Spunk Wedding
=============

Steve had been waiting for this day for so long. It was the 
day of his wedding. The day when at last he would belong 
to only one man and that man would be his husband. 

He sat surrounded by his friends in front of the dressing-
table mirror and meticulously applied lipstick and mascara. 
He was determined to look his very best for Bart. 

"It's beautiful!" exclaimed Barry, holding up the bespoke 
wedding outfit that had been made for Steve. It was a lace 
and crinoline affair with garters and tassels, open at the 
chest and crotch to emphasise his effete beauty. 

"I can't wait to put it on," said Steve, who was still naked 
while he painted his nipples with lipstick. He picked at his 
dense pubic hair that was shaved into the shape of a heart. 
His testicles were plucked and his limp penis oiled and 
perfumed. Steve admired his face in the mirror and pursed 
his lips to show off the bright red lipstick. With his painted 
eyelids and plucked eyebrows, he looked almost like a girl 
but no girl ever had such a pretty little penis. He brushed a 
few hairs that had fallen on to his bare shoulders during the 
haircut that Martin, a hairdresser by trade, had earlier given 
him as a gift. However, even if no payment had been 
expected he was grateful for Steve's blowjob. He was, of 
course, careful to direct his semen away from Steve's face. 
That kind of fun would be more appropriate for later in the 
day.

Steve brushed the stubble at the back of his neck and ran 
his fingers through the tousle of boyish hair that fell over 
his forehead. What was his hair like when he first met 
Bart? This was the sort of question he often asked himself 
when he lovingly reminisced on their first encounter. He 
knew that he was as naked as he was now, as so too was 
Bart. Even so, naked as much as clothed, they were two 
different men. Steve was thin, below average height and 
shaved his chest and very often his pubes free of hair. Bart 
was quite the opposite.

In fact, the first sight Steve had of him across Duncan's 
living room during his host's party was of Bart's muscular 
back while he plied his prick into Duncan's arse. Bart was a 
man who much preferred to give than receive, but he made 
sure that Duncan could clean off the sperm and specks of 
shit on his prick when he'd finished. This was the kind of 
generosity Steve admired. So many men were selfish and 
would finish themselves off in a man's arse where the 
spunk couldn't be properly appreciated. 

Nevertheless, Steve's attention was mostly distracted 
elsewhere during Bart's performance. A pretty boy like him 
was always in demand: especially in those days when with 
his quite long hair, thick make-up and garters he resembled 
a peculiarly flat-chested girl. His mouth was on Dave's 
cock while his prick and balls were being languidly fellated 
by Duncan's husband, Sven. Even so, he admired Bart's 
thick muscular frame, his hairy chest, his huge moustache, 
but most of all that huge cock that was soon erect again 
and ready for more.

It was a clamber through and over naked male bodies 
which took most of the rest of the party that eventually led 
Steve to Bart, who he was gratified to see had made much 
the same journey in the opposite direction, generously 
bestowing proof of his virility on the men in between. And 
when they at last met, Bart still fucking Phil and Steve's 
testicles now in Dan's mouth, Steve was quite agitated. 
He'd seen so much to admire in Bart. His short black hair, 
the trembling muscles on his shoulders and chest, the little 
shudder in his buttocks as he thrust into the willingly 
proffered arses and that penis that was very nearly double 
the size of Steve's own slim and still quite boyish cock. But 
this was a penis that was very much erect when Bart's eyes 
glanced at it, perhaps also admiring Dan's ability to engulf 
both Steve's hard testicles inside his mouth. 

And then, so romantically, Bart's and Steve's mouths met 
for their first ever kiss: one Bart later confessed in a rare 
moment of soppiness he'd wanted from the first sight of 
Steve. This was when he was giving Paul a blow-job. 
Bart's rough stubble scraped against Steve's smooth chin 
while Steve gasped for breath in the passionate collision of 
tongues. Then Bart stretched a hand forward, while still 
fucking Phil, and grabbed Steve's penis. He rubbed it up 
and down and occasionally battered Dan's nose as he licked 
Steve's anus and balls.

