The Groom's Father’s Forbidden Reception Craving

The Groom's Father’s Forbidden Reception Craving

The reception was in full swing, crystal chandeliers glittering above tables draped in ivory silk and pale roses. Kayla smiled on cue as another guest congratulated her, but the smile never reached her eyes. Twenty-two, stunning in a fitted lace wedding gown that hugged every curve, and already bored out of her mind.

Her new husband, Ethan, was across the room laughing too loudly at his own jokes, his face flushed from champagne. Sweet. Safe. Bland. The kind of man who would always ask permission before he touched her tits and would finish in under four minutes. She’d known it for months, but the ring had already been on her finger by the time the truth fully settled.

A large, warm hand settled on her lower back.

“May I have this dance, Mrs. Caldwell?”

Marcus’s voice was low, rough, like gravel wrapped in velvet. Ethan’s father. Silver fox didn’t even begin to cover it. Fifty-one, broad-shouldered, with a trimmed salt-and-pepper beard and piercing blue eyes that had always seemed to see straight through her. He wore his tuxedo like it had been tailored to torment women. The jacket stretched across a powerful chest, and the pants… God, those pants.

Kayla let him guide her onto the dance floor. The band shifted into a slow, sultry number. The moment his big hand splayed possessively across the small of her back, heat flashed through her belly. Then he pulled her closer, and she felt it—thick, heavy, and unmistakably hard—pressing against her stomach through the thin fabric of his trousers.

Her breath caught.

Marcus’s lips brushed her ear as they swayed. “You look so fucking tight in that dress, Kayla. Like a little virgin bride even though we both know you’ve been letting my son fumble around between your legs for over a year.”

The filthy words slid into her ear like warm whiskey. She should have pulled away. Instead her nipples stiffened against the lace of her bodice.

“You deserve better than what he can give you,” he continued, voice dark and intimate. His hips rolled subtly against hers in time with the music, grinding the fat ridge of his cock against her mound. “I’ve watched you for two years, sweetheart. Every time you came to the house in those tiny shorts, bending over to get something out of the fridge… I knew you needed a real man. One who’d split that pretty pussy open and make you scream.”

Kayla’s cunt clenched hard. A sudden gush of wetness soaked the crotch of her white lace thong. She could feel her clit throbbing in time with her heartbeat.

The song ended, but Marcus didn’t let her go right away. His hand slid lower, fingers brushing the upper curve of her ass. “Come with me. Now.”

She didn’t argue. Her body had already made the decision.

He pulled her off the dance floor and into a dimly lit service hallway behind the ballroom. The moment they were out of sight he backed her against the wall, caging her in with his bigger body. The scent of his cologne—something expensive and masculine—flooded her senses.

“I’ve jerked my cock raw thinking about you since the day Ethan brought you home,” Marcus growled, eyes locked on her mouth. “Picturing you on your knees in your little sundress, choking on this fat dick while my useless son was upstairs playing video games. I knew you were wasted on him. That tight little body needs to be claimed. Ruined. Fucked so deep you forget his goddamn name.”

Kayla’s pussy was dripping down her thighs. She grabbed his lapels and yanked him down into a filthy, open-mouthed kiss. Their tongues tangled desperately. When they broke apart she was panting.

“Bridal suite,” she whispered, voice hoarse with need. “Now.”

They barely made it inside the private room reserved for the bride and groom. The door had just clicked shut before Marcus spun her around and bent her over the elegant white vanity. Kayla stared at their reflection in the huge mirror—her flushed cheeks, her veil slightly askew, his massive frame looming behind her like a predator.

“Hands on the table,” he ordered.

She obeyed instantly. Marcus gathered the expensive lace and silk of her wedding dress and shoved it roughly up around her waist, exposing her ass and the soaked white thong. He groaned at the sight.

“Jesus Christ. Look at this married pussy. Already drooling for Daddy’s cock.” He ripped the delicate thong down her legs in one brutal yank, then kicked her heels wider apart. “Spread.”

