Grasping the iron knob, I pull the heavy oak door shut behind me, then turn and step out onto the lane. The neighbouring cottage is only a two-minute walk away, along the narrow road hemmed in by hedgerows.
I am pulling a small suitcase. Its wheels rattle over the uneven surface as it trails behind me, carrying my entire wedding ensemble, from foundation garments to finishing touches, along with a selection of make-up and jewellery.
Tonight, I will be with Penny; Nigel will sleep in our spare room, and in the morning he will drive to Stratford with Michael ahead of us. Penny and I have a taxi booked for the journey.
At their cottage, I pass through the gate, glancing at the neat sign, Woodside Cottage. Beyond it, I follow the side passage into the back garden and tap my knuckles lightly against the open kitchen door.
Penny's voice carries from somewhere deeper in the house.
"Come in, Dora. I'm in the sitting room."
I lift the suitcase over the threshold before setting it down again. Its wheels squeak across the flagstones as I follow her voice.
"Hi, Penny."
She glances up from her laptop and smiles.
"Are you looking forward to your big day tomorrow? Any last-minute nerves?"
I shake my head.
Penny rises from her chair, wraps me in a tight hug and presses a kiss to my cheek.
"Let's get this upstairs before we head into town."
Town means Henley-in-Arden, one of my favourite places. The High Street stretches for almost a mile. Better still, it attracts only a fraction of the visitors who flock to Stratford, a few miles to the south.
Penny chatters merrily as we climb the stairs, each of us taking one of the suitcase's handles.
"What's Michael up to today?"
"Oh, he's confirming everything. The photographer, the taxi and all those last-minute details."
Penny drives us into town and sits beside me at the hairdresser's while I have a wash and cut. Once suitably coiffured, we wander three doors down to the pub, where a light lunch and a couple of glasses of Riesling help pass the time.
Two hours later, we're back in Penny's bedroom. My suitcase lies open on the floor, while my covered wedding dress hangs from the wardrobe door.
One by one, my everyday clothes flutter down to join a small heap on the carpet. Then I begin rebuilding.
First comes a navy-blue thong, followed by a matching bustier that provides both shape and support. Matching hold-ups, secured to a suspender belt, complete the ensemble. I refuse to risk wrinkled stockings on my wedding day.
Penny studies me with an approving smile.
"Fantastic, Dora. Michael's going to think so too. Come and have a look."
I cross the room to the tall cheval mirror standing in the corner.
She's right.
What I see is a bride prepared for her husband’s delight. I can't stop smiling. Tomorrow, I will marry the man I love, and the thought fills me with happiness.
Penny lifts her hands to rest them on my shoulders, squeezes gently, then slips them down my back, fingers soft on my skin. The feeling is exquisite, and shivers run through my body.
She rests at my waist, squeezing gently once more as she nestles and plants warm, wet kisses below my neck. Her plea takes me by surprise: “Dora,” she breathes, “I want you.”
Slowly, ever so slowly, I turn to face her, feeling the soft touch of her fingers slide from one side to the other. My face drops just enough for our lips to align. She sighs against my mouth while my tongue probes gently. I feel fingers slip under my thong, pushing their way over my mound, then into the heat between my thighs. I know she is seducing me again, and I am as willing as she is.
Two years ago, I went with a woman for the first time. Today, with my body pressed against Penny’s as her fingers explore, it seems the most natural thing in the world. My thighs shift, creating space, and when I feel her enter, I let out a long groan, which changes to a panting whimper, “Yes, yes, like that, Penny.”
A bolt of pleasure shoots in my pussy, and I almost feel the wetness running from inside me. "Yes, Penny. Yes, I want you."
I desperately want her to go on. I shift my feet apart a little more and feel her fingers slip out, then explore my swollen lips before finding the tip of my clit. The ease with which her finger slips there leaves no doubt in my mind as to my level of arousal. It feels incredible, and I shiver in anticipation of the pleasure to come.
"More," I whisper.
She eases back. "Come to bed, Dora." Then she pulls the duvet aside, and I slide onto the cool, white sheet. Lying on my back, I look up at her as she starts to strip her clothes. My eyes explore her body: flabby tummy and broad hips. Her pendulous breasts swing when her bra falls away, marked by two dark nipples, and I stretch out my arm to touch the wiry black hair around her mons and sex.
She kneels on the bed, gently laying her hands on my knees, pulling them apart. She slowly lowers her body between my legs, her eyes locked on mine. I lift my head from the pillow, craning to hold her gaze as I feel her tongue start to probe my lips.