And so it was that Steve and Bart ejaculated almost 
simultaneously, as their passion for each other 
overwhelmed them. Steve's semen spurted out over Bart's 
hand, Dan's face and his own stomach. Bart was so 
overcome by excitement that he almost didn't manage to 
get his penis out of Phil's arse to spray his semen over his 
fuck-partner's face and eyes. And then the men collapsed 
onto each other, spurts of spunk still occasionally seeping 
out and mixing in the sweat and semen-stains that liberally 
sprinkled their naked bodies.

As if this coincidence of ejaculation wasn't enough, Bart 
and Steve went back together to Bart's two-bedroom 
apartment in the city centre, together with Phil and Dan, 
and culminated the evening in yet more ecstatic fucking. 
Romantic novels couldn't get any better than that, Steve 
mused, his penis twitching with excitement. 

He remembered so well the first time he saw Bart's flat. 
There was the huge plasma TV and the extensive 
collection of hard-core DVDs. The painting above the fire-
place of a satyr fucking an exquisitely lissom Grecian 
youth. The extensive collection of books where 
pornography shared the shelves with Sociology text books 
and an extensive selection of novels. And more than all 
this, there was Bart's prick which he fellated and was 
eventually fucked by. It was so painful! He'd never had 
such a huge prick up his arse before. But it was worth it. 
And it was the first of many times that they fucked 
together. 

And not just that night.

"Shall we try on the wedding dress?" Pete suggested, 
holding up the pretty white and cream concoction so that 
Steve could admire it against the sun streaming in through 
the window.

Steve stood up nervously from his chair and nodded, a 
sudden beating of his heart betraying how acutely he felt 
the emotions of this day. In only a few hours time, he 
would be as one with his betrothed: a legal and spiritual 
formalisation of the state the couple had known for so 
long. Now they could fuck with the full blessing of the 
state and church. From now on, every time Bart fucked him 
and spurted semen over his face and hair, it would be with 
the explicit recognition of the government. If only he could 
fuck the Prime Minister to show his personal gratitude.

It was a beautiful outfit, of course, made by his friends, Jon 
and Marc, who run their own tailor's shop, which showed 
off his slim chest, heart-shaped pubic hair and penis. It was 
going to be the envy of everyone as he stepped down the 
aisle.

The journey to the church was in a specially rented pink 
Rolls Royce, where Steve sat hand-in-hand with Duncan 
who had taken the role of giving him away to Bart. Duncan 
idly stroked Steve's semi-tumescent penis while they 
waited but restrained himself from the temptation of 
sucking his friend off. Steve would need all his spunk for 
later, but had no objection to having his penis prepared. 
He'd be pleased to see his friends admire a properly stiff 
cock as he walked down the aisle.

As Steve got out of the car, he could see all his friends 
waiting for him and was delighted to see Bart amongst 
them. His fiance was a stickler for tradition. If either of 
them was to have the right to turn up late, it would be 
Steve as he was the one who most nearly occupied the role 
of the bride, especially in the outfit he was wearing. Steve 
tottered on his stilettos towards the church door, stockings 
and garters tight against his shaved legs and his cock 
swinging free. He approached Bart who was wearing a 
smart jacket and tails. His penis was hidden away from 
sight under his striped trousers, though Steve could see its 
bulge. 

Bart kissed Steve on the lips and gripped his cock which 
reacted to this intimacy by twitching and jerking with 
excitement. 

"I've been looking forward to this moment for so long!" 
said Steve.

"So have I," said Bart with a reassuring smile.

"How did the Stag Night go?" 

"As well as could be expected. What was your Hen Night 
like? Did Maurice fuck you at last?"

"Yes," said Steve. "I knew he wanted to be on the giving 
rather than the receiving end when Brad wasn't around. His 
cock was just the right fit, but not as good as yours." He 
kissed his fiance again and gripped his buttocks from 
behind, while making sure that his cock didn't brush 
against Bart's trousers and leave a stain on the front. "Did 
you get to fuck Alan?"

