When the day of the wedding came around, all the preparations had been made, everything was paid for and all Nichole and Michael had to do was show up.
Like every other day they were together, Nichole woke up with Michael's arms holding her tight. She rested her head against his chest, listening to his heartbeat. He was still asleep. He looked so peaceful.
The morning sun shone through the windows. Nichole lifted her head and tried to quietly leave the bed, but Michael was a light sleeper. He caught her hand.
"Where are you going?"
"I've got plans for today," Nichole smiled playfully. She kissed him.
"You do?" Michael said, in feigned shock. He pulled her close. His hand strayed to her naked body. "I have a better idea. Why don't we just spend all day in bed?"
"Because I can't spend all day screwing my boyfriend!" she laughed and slipped out of his grasp. She bounced teasingly into the bathroom. Michael heard the shower begin to run. He bounced in after her.
A short time later, cleaned, fed and dressed, Michael and Nichole sat on the couch, looking out their windows. They cherished the quiet together. Neither said a word. Both knew it would be a long day. Michael held her close. Nichole absently ran her fingertips over his arm.
There was a knock at the door.
"I love you, Nichole."
She stood up and kissed Michael on the cheek. "I love you, too."
Nichole went to the door. It was her sisters Emily and Melissa, Michael's sister Courtney and the maid of honour, Nichole's best friend Maureen.
They each gave Nichole and Michael a hug and a kiss.
"It's time to go, sis," Emily said. She patted Michael on the head and tussled his hair. "The next time you'll see her, you'll be getting married."
"I can't wait."
Melissa gave Michael a second hug. "It must be nice being a guy. All you have to do is put on a suit and a tie 10 minutes before the whole thing starts, and then you're done. No hair, no makeup."
Michael just grinned.
The five girls left, Nichole pausing for one more pre-nuptial kiss.
Then the apartment was quiet. Michael had been alone there before, but it seemed strange this time. This would be the last time he would be single and alone in this place, or in his life. Michael looked around the apartment and thought back to the transformation it had undergone over the last six months. Thought back to the transformation he had undergone over the last six months.
Nichole had brought him to life, out of the doldrums of his daily existence, out of the routine that had become his life. He laughed more, he was a better boss; he felt passion rather than obligation.
All around him were reminders of his love. Pictures, art, elegance. Everything a single guy's apartment lacks. Her touch was everywhere, and he was a better man because of it.
Michael sat on the couch, thinking how lucky he was when the phone rang. The caller ID showed Nichole's cell phone number.
"Hey, honey." She sounded like she was running. "Are you still on the couch?"
"Yes."
"Good. Are you dressed?"
"Not any more than when you left." Michael was puzzled.
"I'm almost to the elevator. I told the girls I left something in the apartment and just needed to run up and get it. Take your shorts off."
He listened to her catching her breath. He heard the elevator ding! Her next words made the hair on his neck stand up.
"I want you hard when I get up there." Then she hung up.
When the key hit the lock, Michael was stroking his cock in anticipation. The two enjoyed a lot of spontaneous sex, but there was something different in her voice. Hunger.
Nichole flung the door open. Michael turned over his shoulder to see his bride peeling off her sweatshirt. She wasn't wearing a bra.
She vaulted over the back of the sofa. Michael started to get up, but she pushed him back down. Instantly, she was on her knees in front of him.
Nichole took his hard cock in her hands and her mouth descended on it. Her lips locked around his head, then she took its entire length down her throat.
Michael's body went rigid. He gripped her shoulders. Nichole began bobbing her head up and down on his cock. Normally she would go slow, built him up, make him beg her to get him off. But not this time. She was on a mission.
After almost six months together, she new what made Michael tick. And what made him pop. She raked her teeth against the swollen head of his cock. She tickled the slit with her tongue. She nibbled on the soft spot right under his head that drove him crazy.
