Have a little more about Chelsea just before she walks down the aisle…
~Richard
Chelsea gagged again when Mark pressed his hips forward. He looked down at her as tears started to well at the corners of her eyes. He pulled back a bit and gave her another smirk. “Good thing you didn’t do your makeup yet, slut.”
She nodded and gasped. “Yes, Sir. I’m sorry. No one’s fucked my throat properly in some time.” She kissed her way down his cock, tongue washing his balls.
“How long?” he asked.
She looked up at him for a moment, knowing what he was really asking. “About four years. You’re not the last one to use me.”
“Just the last one to do it properly,” he said, grabbing her under the chin and lining her mouth up in front of his cock.
“Ahhhh,” she said, sticking her tongue out, reaching towards him.
He shook his head, but slowly dipped his hips, sliding his cock along her tongue. She moaned at the taste, sending vibrations up his cock and drawing out his own moans.
“That’s it, pet. We’ll go nice and slow.”
She nodded, letting him slip deeper, doing her best to sit still. She kept her palms down on her knees, and did her best to breathe through her nose.
Mark made it to where she’d started to gag last time. “If you can’t take it all in this hole, I’m afraid for your ass, whore.”
“Ooh mmhhm mmphhh, Mrrr,” she said, shivering a little. Her ass was even more out of practice than her throat. At least she had a popsicle occasionally.
He slowly started to build a rhythm, slipping the last inch of cock in and out of her mouth, slipping a hair deeper each time.
“Remember what you have to do for it to count as a proper deepthroat, slut?”
She nodded a little, trying to force him even deeper, even as her throat clenched against him. Eager as her spirit was to submit, her body struggled to keep up. Mark shifted his stance, bending his knees a little, letting his bodyweight crush down on her, driving deep into her throat. She wretched, squeezing her eyes shut, reaching her tongue as far as she could teasing over his balls.
“Good girl,” he said, pulling back. She bent over, panting and gasping for air, “good girl” echoing in her head. So worth it.
He reached down, rubbing her back lightly as she caught her breath and looked up at him.
“Ready to walk down the aisle now?” he asked.
After a moment, she slowly shook her head. “No, Sir. I couldn’t let you go without making you cum at least once. And I think it’d be perfect to get married with your cum dripping down to my garter, don’t you, Sir?”
J R Vincente 