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o The Bookshelf Directories offer a very wide variety of stories. o
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One Bride for Seven "Brothers" (slut wife, voy, intr, FM, mast)
by Fred Rock (rockjack00@hotmail.com)
***
Standard Disclaimer: This story is a fantasy. It takes place in a world
with no HIV, HPV, or other STD's, a place where all birth control is 100%
effective. That is not the world we live in and engaging in the activities
described herein can seriously screw up your life or even kill you. Also,
if you are under age 21 or don't like dirty stories, then go away. 'Nuff
said. Comments welcome to above email address.
***
Anyone who attended my wedding probably didn't notice anything out of
the ordinary. The bride was late, about half an hour, coming down the
aisle, but she looked beautiful and radiant in her Vera Wang dress. When
she reached the front of the church she leaned over and whispered into my
ear.
"Thank you."
"You're welcome," I whispered back. If anyone overheard they probably
thought she was thanking me for the extravagant nuptials. She wasn't.
The ceremony went off without a problem. During the kiss, I noticed she
tasted like semen. I didn't have to wonder why.
The large reception in the ballroom of a four star hotel was the social
event of the year. My new bride and I danced, cut the cake and fed it to
each other, and did all the things required. Finally, it was time to
leave. We said our good-byes and, showered by rice, entered the elevator
for the short ride to the hotel's best suite.
We walked into the luxurious living room area and found the hotel had
left complimentary champagne and flowers. But resting on the cocktail
table was a digital videotape. My wife picked it up and handed it to me
with a sly grin.
"Do you want to watch it now?" she asked coyly.
All I could do was nod mutely. I wasn't sure if I really did or not.
I had instructed the hotel to make a player available. I walked over,
turned on the high definition television, and slid the digital tape into
its player. When I turned around my wife had pulled up her long, white
dress and removed her white pantyhose and panties. She handed the latter
to me and sat on the leather couch. I held the panties to my nose and
could smell her musk and something else. Cum. Another man's cum. The
panties were soaked as were, I noticed, the pantyhose (good thing her dress
was long, wouldn't do to let the guests see the bride with cum leaking down
her thighs). I sat down next to her on the couch, pointed the remote at
the player, and pressed "Play."
Maybe I should explain.
I'm a "dotcom" billionaire. In college I had an idea this internet
thing (which then was mostly the domain of computer geeks and scientists)
might have commercial possibilities. So I started developing software to
facilitate marketing on the internet. It took seven years and destroyed my
first marriage. When I married my first wife, just after graduating from
college, I had romantic notions about growing old together and raising kids
and I chose my wife on that basis. She was pleasant to look at, had a good
disposition, and wanted kids. She enjoyed sex but didn't want to put any
effort into it to make it more enjoyable and varied. Plus I'm not the most
handsome guy in the world and I didn't think I could do better.
But my start-up company required me to work 80 - 100 hours a week. I
remember one Christmas I took it easy and only went to work for 8 hours.
After the fifth year, my wife served me with divorce papers. She and her
lawyer were convinced the company was worthless so I got the company; she
got everything else. I left the marriage with my clothes, CD's, my
computer, about $20 in my pocket, and a piece of paper signed by my wife
that she willing gave me 100% of the company and I didn't have to pay her
alimony, ever.
A long, lean year later VC's came in with some cash, I could hire some
people to help, we got our product out just in time for the internet boom,
the IPO made me a millionaire (on paper at least), and when another huge
internet company bought mine, I was suddenly worth billions. I sold out
and retired (sort of; I still tinker and serve on the board of the company
that bought mine). Even at a modest 10% return on my principal that's more
money than I could ever spend and my wealth should continue to expand
forever. My ex-wife tried to come back and say she was cheated out of her
share of the company and her alimony. I could afford the best lawyers in
the country and by the time they were done with her and her contingency fee
hacks she almost ended up owing me money. The bitch.
Anyway, so I decided it was time to get another wife, one befitting my
wealth and stature. I had three basic requirements: 1) she be drop-dead
gorgeous with a killer bod, great legs and a tight ass, 2) she be a blast
in bed: adventurous, imaginative, and talented, and 3) she laugh at my dumb
jokes. In the meantime, I would have lots of fun "test driving" the
various models.