"Alan?" Bart wondered. "I can't remember. I certainly 
fucked a few. Including your Dad. He's got a tight arse, you 
know. It's a shame you can never get to savour it. At least, 
not legally."

"I don't think I'd want to," confessed Steve, who felt the 
incest taboo quite deeply. He'd fuck almost any man on the 
planet before he resorted to his own flesh and blood.

The ceremony finally began. It was exactly as Steve had 
hoped it would be. A long slow march down the aisle, with 
a posy of flowers in his hand, Bart's arm in his arm, and a 
gorgeous cream veil over his face that came only low 
enough that it wouldn't obscure the fresh red lipstick. Steve 
strode awkwardly on the creamy-pink stilettos he wasn't 
really used to wearing, however dainty he preferred his 
footwear. But he managed to keep his balance and was 
pleased for those extra inches the heels added. Duncan also 
had his arm threaded through Steve's and provided some 
well-appreciated stability to his walk. And as they strode 
together, accompanied by a discreetly chosen torch-song 
classic which, performed by Hammond organ and a choir 
of naked young boys, sounded rather peculiar. But at least 
the lyrics, with their suggestion of lust, longing and sexual 
ecstasy were wholly appropriate to the circumstances of the 
wedding.

It was about a year since Steve forsook his bedsit to move 
into Bart's rather larger apartment. Although Steve had 
enjoyed very many boyfriends over the years, this was the 
first time he'd made as much commitment as this. Or even 
where someone had made as much commitment to him. Of 
course, the transition from casual fuck to a committed 
relationship was one that involved many of their friends, 
particularly Duncan, Paul and George, in sexual 
combinations that often went beyond even a triangular 
configuration. But Steve and Bart were well-suited. Steve 
enjoyed being dominated and Bart enjoyed being the one 
who did the dominating. What was love if it didn't involve 
semen, scat, piss and the occasional bruise? 

Steve thought back with fondness on those nights spent 
tied to the wash basin with piss running down his face 
mixed with the semen contributed not only by Bart, but the 
other people who'd been visiting that night. He 
remembered the arbitrary punishments that would leave 
him tied up in a humiliating position, his penis stiff with 
excitement and his limbs twisted by ropes or chains. And, 
most fondly of all, Steve remembered the day when Bart 
asked for his hand in marriage.

This was a typically romantic occasion. Bart was fucking 
Ian who was, in turn, sucking off Malcolm. In the 
meantime, Steve was sucking off Ian and licking Bart's 
shaft as it pistoned mechanically inside Ian. Then when 
Bart ejaculated, he bade Steve to share in the spurt of 
semen, which Ian and he shared between each other, 
passing it back and forth from mouth to mouth, 
increasingly diluted by saliva. 

"You know," said Bart, admiring the trickle of saliva and 
sperm from Steve's mouth and the creamy splodges on his 
hair and nose, "we really ought to get married."

And that was that. The words that started all this business 
and culminated on this day. It was the first night in many 
months that Steve hadn't shared Bart's bed or, at least, 
hadn't had sex with him. Bart was such a stickler for 
tradition that he'd insisted on not seeing Steve in his 
wedding outfit until the big day. Nor indeed in any other 
clothes, preferring to see Steve's body only in a state of 
total nudity. This was an imposition Steve welcomed. In 
fact, his only wish was that Bart could be a little more 
unreasonable, but there were practical considerations to be 
borne in mind and nudity was less likely to attract adverse 
comments at work or elsewhere.

And here they were, marching arm-in-arm down the aisle 
to the vicar who wore his robes and a sympathetic smile on 
his face. It was Reverend Cartwright, otherwise known as 
Seb, who had often fucked Steve in the past, most often 
while being fucked in turn by Bart, and was delighted at 
the opportunity to be minister for the wedding. Steve 
hoped that the vicar would be there later in the evening 
when Bart and he would fuck for the first time as a married 
couple.

