Irresistible - Sex Stories

Irresistible

Irresistible My wedding day... I suppose all brides cry on the day of their wedding. But maybe not for the same reason my bride was crying... --------------------------------------------------------- Becca and I had been engaged for nearly a year. Being that we both came from prominent families we had a huge wedding planned. All of New York society would be in attendance. Her father tried not to show it but he was incredibly perturbed at how much he had to shell out for this huge wedding. "I don't know where this stupid tradition of the father paying for the wedding came from, but it's a terrible burden on me in this economy," He grumbled once at dinner. He never liked me. He even pulled me aside one evening and said so. "John, you're not worthy of my daughter. You're a spoiled brat with no backbone. I want someone who I'm confident can protect my little girl. I'm not sure you could protect a puppy." You see I wasn't the most masculine or muscular man on earth. I was only 5'10" and very slight. I got my looks from my mother, high cheekbones, soft features, and silky smooth dark hair which I wore at one length all the way around, but mostly kept it in a pony tail. Becca loved my long hair. She loved running her fingers through it, said it reminded her of the Princes in the Hollywood versions of a more romantic time period. My f****y was rich and powerful and influential. So regardless of my slight stature I was considered a most eligible bachelor. I had been dating Becca ...

... since our days in private school in England and at 21, with our graduation from Oxford a year away, I popped the question. She said yes, and insisted we get married back in New York so our families could attend. My parents were going to be last minute attendees due to my father's political fundraising campaign. So Becca's father insisted we stay at his house in the Hamptons prior to the wedding. Becca insisted I help with the planning, which mostly bored me. She agonized over the dress for weeks, we spent hours pouring through catalogs on the web, and finally found one she thought was original and perfect. She loved it, and I did too. It was a very simple white satin dress with puffy sleeves, and some ornate organza adornments. "Isn't it amazing John? It reminds me of the dresses my mom used to make me wear on Sundays to go to church. With the right tailoring it'll be perfect!" "It's lovely Becca. I'm sure you'll look amazing in it." I smiled. As she left to go share her choice with her friends, my smile faded. I loved the dress. I loved it a little too much. I had not told Becca of my secret fantasies. No one knew. Not even my f****y or my closest friends. I loved crossdressing. I loved the way women's clothing made me feel. I had a stash of panties and bras slips, camisoles, and stockings that I kept well hidden. I loved the feel of silk and satin on my skin. I would get dressed up and masturbate to the incredible sensation of the fabric on my body. I wasn't gay. And I didn't ...