Photo Story #17 (Patreon)

Ever since we'd first met, my boyfriend had always been in charge. I'd never imagined myself to be a submissive person, but even during our first date, I'd succumbed to my boyfriend's dominance. 

There was just something about him that made me want to say "yes sir"! 

Granted, he was tall and broad and muscular and handsome, and he had that air of authority that just made you pay attention. 

It was on our third date, in a basement club downtown, that he'd first asserted his dominance. We'd been dancing in the middle of a tight throng of people when he'd put his lips to my ear and said "slide your hand inside my fly". 

My eyes had widened in surprise, but the arrogant grin on his face had washed away any question or doubt on my part. I'd unzipped him, praying no one would see, before I slid my hand inside his fly to discover he was hard as a rock and commando. He'd started thrusting against my palm until I relented and wrapped my fist around him. 

After that, I'd found it impossible to say no to him, especially when it came to anything daring or risky sex wise. 

Which is how I found myself, on my wedding day, heading out to a secluded part of the grounds. 

The ceremony was over, we'd finished doing photographs, and we had fifteen minutes of peace before we headed to eat. I was expecting to unwind with a glass of champagne, but my husband had other ideas. 

"Head to that place I pointed out this morning, and when you hear me coming, I expect you to be bent over with that kilt over your head." 

I'd blushed furiously before nodding my agreement, but before I could walk away, he grabbed my arm. 

"And you'd better be traditional under that kilt, I expect a clear view of what I want." 

That gave me another dilemma entirely - I was not being a traditional scotsman. 

I headed over to the spot my husband had pointed out, and sure enough, it was a good distance from our guests and there was no one around. Not wanting to risk getting in trouble, I lifted my kilt before removing my boxer briefs. With a quick tug, they were around my knees, and then my ankles, before I kicked them off. 

I wasn't comfortable spending the rest of the wedding commando, so I picked up my undies and stashed them in the hedge, hoping and praying that my husband wouldn't notice later. 

The sound of footsteps set my heart pounding harder, and I grabbed the hem of my kilt, lifted it up to expose my ass and bent over, cheeks spread and hole on show, just as my husband liked it. 

"Now that's what I call a wedding meal," he growled behind me. 

I knew better than to move as he closed the distance between us and slapped my right cheek so hard that I squeaked and rocked forward on the balls of my feet. 

"Time for your first wedding present, husband," he said as groped my cheeks with one hand and unzipped his fly with the other. 

I risked a glance behind me to see his tux pants open and his thick, hard cock throbbing in his palm. 

He spat on my hole a few times, moistening my hole with wet fingers, before he thrust one inside me. It wasn't enough lubricant, but my own cock was hard and I knew how much my husband wanted me, which made me even hornier. 

"Hold still, baby," he said in that voice that made me shiver with anticipation. 

I felt the head of his cock pushing against my hole, and I released my breath to relax my muscles as much as I could. 

I grunted as he pushed the head inside, pausing for only a couple of seconds before he rammed the rest of him inside me. 

I moaned, riding the line between pain and pleasure as he started to thrust in and out, his balls slapping against my taint as I felt my own balls tighten. 

We both became lost in the rhythmic sound of skin on skin when we were suddenly interrupted. 

"I'm so sorry, sir, but it's time to head inside." 

I glanced behind me, cheeks burning with embarrassment, to find our wedding co-ordinator with an obvious tent in his tight pants. 

"I'll be there in . . . three . . . two . . . one . . . FUCK!" 

My husband growled as he came inside me, cum dripping over his cock and my ass cheeks, as the wedding co-ordinator watched with a hungry look in his eyes. 

"I think we're ready," my husband said as he pulled his dick free and zipped himself back up. 

My own cock was still rock hard, but before I could even think about retrieving my underwear and restraining it with that, my husband grabbed my hand. 

"Come on, husband. We're needed elsewhere." 

I tried to keep one hand over the tent in my kilt as I wistfully glanced in the direction of my undies.