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Anniversaries Are Special

Newlyweds discover hidden desires that bring them closer and keep them coming back year after year.
Anniversaries have always been special to me. It’s a time to look back not only on the day that you are celebrating, but all the days since then. It’s been 20 years since my husband and I were married, but I remember it like it was yesterday. It was right in that church just across the street. We didn’t want a huge wedding, but we did want a fun one, so we elected to fly a few of our closest friends and family to New Orleans and have our wedding during Mardi Gras. What a perfect place for a wedding, right? A city and time filled with debauchery to fill your most sacred vows! Well, that’s how you think when you’re 19, but it turned out to be a perfect choice. Really, we just wanted to have a good time together and extend that celebration to the ones we love.

The wedding in the church was so beautiful. The church wasn’t very big, but that just added to the charm. Walking down that aisle, every eye was on me. I felt so radiant. And looking up at my husband when I said my vows was the epitome of romance. He was so handsome. At 6 feet tall, he towered over my 5’4” frame like a knight in a shining black tuxedo. I could see the love in his eyes, and can still see it now as I look back.

We were able to save on a limousine. Everyone threw birdseed as we exited the church, but we only had to run across the street to our hotel to get to the reception. I went straight upstairs and changed into this gorgeous white evening gown. Under it, I wore a white satin corset, white stockings connected to the garter, and a white thong. A pair of white heels, a pearl necklace, and matching pearl earrings completed my outfit that left me nearly as radiant and pure as my wedding dress. It was quite a contrast to the depravity taking place outside.

The reception in the lounge was every bit as beautiful, and I can’t imagine a more perfect place and time to have it than overlooking Bourbon Street during Mardi Gras, a celebration within a celebration. Afterwards, my husband and I strolled the French Quarter enjoying our honeymoon. That was the beauty of it. Our friends and family got to enjoy our wedding, as well as a mini vacation in New Orleans, and we didn’t have to see them again. In fact, with as many people that were there, my husband and I felt completely on our own as soon as we left the hotel. And since we put our guests in a nice hotel near the airport, they weren’t going to be around when we came back either. It was as if we were instantly transported to our honeymoon, which was precisely our intent.

To say I was a bit tipsy when we came back to our honeymoon suite would be an understatement. While my husband poured us another ceremonious glass of champagne, I stumbled out onto the balcony to enjoy the view. It was incredible. The balcony overlooks a large courtyard, which is nearly consumed by the pool. Very few of the rooms have balconies, just the ones at the narrow ends. Of course the pool had closed hours before, so no one was out there, leaving the courtyard below completely tranquil, despite the sounds of Rue Bourbon just outside.

As I stood looking down at the pool, enjoying the peacefulness of the waves, my husband stepped behind me, reaching around to hand me my glass as his lips kissed tenderly at my neck. Sean has always been so romantic. I guess that’s a benefit of marrying an older man. He’s 16 years older in fact. I didn’t know it at first. Really, when we met I thought he was about 25, despite the fact that he was 34. He just keeps in such good shape. It’s not that I needed a father figure or anything; he was just perfect. And his age, his wisdom, and his experience has always been a blessing.

As I continued to sip at my champagne, I felt his fingers unzipping my dress. “Sean, stop it. What if someone sees?” I scolded him.

“Let them,” was his response, a response that sent chills up and down my spine and erected goose bumps up and down my arms. I’m sure it was all the alcohol talking, but as I looked at the wall of rooms surrounding us, I felt secure. I really didn’t think anyone would be looking out their window at this hour. If they were awake, surely they were cruising the French Quarter. Besides, there’s nothing to look at besides this pool. Still, the possibility that someone could be watching I found titillating to say the least, not to mention the fact that my husband was more than happy to expose his new bride to a perfect stranger.

I’m not sure if he heard me moan, I tried my best to keep it in, but I felt my evening gown slipping off my shoulders and hitting the concrete around my feet. It was a sensation I found completely erotic. Sure, I still had my corset and stockings on, which covered far more than any of my bikinis ever did, but there’s just something about lingerie that makes you feel exposed. It wasn’t a bad feeling. Oh no! It was delicious. Sure, it was February. I’m sure it was freezing outside, even though it was New Orleans. But with my blood filled with alcohol and lust, I was as warm as a Caribbean beach in August.

