Hot Taboo Sex Story: My Ex Fucked Me at My Wedding and I Loved Every Dirty Second

The music thumped through the ballroom, a deep, throbbing bass vibrating under my feet. Eyes followed me as I glided through the crowd, the new Mrs. Jess Harper — long, dark hair falling in curls over my shoulders, the white A-line dress shaping every curve of my hips, my tits pushed up by delicate lace. My cheeks ached from smiling so hard, but inside I was barely holding together.

Because Derek was here. My ex. My filthy, devastating ex. The man I’d loved with a crazed, destructive hunger — until we combusted. Tall, broad-shouldered, messy brown hair, green eyes that fucked you just by looking. I’d seen him at the bar, his suit rumpled and tight across his chest. And his smirk — god, that smirk — told me this wasn’t a coincidence.

He found me in the hallway, away from the reception. My heart stuttered when our eyes met. “Congrats, Jess,” he rasped, his voice a dirty caress. “You look like a fuckin’ dream.”

My pulse hammered between my thighs. “You shouldn’t be here.”

He stepped in, pinning me against the wall, his hands on my waist. “Bet you’re dripping under this pretty dress.”

The risk made me wetter. Heat flooded my cheeks. His thumb pressed down on my hipbone. “You want me to fuck you one last time?” He growled the words into my ear, sending molten shivers through my body.

I should’ve said no. But my pussy clenched at the thought. I tugged him into the nearest empty room — the coat closet. The world faded. Only Derek and the wild, fucked-up need that burned between us.

He spun me, crowding me against the wall. His mouth crashed down on mine. His tongue shoved deep, tasting, claiming. I moaned — loud — as his hands slid up my skirt, bunching white silk. His fingers found my soaked panties. “God, Jess, you’re fucking drenched.”

He yanked them aside and pressed two fingers against my aching clit, rubbing hard circles. My knees buckled; he caught me by the hair, pulled my head back so he could suck at my throat, biting and licking, leaving marks I’d have to hide later. I was panting and grinding on his hand, shameless.

“Say you want it. Say you want my cock inside that married little pussy.”

“Yes. Fuck, yes, Derek, fuck me, I need it.” My hips rolled, desperate.

He unzipped his pants. His cock sprang free, thick and angry-red, veins pulsing. He fisted it, stroking, leaking precum. “You gonna take it all?”

I dropped to my knees, wedding dress pooling around me. “I want every filthy inch.” My hands wrapped around his shaft, tongue lapping up his precum. He groaned, deep and rough, as I took him in, lips stretching wide. Warm, salty, heavy on my tongue. I bobbed my head, spit running down his cock, stroking the base as I hollowed my cheeks. He fucked my mouth, thrusting slow at first, then rougher, making me choke, eyes streaming with pleasure.

His hands fisted in my curls. "You suck cock even better with a ring on your finger, baby." I moaned around him, squeezing his balls, feeling them tighten. "Fuck, Jess, you want me to cum down your throat?"

I pulled off, licking the shaft. "Not yet. I want you to fuck me raw."

He growled, yanking me to my feet, and bent me over a pile of coats. My dress lifted, panties shoved aside. His cockhead rubbed up and down my dripping slit, teasing me. I whimpered. He spat and pressed in, thick and stretching. The first thrust punched the air from my lungs.

"You're still so tight," he hissed, slamming deeper. My pussy squeezed around him, slick and hot. He pounded into me, balls slapping my ass, hands gripping my hips hard enough to bruise. Every stroke hit deep and hard, filling me. I couldn’t hold in my cries. “Yes, fuck, Derek! Harder!”

He drove into me, fast and filthy, making my tits bounce against the coats. His thumb found my clit, circling, rubbing, pushing me higher. Sparks burst behind my eyelids. “You gonna cum on my cock, Jess?”

“Oh god, yes, yes, don’t stop—!”

He fucked me faster. Loud, wet smacks, obscene and hot. I crashed over the edge, pussy spasming, clenching tight. I screamed through the orgasm, pleasure shaking me as he kept pounding, chasing his own release.

He yanked me up, spun me, and slammed me against the wall. He breathed, “Ride me, slut.”

Buttons flew off his shirt as he dropped to the floor, cock glistening with my slick. I straddled him, lowering my pussy onto his thick shaft, both of us groaning. I bounced up and down, tits heaving, his hands squeezing my ass, guiding me. My dress was rucked up around my waist. He sucked my nipples, biting and flicking them with his tongue. I moaned, grinding my clit against him, riding him hard.

“Look at you, riding your ex’s cock on your wedding night. Such a filthy wife.”

My pussy clenched at his words. I was close — so close — stars popping behind my eyes.

He slapped my ass. “Cum for me.”

I screamed as I came again, whole body shaking. He grabbed my hips and rutted up into me, cock twitching, then exploded, hot cum flooding my pussy, pumping and pumping as he roared my name.

For a moment, I slumped against him, both of us panting, soaked and ruined, my pussy dripping with his cum. I sank to my knees one last time, licking every drop off his cock before slipping out, fixing my dress, heart pounding. No one would ever know. Except me, throbbing and wrecked, craving more.