The following is the first entry in an anthology of true sexual encounters and adventures from my life. While the woman in these stories may vary, most of them feature my current wife. Regardless of the timeline or relationship, the names will remain the same--Jacob and Zoe--to keep the series cohesive. Every moment captured here is real, raw, and written for your pleasure. Without further ado, here is the first true adventure of Jacob and Zoe.
They had no idea when they got dressed that morning just how filthy the night would get. No clue that somewhere between the ceremony and the last slice of cake, Zoe would end up soaking wet, bent over a table, whispering the filthiest thing Jacob had ever heard her say.
Weddings always made her a little extra. It wasn't just the champagne or the flowers or the music--it was the eyes on her, the lace, the flirtation baked into the air. She looked stunning in that soft blue summer dress, vintage pin-up style, hugging her curves like it had been tailored to fuck with his self-control. Her bare shoulders, the way her skirt swished just above her knees, her blonde hair pinned perfectly back--it was classy, almost innocent.
Almost.
Because underneath, she wasn't wearing any panties. She didn't tell him. She didn't have to.
He found out the way every man dreams to--when they were slow dancing and he ran a hand down her back, only to feel nothing but the curve of her ass under the dress. She gave him a wicked little smile over her shoulder, and just like that, the whole night changed.
They lasted through the toasts, the cake, the sparkler send-off. But when they found themselves briefly alone, they didn't hesitate. They wandered off the main floor, ducking into unused corners of the venue, giddy and flushed like teenagers.
That's when they found the room. The temporary bridal suite, unused since the ceremony got rained out. A folding accordion wall barely separated it from the packed reception. One tug and the whole thing could open. But the far wall? Pure glass--floor to ceiling--rain dripping in streaks that caught the glow of the city. It was like standing inside a painting.
They shut the door behind them.
She looked back at him with that quiet, knowing grin--the one that only came out when her body was already getting wet.
He sat in the lone chair, his cock already stiff under his suit, and pulled her onto his lap. She straddled him, the heat of her bare pussy pressing right through his pants.
When she reached down to guide him in, she was too tight--too dry from anticipation, too wound up. She gasped, frustrated.
Jacob knew her body. Knew the shortcut.
He reached up, cupped her tits through her dress, and started to work them like only he knew how--thumbs rolling her nipples, palms squeezing the weight of her breasts until she gasped again, this time with a tremble.
That was the switch. Always had been.
In seconds, her pussy went from dry to red-hot lava.
He slid inside her and they both moaned, breath catching in the space between their mouths. She was tight, snug, and soaking wet--her body clenched around his cock like it had been designed for it.
She didn't ride him slow. Didn't tease.
She fucked him like a woman on a mission.
Zoe had that look in her eye--half lust, half challenge. This was a competition now. She wanted to make him come as fast as possible before they got caught. Her hips slammed down on him over and over, her thighs flexing as her dress rode higher with each bounce. Her breath came fast. The sound of her wetness was barely muffled by the rain and the faint thump of bass from the reception.
Jacob's cock was so hard he didn't even feel it at first--just pressure, fire, and the unbelievable heat of her pussy clamping down on him.
She leaned into his ear and moaned, "You like that everyone's just feet away? You like my tight little cunt bouncing on your cock like this?"
He could barely hold on. The slap of her ass. The perfect swing of her tits. The look in her eyes.
