From: parapuke@holli.com
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories
Subject: The Best Man and the Bride
Date: Wed, 09 Oct 1996 21:43:47 GMT

		      The Best Man and the Bride

	My wife is a living sex doll. She is now twenty, a petit dream
girl. Her tits are not big, but they are nicely formed handfuls of
drum-tight flesh capped with pointed, conical, pink nipples. She has a
full mane of wavy auburn hair that comes to the small of her back and
frames a face right off Vogue or Cosmopolitan. She has green eyes and
full lips accenting her pearly white teeth, and her seventeen-inch
waist gives her that classic hour-glass figure.

	Cheryl is my pride, a real catch that draws a great deal of
male attention when she wears tight-fitting clothes that show her
perfect body. In high school, she was our homecoming queen, prom
queen, and head cheerleader. She was very popular. I became popular
only after we began dating in my senior year. Everyone was surprised
when we started going steady. We are mismatched in looks and social
position, but I know how to keep Cheryl happy. Cheryl could never be
happy with a jealous or possessive man. She likes male attention and
giggles when I teasingly call her pervert bait.

	Fortunately, I am not the possessive or jealous type. Being
married to a girl like Cheryl would drive a normal man insane. Guys
are constantly coming on to her, driven to making bold passes by her
sexy allure and come-hither smile. Some have propositioned her in my
presence. I am not a big guy, and I suppose I project a rather meek
disposition which encourages that boldness.

	Cheryl has a poor record of fidelity. She'd been with dozens
of men in our first year of marriage. She likes the brutally handsome,
rugged type, men twice her age. If he also happens to be outrageously
bold, she's as good as screwed. She warned me of this trait before we
went steady. I didn't need the warning, though. She kept seeing men
the whole time we were supposed to be dating; very often, while on a
date with me. I rarely got to take her home with a dry pussy, and
never with a pussy wet with my spend.

	In high school, our dates always involved the short drive to
cross the state line where the drinking age was eighteen and no one
checked IDs anyway. She liked going into small clubs and dives where
mostly older men hung out and no one knew her. We hit different bars
each time, and had visited most of the towns within easy driving
range.

	This practice continued after we started going steady and on
into our marriage. Everyone in our hometown thought she was a perfect
little angel. They still do, because around town, she is. In school,
she was voted most likely to be a virgin at the ten year reunion. The
title was not awarded or taken as an insult. She did not win that
title because of her looks. She won that title because everyone knew
how jealously she guarded her precious hymen. What a joke.

	What no one knew was that her parents made a deal with her
when she became a teenager. They told her that if she remained pure
and protected the family name and reputation until she left home to
marry, when she turned sixteen and had a driver's license, they'd give
her a gross of condoms and let her fuck herself silly as long as she
went out of state to do it and was the perfect young lady in town.

	When she turned sixteen, she got a gross of condoms and a road
map. Her parents let her come and go as she pleased. She could be the
biggest whore in town, but not in town. They rigidly protected their
image. They had to, her father was pastor of the biggest church in
town and had been fucking Cheryl since she was eleven.

	I stumbled onto her secret activities while on a long distance
delivery for my father's welding shop. In a town, forty miles south of
the border, I thought I spotted Cheryl's distinctive MGB in the
parking lot of a mens' club advertising an amateur strip contest. I
slammed on the brakes, then went in to watch Cheryl win hands down.
She almost died when I came up to add my congratulations. After weeks
went by, and she realized that I'd kept my word and hadn't told anyone
back home, we became friends. After one date, I was in love.

	She loved to strip, but what she did mostly was to enter a
small bar and create a scene. Any bar she entered instantly took note
of her. She dressed outrageously sexy, and looked no more than
sixteen. Few questioned her poorly-faked ID, if she was carded at all.
While Cheryl stayed, nobody left. She never bought a drink, and with
me along to see her home, she got wasted every time. When she got
wasted around one or two AM, only the bar owner could stop her from
getting fucked by every guy in the bar. I had strict orders never to
interfere and to follow her if she went to the parking lot. I copied
license plate numbers and warned men not to try leaving with her,
telling them that she was under sixteen.

	With me along, she really let go. I never got any pussy,
mostly because by the time I had her to myself, she was either too
drunk, too sick, or too asleep. We'd head for home by four AM, trying
to beat the sunrise. I never had time to take advantage of her. The
one time I tried to get her to suck my dick while I drove, she puked
all over balls. I never pushed after that; besides, I was in love. I
wanted her sober and awake. She kept promising me I'd get some pussy,
but it just never worked out.

