The Morning After

Worshiping his cock like my life depended on it. Let's just say it was worth the effort.

It’s probably not every day that the morning after your wedding, you’ll drive to your honeymoon destination with your newly wedded husband next to you. In fact, I can count off the top of my head just how many have done that in our friend group—

One… and it’s us. 

“But Marianna,” I hear you saying in a concerned and perplexed tone, just like my parents when I told them our plans. “Why on Earth would you do that at what’s supposed to be the memorable week of your life?”

Well, that’s because I did the calculation; thank you very much. 

To pay for overpriced tickets because we got married in the middle of Summer, check through TSA, shuffle through the large airport, to sit for two hours in a stuffy plane when the car ride to our destination takes less time? 

Yeah, no, we’re driving—thank you very much. 

For me, it's not about the money either, but more about practicality. Going through TSA and waiting for our luggage, and then having to rent a car when we already had one, caused a lot of stress and headaches. 

It didn't make sense, no matter how you looked at it.

Plus, it’s a great way to make memories with Christian, one that didn’t consist of pulling our hair out at the airport on our one-and-a-half-hour drive to the Post Ranch Inn. Located, or instead perched, on the rugged cliff of Big Sur was a little piece of heaven. With a price tag of over two thousand a night, it’s the dream honeymoon getaway I never imagined Christian would surprise me with. 

A trip of five nights, too! 

I glance over at my partner, my husband, I should say. 

I’m legally Marianne Asher now. 

It’s a nice little ring to it. Though, if I’m being honest, I’m still having a hard time wrapping my head around it. Even after being together for three years and just tying the knot officially yesterday. After all, we had started to date just to fuck with my older brother, who had forbidden us from even being in the same room. 

An overly protective brother, if I do say so myself. 

So when he went on a business trip, we decided to fake a date for the hell of it. 

Something right out of a forbidden romance book, really. 

What we both didn’t expect was for our little game to come biting us both in the ass when we ended up catching feelings for real. Well, I would have been lying if I didn’t say I wasn’t, at the very least, attracted to Christian from the start. 

It was why I agreed, but that was beside the point. 

I still remember when my brother, Nick, walked me down the aisle yesterday and glared at his best friend. On the other hand, Christian only winked and grinned from ear to ear. Fast forward to now, and I think we’re doing amazing things so far in making great memories on our road trip as newlyweds. 

Well, what sort, you may ask?

For one, we almost swerved and crashed our car off the road several times during our drive because we couldn’t get our hands off one another. It seems we’re both completely caught up in our honeymoon phase, not that I’m complaining. 

I did have to admit that our sex life has been a tad stale lately, with him just getting promoted and me just graduating college and scouring for a job. It’s to be expected, but it seemed the two of us were rearing to go as if we had taken aphrodisiacs. 

“Christian,” I mewl weakly, my core tightening as I part my legs further so he rubs my swollen clit through my white thong. While certainly not a virgin by any means, I tried to wear white just for the paradox of it. No bra, though, something I made more than clear this morning.

What can I say? 

I’m all about the “free your breast” movement, and it’s too damn hot in the California heat. 

Right at this very moment, it only seems to be getting even hotter in the car despite the AC on blast. 

I thrash my head side to side on the headset, bucking my hips and making a mess all over the seat as his talented right hand continues to tease me—never once penetrating me with his fingers. I can hear the leather cracking from how tight he’s holding onto the steering wheel, and I know he’s just as affected as I was. 

Prying my eyes open, I’m barely able to focus as I look at my man. 

My husband. 

His dark, unruly hair from the window opened on his side of the driver’s seat. His white collared shirt is rolled up to his elbow, showing off his muscular arms. Everything about Christian oozes confidence, and despite being almost a decade older than me, he doesn’t even look a damn day over thirty. 

I’m focused on that small cut across his face he had gotten when Nick found out we were dating. 

A little spat occurred as Christian was a bit of a manwhore, something he wore proudly in the years I’d known him before we got together… but that’s when it came to light he really had fallen for me.

