Our Secret World Ch. 02

It is day of our wedding when dream and reality finally collide once more. The day has been glorious -- overwhelming. Arella is more beautiful and radiant than I have ever seen her, and that first glimpse when I turned and saw her was a moment I will never forget -- her golden hair intricately arranged on the back of her head, all interwoven with gold thread and tiny white flowers, the long-sleeved, ivory coloured dress -- laced at the back in an almost Tudor style and falling from her waist in a great cascade of crushed silk, her every move accompanied by an evocative swish. I am in a tailored tailcoat which instantly transforms the way I hold myself. We look and feel like new people -- transformed, ready for our new lives. Tirzah looks stunning, but, as always, is a complete contrast to her sister. She is in a dress of straight, heavy silk in a pale purple and cut with almost classical simplicity that follows the slim, long contours of her body and seems almost to quiver as she moves. She looks at us with all the pride that we feel ourselves, allowing herself -- unless I am imagining it -- several more smiles than usual.

Later that day, as the celebrations get underway, Arella and I head up to the suite in the hotel to change into more relaxed clothing. We laugh like children as we run up the huge, sweeping 18th century staircase and fall into the room, our heads fuzzy from the champagne, still buzzing with the excitement of it all. I fall silent in appreciation as we enter the room. This is where Arella spent the previous night, and where she prepared herself for the day. It's spacious and classic, with high ceilings, French windows leading to a balcony overlooking formal gardens, and a small adjoining room to one side -- the bridesmaid's room -- to which the door is still open. The French windows are open too, and a gentle, warm breeze is blowing, catching the long, gauze curtains and making them drift in and out of the beams of sunlight. Arella kicks off her shoes in relief, then, pulling the pins from her hair, lets it cascade over her shoulders. Lifting her voluminous skirts, she pads towards me and kisses me passionately on the lips. I slip my hand around her slim, tightly laced waist and we savour the moment, her fingers cradling my head, spreading through my tousled hair.

For a moment I glimpse the both of us framed in a large antique mirror on the wall. Suddenly she breaks away, swings me around and with a smile pushes me backward so I slump down on the side of the low, ornate bed.

'Something for my new husband,' she says dreamily. Then, very slowly, she starts to gather up her skirts again, raising them bit by bit, to reveal her shapely, white-stockinged legs. She knows I have a thing for stockings -- the anticipation of seeing those lacy tops revealed, with the smooth skin of her thighs above, is intense, and Arella clearly enjoys milking it for all its worth. But first to appear, on the thigh of her left leg, a beautiful, antique, embroidered garter, trimmed with fine lace. She stops, refusing to go any further, teasing me. I notice that tucked into the garter is a tiny sprig of greenery.

'Rather pagan, isn't it?' I smile.

'It's mistletoe,' she says. 'For luck.' And with that she plucks it from under the garter and moves towards me, her smooth thigh now so close to my face she must be able to feel my warm breath. But all I can think about are the tops of those stockings, so tantalisingly close. 'You're supposed to take the garter off,' she says. 'It's traditional.'

'I thought it was traditional for me to take it off in front of the guests.'

She smiles. 'I thought you'd prefer this in private.' Returning her smile, I slip my fingers under the garter and slide it carefully down her leg, pausing to give her beautifully shaped foot a kiss before straightening up once again. There's another tantalising moment -- then she starts to raise her rustling skirts once more, until finally the tops of her sheer stockings are revealed, the crisp white edge of the intricate lace contrasting deliciously with the smooth, golden warmth of her skin. Beautiful. I feel my cock twitch and start to harden. She continues to raise her skirts. My heart is beating faster, my mind reeling, wondering what underwear she will have chosen for this occasion. Sexy? Demure? Virginal?

But there's another surprise in store. My heart skips a beat. From the dark cleft between her legs, the plump, full lips of her vulva emerge, naked beneath her dress, the pubic hair neatly trimmed to better reveal their ripe beauty, the tousled hair above woven with more tiny white flowers. I feel my cock swell, straining to escape.

Arella twirls the tiny sprig of mistletoe between her fingers. ' You have to give me a kiss.'