	My parents knew about Cheryl because they secretly followed us
on our second date after Dad noticed the miles I'd put on Mom's car
from the first date. They managed to slip into the dark lounge and
took a corner booth, hidden from me as I sat at the bar, but with an
excellent view of the small dance floor ringed by other booths. There,
they watched Cheryl dance with one man after another, doing her vulgar
crotch grind while getting felt up and fingered, having her tits, ass,
and pussy put on display. They saw her go to the parking lot with her
pick, and often return to pick another and another. They saw my girl
dance with cum running down both legs to her high heels.

	They managed to beat me home and never said anything about my
coming in, beating the sunrise by only minutes. They followed us on
each of the next four dates, and it was Cheryl who first noticed the
strange couple who always seemed to show up where we were. Between
sets at a honky tonk, she stood by my stool and pointed out their
booth. Intrigued, I made it a point to swing by on the way to the
bathroom. When I saw Mom and Dad sitting there, I almost shit. They
knew I'd catch them one night. They were ready. They told me it was
all right and asked that I invite Cheryl over to join us.

	Cheryl was delighted to find out that the mystery couple were
my parents and that they were big fans of hers. She knew what they'd
seen and repeatedly returned to see again. She was not at all
embarrassed or shy. She sat between me and Dad, closer to Dad than me.
Mom didn't seem to mind, so Cheryl rubbed his crotch while carrying on
small talk with them, using every filthy word she knew.

	When the band returned, she went with the first man to
approach our table and danced near our booth. Her dance was so vulgar,
the club owner had to ask her to tone it down or get a room. She
didn't get a room, unless you call the front seat of a pickup truck a
room.

	Dad got to fuck Cheryl before I did. When we left the club at
four AM, Cheryl got in Dad's car. Mom took me home in her VW Beetle,
the car Cheryl and I came down in. She gave me constant reassurances
that Cheryl was a prize worth keeping, that she would make an
excellent wife, and that I should tolerate her eccentricities. We
could see them sitting close in the car ahead, Dad's big Lincoln.
Cheryl wasn't shit faced, but she wasn't sober, either.

	Mom told me not to worry about Dad and Cheryl, that my father
knew how much Cheryl meant to me, and that he would never take
advantage of a young girl in her condition, anyway. She said, "He just
wants to get to know her better, because he can see that she may be
his future daughter-in-law." I had to suppress a smirk when, no sooner
were her words out, then Dad's car turned into a sleazy motel before
we'd gone a mile.

	Mom slowed the car, I suppose debating whether to follow, then
moved on in silence until we were away from the town's lights and into
the dark countryside. She said, "Now, Robby, don't go feeling hurt. I
never said he was a saint." She rubbed and patted my thigh, getting
closer and closer to my erection with each pat. Each time she'd shift
gears, her hand would return to my lap, blindly, falling higher than
before. When her hand dropped right on my bulge, she quickly moved it
to my thigh.

	She waited for me to say something. When I didn't, her hand
slid back over my cock. Squeezing my erection, Mom said, "Oh, my poor
baby. You must be thinking about what they are doing at this very
moment." Her hand fondled my bulge, feeling its dimensions and
rigidity, while saying, "You mustn't torture yourself, Robby. You are,
though, aren't you? You are thinking about them; I can tell. You are
thinking about your father and your girlfriend, naked, in each other's
arms, writhing on that bed like animals, aren't you?"

	Mom squeezed hard while saying this. Her excitement was
plainly transmitted to my cock. I slumped in my seat with my knees
parted, an open invitation for her to continue. I couldn't see her
smile, but I felt her smile as her hand rubbed the entire area of my
crotch, cupped my balls, then teasingly danced fingers up the shaft of
my straining dick to the head, where she pinched the head of my dick,
saying, "Robby, I don't think you've had her yet, have you, dear?"

	As she kept pinching my cockhead; all I could manage was a
frustrated, "No."

	She stopped pinching and patted my cock sympathetically,
slipping into her baby-talk voice, a voice I hadn't heard in years.
She said, "Oh, my poor baby. I know it must hurt so badly to know that
Daddy is fucking her right this very minute, and you haven't had any
of her adorable little pussy yet."

	That did it. I had never heard my mother use the "F" word, or
any foul language. I had to get my dick out. I fumbled with my belt.
She chose that moment to downshift for no apparent reason. The buttons
of my jeans popped open as I pulled out on the flaps. I raised my ass
and shoved jeans and shorts to my ankles. When I sat back as I had
been, with my dick sticking straight up, throbbing, and weeping
precum, she shifted back to high gear. Her hand fell on my boner. She
curled her fingers around it, saying, "Oh, my, you nasty boy."