My pussy clenches on emptiness to know I’m the only one who has his heart, earning me a growl from his lips. Then, his piercing dark gaze falls onto me, and his jawline ticks as if he can read just what I’m thinking.  

“Come,” he snarls, pinching my little bundle of nerve, and something is menacing in his eyes that completely sends me over the edge. Toes curling, I let out a pathetic choked-out cry as my body completely surrenders to his command. “Fuck me, such a filthy slut of a wife I have.”

Wife. 

A shudder runs down my back at how much I enjoy my new title. 

Christian has called me many things, ranging from degrading terms to endearing nicknames.

Yet out of all of them, this is my favorite. 

“Christ…Christian!”

With a soft cry of his name, I completely shattered. I’m riding through my orgasmic bliss with my eyes closed and hoping my husband’s eyes are focused on the road rather than on me. Unconsciously, I dig my hands into his wrist, holding him in place as I ride through my waves of pleasure while crying out and shaking violently. 

My heart is thumping so loudly I can’t even hear my own thoughts as he pulls his hand away from my clothed pussy. Though not before slipping a hand to gently caress my puffy pussy lips as I watch him lapse my juices from his fingers. 

The little popping sound as he licks me clean off his finger is too much. Hurriedly and almost desperately, I placed my legs correctly back down before tugging on the seatbelt so I’d have more space to maneuver my body. 

Soon, I’m leaning my head down to his tented cock, practically nuzzling him playfully. 

Fuck, in our three years together since I turned eighteen, I’ve never wanted Christian this badly. 

“What are you doing?” he murmurs, his eyes darting between me and the road as I coyly grin at him. 

I think he already knows when I unbutton his slack clasp with my fingers and use my teeth to pull the zipper down. He murmurs a string of curses, and the leathering in the steering wheel cracks so much I was just a bit terrified he might break the damn thing in two. 

Yet also, I was very much turned on to have this effect on the man with a stonewall around his heart. 

“I can’t wait anymore. I want to feel your cock in my throat,” I impishly tell him as he grinds his foot down to help me pull down his pants. My mouth instantly starts watering as his thick, rock-hard cock flops out. 

Eight inches and throbbing with need just as I use my finger to prove around his bulbous head. 

“Fuck,” he grits out as I pull my hand away and prop one leg higher to slip a hand into my skirt. I watch as he glances off the road, his nose flaring when I gather some of my juices and then begin to jerk him off earnestly with my own cum. “Christ, you’re making it real fucking hard for me, Marianne.”

“Mm, so? What are you going to do about it?” I purr with a wicked grin. 

I grasp him firmly, squeezing and giving a slight rotation every time I reach the sensitive part of his head. Humming quietly, I then run my fingers down the length of his member, stopping at his balls before squeezing them. 

Earning me a growl that goes straight to my core. 

“You really want to be fucked here,” he deadpans, making me giggle. As he wasn’t trying to stop me either, it must mean he was on board to a certain degree, which I didn’t mind. Fondling his balls, I see precum starting to ooze from the bulbous head. 

Not wanting it to go to waste, I finally lean to lapse at the throbbing head. 

The tangy and salty taste made me moan, and my mouth salivated like an animal in heat. 

It doesn’t take long until I become entirely lost in wanting to pleasure Christian and having my husband lose his mind like he had done to me in the car. Drawing a deep breath, I instantly shove his thick length into my tight mouth, working quickly until my lips touch his pubic bone and tears are brimming at the corner of my eyes. 

I’d be met with strings of curses and degrading terms that would make just about anyone blush. Every time I hold him deep inside my throat, allowing myself to squeeze his cock, I would hear the leather cracking before I draw away. Saliva would connect me to his massive prick as I bathed him with my tongue. 

Worshiping my husband’s cock like it’s my one goal in life. 

I know Christian couldn’t last long, mainly because I prided myself in not having a gag reflex as my selling point. Taking him deeply in the back of my throat, I would hum and let the soft vibration course through his cock. “Mm.”