Our wedding day was a fairytale. I have had recurring nightmares that Liv would get cold feet the morning of and flee to Canada like a high school graduate whose draft number had been called. But she didn't. Bridesmaids told me throughout the morning and afternoon that everything was taking too long; she'd get married with her hair like a crow's nest if it went faster.
The ceremony was beautiful, and so was she. As though she ever isn't. We had picked cleverly for her dress, strapless, white silk with a good amount of sheen to it so it stood out from her porcelain skin with a tight-fitting silhouette with a laced, flared, hemline. It was a simple dress with just a touch of preciousness. Her copper hair was tangled in a delicate knot of braids down her back, and against the white, could have been a campfire strung between her shoulders.
At the reception, our table had a reserved bottle of Jack Daniels No. 7, which we polished off half of over dinner and dancing and I was not well behaved as a result. Through the spins, dips, and sways of the dance floor, I think I copped more feels than I had through our relationship- with clothes on, anyway.
Liv intoxicated quickly as the night went on to the point that I signaled to my best man that we were going to head to our hotel and prompted her to change. We had agreed to be coy with our exit and leave the wedding in pajamas. We thought it was cute.
We headed to the bathrooms while the room was still raucous with partiers, and I went into the men's but was startled by being pushed in from behind. I turned around to see Liv locking the door and turning back her red hair having long since fallen out of its delicate setting, now a weaving, fraying mess like it normally was.
She came over to me, prancing on bare feet and fell into me, pushing me against the sink counter. She put her hand on my pants and rubbed, kissing me aggressively, her tongue forcing itself against mine. I could taste whiskey on her lips and smell it as she accosted me with her kiss and hands. She rubbed me steadily and then began pulling at my belt and pants.
"Whoa, Liv, I think this is what the hotel and pajamas are for, remember?"
She bit my lip, "Shut up, this is my cock now and I want to play with it."
My pants fell, the belt clinking loudly on the tile floor before I felt her hands slip past my boxers and grab my shaft. She stroked me, kissing and biting my neck and panting in my ear. Her soft hands worked me steadily and I had to fight to keep a clear head.
"You are very drunk, and this is actually very illegal, and people are waiting for us to come out changed."
She bit my neck and I squalled, she laughed and kissed where she'd bit me, "I wanted to make you cum on the dance floor, but you just had to be romantic."
"Liv, people are waiting and probably listening..." I protested, she ignored me, yanking down my boxers and turning around pinning me against the counter and leaning back so she could hold my neck while grinding her butt against my exposed shaft.
She yanked at the neckline of her dress pulling it down with her bra, so her breasts started to emerge over the top, her pink nipples just over the white fabric. She grabbed my palm and pushed it into the exposed flesh and laughed as she rocked her hips.
"I want to wear cum to the limo," She panted, "It's mine, gimmie cum."
She slid down to the floor and turned around on her knees looking up. She grabbed my cock before I could move and started to lick it, looking up at me, her face curtained by her now disheveled red hair. She dragged her tongue up and down my cock laughing before putting her mouth around it and sucking. She bobbed her head aggressively, making noises in her throat as my cock punched uncomfortably far back. I held her hair as she tugged on my shaft, sliding her sweet pink lips up and down, her tongue stroking the underside of my cock as her mouth moved.
"Liv," I said trying to keep my voice steady, "We can... finish this in the limo, in the room, but walking out to everyone with cum on you is a terrible idea."
She ignored me again, sliding her mouth down until she choked for several seconds before wrenching her head back and gasping for breath. She stroked my shaft looking up at me with a sweating, drunk, smile. She hung her tongue from her lips and dragged my tip across it laughing. I tried to scoot away but she wrapped her mouth around me and started sucking.
I can't hide anything from Liv, especially an impending orgasm. She could feel the tension in my cock and my body starting to tighten for lost control. I pulled out of her mouth but she held me in her hand, stroking me and rubbing the underside of my tip with her nose and tongue. She was whispering and laughing, "Yes, come on, cover me, paint my face..." She giggled, tickling my shaft before dragging her nose and lips up and down.
I groaned hard, as quietly as I could as my cock shot a thick burst of cum onto her face. She mercilessly stroked me, licked me, forcing groans from me as shot after shot splattered onto her face, her chin, nose and lips, running down her neck and speckling her hair. She panted and laughed with satisfaction, holding her face under my tip until it stopped dripping.
She was completely coated, cum dripped off her chin and ran in thick streams down her neck, forming white gobs on her face that stringed when she ran her fingers through them to lick off. She was whimpering and sucking cum from her fingers on the floor while I hurried to get paper towels to clean her up.
I pulled her to her feet and tried to wipe her face off, she laughed offering no help, instead trying to kiss my neck, and kiss me, smearing cum on her exposed breasts. With a great deal of work I got enough of her cleaned to look like she'd been crying, she'd done a fair amount anyway, and fixed myself up enough to ask for our travel outfits, which the my best man handed me with a suspicious expression.
I got Liv's dress off and hung it over a stall door, babysitting the process of getting the white pajamas with rubber ducks on her. She was supposed to keep the bra, but refused it like a child being offered vegetables. Finally, she was dressed, and her face was clean enough that if we hurried to the car, no one should be any the wiser.
I handed our stuff off to my roommate, and Maggie and we waved goodbye to the guests, who lined up outside to throw rice at us. I don't get that tradition, and no one was able to explain it to me at any point. At long last we were in the limousine, seated at the very back and began to pull away. We seemed to have gotten away with it.
Except that once in the moving limo, Liv climbed into my lap and began grinding, and even through my own pajama pants, I could feel and hear that she had thoroughly soaked through hers. She panted and whimpered in my ear grinding and kissing, holding my neck.
"You came on my face in a bathroom you fucking pervert," she panted, her words still running together.
"You worked pretty hard for that," I said back around the bushel of red hair that moved from one side of my face to the other as she kissed and bit my neck.
She laughed, "I milked your cock all over me, I'm a good little cock milker."
I grabbed her ass firmly and she moaned with satisfaction, pushing her hips back into my grip, "You're my favorite cock milker."