The happy couple stood in front of the vicar, with Duncan 
still by Steve's side and Bart's best man being Vikram, 
whom he'd known from school and was one of the very 
first people he'd fucked. Steve was very nervous as the 
ceremony proceeded, stumbling over some of the words 
despite all the rehearsals with the vicar, for which he was 
secretly pleased he'd be later punished. Of course, on those 
earlier occasions, Steve had worn no clothes and the 
ceremony climaxed not in a chaste kiss but in full 
uninhibited anal intercourse, where Bart took turns with 
Vikram, Duncan and, of course, the Right Reverend 
Cartwright. Steve's anus was still sore from the last such 
rehearsal, and he nursed a slight bruise on his cheek from 
the beating Bart gave him for getting some of the words 
wrong. Now, there was no restraint about looking his best 
for a future ceremony, Steve expected, and indeed hoped 
for, a more thorough beating this time: perhaps, with luck, 
involving a leather strap or whip.

Burning into him from behind, Steve knew, were the eyes 
of all his and Bart's friends who were, with few exceptions, 
exactly the same people. His bare buttocks quivered with 
pleasure at the thought of so many people watching his 
marriage and wishing him well. There was Alex who, as 
ever, dressed like a little girl, but one who wore neither 
knickers nor a skirt. There was Andy, whose long hair and 
beard made him look like a biker, but who actually 
preferred a submissive role in his lovemaking. He was one 
who liked the smell of piss on his facial hair. There was 
Tony, who underneath his immaculate suit wore a 
fearsome array of piercings, particularly around his 
genitals. 

He didn't know whether, but he hoped that, he would either 
fuck or be fucked by all the men in the congregation.

"You may now kiss the bride," said Reverend Cartwright at 
long last.

And this was a kiss, unmediated by any other fuck-partner, 
which Bart kept going for far longer than he needed to. The 
rough bristles grated against Steve's skin and Bart let 
Steve's bare cock brush against his crotch so close he could 
feel the bulge of a more handsome cock beneath the wool 
of the suit and cotton of his boxers.

This was the evidence of love that Steve most desired.

There was then the formal legal ceremony of signing the 
marriage certificate, which Steve did rather distractedly. 
The realisation was only steadily sinking in. He was a 
married man and Bart was his husband. From now until 
death did them part Bart and he were to stay together 
through sickness and health. Steve could hardly wait to feel 
his husband's cock up his arse. What pleasure could be 
greater? What proof of love more complete?

Steve had suffered some anxiety during the time he and 
Bart had been an item. Those days when Bart left him tied 
all day naked to a post on the stone floor of the courtyard 
when the rain beat down and he could so easily have 
caught cold. Those occasions when Bart fucked everyone 
but him and specifically forbade Steve any sexual intimacy, 
so that Steve had to watch in frustration with his prick 
straining with desire. Those evenings when Steve had to 
wash off the urine and semen from his face before coming 
to bed. Were these demonstrative of the love Bart felt for 
him? Or was there genuine malice in these theatrical 
humiliations? But now such doubts were dismissed. 

The ceremony wasn't over yet. There were the photographs 
to be taken of the happy married couple on the steps of the 
church. 

Bart and Steve made their way to the church door where 
the photographer was waiting with his assistant and where 
the other guests stood. This was the opportunity for Steve 
to show off his wedding outfit, as he posed with the guests. 
In some cases, he was photographed with his penis being 
squeezed lovingly by another guest. In others, he 
positioned himself so that his anus was open to show the 
gape that Bart and the wedding guests would soon fill. His 
penis got excited by the attention and was soon fully erect. 
This was only proper for the photographs of him that 
would soon rest on the dressing table for perpetuity. It was 
best that he should remember himself as aroused on the 
day that formalised his love for his husband. 

"Oh, Bart!" cooed Steve, his arms around him and Bart's 
hand gripping his cock. "This is the happiest day of my 
life."

Bart smiled. He couldn't very well express the same 
thoughts. That wouldn't be seemly, but his affectionate 
squeeze on Steve's buttocks seemed to echo the sentiment.