With the end of his cock in her mouth, Nichole used her hands on the rest. Up and down on his shaft. She cupped his balls and squeezed gently. Up and down some more.
Taking a quick glance up, Nichole saw Michael with his head thrown back, his eyes closed. His hands gripped a pillow to either side of him. His knuckles were white.
The combination of her lips, teeth and tongue were driving Michael crazy. She knew this. Any other time, she would have let him down from this point, just short of blasting his load in her mouth, only to bring him back again and again. Teasing.
She loved the power of giving a blow job. Most of the time, she liked being submissive to Michael. She trusted him. She loved him. Nichole liked to feel his weight on top of her. She liked the pleasure he brought her.
But sometimes, she enjoyed being in control. Being the fellatrix gave her that control.
With a sigh, Nichole bit softly on the bottom of his cockhead and sent Michael over the edge.
With a quick jerk, she took Michael's cock out of her mouth and pointed it straight at her chest. His engorged penis flared and shot steaming cum on to Nichole's breasts. Thick ropes of his seed sprayed out on her. His head continued to pulse. Using both hands, Nichole milked his cock, coaxing out every last drop of cum on to her exposed body.
When she was satisfied that there was none left for her, Nichole released his semi-flaccid cock and began to rub her lover's cum into her chest, around her collarbones and even up to her neck. Michael's cum was thick and warm. Her nipples were hard with excitement, and she indulgently pinched them. If her bridesmaids weren't waiting in a car downstairs, she might have mounted Michael and gotten herself off right there.
When all of Michael's cum was rubbed like lotion into her soft skin, Nichole stood up. Michael hadn't recovered. He was breathing heavy, his eyes were half-open, partly exhausted, seething with desire. His cock was slick with her saliva, twitching. She hated to waste a hard-on but she had to go.
She kissed him quickly on the cheek.
"I want to have you with me all day," she whispered in his ear.
As quickly as she came in, she was gone. Back out the door, pausing only to put her sweatshirt back on and wash her hands.
Then Michael was left alone in the apartment. Again.
* * *
Nichole met Terra at Yummy Sushi, one of their favourite sushi bars on the near Washington Square. Terra's boyfriend Gabriel was there, as were some of their mutual friends Julie, Mark and Laurie.
"What's with Julie and the tiara?" Nichole asked Terra.
"Today's her birthday and she thinks it's all about her," her cousin grinned. "Hey, later tonight we're going to a new club over near the Village; you're welcome to come with us if you want."
"I'll think about it," Nichole replied. "What's it called?"
"Leviathan. It just opened last week. It's apparently very hot. Mark made special arrangements with Naked Boys Singing to perform there especially for her."
"Sounds like fun."
Nichole and Michael had been regulars at this place and the sushi chef recognized her immediately. With a hearty greeting, he began sending food their way, no menu necessary. She always enjoyed the casual atmosphere here and the presence of her cousin and friends made Michael's absence a little less painful.
* * *
Nichole spent the rest of her morning getting her hair and makeup done. It seemed to fly by. By mid-afternoo
n, it was time to get dressed and head over to the church for pictures. Michael had his taken first with the wedding party, then it was her turn. They didn't have any pictures taken together until after the ceremony.
The wedding was in a small Episcopal church on the lower west side. The church was packed with their friends and family and largely devoid of any major wedding day complications.
As she walked down the aisle, arm in arm with her father, Nichole fixed her gaze on her love. He was so handsome in his simple black tuxedo. Even surrounded by people, she felt that the two of them were alone.
The ceremony was simple. Nichole and Michael wrote their own vows and exchanged rings. The pastor delivered a short homily. Tears flowed down her fathers cheeks as he gave away his daughter to a young man he loved as much his own children.
After the quick wedding, it was on to the dinner reception. It was also a wing-ding of a party, but unlike their engagement celebration, there was no escaping. John, who was paying for the party after all, rented a country club on Long Island for the reception and truly went all out for his son and new daughter.