With my money attracting beautiful women was easy (requirement #1) but
it took almost two years (and a lot of "test drives" which I utterly
enjoyed) to find a woman that met all three requirements. Her name was
Carly. She was tall, about 5'10" and worked out just enough to tone. Her
legs were thin, long, but not too skinny. She had long red hair and blue
eyes and just a couple of cute freckles on her nose (At first she covered
them up but after seeing her in the morning without make up I asked her to
stop). Her breasts were full with nice nipples and her ass could launch a
thousand wet dreams. On our first date she wore a red mini dress that
seemed to stop just south of being illegal. When she laughed at my joke
about the parrot in the 'fridge she was two for two. Later that night she
got the hat trick. In bed she was a hoot. There wasn't an orifice on her
body we didn't explore. For the first time in a long time (since I was
much younger) I came three times in one ! ! night. She asked (asked!)
for
We had a lot of fun together. We traveled and fucked, when to auctions
and fucked, drove my new Viper down the coast and fucked. She did have
some quirks. She insisted that I never come over to her apartment without
calling first and show up only when I say so, never early and rarely late.
But I could live with that. So she wanted her privacy and was anal about
punctuality. Neither one mattered as I was shoving my cock up her ass at
her insistence. Six months later I gave her diamond about the size of a
doorknob and asked her to marry me. She kissed me deeply and said "yes."
Then she smiled slyly. "You know what this means, don't you?"
"What?" I asked, not knowing what she was going to say.
"No more sex."
I was shocked. "What do you mean?" I asked.
"No more sex until the honeymoon," she said. "It'll make it that much
sweeter."
"You're kidding?" I asked (I hoped).
She shook her head. "No."
Well, what the hell, I thought. We'll just move the wedding up. I
wondered briefly if that was her plan.
Two months before the wedding (which was going to cost me about $100K) I
picked her up at her apartment in my new M5 and we went to my personal
lawyer's office. He handed her a prenuptial agreement to sign. She looked
at it, read it, and then looked at me. It was the first time she'd ever
looked unhappy with me.
"Will you excuse us?" she said to the lawyer.
"Anything you say here will be held in complete -"
"No," she interrupted, "we need to be alone."
My lawyer shrugged the shoulders of his $1000 suit and walked out
closing the door behind him.
"What's wrong?" I asked. "It's a standard thing for someone in my
position." And, I thought, very generous. If we divorce (actually, "when,"
was more likely since at some point I'd probably want to "upgrade" to a
newer model) she got $5 million up front and $100,000 a year until she
remarried or one of us died.
"This is not even one half of one percent of your wealth, James." She
could look in Forbes and see how much I was worth.
I couldn't argue with that. "What do you want?"
"I'll sign this on one condition."
"And that is?" I asked.
"Do you love me?"
"Yes, of course." Maybe. "Is that the condition?"
"No."
She dropped the paper on the lawyer's desk and stood up. She was
wearing a green silk suit that complimented her hair perfectly. It had a
short skirt (of course), which she pulled up. I wondered what the hell she
was doing. She pulled down her expensive pantyhose to her knees and then
her $100 black silk boutique panties. She reached her long, perfectly
manicured index finger into her pussy and pulled it out. It was wet. She
ran it across my upper lip. There was the now familiar smell of her juices
and something else. She stuck her finger in her cunt again, this time
penetrating it, and pulled out a glob of white goo. This, too, she rubbed
under my nose. I recognized that smell immediately. It was cum. And
since we hadn't had sex in weeks, I knew it wasn't mine.
"What the hell?" I asked.
"Do you love me?" was all she said.
I just stared at her.
"Do you want to marry me?"
"Yes," I had to admit.
She pulled up her underwear and pantyhose and sat down again. She took
my hands in hers, including the one with the Rock of Gibraltar on it.
"James," she said. "I am not and can never be a 'one-man woman.' I love
you dearly and you're a great lover. But sometimes, well, often, I just
need a good fuck."
"You're fucking around on me?" I demanded angry, jealous, and yes, a
little titillated.
"Always. And I always will. That's my condition. I will sign this,"
she pointed at the paper, "be your loving trophy wife -" I started to
protest but she cut me off "-I know but I don't care. I'll fuck your
brains out as often as you like but you have to let me do this."
