Part Eight of Your Story

It was a black day, the kind of day that starts most tragic stories, but this isn’t a sob story. This is a love story.

We got back to our apartment that night a little after one in the morning. The wedding reception hadn’t lasted that long obviously; we’d gone to Joe’s house to play Xbox and sit around, shooting the shit. You’d think as soon as we left the reception, we’d want to get home and fuck, but it was nice to be with our best friends and just hang out.

It didn’t really feel different–we lived together already, fucked already, knew everything about each other already. It was more like a reassurance, that yes, we were together and yes, we plan on being together for the rest of our lives.

So we got back to the apartment, our previous outfits in Walmart sacks because we were too lazy to change out of our tuxes–well, maybe I insisted that Mike continue wearing his as long as possible because the tailor did an amazing job on the pants. His ass looked absolutely delectable and I was planning on making good use of it tonight.

The day got to us, though; as soon as I dropped our clothes on the kitchen floor and wrapped my arms around Mike from behind him, I felt the stress and happiness and anxiety from the day fall on my shoulders and he had to carry me to bed, supporting my weight as I slouched onto him.

“Brad, you’re lucky you don’t weight a lot,” he grunted sleepily, slurring a little at all the champagne and beer. I grinned into his shoulder and finally he plopped us down on the bed, face planting into the mattress. I sighed and wrapped my arms around him, pressing closer, only a little bit realizing the position we were in and what was expected of us to do tonight.

I unbuttoned my stupid white shirt a little, just so it was open, and did the same to his, a little sloppier because I couldn’t see what I was doing. “Wanna fuck so bad,” I mumbled into the back of his neck, already rocking my hips into his.

He moaned and grabbed my ass, holding and squeezing it. “I’m too lazy to move.”

“I’ll do all the work,” I whispered in his ear, grinning as he shuddered. “Just going to thrust until I cum, yeah?” I sucked and kissed his neck, my arms around his middle, my hips jerking into his at an awkward pace.

“Yeah, yeah fuck me so hard.” I felt him thrust back and sit up a bit. I groaned and held his hand, hurriedly unbuttoning his pants to grasp his hard dick. We jerked him off together, my erection rubbing deliciously into his hard ass. I felt our rings bump together and smiled so wide my face hurt.

“First time fucking as a married couple and I’m going to cum in my pants,” I muttered between his shoulder blades, kissing there through the shirt.

“Why don’t we fix that?” he said and pushed back, pulling down his pants quickly. I sat up a bit, on my knees, and pulled my pants and boxers down too, just enough so my hard dick could touch his bare ass. This seemed to excite him too, because he groaned loudly and spread his legs. “Inside,” he whispered so quietly I barely caught it, and, trusting him, thrusted in with no lube or preparation. His scream was muffled because his face was planted in the comforter, and as soon as I heard it I pulled out and turned him over to see if he was okay.

“I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry, I’m so–” I started but realized he looked pissed. “What?”

“Fuck me goddamnit,” he grumbled and turned back over, arching his back so that his ass was in the air. Without a moment to spare I was inside him again, and my breath came in short gasps as I realized I was inside, really inside my husband, my fucking husband, and I fucked him hard and deep, unable to control my hips.

He was making a lot of noise for someone who was exhausted just a few minutes before, but then again so was I. I leaned my weight into him, pressing my face in his neck, and grasped his hand to jerk him off in time. Within a minute I was there, I was so close, and once I looked down at our rings that was it, the last straw, and I came hard enough in him that I couldn’t see anything. He groaned and arched up, cumming against our comforter and hands. I stroked him through it then cleaned my fingers, finally turning him around to kiss him properly.

The kiss lasted what seemed like forever, and I could barely hear “night, husband” before I passed out.

I was awoken to someone pulling my pants and boxers down; I barely opened my eyes enough to look down. It was still dark out, and the clock said 3:39, and Mike was between my legs, already licking at my hard cock. My head snapped back and I let my eyes shut, rocking into his warm mouth slowly. Maybe I was half-asleep, but it was still fucking amazing; Mike always gave the best blowjobs, even if I didn’t have a frame of reference. He licked in the right spots, his hand on the base and his other cupping my balls and pressing into that space down there until I saw stars. The best part, though, was watching him. He had this glow to his face, maybe sweat, maybe aggression, but he always looked so focused and into it, moaning. His hair always stood up in weird places, and he always rubbed his hips into the bed, or jerked himself off, like he couldn’t help himself.

Soon enough I was cumming hard down his throat, arching up off the bed enough to watch him swallow and pull off, licking his lips. He’d cum too, according to the way he wiped his hands on the already-dirty comforter, and I pulled him up to me to kiss him.

“Why were you awake?” I said as I pulled his bottom lip between mine.

“I woke up randomly and remembered today and wanted to give you a blowie,” he said, grinning, and I grinned back and wrapped my arms around him. The last thing I remember before falling asleep was thinking, Mike and I are married.

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