I don't need telling twice. I slide my fingers up past her stocking tops, cupping her taut buttocks in my hands, and pull her to me, pressing my lips to her warm, fragrant slit. A shiver passes through her body, pulsing to her very core from this one point of contact. She claws at my head, gripping my hair. I stand to kiss her, but she turns suddenly, wrapping my arms around her and pressing my hand against her breast. I spin us both so we see ourselves again framed in the mirror beyond the bed, her sex exposed and beautiful beneath the gathered folds of her dress, my arms wrapped around her, her legs slightly parted, her breath coming slower and deeper. I slip my hand over her plump, soft lower lips and press my fingers hard against them -- she gasps and bites her lip as they release their sweet, slippery juice between my fingers like a ripe fruit. I slip a finger inside, feeling her heat. Then another. She pushes back against me, pressing the aching hardness of my groin between her naked buttocks.

We watch ourselves displayed in the mirror as my fingers move rhythmically, sliding inside her and twirling their tips around her clitoris. I move it away momentarily, up to her face, and savour our reflection as she takes my fingers, slippery with her cum, into her warm, waiting mouth -- her eyes fixed on mine in the mirror. I return to her cunt, plunging deeper, making her gasp again as I grasp her breast harder with my other hand. She throws her head back and reaches behind her, struggling to free my cock.

This is no time for finesse -- I release her and frantically pull open my belt and zip as she lets herself fall forward, bending over the bed and pulling the skirt of her dress high up over her waist. My cock springs free as she raises her hips and buttocks to me, her feet splayed, her muscles tensed. I hastily throw off my jacket, waistcoat and shirt, and, gripping my cock in my fist, rub its head hard against her parted lips, her juice glistening its tip. She writhes against me, pushing backwards and stretching her arms and body out like a cat, a long, vocal sigh escaping her. I'm so hard I feel I could burst. Impatiently I thrust into her in one decisive move, feeling her heat suddenly envelop my throbbing cock. She gasps at the suddenness of it, clenching her muscles tightly around me. For a moment I'm motionless. We hardly dare to move, savouring this exquisite feeling, wanting to prolong it, me deep in her, her wrapped around me -- gripping me as if she'll never let go. I flex my muscles, feel myself pulse inside her, raising myself slightly to feel her more keenly, feel the weight of her on my cock, her tightness around me.

But I can't wait any longer. Gripping her waist, I pull back and begin to plunge in and out of her as she moans in a rapture of complete abandon, her arms outstretched, twisting the bedclothes as if to tear them apart. Reaching around with my free hand, I feel between her legs and press my fingers against her clitoris -- engorged and slippery with our combined juices. She suddenly lets out a long wail of satisfaction. Arella knows no one can hear us up here, and seems determined to take full advantage of the fact. That energises me further. Grabbing the laces on the back of her dress I pull her harder against me, her back arching as she pushes her buttocks upward and onto my aching shaft, grinding them from side to side and squealing like some kind of animal. I suddenly pull out -- teasing her, letting the head of my cock nudge her wet and swollen lips, backing away when she tries to envelop me again. It drives her crazy. But I'm not letting her have it all her own way. Not yet.

With my fingers entwined in the laces of her tight bodice, I hold her off me, withdrawing completely. She pants and writhes and begs for more. But I have an extra surprise -- one I know she will enjoy. I slip my other hand between her legs, feeling her hot, parted lips -- like my aching cock, throbbing and slick with our combined juices. Sliding my fingers over and inside it, I slather her slippery pussy juices up between her spread buttocks and over the opening of her ass. She shivers instantly at the touch. I let my fingers linger here, their tips sliding over this tiny, pink rosebud, circling it, teasing it, glistening it with her own cum. Then, very slowly, I ease the cum-slicked tip of my thumb slowly inside, feeling its exquisite tightness close around me as it's allowed in further, further. She pants in short, vocal breaths. My palm is now flat against her, my thumb deep in her hot, tight ass, my straining cock poised to take her once again. Relinquishing my hold on her dress I once again grasp my cock and rub its head against her slippery, parted lips. As I do so, I let my thumb revolve slowly inside her. A long, involuntary moan escapes her lips, her buttocks quivering.

Suddenly, a movement catches my eye. I freeze. For a moment I'm disorientated, before realising that the movement is in the mirror -- its origin behind me. Something -- a dark shape -- moved past the half-open door to the bridesmaid's room. A second later, it again fills the space. A flash of purple silk. Tirzah. She stops herself suddenly, silently, then withdraws, pushing the door further closed.

But not all the way.