	She gently jacked my cock without saying a word for several
miles, then said, "I don't blame you, Robby. You mustn't be ashamed. I
know I'm your mother, but I understand these things. No mother wants
to see her child suffer the way you are suffering. It would be wrong
not to do this for you. After all, your father is fucking your girl's
tight, wet pussy, isn't he sweetheart?"

	"Yes. He's fucking her right now. He is fucking my girl's
pussy. He is fucking the girl I want to marry."

	"I know sweetheart, and I feel partly responsible. I suggested
that he take her home. Plus, I could have pulled in behind him when he
went to that motel to fuck her. I could have stopped them, but I chose
not to. I wanted him to fuck your girl, Robby. I hope you're not angry
with me, but your father wanted to screw her so badly. Fucking that
gorgeous slut is all he ever talks about since he first saw her. Are
you angry with me for setting them up?"

	"No, Mom. I'm not angry with you." Although her words were
meant to tease, not hurt, she wasn't trying to get me off either; in
fact, she slowed her stroking to drag the torture out, sometimes
stopping when I neared orgasm. She had me panting and squirming in my
seat. Before long, I was fucking her fist, or trying to.

	Mom enjoyed seeing my passions at a full boil with no way to
turn down the heat. While my cock chased her elusive fist, she calmly
said, "I plan to keep putting them together, even if she becomes your
wife. Will that upset you?"

	"No, Mom, even if she becomes my wife."

	As a reward, Mom gave my cock a steady hand to fuck, massaging
my shaft as it slid through, but easing off just as I went for my nut,
saying, "You're a good boy to share her with your father. A very good
boy for letting him have her first. Robby, he won't use protection. I
don't expect him to. Is Cheryl on the pill?"

	"No, she practices the rhythm method."

	"Yes, she does have rhythm."

	"We don't go out when she's fertile."

	"That's wise, but we don't know when that is. We don't want to
know. We don't care. I know that sounds awful, but we don't. If you
do, you'd better hide her from us at those times. I think that's fair
warning. Obviously, the girl can't say no to a stiff cock."

	"She can't, Mom, and I can't keep her away from cocks. She
does what she wants and goes where she pleases."

	"Well, don't say I didn't warn you. Does this feel good,
having Mommy jack you off, or would you rather do it yourself?"

	"Yes, so good. You're doing fine, but I need to cum."

	"Yes, so it would appear. Robby, doing this for you is making
Mommy horny too."

	I wasn't sure what she was hinting at. I'd never seriously
thought about fucking my own mother. I thought about it then, but she
didn't appear to be slowing or looking for a place to pull off the
road. We were still an hour away from home. A pregnant pause ensued as
her words sank in. A few seconds later, she said, "Robby, I only have
two hands. One must steer the car."

	It still didn't dawn on me what she wanted me to do. In
frustration, she said, "Robby, I would hate to have to stop what I'm
doing for you to take care of my own needs, especially after setting
your father up to fuck your future wife in her horny pussy."

	Finally, the light dawned. Despite the fact that my mother was
jacking me off, I never thought she'd let me play with her pussy. I'd
never even seen my mom in bra and panties, much less fingered her
cunt. My left hand timidly reached over and lightly settled on her
right knee below the hem of her modest skirt. Her knees fanned out. I
boldly slid my hand up her leg to her crotch. There, I met warm, wet,
hairy flesh. She wore no panties. She sank lower in her seat, tilting
up her pelvis as my fingers toyed with her fleshy cunt lips and clit.
When I sank my two middle fingers in her hole, she swooned.

	We rode all the way home, playing with each others genitals.
Though I got her off three times in that hour, she hadn't gotten me
off once. My balls were aching as we pulled to a halt in the driveway.
She turned off the engine, then turned in her seat to face me and my
straining, glistening, raw cock, illuminated by a street lamp.

	She appeared in no hurry as she casually examined my cock and
balls, using both hands. I was in delicious agony, silently begging
for relief. She smiled, a wicked, devilish smile, then slowly
descended until she sank her lips over my cock. I exploded in her
feverishly sucking mouth after a ten second suck. We fell asleep,
naked in each others arms, in her bed, but not before I returned the
favor three times and received two more blow jobs.

	We were rudely awakened in the bright mid-morning sunlight
streaming in through the bedroom window. The sheets had been yanked
from us. Dad and Cheryl stood by the bed looking down on us, huddled
spoon fashion to hide our naked bodies. Mom was closest to them with
me right behind her, preventing her from rolling away.

