Mrs. Leblanc beamed triumphantly as she fixed her daughter's hair in the mirror. Vanessa Leblanc was stunningly beautiful, her long blonde tresses gathered elegantly on top of her head, looking the picture of youthful purity in her long white wedding gown. Tears of joy came to Mrs. Leblanc's eyes as she thought of her daughter walking down the aisle with Roger Knightly.
Roger Knightly, only son and heir to liquor magnate Louis Knightly, was one of the most eligible bachelors in the county. Plus, he was strikingly handsome, giving even old Mrs. Leblanc's heart a little flutter when he smiled. She had been so proud when Vanessa had announced their engagement. Her old heart had nearly burst!
Many times she and Mr. Leblanc had been close to despair over their daughter's future. Especially when Vanessa had brought home that... hoodlum. What was his name?
Dyson "Diceman" Jenkins. Mrs. Leblanc shivered just thinking of the tall, intimidating black man. How many times had she begged her daughter to stop seeing him? She had lost count. Just when she had given up all hope, Vanessa had broken up with Diceman and met Roger. It was a testament to Roger's good character that he would marry Vanessa, even after she went "slumming" with that disreputable thug.
Now, here she was, helping her daughter prepare for the most important day of her life. She wanted to cry she was so happy, but she knew she had to be strong.
After all, there was a wedding to take care of and the day was far from over.
Just as Mrs. Leblanc was putting the final touches to Vanessa's hair, there was a loud, disruptive knock on the dressing room door.
"Who could that be?" Mrs. Leblanc scampered over to the door, her daughter strangely quiet.
Mrs. Leblanc felt her stomach plummet when she saw Diceman standing there, glaring down at her. He was dressed in blue jeans, sagging so low they left half his boxer shorts exposed, and a white t-shirt that contrasted sharply against his chocolate skin. The frumpy matron gulped air and Diceman smiled broadly behind his menacing goatee.
"Hello, Mrs. Leblack. I've come to see the bride."
"It's pronounced 'Leblanc,'" the old woman scolded, still scandalized by the man's audacity. "And you shouldn't be here!" she blurted out.
"Oh for real?" Diceman adopted a look of mock embarrassment. "I thought I was invited. My bad."
Mrs. Leblanc's face was slowly turning an unseemly shade of red, when she felt her daughter's steady hand on her shoulder.
"Mother. It's OK. I asked Dyson to come."
Mrs. Leblanc's eyes opened wide with shock.
"Please. Let Dyson and I talk and then he'll go."
Mrs. Leblanc felt light headed as her headstrong daughter pushed her firmly into the hall and shut the door behind her.
Vanessa turned angrily as soon as the door was closed.
"What are you doing here?"
"I thought you said I was invited?"
Diceman smirked and Vanessa felt anger flush her body.
"I covered for your ass so my mother wouldn't make a scene," she seethed. "Now tell me what you want."
Diceman eyed the beautiful blonde in the perfect white wedding dress. He couldn't believe this was the same little ho he'd been fucking just a year ago. She looked so prim and proper now, all dolled up in virginal wedding garb, about to become Mrs. Roger Knightly. She was about to climb the social ladder all the way up to the commanding heights of generational wealth, where she could look down on ghetto-dwelling punks like him from behind the tinted windows of a limousine. Before that happened, he wanted to prove to himself, and to her, that she was still the same thot he used to bang all night long while she begged for more. Most of all, he wanted to prove it to Mrs. Leblanc, that racist old bat.
"Dyson! Don't!"
Diceman grabbed the young woman and pulled her forward, strong hands gripping her ass through the cloth of her dress. The glittering engagement ring flashed brightly as she fought against her black ex-boyfriend's massive arms. He pulled her into a tight hug, looking down lustfully at the young bride.
"Come on, Boo! I just want to give you a wedding present."
Diceman's lips smothered Vanessa's and she moaned softly. Her thoughts were confused as her pussy hummed with remembered lust. Diceman's big black hands roamed over the beautiful white wedding dress and she began to submit to his advances.
Diceman pulled his mouth away, looking down at the beaming young bride-to-be. Her face was flushed, her lips parted expectantly, waiting for another kiss. He laughed.
"See, I knew you wanted it, bitch! You always want my big black cock. The only reason you're marrying Roger Fucking Knightly is to make your mama happy!"
Vanessa opened her eyes and, as if just realizing what was happening, began to struggle again.
"That's not true! I'm marrying Roger because I love him!"
"You can't deny what we had, baby!"
"All we had was sex! We didn't have anything else. Roger is good to me. He gives me all that I need!"
"No, bitch! I've got what you need!"
Diceman grabbed the young bride's hand and placed it over the bulge in his jeans. He was hard like the steel barrel of a gun and he rubbed her hand over the entire length.
"You remember this don't you?"
Vanessa gulped.
"I... I forgot how big it was!" she stammered.
"Roger Fucking Littledick can't give you what I got, can he?"
Vanessa said nothing, her face burning with shame, her body burning with something else. She couldn't believe she was standing there, in her wedding dress, rubbing her ex's cock through the fabric of his jeans. Still, she couldn't deny the intense heat that was flooding her body.
She loved Roger. He could give her everything she wanted. But, as she felt that obscenely huge cock, she realized that he could not give her everything she needed.
"No, Dyson... please stop..."
Diceman ignored her pleas, sensing the submission in her voice. He whirled the bride around and pushed her over the dressing table. Vanessa watched in the mirror, helpless with desire as the hulking black man peeled off his shirt, revealing a sculpted chest and arms. She heard the zipper on his jeans, then felt his hands pull up the lacy hem of her dress.