I turned my head back to him and felt his stubbly face against my cheek as we kissed. With his hard cock pressed into my back, I could feel the wetness of his precum soaking through his slacks against the small of my back just below my corset. As I opened my eyes, I could see the glow from the room lights shining down onto his beautiful face. The patio door was still open and I could hear the subtle sounds of Chopin drifting out from the room, as if the Zydeco that played so heavily in the background didn’t even exist. I was never more in love than at that moment, and I knew our marriage would last forever.

As I looked up into Sean’s eyes, I gathered up the courage to ask him. I didn’t really know yet which answer I wanted to hear, but I knew I loved him, and I knew I still would regardless of his response. “Does it excite you that someone could be watching us right now?” I asked, my voice cracking like a schoolboy.

“Yes,” was his simple reply, but the swelling of his cock against my back told me so much more.

“It turns me on too,” I admitted before kissing him again.

As I turned and looked at all the rooms surrounding us with my husband’s strong but gentle hands caressing me, my mind began to race. I pictured a man, looking out of his window, his hard cock pulsating in his hand as he looked down at me, stroking his cock wishing he were my husband. I imagined his cum squirting out of the head, painting the window that separated us. Then in another window, a woman, her hands drifting down her stomach and slipping under the elastic band of her panties, aroused by the erotic scene unfolding before her eyes. And up there, in the corner, a couple, her body pressed against the window pane as her husband buries his cock into her from behind, taking her, inspired by our performance.

“What if you knew someone was watching?” I asked. Not letting him respond, I continued. “What if there was a guy up there right now, stroking his dick looking at me, looking at your wife? His hard cock oozing precum, lubricating his shaft as it slides back and forth in his hand. You know what he’d be thinking. He’d wish he were you. He’d want to fuck me. He’d want to feel my pussy gripping him, squeezing him, and milking every fucking drop of cum he had in his balls into my waiting pussy.” I didn’t have to hear an answer, I could feel it. It was pressed against me. It came from his fingers unlacing my corset and feeling it fall against my toes, and with the cold breeze caressing my nipples, hardening to the point I just knew they were going to explode.

To be quite honest, I don’t know which turned me on more. Was it thinking about another man watching me, getting aroused, desiring me? Was it talking dirty to my husband, describing every detail of what I was thinking? Or was it his reaction, knowing that I somehow had an inside track on a secret fantasy of his that was just now coming to light? I know they all excited me beyond comprehension; I guess that’s all that really matters.

“Have you ever thought about me with another man?” I know the words came from my lips, but I don’t remember saying them. It was like they were coming from someone else.

I was equally shocked when I felt his stubble scrape across my tender cheek as he nodded, breathlessly muttering out, “Yes, so many times.” But that shock was no match for my arousal. I swear to God I came just from hearing his answer, and as my eyes rolled back and my knees buckled, I was thankful he was behind me to support me, just as he’s always been.

I really think I must have blacked out a bit. The next thing I remember I could feel his hand against my back. The motions let me know he was unbuttoning his shirt. I was so keenly aware of my surroundings at this point, my senses heightened like never before. I could feel the silk fabric of his shirt flap against my ass and lower back as it opened to expose his chest. I could feel the wiry chest hairs, even his hard nipples poking into my back. I could sense his hands undoing his belt. I’m not one for a spanking, but even the thought of his belt crashing down on my ass at that point sent little electric shocks straight to my clit. And when his pants joined my dress and corset on the deck at our feet, I could feel the tiny hairs of his thighs tickling the backs of mine.

All that was interrupted by a familiar sound. Although I knew I heard it before, it seem strangely out of place, as if coming from another dimension. It continued in bursts, this ringing every few seconds, gradually pulling me back from planet Lust to reality, until I recognized it. The telephone. But who could be calling? Then the fear set in, set into both of us. Surely the police were on their way. Sean and I darted back into the room. When I look back on it now, I can’t help but laugh. As if the police were going to call us and warn us they’re on their way to arrest us for indecent exposure--in New Orleans--during Mardi Gras no less! We stood there looking at the phone ringing for what seemed an eternity before I hesitantly picked it up with shaky fingers.

As I held the receiver to my ear, I heard a sultry voice. “You didn’t have to stop. I realize that you probably didn’t actually want an audience, and if you want me to stop watching, I will. I just wanted to tell you that I was really enjoying your show, your performance, very much. You are exquisitely beautiful, and I thought you deserved to know that you were appreciated.” I could hear the quivering in his voice. Was it nerves? Perhaps. But the faint slapping sound was a tell-tale sign, and it made my pussy quiver every bit as much. It seemed like an eternity before I heard him speak again. I wanted to speak, but the words just wouldn’t come out. “I’m sorry. I guess I really messed things up,” he spoke in a truly remorseful tone.