Kayla moaned as cool air kissed her overheated, bare cunt. In the mirror she watched Marcus free his cock. Her eyes widened. It was monstrous—thick as her wrist, veined, with a fat purple head already leaking. At least nine inches and so heavy it barely stood up straight. Ethan’s dick looked like a toy in comparison.

Marcus didn’t tease. He notched the huge head against her slick folds and drove forward in one savage thrust.

“Fuuuuck!” Kayla cried out as her pussy was forced open wider than it had ever been. The stretch burned so good she nearly came on the first stroke. He didn’t stop until his heavy balls were pressed against her clit and the fat crown kissed her cervix.

“Goddamn, you’re tight,” he snarled, gripping her hips hard enough to bruise. “My son must have a pathetic little prick if this cunt is still this greedy.”

He started fucking her in deep, punishing strokes. The vanity rattled. Her tits bounced inside her bodice. In the mirror she watched her own face contort in obscene pleasure—mouth open, eyes glassy, veil trembling with every brutal impact.

“Harder,” she begged. “Fuck me harder, Marcus. Please.”

He gave her what she wanted. The wet slap of his heavy balls against her clit filled the room. His thick cock rearranged her insides with every thrust, battering her cervix and dragging mercilessly over her g-spot.

After a few minutes he pulled out, spun her around, and lifted her. Kayla wrapped her legs around his waist as he carried her to the huge bed and threw her down on her back. He climbed between her thighs, shoved her legs back until her knees framed her head in a folded mating press, and slammed back inside her soaked hole.

“Oh my God—yes!” she wailed. The new angle let him drive even deeper. She could feel every fat inch splitting her open. “It’s so much bigger than his! Your cock is ruining me—fuck, it’s so much better!”

“Yeah?” Marcus growled, pounding her without mercy. The wet squelching sounds of her cunt were obscene. “This is what you needed on your wedding night, isn’t it? Not that limp-dicked boy. You needed your father-in-law’s fat cock stretching this married pussy.”

“Yes! Yes, Daddy—fuck, I’m gonna come!”

Her orgasm hit like a freight train. Her walls clamped down around his pistoning shaft, gushing around him as she screamed. Marcus fucked her straight through it, grinding his pelvis against her swollen clit until she was shaking and sobbing with overstimulation.

When her spasms finally eased he pulled out, climbed up her body, and straddled her chest. He fisted his glistening cock and aimed it at her face.

“Open that pretty mouth. I’m gonna paint my new daughter-in-law’s tongue.”

Kayla stuck her tongue out obediently, eyes locked on his as he stroked his huge cock. The first thick rope of cum lashed across her tongue. Then another. And another. He groaned deep in his chest as he emptied his heavy balls, decorating her tongue, her lips, her chin, and the delicate edge of her wedding veil with pearly-white streaks of taboo seed.

When he was finally spent, Marcus tucked his still-impressive cock back into his pants and zipped up. He looked down at her—flushed, disheveled, cum-splattered, wedding dress bunched around her waist—and smirked.

“Keep it inside you for the rest of the night,” he said, scooping a thick glob of his cum off her chin with his thumb and pushing it between her lips. She sucked it clean with a moan. “Every time you feel my load leaking out of that used cunt while you smile at my son, I want you thinking about how much better Daddy fucks you.”

He leaned down, kissed her cum-smeared mouth once—filthy and possessive—then straightened his tuxedo and slipped out of the bridal suite without another word.

Kayla lay there for a long moment, legs still trembling, pussy still fluttering and leaking his massive load down the crack of her ass. She could taste him on her tongue. Her veil was stained.

She stood on shaky legs, smoothed her wedding dress down as best she could, and checked herself in the mirror. Her cheeks were flushed. Her eyes were bright with filthy satisfaction. A thin streak of his cum had dried on the lace near her collarbone.

Smiling like the perfect blushing bride, Kayla returned to the reception.

Ethan greeted her with a sweet, clueless kiss on the cheek. She could feel his father’s cum slowly dripping out of her well-fucked cunt as they raised their glasses for the first toast of the night.

And deep down, beneath the polite applause and clinking crystal, Kayla was already aching for the next time her father-in-law would ruin her again.