Ex at My Wedding: Dirty Cheating Sex Story That’ll Make You Moan

My wedding day was supposed to be perfect. But nothing made me wet like seeing my ex James in the crowd, his hazel eyes drilling into me over my white dress. My fiancé, David, stood at the altar, beaming—blonde, tall, classic beauty. But James? Stocky, tattooed arms, five o’clock shadow. My ex knew me: every filthy craving, every way my pussy throbbed when I was begging for it.

The ceremony? A blur. All I cared about was James, who kept licking his lips like he was picturing me bent over in the back pew. During pictures, he caught my hand, his grip rough.

“I shouldn’t have let you go, Kate,” he growled, voice deep. “You look fuckable.”

I sucked in a shaky breath. My pussy clenched under my lace panties. “Gutsy, showing up today.”

His fingers skimmed my hip, hidden by tulle. “You want it,” he whispered, hot in my ear. That filthy look in his eye never failed to get me soaked.

Dinner, toasts, bullshit small talk—I felt his stare burning into my skin. Each time I looked over, James mouthed dirty things: Mouth. Ass. Hard. I couldn’t take it. My thighs ached with need. I excused myself and slipped out of the hall. He followed, boots silent on the tile.

The coat closet door clicked shut behind us.

He pressed me to the wall, big hands yanking my skirt up. “You’re soaked for me, aren’t you?” he muttered, sliding hard fingers up my thigh. I bit my lip as he found the bare, slick heat between my legs. My panties were already shoved aside.

“Say it, Kate. Say you want me to ruin you on your wedding night.”

“Yes,” I panted. “James, fucking ruin me. I want your cock. Right now.”

He didn’t wait. He dropped to his knees, hands greedy and rough. He buried his face in my pussy, licking up my wetness, tongue swirling my clit fast and dirty until I was clutching his hair, grinding against his face. “God, you taste desperate,” he growled, fingers sliding in, pumping deep as his mouth latched onto my swollen clit.

I came sudden and fierce, crying out, hips jerking. He stood, mouth coated with my slick. His cock strained behind his zipper, thick and already leaking.

“Turn around. Show me that ass,” he ordered. I obeyed, breathless, bracing against the wall as he hiked my dress over my hips. I heard the metallic hiss as his zipper dropped. His cock—big, veins thick along the shaft—pressed into my soaked, quivering hole. With a single thrust, he filled me, the stretch so perfect, so fucking wrong.

He pounded me, hard, fast, hands on my hips, driving his cock balls-deep with every thrust. My pussy clenched around him, dripping down my thighs. “Yeah, take it. Tell me whose cock you really need.”

“Yours! Fuck—James, I need your cock so bad. Deeper, harder, don’t stop—”

He pulled my head back, fucked me rougher, hips slapping my ass, cock shooting sparks through my whole body. “That’s it,” he growled. “This pussy’s mine. You’re getting married with my cum dripping from you.”

He pulled out, spun me to my knees. “Open your mouth.”

I looked up, lips parted. He shoved his cock deep in my throat, thick and pulsing, tasting of my own pussy. I gagged and moaned, drool running down my chin. He face-fucked me, hands tangled in my hair, fucking my mouth until I was choking on his cock, loving every filthy second.

“Swallow it all,” he ordered, voice raw.

With a deep growl, he came, cock throbbing, hot cum spilling down my throat. I swallowed every drop, licking him clean, desperate, addicted. His hands shook. I wiped my mouth, a dirty grin on my lips.

He yanked me up, kissed me hard, tasting himself on my tongue. “You’ll think of me in his bed tonight,” James whispered, zipping his jeans, breathing heavy.

I staggered out, cheeks flushed, pussy soaked and full of his taste. My wedding night hadn’t even started. But James—the ex I’d pretend to forget—had already fucked me better than anyone else ever could.