After The Wedding Pleasure - Sex Stories

After The Wedding Pleasure

At last, they can have a few days together and the time to catch up on their loving ways. Those they knew at the wedding, of their closest friends, had told them that they were the ‘golden couple’, now, and she could scarcely believe it herself. She and Oscar never spoke of it; they didn’t live together; they were so wrapped up in their careers that they didn’t think beyond that and would find a night, here and there, to be at either her place or Oscar’s.

To set up a home, to do that, live together, and go further and become man and wife was, or had been, out of scope. Now, she wasn’t so sure. Oscar was never out of her thoughts and she would often wonder what he would do in the situations that she was often obliged to confront in her work as a city trader. They worked for rival firms, travelled on the tube, and overhead railway, into London Docklands from their apartments, and the arrangement worked. They were still an item.

The wedding venue, a converted aisled barn with exposed beams, trusses, and close studding, was set in immaculately landscaped grounds, the happy couple photographed as they stood on a bridge that arched over an ornamental pond, their friends and guests calling to them as iPhones took pictures, their owners sharing them no doubt, or posting them on favoured sites so that those not invited, but known to the couple, could see what a good time they had.

“Keep your eyes on the road, Ali, darling…or do you want me to drive?” He said it as a fingertip ...

... caress was offered to her cheek. “You are beautiful, Ali Dempster, you really are.”

She met Oscar’s wondering look and heard again his preferred name for her and not Alice. “So, you keep saying.”

“And I’ll never stop doing that. If you pull in somewhere, I’ll show you.”

“Being in the car with you and knowing what we’ll do while we’re away for a few days, is distraction enough, thank you!” Ali had chosen a matronly tone to answer him as she pouted a suggestive smile.

“She’s so prim and proper,” he teased back.

“For now.”

Oscar moved away and settled back in his seat, his dark hair ruffled by the slipstream as Ali drove her convertible VW Golf Gti over the country lanes that rose and fell through this part of the Kentish Downs. A quiet hotel on the coast, and days and nights of fun, awaited them. Their work rosters over the past weeks have meant that they have had little time to be together and now they want no distractions.

Ali’s relaxed, even as she drives her car, chatting animatedly or the two of them singing along to some tune that they know and can be heard over the rush of the wind, the radio turned up a notch or two. Occasionally, she dares to glance at him and take her eyes off the road. Throughout the wedding service, and then the reception and drone of the speeches, she’s hungered for him.

Oscar looks so darned hot, his good looks and black hair that is so rich, and luxuriant, crowning a high-cheeked and slender face. His lips are sensual and ...