Through a sliver of open door a few inches wide, she continues to watch, her dark eyes fixed on the scene before her. From Arella's low position on the bed, I know she cannot see what I see. And Tirzah knows it, too. My head feels suddenly hot. I feel myself shaking. But once again, I am so far beyond the point of modesty, that something new and very different takes hold. Watching Tirzah's shadowy figure in the mirror, I again revolve my thumb, working it deeper inside the tightness of Arella's ass. She writhes, and stretches and moans like a cat in heat. As she does, something like a shudder seems to pass through Tirzah. In the shadows, I think I see her hand pass over her breast. My eyes are locked on her reflection -- hers firmly fixed on our coupling bodies.

With a kind of crazy, heady excitement -- as if some entirely new possibility had suddenly been opened up, multiplying the anticipation of pleasure to an undreamt of level of intensity -- I bury my swollen cock deep in Arella's eager flesh once more. She lets out a cry and shudders with a force that seems to send an electric current through me, stripping away all restraint. I grip the laces of her bodice and drive into her, over and over, all control gone now, racing to the inevitable climax, each thrust pushing a new cry from her. She tosses her golden hair. I grab her tresses, pulling at them like reins. Her cunt suddenly grips me like a vice, and instantly her breath catches -- she holds it, and a sudden vibration from deep in her core seems to grow to a intense shudder, spreading through her body, taking over every muscle.

Looking up, I see a Tirzah again framed in the dark sliver of doorway, her jet-black hair falling over one eye, her glistening lips parted, her silk dress raised in liquid folds high above the tops of black stockings, her right hand lost in the shadows between her long, shapely legs. The sight of her -- the knowledge that this moment is being witnessed, taken, enjoyed -- jolts through me, triggering a sudden frantic acceleration whose brutality shocks me. But I cannot stop.

Arella's tense silence suddenly breaks, her breath bursting from her in a long cry of exquisite pain-pleasure as she is transformed by the joyous oblivion of violent, writhing spasms -- her head thrown back, her mouth wide, her back arching. Her whole body seems to pulse around me, the muscles of her cunt and ass tightening in great rhythmic waves. I catch my breath suddenly and explode inside her, my cum gushing with such force that I hear my own voice cry out as I'm taken by the most shattering orgasm I have ever known. Every last vestige of control is overthrown. For a moment it seems something utterly outside ourselves has taken possession, flinging our sweat-sticky, exhausted bodies together for the last few shuddering moments, until I finally collapse on Arella, utterly drained.

I disengage and slide down onto the floor, my back against the bed, panting uncontrollably, my heart beating like a hammer against my chest. And as I look up, there, just yards away, Tirzah. I am just in time to see folds of purple silk fall in one fluid movement to cover her slim legs once more. Our eyes meet. An audible sigh escapes her lips. For a moment we are fixed on each other -- an exchange without judgement, without fear, without boundaries. A look in which nothing can hide.

Arella stirs gently beside me. I turn and gaze at her -- her face buried in the ravaged bedclothes, the golden hair, disarrayed but still dotted with flowers, spread out across the covers, the tight bodice, rising and falling as she recovers her breath, the crumpled, ivory expanse of her dress and long, beautifully tanned legs that emerge from it, splayed in complete abandon. And between, her smooth, parted buttocks, the sweet rosebud of her ass, now shiny with sweat from the cleft above, and beneath it the swollen, glistening lips of her slit, still throbbing, flushed pink and dripping with my cum. Such a beautiful sight. She lets out a purr of satisfaction and stirs again. I look back to the doorway -- and Tirzah is gone.

Of the rest of that day, there is little to tell. We eventually returned to the celebrations. It was a joyous day -- perfect. Yet my mind returned, over and over, to that moment, to the one who watched. The first time had been a chance encounter. That was certain. I had come away from that able only to wonder -- or fantasise -- about Tirzah's feelings as she had observed us. But on the second occasion, there was no ambiguity. The thrill, this time, was in the knowing. And perhaps there was more. Had she followed us that day, and slipped into the bridesmaid's room, knowing what she might see -- wanting it?

During the celebrations, Tirzah was once again her usual self -- if, perhaps, a little more buoyant than usual. Of this secret world we had made for ourselves, there was, once again, no hint. Yet, when we made to leave on our long-anticipated honeymoon and she gave me a perfectly sisterly kiss goodbye, placing one hand on my cheek, I momentarily caught the sweet scent of her sex lingering on those long, delicate fingers.