How I crave that touch. I whimper because it sends shivers through my body, and I lift my hips, moving my puffed-out lips closer to her mouth.
As her tongue rasps over my clit, I feel my hips begin to flex in response, demanding more and wanting my release.
I moan gently, begging, "Please, baby. I want to cum."
She presses harder onto my little button, and suddenly, I tip over the edge into pure pleasure. My body jerks uncontrollably, rolling in ecstasy, my hands on her head, forcing her down into my wet pussy. Whimpers turn into groans, then shouts, before I collapse into silence, the only sound being my heaving, panting breathing.
Lifting my head again, I peer down my body through the valley between my breasts to see her eyes focused on my face, a broad smile showing her happiness at having taken me over the cliff.
I sense she is not finished with me a second before her tongue flicks across my very sensitive clit, making me whimper with pleasure.
"Oh, that is so beautiful."
Her lick becomes the first of many, and I lie back again, feeling my second orgasm building much quicker than the first.
"Oh, my God! No, please, no, I can't take it!"
Of course, I can take it because my body craves the release, a rolling, thrusting orgasm and the fire of pleasure burning through my head.
Afterwards, I crane my neck, peer up at her smiling eyes and feel her tongue start on me for the third time, then a fourth, and a fifth.
Finally, I am spent; she crawls up my body until her face is directly above mine. Locks of her hair brush my cheeks as she lowers her lips onto mine and slips her tongue into my waiting mouth.
I taste and smell my sex on her – a combination that overwhelms my senses.
The world outside the bedroom ceases to exist. I let my hands wander, tracing the soft curve of her arms and the dip of her spine before my grip tightens on her buttocks, pulling her hips tight against mine. She responds with a low groan into my mouth as she rotates her pelvis in a slow grind.
Our kiss is tender and loving. When her tongue dances with mine, I catch it gently between my teeth, feeling her delicate softness give under my pressure. She responds by pulling me in deeper, sucking my tongue as if she could draw my innards out of me.
The sounds she makes are short whimpers of need. I slide my arm beneath us, my wrist twisting to find her heat. When my fingertips finally brush there, Penny arches her back, thrusting against my hand as if trying to blend her body into mine.
"Oh, Dora, so nice. Please, just like that."
She is heavy on me, a weight that holds me against the bed. My fingers find her and glide through her wetness, searching for the precise touch that makes her breath hitch.
I don't have to work; she is doing it, her hips flexing in a slow grind that tells me exactly where she needs the pressure. I push into her; I have her. As she arches, her mouth finds mine, her tongue seeking mine with the hunger of desire.
Then, Penny’s body jerks, a sudden, violent shudder of release that leaves her clinging to me. She flounders and gasps in a soft, broken sound of pure, unadulterated ecstasy.
As the waves subside, she rolls away and lies on her side, one arm draped across my chest, her breath hot across my breast as it slows.
"Thank you," she whispers. "You are everything, and Michael is a very lucky man."
I shift, rolling onto my side to face her. I reach out, my fingers tracing the line of her jaw before settling in the strands of her hair.
We look into each other’s eyes, the silence heavy with everything we don't need to say, before we lean in. My lips touch hers in a kiss that is slow and a tender sealing of a deep friendship.
Time seems to float by. Penny’s head is nestled against my armpit, my face buried in her dark hair, her aroma filling my airways. I can stay here forever.
Instead, she lifts herself on an elbow, her dark eyes boring into mine, her lips relaxed and moving silently. Then, I break from the reverie and realise she is talking to me.
“Dora, my sweet, we have to get on. Time is short.”
Groggily, I raise my body, then sit on the mattress with my hands splayed on my knees. I look at my legs, shudder and turn to Penny. “My stockings are laddered and of no use for tomorrow. I’ll have to wear the spare pair and hope they don’t go again.”
My thong is pressing against me. I reach down to adjust it and grasp the offending strap, then realise it is damp. Opening my legs, I glance down into the gap between my thighs and gasp, “Oh, goodness, Penny. I can’t wear this either. It’s soaked, and I don’t have another pair.”
She smiles while replying, “Don’t panic, Dora. I’ll wash it by hand, then tumble it. Okay? Now, let’s get on and try out your dress.”
._.
Somewhere in the distance, I hear a bell ring, then it stops abruptly, and I drift back into a deep sleep until I feel my shoulder being shaken. Groggily, I ask, “What?”
I hear Penny's voice through my haze.
"Come on, Dora. It's ten past eight. We've got so much to do."