	Though we hadn't fucked, we looked like we had and still were.
My cock, with a morning erection, was nestled between mom's inner
thighs. We were mortified, deeply shamed and embarrassed at being
caught and exposed in such a compromising position. Since we faced
them, Mom buried her face in her pillow and drew herself into a fetal
ball, trapping my cock. I buried my face in her back.

	We heard their laughter and mocking comments. Their mocking
words burned my ears, and Mom groaned at every vile syllable. Cheryl
used the word, "Mother fucker," in every sentence. Dad preferred
"Incestuous whore," and directed most of his jibes at Mom.

	Mom was on the verge of tears as he addressed her, saying, "I
go out and get a little pussy, and you think that gives you the right
to commit incest with your own son. Now I know why you were so eager
to set me up with Cheryl. Well, it looks like you got your wish. Was
the boy good? Does his young cock tickle your pleasure spots? Is he
big enough for you? Do you like being your son's whore?"

	This evoked a meek response from Mom. She said, "We didn't do
that, honestly, I would never do that. We just fell asleep together.
We're not doing it now, I swear."

	Dad reached down and pulled her top leg straight up, exposing
her sopping wet pussy and my hard cock lying in the groove of her sex.
Mom groaned and buried her head once more as he said, "Well, we can
fix that, can't we Cheryl?"

	I felt Cheryl's hand grasp my erection and steer the head of
my cock to my mother's vagina. She stuck the head in, then got me by
the balls, forcing me to enter Mom fully. There was nothing either of
us could do to prevent it. Furthermore, there was nothing I could do
to keep from moving. Cheryl held my balls and made me move in and out
of Mom's pussy under their watchful eyes. I was fucking my mother, but
she didn't know Cheryl forced me to move inside her. With her head
still hidden, Mom cried out, "Robert, stop that this instant! Have you
lost your mind? Honey, stop him, please."

	By this time, I couldn't stop if Dad had a gun to my head.
Fucking my mother with witnesses was the ultimate. Even their teasing
taunts drove me on. I kept fucking, even after Cheryl released my
balls. I kept fucking when Mom brought her head out of the pillow and
looked down to her exposed pussy, seeing my cock going in to the balls
and drawing out to the head. I fucked on as her fingers came down and
felt the point of entry. I grew more excited at the feel of her finger
touches as she feigned trying to eject me.

	In my excitement, my cock popped out. She quickly put it back
in and began rubbing her clit, ignoring Dad and Cheryl and the awful
things they were saying about her. If anything, their words inspired
her to greater excesses of vulgarity.

	Dad, still holding her leg straight up, pushed away, forcing
her to roll over me onto her back. He released her leg only when she
was squarely over me. Mom, by this time, was too far gone to care or
quit. She set her feet wide and fucked herself on my cock while
masturbating wildly. I was trapped beneath her heaving body. All I
could do was hold her by the tits and enjoy the ride as her cunt
jacked me off. Cheryl sat on the bed by Mom's left foot and played
with my balls while watching Mom fuck herself on my dick. Dad sat by
Mom's right foot and enjoyed a similar view. They never stopped
talking about what degenerates we were. We came together.

	Afterwards, we lay in place, my cock still in Mom's pussy, our
spend leaking out around the loose seal of her vulva and running down
my balls. Mom's finger unabashedly toyed with the mess seeping from
her pussy, spreading my sperm over her pussy lips, clit, and the base
of my cock. By her actions she inspired Cheryl to keep up her verbal
abuse while I rolled Mom's nipples in my fingers.

	Cheryl, speaking to Dad, said, "At least what we did was
natural and in the open. You had her consent to cheat, and I am free
to fuck whoever I want. At least our union is sanctioned by nature and
society. Their's is just plain sick and degenerate. A mother and son
should never fuck, and they cheated on us besides. I don't know about
you, but Robby will not get his cock in my pussy for a long long time.
He'll have to relieve himself in his mother's hairy old cunt."

	Cheryl had Mom masturbating again. Dad said, "I agree with
you, Cheryl. I have no intention of sticking my dick in her twat after
our son has used it. She's stuck with his cock from now on. You'll
take care of me, won't you, sweetie?"

	"Oh, yes, you know I will, anytime. And you'll take care of my
horny twat, too, won't you."

	Mom frantically frigged her clit, crying out, "Yes, he will.
He'll fuck you whenever you need it. He'll fuck you here, in our bed.
He'll fuck your horny pussy even if I'm still in the bed, watching him
do it. He won't care where he fucks you, Cheryl."

	Mom reached her climax and began fucking herself on my new
erection. Dad and Cheryl stripped down and screwed right beside us. It
was neither the first time I'd seen her naked, nor the first time I'd
watched a man fuck her from up close. It was, however, the best I'd
seen. Dad really knew how to use his big cock. Cheryl really knew how
to bring out the best in him. Mom brought out the best in me.