"'Do this'? You mean fuck around?"
She nodded. "Yes."
I didn't know what to say. "When did you last have sex?" I don't know
why I asked that. Morbid curiosity?
"Just before coming here."
"With whom?" I was gonna be really pissed if it was with someone I knew.
"A man," was all she said.
"Well, I hoped it wasn't a donkey."
She laughed. "No, I haven't tried that, yet. It was a man I met in a
bar. A black man. His name was Paul, I think."
I just stared at her. "You think? You're a fucking slut!"
She nodded but wasn't ashamed. "Yes, I am. And I can be your slut if
you let me."
That stopped me short. "My slut." I rolled the phrase around my brain.
It was an arousing concept. I felt my cock stiffen at the thought. Even
with my ex-wife there were times I fantasized about her being "my slut."
And here was this stunning creature before me, willing to be "my slut." If
she were discrete, no one would have to know. I would know but the
question was: could I live with that?
"What did you do with this man, Paul or what ever his name was?" I
asked.
"What do you mean?" she asked.
"What did you do?"
"I fucked him."
"No, I mean how. How did you meet him, where did you go, what did you
do?"
"You want details?"
"Yes," I said emphatically. If she were to be "my slut" she'd better
start acting like one. At least in private.
She let go of my hands and sat back in her chair. Her eyes were pointed
at the far wall but I could tell she looking farther away than that.
"I know of some bars," she started, "where working men hang out after
the night shift. I drove my car to a hospital because there are always
taxis there. I took a taxi to one of those bars right after it opened and
told the driver to wait outside for me. I went inside hoping to find
someone to fuck. And I found Paul sitting at the bar with a beer."
"What were you wearing?" I asked.
"What does it matter?"
"I want to know." I couldn't believe how much I wanted to know.
"I'd put on a leather miniskirt, black seamed stockings with a black,
vinyl garter belt, a black crop top tee shirt to show off my flat stomach,
and finally these black silk panties" (she dropped her hand in her lap to
indicate which black silk panties). "I did my hair all big with mousse and
put on my slut make-up except, just for you, I didn't cover up my
freckles."
For me? I wondered. That was weird but in a way I liked it. "What
happened when you went into the bar?"
"There were only a couple men in there and the bartender and an old
woman. They were all black. They stared at me as I walked in. Paul was
the youngest but even then he was probably in his 50's. I sat down on the
bar stool next to him. I knew my skirt had ridden up but I didn't adjust
it. Paul looked down and I knew he could see the flesh of my thighs above
my stockings."
She went on with her story. By now I was rubbing my cock through my
pants and she was running her hands over her breasts and her crotch through
her skirt.
"'Buy me drink?' I asked. He bought me a cheap beer; it tasted awful."
My fianc e's tastes run toward expensive wines. "He didn't know what to
think of me. He asked me my name and I said 'Stella.' He asked it I was a
working girl and I said no. Then I asked if there was someplace he'd like
to take me. He said he had a car. I told him I had a better idea. I slid
off the barstool, allowing my skirt to ride up so everyone in the place
could see my garters and panties. I pulled down my skirt slowly and said,
'Follow me.'"
She had her hand up her silk skirt and has fingering herself through her
pantyhose as she talked. I unzipped my fly and took out my member and
started stroking it. We were looking intensely into each other's eyes.
"I took him into the woman's bathroom," she continued. "I dropped to my
knees and undid his pants. I pulled out his cock. For an old man he had a
nice cock. He was uncut and I ran my tongue under the foreskin and tasted
his musk. He got hard so I sucked him into my mouth. He groaned as I
deep-throated him and soon my nose was in his pubic hair and his black
balls were on my chin. I sucked him off for about five minutes. He was
running his hands through my hair and saying things like 'Take it, bitch,
take it all.' That just made me more lustful. I took his cock out of my
mouth and stood up. I turned my back toward him, bent over and put my
hands on the sink. Then I reached around, pulled up my skirt and pulled
down my panties.
"'Fuck me,' I told him. He said 'Okay, bitch" and shoved his cock up my
cunt. He grabbed me by the hips and pulled me toward him. Then he fucked
me, calling me a 'nasty bitch' and a whore. I started coming and soon he
told me he was going to cum, too. I screamed 'Come inside me!' and he did
with a roar. He must not get a lot because he came for forever and filled
me with his cum. I orgasmed again and almost fell to the floor as my knees
gave out but he held me up."