My heart reached out to him. I was scared. Of that much I knew, but of what. I was so confused. Did I want him to watch? Did I really want an audience? He was so honest with me; I felt I owed him the same. “I’m sorry. No, I didn’t really expect anyone to be watching, but the idea that someone could be, well….” I trailed off, unable to say it. “Please, I just need time to think. I have so many thoughts racing through my mind right now that I just can’t think straight. Thank you for being so honest, but I don’t know if I can continue knowing someone is watching. Just give me 15 minutes to think, okay?” With that, I hung up the phone, placing the receiver back on the base. God, it’s been so long, those old phones seem so ancient now. At least it wasn’t a rotary phone. Oh, God, then I’d really feel old!

I turned around and looked into Sean’s eyes for guidance. They were filled with the same combination of anxiety and lust that I felt. But why was I anxious? I thought about that question for a moment, being completely honest with myself. Somehow despite the alcohol, it all became clear. I didn’t want Sean to think badly of me for wanting this. But I did. I wanted it so badly. I just had to know if he wanted it as much as I did.

Smiling, I asked him, “You like that he was watching, don’t you?” He sighed deeply and nodded, his eyes still filled with fear. Not the typical fear, but the fear you get when your fantasies, those really perverted ones, are being revealed--the fear of your lover being disgusted by you. “Well now you know he’s watching. Would you like to fuck me on the balcony?” He gave an apprehensive nod. I gave him a reassuring smile.

“How about instead, we invite him over?” I paused. “And he can have a front row seat?” I asked.

It seemed to take all his strength to mutter his reply, “I’d love it.” But I could detect a sense of disappointment, and I was pretty sure I knew why.

I decided to see just how far he would go. “Or would you rather watch him fucking me?” I asked him as I sashayed up to him, my hand trailing up his chest and circling his nipples as I licked my lips seductively. I felt him tense just before I felt him drip onto my foot. That told me all I needed to know. I could feel the fear melt away, my entire body and mind relaxing.

With my hand gripping and stroking his cock, I licked up the side of his stubbly cheek and nibbled on his earlobe. “Would you like to see his cock pulsating inside of me, filling me up with his cum?” I whispered lustfully in his ear. His breathing deepened, becoming irregular as he nodded. “Tell me. Tell me you want to see him fucking me. Tell me you want to see me cumming all over his cock,” I moaned, wanting him to feel my excitement, to know mine was every bit as intense and genuine as his own.

For the second time, I came. I came without even being touched. I came just from hearing him telling me, telling me what he wanted--his desires, my desires, our desires. Grabbing his hand, I walked together to the door leading out to the hallway. With trembling hands, I unlocked the door and cracked it open. “I want it too,” I said to Sean, trying to calm my own nerves as much as his. As we walked back toward the balcony, I picked up the phone and carried it out into the night air with us.

It was probably only a couple of minutes, but it seemed like an eternity before the phone rang again. “If you’ve called us, surely you know our room number,” I said as I picked it up.

“I used the room map on the door,” he answered.

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, trying to build up my courage. “If you would like to join us, the door is open,” I said with much more confidence than I felt. Then I hung up the phone.

I felt my husband’s arms wrapping around me from behind. The heat from his body was almost unbearable. I could feel his heart pounding against my back, which seemed to beat in unison with mine. “You know, he may not be watching anymore,” I told Sean.

“I hope he’s not, I hope he’s on his way over…to fuck you.”

I smiled, knowing that despite our nervousness, it’s exactly what we both wanted. I didn’t hear the door open, but I did hear it close. We both resisted the urge to turn around, relishing in the suspense until we heard him behind us.

I felt Sean’s arms release me as he stepped away. Despite the loss of his body heat against me, despite the cold Gulf breeze blowing against my near naked body, I felt a tremendous warmth as I leaned forward over the balcony rail in anticipation. My entire body trembled as I felt his hand on my shoulder. He swept my hair aside, kissing my neck, which I arched against him, his face much smoother than my husband’s. Slowly, he began kissing his way down my back, his fingers trailing down my sides. It felt so delicious, giving myself to this stranger, this perfect stranger.

His strong hands gripped and squeezed my ass cheeks, spreading them, exposing my most private parts. As his tongue trailed along my slit, his nose pressed into the crack of my ass, I pushed back into him. It was so passionate. A passion that should have been reserved for my husband on this most sacred night, I was giving willing to a man I had never met, never even seen. I moaned as he tasted me, wrapping his lips around my swollen clit and sucking it into his mouth. I didn’t care if anyone could see. I didn’t care if anyone could hear as a screamed out my approval. I could feel myself relying more and more on the balcony rail for support as my knees constantly buckled. It was like a rapid succession of orgasms, each more intense that the previous, until I could no longer support myself, even with the assistance of the rail.