Thus, my wedding day begins with a mug of tea in bed while Penny runs through everything that must be done in the next hours.
We have our slot in the Henley Room at four o'clock. There are four of us, plus the celebrant, the registrar and the photographer. The ceremony will be streamed live to my daughter and her family at eight in the morning and to Michael's son and his family at midnight. The world might have grown smaller, but we all agreed that the costs of travelling to England and staying for several days were beyond reason.
At exactly four o'clock, Penny and I step from our taxi and walk along the path into Henley Street. There are still some tourists wandering around, but the bustle of midday has quietened. I pause and glance left, admiring Shakespeare's home. Ahead of me stands the equally ancient library building, our destination.
Penny touches my arm and squeezes gently.
"Turn around, Dora. Let me take a photo."
I stand alone, clutching my small posy of primroses, while the occasional pedestrian gives me a wide berth. Then Penny lowers her phone, slips her arm through mine, and leads me through the ancient doorway.
Beyond it, my future is waiting.
._.
Gravel crunches under the tyres as Nigel pulls into our driveway, stopping right by the front door. I look over at Michael, feeling his fingers tighten gently around mine. We haven't let go once since leaving the library car park, our hands locked together the entire way.
From the front passenger seat, Penny twists around her headrest, a cheeky grin on her face. “Come on, let’s see a real lovers’ kiss!”
There’s no dodging her request. We turn toward each other as our lips meet, Michael’s hand guiding me closer. The kiss lingers, neither of us eager for it to end until Penny chimes in once more. “Alright, children, the point is proven! Now let’s get inside. I’m ready for some bubbly.”
Inside the sitting room, a table by the wall groans under a mountain of sandwiches and savoury bites. Next to the feast, a bucket packed with ice holds three bottles of English sparkling wine. The caterers have clearly worked their magic while we were away at the registry office.
Nigel goes straight for the sparkling wine. In seconds, a cork pops and ricochets across the room. Meanwhile, Michael leans over the stereo to set the mood, letting soft ballads and gentle instrumentals drift through the house.
While the men take care of the essentials, I heap a plate with samosas, sausage rolls, sandwiches, and crisps, ready to sink into the sofa. But Penny has other plans. Catching my wrist, she pulls me back up, her eyes bright. “Let’s dance, Dora!”
Carefully, I set my plate down and turn to find her arms wide open. “Come on!” she giggles, catching my shoulders and pulling me close. As she begins to sway gently, I take the cue, our bodies finding a shared rhythm. I feel a sudden wave of lightheadedness, her perfume sweet and overpowering at such close quarters.
My mind drifts back to yesterday upstairs, trying on my wedding outfit. How special that afternoon had become, cementing the bond between us.
Our intimate dance drifts on for a while before the longing for food finally breaks our embrace. We settle onto the sofa side by side, sipping bubbly from glasses that Nigel constantly tops up, picking at the lavish spread of food.
When the supply of snacks begins to falter, Michael slices into our small iced cake to bring the feast to an end. As we finish the last crumbs, Nigel leans down toward me, a warm smile on his face. “Care to dance, Dora?”
I stand, then loop my arms behind his neck, letting myself sway gently with him on the spot. As his hips slide across mine, I feel the unmistakable hint of a trouser-bound bulge rubbing against me. In the soft light, he looks remarkably handsome. Over his shoulder, I catch sight of Michael and Penny wrapped in a tight clinch. My knowing smile shows I am confident that when the night ends, Michael will belong to me, not her.
Undeniably, the wine has gone to my head. My lightheadedness is giving way to a warm haze, and I realise I’m more than a little tipsy. It’s a wonderfully carefree feeling, unleashing vivid memories of him taking me right here in this very room last year. Driven by the recollection, I press my lips against his, feeling his tongue respond as it gently probes my mouth.
A firm tap on my shoulder breaks the spell. I pull back and turn to find Michael grinning like the Cheshire Cat.
“Come along – we’re going to bed. Nigel will have to smooch with his wife, not mine.”
I press a quick kiss to Nigel’s cheek as Michael gently pulls me away, blowing Penny a kiss over my shoulder just as we leave the room.
My feet feel weightless, running up the stairs and scurrying across the landing toward our bedroom. The moment the door closes, Michael’s mouth is on mine in a deep, desperate kiss. A wave of heat rushes through me as he reaches around my back and unzips my dress. His hands guide the straps off my shoulders and down my arms; with a gentle wriggle, the fabric falls away, pooling around my ankles in a tangled, wine-red pile.