I started coming as she talked about the strange black man pumping his
seed into her. I contained most of it in my hand but there was too much
and some got on my pants. Carly had her hand inside her pantyhose and
panties and was beating herself off.
"After a few moments I had the strength to move again. I turned around
and gave him a kiss on the cheek and told him he was a wonderful fuck. He
grinned at that and watched me pull my panties up and my skirt down. I
walked out of the bar knowing that everyone in there knew what we had just
done. I had the taxi driver take me back to where my car was parked. The
whole way he was looking at me in the mirror. He too, knew, and that
turned me on even more. By the time I got home I was so hot I had to
masturbate myself to orgasm again." As she'd talked about masturbating she
came on her hand. It took her a few moments to regain her composure.
"Then I changed clothes, except for my panties to remember my adventure
by, and waited for you to come pick me up."
I looked into her deeply blue eyes. She was my slut. And I loved her.
Yes, I was sure of that now, I loved my slut.
"Okay," I said softly.
"What?" she asked (she'd put herself back together and looked innocent
and pure as a rose.
"Okay," I said more forcefully. "I want you to be my slut. You can
fuck around on two conditions."
"What?"
"If I want to hear all the details you tell me all the details."
"I'd love too," she said with a wide grin.
"And, as 'my slut,' you can not refuse to do anything I say when it
comes to sex."
She hesitated for a moment then nodded her assent.
"You'll sign the pre-nup?"
She picked it up off the desk and said, "Hand me a pen."
"It has to be witnessed and notarized," I said. "We have to get the
lawyer back in here."
I pulled some tissues out of a box on my lawyer's desk and cleaned up as
best I could but there was still a dark spot on my pants near my fly.
Trying to dry it with the tissue only spread it so I gave up. I zipped up
my pants and stood up to go open the door.
"James," Carly said.
"Huh?"
She pointed to her upper lip. It took me a second to figure out what
she meant. Then I remembered and took another tissue and cleaned her
juices and Paul's cum off my face. I threw all the tissues in a
wastebasket and asked the attorney to come in.
I could tell by the look on his face (and the smell of sex in the room
and the glance at the wet spot on my pants) that he thought he knew what
happened: she'd fucked me and convinced me not to make her sign the
pre-nup. He thought I was pussy-whipped.
He sat in his massive leather chair behind the desk and leaned forward.
"Have you come to an agreement?" he asked getting ready to try to argue
me out of not letting her sign it.
"Yes we have," I said.
"Now, James, I'm your lawyer and your friend" (Bullshit, I thought) "and
I can't let you make this mistake."
"What are you talking about?" I asked, trying to sound innocent. "She's
ready to sign."
"Give me a pen," Carly said, "Where do I sign?"
The lawyer's jaw just about landed in his lap. But he handed her a pen
and pointed out the signature block. We both signed, I thanked him
(noticing a new respect in his eyes apparently thinking my sexual prowess
had convinced her to sign) and we left.
Once in the car I had to look at her. She was, of course, luminously
beautiful. "My slut" I thought. Well, if it didn't work out I could wait
a decent amount of time after the wedding, say a year, and divorce her.
I'd be out some principal but what the hell?
Part II ===
From that day in my lawyer's office forth, our relationship changed. We
used to go out to expensive restaurants. I'd talk politics, computers and
the internet, cars. She'd talk about her job (marketing) or her silly
friends' troubles. That worried me a little. Since she was planning not
to work after we here married (she didn't have to so why bother?) and I
wasn't too interested in her friends' misadventures I wasn't sure what
she'd talk about after the wedding. Now I knew. She talked about her sex
life. She talked about it so much I hardly ever got to say anything about
how much I hated Al Gore, the latest B2B startup with some new, wacky idea,
or if I should trade the Viper in for the new Porsche 911 Turbo or just go
for it and get a Ferrari 360 Modena (oh, baby, what a car!).