However, after all the photographs of smiling, posing, 
preening and gaiety, it was now the most important part of 
the ceremony, all to be lovingly recorded on videocamera 
by the photographer, when every guest, no matter how well 
they knew Steve, and indeed anyone who just happened to 
be passing by and seemed willing, would queue up in front 
of Steve's face. And when they were aroused sufficiently, 
which in the sight of such a pretty boy as Steve was 
unlikely to take very long, they would each and every one 
of them ejaculate onto his face, into his mouth, on his hair, 
on his clothes, on every part of him. In short, Steve would 
have a spunk bath. He would be bathed in semen. And he'd 
have to swallow as much of it as he could. 

Well, it was tradition and one which Steve, as much as 
Bart, was intent on upholding. 

And Steve could hardly wait.

As custom dictated, the first person to ejaculate on Steve 
was Bart. This, of course, was the privilege of the groom 
who would have many years ahead of performing the duty 
of bringing Steve to sexual ecstasy. Fortunately, Bart was 
more than ready. He'd pulled off his trousers, jacket and 
boxers, so he stood in just his socks and shirt. He jerked 
his huge erect penis in spasms onto Steve's face, aided by 
Steve's mouth which took its tip while his hands stroked 
Bart's testicles. A few strokes, a few gulps and a few jerks 
and then the sperm came gushing out, while the enraptured 
guests clicked their cameras and the photographer angled 
the videocamera to get the best and most revealing shots of 
the semen dripping over Steve's chin and down his nose.

Steve smiled ecstatically at the camera, delighted at this 
undeniable demonstration of love, and awaited the second 
person to ejaculate on his face who, again as tradition 
demanded, was Reverend Cartwright who was eagerly 
pulling off his robes to reveal a tumescent penis that was 
red with the strain of his lust.

From then on, the parade of facial ejaculators came in no 
particular order but was determined rather by their 
readiness. As more and more semen coated his face, it 
became increasingly difficult for Steve to know who was 
coming on his face and who was to be next. The semen 
pasted his eyes, streaked his make-up, choked his mouth, 
and stained his brand new wedding dress. Every now and 
then, he took another penis in his mouth whilst at the same 
time someone else was pasting his ear, hair, nose or cheek 
with fresh semen. It was best when the spunk was fresh, 
creamy and warm, but it soon coagulated and dried on his 
face only to be over-painted by a new coating.  

The men who ejaculated on him were not just those from 
the wedding party, with many of whom he hoped to be 
making more intimate love later in the day, there were also 
passers-by and anyone who happened to have read the 
banns in the paper and knew what treat was in store for 
them. After all, if you are performing such a public act as 
open-air bukkake, it was surely right that any member of 
the public should have the opportunity to participate. At 
one stage, Steve squinted through the semen that pasted his 
eyelids together to see that the prick in his mouth belonged 
to a Police Constable. The same member of the local 
constabulary that Steve saw later being fucked by Bart 
under a tree just by a monument to the fallen of some long-
past war.

Steve knew that he must have looked a pretty sight. After 
all, he'd been to many weddings in the past, including 
Duncan's. And indeed there were the occasions when just 
for the thrill of it, he'd participated as a member of the 
public in adding his sperm to the come confetti that pasted 
a lucky bride's face. He knew that his face was smeared 
and pasted, cream dripping from his chin onto his chest, 
itself splattered by drying semen. He envisaged himself 
kneeling on the grass outside the church, surrounded by 
men, of which one, two or even three at a time were 
jerking their erect penises over his face, while he, with his 
mouth open and tongue out, tried to catch as many of those 
precious drops as he could. What other meal was there that 
came in such small warm globules, tasted so rich and 
nutritious, and cost so much individual effort to produce?

He looked over at Bart who was still fucking the Police 
Constable while Reverend Cartwright knelt behind him 
and inveigled his long tongue into Bart's anus. He smiled 
warmly at his husband's public demonstration of passion 
and lust for other men while he was being pasted by the 
spunk of men he'd never met before, wouldn't recognise if 
he ever saw them again, and who didn't know him at all.

What better way to remember a wedding day than this? 

Steve hoped that it would be exactly like this for the rest of 
his married life.