Nichole and Michael made their way through the guests, taking some time to talk to each. She was a radiant bride and he, like most grooms, was an uncomfortable guy in a penguin suit. Her penguin.
There was dancing and laughter and family and well wishes and everything else that was part of the "perfect" wedding. Like most weddings, it truly was perfect. At least as far as Nichole and Michael were concerned. The food was excellent, the band was fun and everyone they cared about was there to help them start their new lives together. There was cake-cutting, pictures, dancing and bouquets.
All throughout the night, Nichole could still sense traces of Michael on her, despite the perfume and food and other scents. It both comforted her and turned her on. As they danced their first dance together, Nichole whispered in his ear, "You're still on my chest, Michael. I can smell you."
The look in Michael's eyes was one of pleasure and torment. Pleasure at the memory of the morning; torment at not being able to rip her dress off and fuck her senseless right there.
The party ended well after night fell. Finally, Ernie and Carole corralled the bride and groom into a waiting limousine and it was off to their hotel back in Manhattan.
The newlyweds were exhausted after a long day. Neither said word for a long time. The drive back to Manhattan was peaceful and quiet. Nichole rested her head on Michael's shoulder. They held hands.
The limousine took them to the Plaza Hotel, one of New York's oldest and most luxurious hotels, and literally a stone's throw from their apartment. The driver let them off and amidst cheers from the hotel staff and a handful of other guests, they new couple was escorted up to their suite.
Someone (probably Ernie) must have called ahead; their bags were unpacked, and a hot bath was already drawn. A bottle of champagne sat in a bucket of ice next to the bed. The bed was covered in rose petals. The bellhop congratulated them again and left before Michael could even offer to tip him. Michael picked Nichole up and carried her across the threshold to the bedroom.
She kissed him tenderly. He set her down on the bed and she started to undress him.
"I need a bath," Nichole whispered in his ear. "Would you care to join me?"
"I think I'll fall asleep in the tub."
"Then you get undressed and I'm going to clean up."
Nichole got up off the bed and began to disrobe, carefully hanging up her wedding dress. Both were too tired to say much of anything. Michael took of his tuxedo and put on one of the hotel's robes. Nichole chuckled to herself as she watched Michael double-check to make sure everything was where it was supposed to be.
Just like his father, she thought.
Nichole disappeared into the bathroom, taking the champagne with her. The tub was hot, with a nice mixture of oils and scents in the water. She soaked for a long time, thinking back on the day and how perfect it was. When she almost dozed off in the bath, she realised it was time to go to bed.
She dried off and slipped into a robe.
"Honey, where are the—," she stopped when she saw Michael asleep on the bed. Drained from a long, hard day. The television was on. The Discovery Channel. As if he doesn't watch enough shows about sharks, military aircraft and geodesic formations. At least it's not a show about tanks.
After hunting for the remote, Nichole flipped the TV off, turned out the lights and crawled into bed beside her husband. She listened to the rhythmic sound of his breathing and fell asleep.
Sometime in the middle of the night, Michael awoke with a start. He was in the middle of an odd dream: two brown bears in tutus were riding bicycles through the streets of Paris. Everyone around them was naked except for fig leaves over their genitals and pasties covering their nipples. He was the only one who was completely naked and he was looking for a quart of motor oil.
He didn't have time to ponder the dream's deeper meaning; in the groggy state between a deep slumber and alertness, he realised Nichole was not in bed beside him. He started to sit up, but a strong hand pushed his chest back down. He collapsed back into the bed.
Something warm enveloped the head of his cock. He felt a hand steady his erect cock and the warmth descend down the shaft. He raised his head to see Nichole going down on him. The top of her head bobbed up and down steadily. Her ass was raised up on her knees between his legs.
Nichole gave his cock a series of wet, sloppy kisses, leaving a coating of warm saliva on his sex. She swirled her tongue around his head, and nibbled softly on the underside. She was rushed giving her last blow job; she was going to make this one last.
