Astoria's Secret: Bond's Wedding Night

The rain hammered against the windows of the Astoria Banquet Hall, a relentless, insistent rhythm that mirrored the building tension in the air. It was 1991, and the wedding reception for Michael’s best friend, David, was in full swing. Champagne flowed freely, the scent mingling with the aroma of roast beef and mashed potatoes, creating a strangely intoxicating atmosphere. As Michael excused himself to say goodbye to the groom, I felt a familiar heat rise within me, a primal yearning that had nothing to do with the wedding itself. We’d been married for five years, and the spark between us hadn’t diminished, not even after countless nights spent tangled in the sheets.

The dance floor was packed, a swirling mass of flailing limbs and desperate glances. But I wasn’t interested in the spectacle. My eyes kept returning to Michael, his broad shoulders and muscular chest a constant, potent temptation. After the guests had dispersed, we retreated to our suite at the hotel, a luxurious haven where we could finally indulge in our desires. The rain continued its insistent assault on the city, but inside, the atmosphere was thick with anticipation.

Michael immediately began to unwind me, his hands moving with a practiced ease that always sent shivers down my spine. He started by gently massaging my shoulders, working out the knots and tension that had built up throughout the evening. His touch was firm, confident, and undeniably stimulating. As he worked, he continued to explore my body, his fingers teasing my curves, tracing the line of my ribs, and sending jolts of pleasure through me. He then moved lower, his hands slipping beneath my arms, expertly maneuvering himself to reach my breasts. The feeling was exquisite, a blend of vulnerability and exhilaration.

“You like that?” he murmured, his voice husky with desire. “I do. I love feeling and playing with your lovely breasts.” His words were laced with an undeniable possessiveness, a declaration of ownership that both thrilled and slightly unnerved me. He leaned in close, his breath warm against my neck, and briefly kissed my inner thigh, where my panties were already damp from the heat of the evening. The anticipation was almost unbearable.

With a swift movement, he ripped off my dress, the silky fabric pooling around my legs. My panties followed suit, revealing a generous expanse of pale pink skin. I pulled back the covers, exposing my bare body to his gaze, and lay down on the plush king-sized bed, inviting him closer.

“Oh, baby!” he exclaimed, scrambling over me with a speed that belied his size. I instinctively reached out, stroking his hair, the soft strands tickling my fingertips. Wrapping my arms around his waist, I clung to him, savoring the feeling of his solid frame against mine.

He wrapped his arms around me too, not hesitating to press his body against mine, fully embracing my curves. He kissed my breasts with fervent intensity, licking one nipple after another, his tongue tracing the delicate contours of my areola. The pleasure was immediate and overwhelming, a wave of heat washing over me as my body began to respond. The touch was so intense, so demanding, that I let out a small moan of satisfaction.

Without a word, he reached for the condom from the bedside table, his movements swift and decisive. He carefully placed it on his cock, the latex stretching taut and smooth as he prepared to penetrate me. The sight of it, a small, white shield against the world, actually heightened my arousal. It felt like a deliberate act of intimacy, a conscious choice to protect us while simultaneously embracing our primal urges.

I stretched out on the bed, deliberately positioning myself to maximize the pleasure he was about to inflict upon me. The pose was designed to excite him, to draw him in, to heighten his anticipation. As he climbed over me, his hard cock aimed directly at my sensitive area, my heart pounded in my chest. The anticipation was almost too much to bear.

He kissed my neck, his lips searing against my skin, before entering me with a force that sent shivers down my spine. The feeling was exquisite, a combination of raw power and gentle caress. My muscles tensed involuntarily, my body arching in response to the exquisite sensation.

“Feels good doesn’t it, baby?” he asked, his voice a low rumble of pleasure. I nodded, unable to speak, lost in the sheer intensity of the moment. “Be prepared to feel amazing, sexy,” he added, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

As he continued to thrust, I shifted my position, arching my back and extending my legs, further enhancing the pleasure he was delivering. He began to pace around me, kissing my breasts, stroking my hair, and murmuring sweet nothings in my ear. The rhythm was relentless, powerful, and utterly captivating.

At one point, I lay on his stomach, my face buried in his chest, allowing him to massage my back while he continued to pleasure me internally. The combination of the two sensations was intoxicating, pushing me closer to the brink of ecstasy. The throbbing in my lady place was intense, a searing, pulsating heat that threatened to consume me entirely.

“Oh yes, baby! I love it when you rub my back while I pleasure you and make you cum!” he groaned, his voice strained with pleasure. I moaned in response, my body writhing in anticipation. His thrusts grew more forceful, more insistent, each penetration bringing me closer to the edge.

Groans and moans escaped my lips as he worked his way deeper, his movements becoming increasingly frenzied. The pleasure was overwhelming, a tidal wave of sensation that crashed over me, leaving me gasping for breath. My muscles clenched, my heart pounded, and my body arched in a desperate plea for release.

Suddenly, he came, a powerful, explosive release that sent a jolt of pure bliss through my entire being. I cried out in ecstasy, my body convulsing with pleasure. As the waves of sensation subsided, I caught my breath, feeling weak but incredibly satisfied.

My husband rolled off of me, his arm still wrapped around my waist, his eyes filled with desire. “Wow!” he exclaimed, his voice hoarse with pleasure. “This was hot!” I nodded in agreement, unable to deny the truth of his words. “I know, right? Hot!” He giggled before leaning in to kiss me again, a playful, possessive gesture that left me breathless.

He got me to snuggle up to him, pulling me close and resting my head on his hot, toned body. I nestled my arm across his chest, feeling safe and secure in his arms. He caressed my arm, his touch gentle and reassuring, as we drifted off to sleep, lost in the lingering warmth of our shared pleasure. The rain continued to beat against the windows, but inside, everything felt right, perfect, and utterly erotic. It was a night of intense passion, a reminder of the enduring connection between us, a testament to the power of desire and the joy of shared intimacy. We slept soundly that night, dreaming of more nights like this, more moments of pure, unadulterated pleasure. The memory of the wedding reception faded into the background, replaced by the unforgettable experience we had shared.

Did you like this story? Astoria's Secret: Bond's Wedding Night look, but like these, here Sex stories.