I felt so satiated, so pleasantly exhausted. My eyes were still closed as I felt a pair of strong arms on each side of me lifting me up, helping me to my feet. I willed myself back into the room. As we reached the bed, I opened my eyes and was welcomed by Sean’s sexy smile. I kissed him, such a soft, sweet, romantic kiss as he lied back on the bed, pulling me on top of him. His hard cock coated my stomach, a mouthwatering reminder of his love, of his lust, of the delectable naughtiness that we both felt.

I have never felt so alive. I could feel everything. I could feel every inch of Sean’s warm body under me, his chest hair tickling my nipples, his soft lips kissing my neck, my chin. His kisses were so loving, so romantic. Even his strong hands squeezing my ass cheeks, spreading them open invitingly for this stranger somehow felt romantic. It’s so hard to explain unless you’ve felt it yourself.

The bed shifted as I felt my lover crawled into position behind me, my knees instinctively bending up along Sean’s sides. His strong hands fell upon my shoulders, massaging me, as if to remove any remaining tension. I had none, but still welcomed the delightful sensations. He leaned forward, his muscular chest caressing my back, his skin so smooth. I could even feel the tightness of his stomach against my ass, the ripples of his muscles. But all this paled to the deliciousness of his cock pressed firmly into the crack of my ass. My hips gyrated against him, welcoming him. God I wanted him inside of me so badly.

It seemed an eternity before he answered my immoral prayers. I let out a guttural moan into Sean’s ear as I felt my lover easing his cock into me. Inch by delicious inch, he disappeared inside of me, touching parts of me Sean never has. I squeezed him tight, feeling his impressive girth, keenly aware of every ridge of his shaft. I pushed back against him, feeling his pubic hairs tickling my sensitive flesh.

Feeling so wonderfully full, I readied myself when I felt his strong hands gripping my hips. He eased out slowly, leaving just the tip of his glorious cock inside me. He rammed back inside of me, pulling me toward him just as powerfully as he thrust forward. I screamed out, the delicious combination of pain and pleasure coursing through me as he fucked me. My nails dug into Sean’s shoulders, clawing him as I desperately tried to steady myself.

My lover continued his assault, plowing into me, seemingly deeper and harder with every thrust. I welcomed it, wanted it, needed it so desperately. He may have been taking me, but I was giving myself to him willingly. With each thrust, my body lurched forward onto my husband, allowing him to feel exactly how hard I was getting fucked. I felt so wicked.

“Oh fuck yes!” I screamed out. “Fuck me. Fuck the shit out of me!”

I could feel Sean’s cock twitching against my stomach, hearing my vulgarity having just as much impact on him as saying it did for me.

“Oh baby, he’s fucking me. His cock feels so good in me. Do you like watching him fucking me as much as I love fucking him?”

He never answered me, not with words anyway. That was apparently all it took, well that and the constant sliding of my precum-covered stomach along his cock. He answered me by painting our stomachs and chests with blast after delicious blast of hot cum.

Cumming so quickly is unusual for Sean. I knew exactly why he had; it was the same reason I had cum twice without even being touched. And as my anonymous lover continued to plunge in and out of me, my next orgasm was building inside of me. No. That’s not exactly true. In reality, I felt my body was in a constant state of orgasm, merely with peaks and ebbs much like the waves in the pool outside. But God did I love those peaks.

“Oh fuck me. Fuck me hard. Ram that big dick inside of me. Show me how much watching me turned you on. Show my husband how much you loved watching me, and how much you love fucking me.” I wouldn’t have thought he could fuck me any harder, but he did. He did, and my body responded, ramming back to meet each and every powerful thrust as I exploded in yet another orgasm before collapsing on my husband’s chest.

Yes, that was 20 years ago today. Every year, Sean and I come back here, back to this very room. It was that very bed right there. Knowing I was with another man on our wedding night, before our vows were ever consummated, is such an erotic thrill to me. It’s a thrill that stimulates Sean just as much. That’s why we come back here every year, back to this same hotel room to do it all over again. Yep. Anniversaries are special.

This story is protected by International Copyright Law, by the author, all rights reserved. If found posted anywhere other than with this note attached, it has been posted without my permission.

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