With one hand she cupped his balls as the other hand moved up and down in time with her mouth. Her rhythm varied and every couple of strokes she took all of his length in her mouth and down her throat.
Michael began to moan softly. He closed his eyes and fell deeper into the pillows.
"Oh, God, that feels so good," he whispered.
"Shhhhhh," Nichole said softly. "You're asleep."
After raking her teeth across his head, Nichole planted a series of soft kisses down the length of his cock, down the soft underside. Her hand gently ran its length in firm strokes.
She took one of his balls in her mouth, then the other. Michael arched his back. His spine tingled.
He could feel her hair brushing against the insides of his thighs. Her breath teased his cock while her mouth sucked on his balls.
Nichole put her hand over his testicles and her mouth went back to his cock. In a quick circular pattern, she ran her tongue all of the most sensitive parts, pausing every few seconds to take all it in her mouth.
Michael felt the tip of her tongue teasing the slit at the end of his cock, causing a shock wave of pleasure throughout his body. He felt the head of his cock start to pulse and knew he was close.
Nichole felt it too, and removed her mouth from his cock. She looked up to see Michael splayed out on the bed, his arms flung to the sides. His head rolled back and forth as she brought him back from the edge of his orgasm, using her hand to keep the stimulation constant but not overpowering.
Michael whimpered as his orgasm receded. "Don't stop."
Nichole smiled to herself. Satisfied that her lover wasn't on the verge of cumming, Nichole attacked his cock again with her mouth, using her tongue, lips and teeth on him.
She ran her teeth across the bottom of his circumcised cockhead, then pressed the top against the roof of her mouth, eliciting a satisfied groan from Michael.
As she kissed the insides of his thighs, Michael brushed her hair out of her face. She looked up at him, trying to gauge his desire and deciding how long to hold him off.
Again she brought Michael to the verge of orgasm, and again she brought him down again. He started to buck his hips into her mouth, trying desperately to find the release he craved.
"Do you like that?" Nichole asked, biting the spot where his head met the shaft.
"Yes," Michael s
lurred.
"Do you want to cum in my mouth?" She licked the slit.
"Yes."
"What will you do for me, if I let you cum?" Nichole stroked him urgently, holding him at the cusp of his orgasm.
"I'll love you for every day of my life," Michael promised.
"Sounds good to me. Hang on to something."
Nichole's mouth covered his cockhead again. Her tongue swirled around it. She raked her teeth across it.
She squeezed his balls.
Michael felt his balls explode in Nichole's mouth. She felt the veins on his cock go rigid. His head throbbed. She pressed his swollen phallus against the top of her mouth as the first jets of cum came streaming out. She swallowed it all. Two. Three. Four times he pulsed.
Michael arched his back and let out a bellowing moan. His hands gripped the sheets. His whole body tensed. Five. Six. Seven. The streams slowed as his orgasm passed.
Nichole ran her hand along the length of his cock, milking the cum from it. Eight. Nine. Ten. Savoring it.
Looking up, Nichole watched Michael's face as he came. He was flushed. His eyes were closed. His mouth hung open, breathing heavily.
She licked his cock one more time then crawled on top of him, straddling his cock. Quickly, she began to rub it against her clit. Despite having just emptied inside her, it hardened immediately at the touch of her sex.
Going down on Michael excited her, made her wet. Masturbating with him made her soaked. Electric chills ran up her spine as she rubbed him against her. Her nipples hardened.
Steadying herself with one hand, she continued to rub him against her with the other, until she was close to her own orgasm. Michael lay on the bed, his eyes still closed. She admired his chest and arms. His beautiful face. His strong, gentle hands.
With a sigh, Nichole pointed his cock at the opening to her sex and dropped down hard. With a single motion, she took his cock inside her pussy. Her mouth fell open. She tingled from head to toe.
Erotic Stories Page 13