	We went together on dates in Dad's car after that. On the way
home, Dad and Cheryl would screw in the back seat. Mom drove his car
while I licked her pussy and she played with my dick. Once home, we
all screwed in the same bed: me with Mom, Dad with Cheryl, the way it
had to be. They didn't go on every date, but all dates ended at my
house.

	Shortly after graduation, I proposed marriage to her over
dinner in a fancy restaurant. She said she couldn't promise to remain
faithful but would want a man who was, excepting my mother, of course.
I told her I could live with that. She said she'd think it over. We
decided to go dancing, so we headed for the border.

	Shortly after we arrived at the low class nightclub, a big
construction hunk in his early forties asked her to dance. She melted
into his groping arms while he pawed her around the dance floor. In
the middle of the second song, they danced right out of the club. She
left me there, alone. I waited outside, looking for her in the parked
cars. I waited in the deserted parking lot until dawn, then gave up
and went home. Later that morning, I got a sheepish call from her. She
called from her home. Her parents were out of town on a crusade. I
told her that I was mostly upset from worry. She made no apology for
going off with another man, but did say she was sorry for causing me
to worry.

	A short way into our conversation, it became apparent that she
was still with him and that they were back at it. Her speech became
stilted, disconnected, and punctuated with numerous soft moans and
groans. I could also hear the deep male grunts and groans, his puffing
and panting, the sounds of a mattress being pummeled. She held the
mouthpiece to her crotch to insure that I heard the unmistakable
squishy sucky noises made by a tight, sloppy twat being pounded by a
big cock. I could hear them fucking as each loudly cried out the most
vulgar declarations.

	She spoke directly into the mouthpiece, saying, "Yes, fuck my
pussy, baby! Fuck it hard!" Then held the phone so that her lover
could add his two bits. It was like being in the room with them.

	She had a wild climax, but they were still fucking. After a
long silent pause, she came back on the line and said, "You're not
angry with me, are you, Boopsie?" I stroked my hardon and said I
wasn't. She said, "Tell me you forgive me." I told her. Encouraged by
the lust she could hear in my voice, she added, "Okay, now tell Bart."

	I suddenly found myself talking to the man, and he thoroughly
enjoyed rubbing my face in his dirty deed, saying, "Hey, kid, sorry
about stealing off with your fiancee, but it was her idea. I sure hope
I didn't stretch out her nice, tight, little twat too much. It sure is
a mess right now. I had a condom, but she told me to shit-can it. She
said she likes her cocks naked and raw. She said she hates to waste a
big cock by keeping it under wraps. She said she loves the feel of
sperm being shot right up her womb. I gave her plenty of what she
loves. Her pussy is leaking like a fucking Yugo transmission."

	Cheryl got back on the line and purred, "Tell me you aren't
mad, Boopsie." I told her I was not. She giggled; he laughed. She then
said, "All right, I have decided to accept your proposal if you will
swear never to cheat on me." I swore. She then said, "I might be
pregnant. Bart keeps shooting his sperm way up inside my pussy, and I
think I'm ovulating. Will you take a pregnant bride to the alter?" I
told her I would. She giggled, then said, "In that case, tell Bart he
can shoot his sperm in my womb all he wants." I did as she requested,
though Bart certainly didn't need my okay. He told me so.

	We set a date for the wedding and made the arrangements to wed
in a border bar, a small one that we returned to more than any other.
The license and fees were paid and pre-arranged. We even arranged for
a minister, a friend of her fathers, to be at our favorite bar to
perform the ceremony, though her father could have handled the
ceremony. The owner loved Cheryl, and with him, anything went after
midnight. All we needed was a best man. Bart was not my best man.

	One month later, we went across the state line with her
parents and mine to find a best man. At two AM, she made her
selection, fucked Buckie on the pool table before a packed crowd of
regulars, her parents and mine, then stood proudly before me. Naked,
with his cum running down her legs, wearing only a veil and high
heels, we held the ceremony. Afterwards, the patrons lined up at the
pool table to fuck my bride. The minister got her first. Her dad was
second, followed by mine. I didn't get any, not even on the week-long
honeymoon with my Dad, the minister, and Buckie, the best man.

	I had to admit, Buckie was the best man. Dad even said so.
Nine months later, she bore me a child, a boy she named Buckminster -
Buckie for short. As the child nursed her creamy white breast, she
toyed with the baby's impressive penis, saying, "He's going to be big
like his father."

	I couldn't resist saying, "And almost as black."

			       The End