Michael takes a step back, his eyes staring at the lingerie I selected for this exact moment. A soft groan escapes him. “You are breathtaking, Dora… I will remember you like this for the rest of my life.”
I knew it would work; his gaze was fixed on my bustier, the strong blue body, navy blue lacy edging, and the zip down the front. Then his eyes travelled down, taking in the matching suspender belt, deep navy thong and finally the slinky blue stockings encasing my legs.
Standing in front of the tall cheval mirror in Penny’s room yesterday, I looked at my reflection and felt like a Hollywood siren – an incredibly glamorous seventy-year-old woman. In that very outfit, I had driven Penny wild with desire. Now, the stage belongs to Michael.
He moves slowly. His fingertips lightly brush the curve of the cup before gliding across to the top of the zipper, hooking around the tiny pull. Slowly, millimetre by millimetre, he draws it down, opening the fabric to the room. The sudden draught of cool air against my skin leaves me breathless.
The bustier hangs loosely around me, its front completely open to his hungry gaze. I shrug the straps off my shoulders, letting it slip down and tumble to the floor atop my dress. My nipples harden immediately, even before his fingers reach out to touch my skin, sending a wave of delicious shivers down my spine. It feels as though electricity is pulsing through me. We have made love many times before, but tonight is entirely different. Now, I am his wife, and he is my husband.
Michael smiles, the fond look I adore, as he begins to undress in front of me. Piece by piece, his clothing falls away until he stands wearing only a shiny, black PVC thong. Reaching out, his hands find my breasts, his fingers gently massaging the soft flesh as he whispers, “Dora, the last piece is yours to take.”
I drop to my knees before him, reaching out to touch the centre of his desire. The fabric beneath my fingertips is his answer to my lingerie; his way of showing me just how deeply I am wanted. Slowly, I slide the material down his legs, releasing the focal point of my longing: his manhood, firm and proud, ready to be loved.
Leaning into him, I grasp him around the root before guiding him between my lips. My touch sends shivers through his body, and a great groan rises from deep in his throat. His taste is familiar, his smell is equally familiar, but this evening seems different; it has a special power of its own – the power of love consummated in wedlock.
My fingers, lips and tongue work together, pulling him on to the moment when he will take me. I am ready; the wet heat he needs is there. I can feel it, the slow drizzle of me oozing from my body.
The words tumble out in breathless gasps. “Dora… I want you… now.”
I pull myself up and move across the bed, opening my arms and legs to welcome him. Michael follows, kneeling beside me before leaning in close. Every touch sends shudders through me, the anticipation building as we come together. I feel him searching for my opening, his glans sliding up and down through my folds.
He is there, pressing on my entrance, and then with a sudden push, he is inside me. The sensation is beyond words; I gasp as he thrusts deep, then pulls back and thrusts again. I look up into his eyes and tell him, “I need you, Michael; do it.”
Michael lowers himself against me, his weight pressing me gently into the mattress. His lips meet mine in a deep, consuming kiss.
Everything melts into a surge of desire. The warmth of his body, the intensity of his gaze and the sounds of our shared breath. My soul feels afire. Deep down, I know this is the most profound moment we have ever shared. As he reaches the peak, his movements falter, and a rush of pure pleasure sweeps over me as he floods my centre, leaving us both breathless and completely united.
As the waves of pleasure gently subside, I slowly unclench my fingers, smoothing my hands tenderly across his slick skin. Above me, Michael’s expression relaxes. I watch a bead of sweat roll down his forehead, dripping from his brow to land softly on my cheek.
A grin of satisfaction breaks across his face, not just from his release but from the certainty that he has fulfilled me. He leans down once more, meeting my lips in a deep, tender kiss, our tongues lingering together, sealing the love between us, his hands cradling my head.
The rhythmic, dull thud of wood knocking against the party wall from the adjoining bedroom breaks through our silence. Michael lifts his head, pausing, and I can’t help but giggle beneath him. “Oh… it seems they haven’t gone home after all.”
He chuckles softly, a rumble against my chest. “I suspect our spare room holds a lot more appeal than their place down the lane. And they know we can hear them. I heard you scream when he screwed the life out of you there.”
I feel the corners of my eyes crinkle into a smile. “Fair enough, Michael… but remember I’ve heard Penny here with you.”
Rolling onto his side, he draws me with him until we’re lying face-to-face. I drape an arm lazily over his hip, pulling him close. In the dim light, we share a succession of soft, lingering kisses, content together.
