with his back to me; his gentle brown curls just reached his starched white collar. His suit was the deepest black with tails that almost reached the floor. It was more his taste than my own, but I couldn’t deny his one decision on our big day.
Deciding to turn to my guests one last time before reaching him I shifted my gaze. Dozens of smiling faces met me, a few with tears already in their eyes. The image made me chuckle slightly, even I wasn’t crying yet. I recognised every face immediately; that was until my eyes reached the back of the room. My heart thudded in my chest as a pair of piercing blue eyes met my own; the same pair I thought I would never see again.
My feet slowed along with the rest of my body; time seemed to stand still as I continued to stare. The train of people behind me struggled to match my sluggish pace. I whipped my head around quickly, trying to disguise the anguish on my face. I breathed in hastily and composed myself to walk the last three metres to George. I couldn’t look back now as much as my entire body and being begged me to, I couldn’t see those eyes again.
If George noticed me staring at another man in that way he would be more hurt than even I could imagine; but there was only one person that could make my heart beat so fast and hard and he wasn’t stood at the end of the aisle waiting for me. I could feel him watching my back as if judging what I was going to do.
I couldn’t let my family down or George, I had to go through with this wedding; my momentary disillusion would have to be forgotten. I finally reached the end of the aisle, aligning myself next to George. His face beamed happiness as his eyes raked my body, searching the length of my dress.
“Charlotte,” he breathed, almost inaudibly. I smiled back at him, hiding all doubt from my face as I searched his. He was handsome, his face defined by the mass of brown curls that surrounded it and his eyes were deep and mellow. He was comfort and happiness but perhaps that was not enough.
My mind still swirled with images of the man at the back of the church; the man with short black hair and eyes sharper than the most fearsome thunder. He was the person that could make every hair on my body stand to attention with a single glance and the only man that could make me doubt my commitment to George. But the most important question was why he was here when I hadn’t seen him for over ten years.
I spoke my parts with confidence and fake interest, giving the appearance to my guests that was I listening. Even George didn’t notice my lack of enthusiasm and he was supposed to know me better than anyone. Well he thought he did and I had convinced myself that he was supposed to be here with me. Since I had reached him I hadn’t dared to look upon the crowds for fear of finding the eyes I longed for. I just let my mind swirl with images and thoughts of my black haired man, whilst trying my best not to show it. Before I knew it the final words were forming in my mouth.
“I do,” I whispered as if to myself instead of the crowded room. I finally allowed myself to look, if only for confirmation that I had done the correct thing. I turned my head away from my new husband and searched the pews desperately. When I couldn’t find his face amongst the crowd I tried again; after my third and frantic attempt I gave up. He was gone and I had probably imagined him in the first place.
I felt a soft pressure on my lips as George kissed me slowly, snapping me back to reality. I pushed a smile onto my face and kissed him back, as a good wife should. After all we were married now and I was his and always would be. A great cheer erupted from the pews as everybody rose to their feet clapping wildly. Every face showed clear delight, not a single eye was dry.
Even George had a few tears running freely down his face; it seemed that I was the only one kept from this moment of happiness. I was the one person that was supposed to cry at my happy day and new husband, but the only thing that made me threaten tears was the absence of the man from my past. As a child I had dreamt that he would be in George’s place, until the day I was forced to forget about his existence.
Before I knew what was happening I was being escorted out of the church by a swarm of people. All of our guests piled out of the building ready for the wedding pictures to be taken. I gazed around in a daze, letting them push me along with them. George was somewhere behind me, being clapped on the back by his brothers; something they always did. A few of my bridesmaids were surrounding me, herding me towards the exit.
When we finally hit the warm summer air I searched around again for the black haired man. My search came up short when only my family and friends met my examining eyes. I sighed before rearranging my face into what I hoped was a happy smile befitting a newlywed. George caught up with me and encased his hands in my own; the normal surge of comfort flooded through me as he dragged me towards the photographer.
We took all the normal pictures like they do at weddings in the wide open grounds of the church. From the ones I paid attention to we were stood in front of rose bushes and flower beds to be joined by different variations of our families. The final one was taken with all of us in it, grouped tightly together to fit us all in.
After the last picture everyone parted to head off to the reception venue, a couple of people stopped to hug me on their way. George kissed me lightly before heading off to his car; I was to travel in the vintage white limo that had brought me here with my bridesmaids. I brushed my brown ringlets from my face and paced the gardens,