Carly would talk in hushed tones about getting fucked at least twice a
week by a stranger or one of her "regulars." Occasionally she'd talk about
having two or three men simultaneously. I'd get so horny I'd be ready to
attack her but she'd cut me off with a passionate kiss and maybe, if I was
lucky, a feel of her breasts through her blouse and bra (she always kept my
hands above her waist). She'd whisper that after the wedding I could have
her and send me home to take matters into my own hands.
Once I stopped off at her apartment about a hour early for a Saturday
drive into the mountains (was I trying to catch her in flagrante delicto? I
don't know; I was starting to fantasize about watching her get fucked by
other men). She answered the door (after, I assume, looking through the
peephole) wearing only a tee shirt and panties. She looked surprised to
see me. Her hair was mussed and her make-up was smeared. There was
something sticky in her hair. But she invited me in and kissed me. She
tasted like cum.
"I was just about to get in the shower," she said.
"What's in your hair?" I asked.
She laughed. "Oh, that must be cum. I sucked off the pool boy and he
pulled out and came all over my face. I wiped it off but I didn't realize
he'd gotten my hair. I've always wanted give him a blow job, he's so young
and cute, but I figured he be a lousy lay because he so inexperienced and
since I'm moving out soon it seemed the opportune time without causing any
complications."
A week before the wedding we had our last "date." Carly had declared
that I could not see her again until she was walking down the aisle. I
think - know -- she enjoyed torturing me. She told me about her latest
slut adventure (some old, fat married guy in her apartment building who'd
always given her the eye that she decided to give a going away treat).
"What do you want for your wedding present?" she asked over dessert.
I shrugged my shoulders. What do you ask for when you have everything?
But there was something I wanted that only she could give me. "During the
honeymoon, you only fuck, suck or otherwise have sex with me."
She thought about it for a moment. "Hell," she finally said. "It's
only a month; I suppose I'll survive."
Then I asked her, "What do you want for a wedding present?"
She looked at me. She knew I could buy her anything she wanted
including some small countries.
Finally she told me. "Well, since I have to go a whole month being
faithful . . ." Then she spelled it out. Even knowing what she was, what a
slut she was, I was shocked. But I said I'd do my best.
I hired a "wedding consultant" to get everything just right. The
wedding was to be held in a big, old church in the middle of town. I chose
it for its grandeur, not its denomination. And after writing a six-figure
check to the church's charity fund, I could have held a Black Mass in the
church for all its parishioners cared (and at my tax bracket Bill Clinton
will pay half of it anyway). After the ceremony a limousine would take us
to the reception at the hotel with a sit-down dinner for 600 family and
close personal friends. To save time and travel we'd spend the night in
the hotel's best suit and in the morning the limousine would take us to the
airport for the flight to a private island in the Caribbean. I figured the
temptation for her would be less there. All that the consultant handled. I
took care of the present.
At first I wasn't sure how to go about it. Then, driving through a
slightly seedy part of town I saw an adult bookstore. I went in and looked
at the movies. A couple of the production companies were local so I bought
their films (so I wouldn't have to return them). I took them home and
watched them and decided one called "Blue Balls Productions" did the best
job so far as lighting and camera work. A quick internet search and I had
their address. I was surprised; they were located in a nice office
building downtown. I walked in and a pretty blonde receptionist, whose
exquisiteness was only marred by a pair of fake 44DD boobs, asked it she
could help me.
"I want to see whoever's in charge."
"And you are?"
"Give him my calling card," and handed her a $100 bill.
She picked up the phone and talked to someone. "There's someone out
here you ought to meet, Phil . . . No, he didn't say but he gave me a
hundred . . . Yes, he said it was his 'calling card.'" She hung up.
"He'll be right out."
Phil turned out to be a middle aged balding man with a beer belly
hanging over his belt. He introduced himself and asked my name. When I
told him his eyes got wide. "Didn't you sell some internet thing and now
you're richer than God? I read about that in the paper."
"Yeah, but not richer than Bill Gates," I clarified.
"What can I do for you?"
I looked at the receptionist who suddenly decided I was real attractive.
"Do you have an office?"
"Sure, come with me."
He took me into a room with a cheap desk and folding chairs. Around the
walls were stacks of porno tapes. "Our latest movie," he said. "'Saving
Ryan's Privates.'"
I chuckled politely. "Did you produce 'Adult Toy Story 2'?"
"Yeah," he said smiling. "Made a cool hundred 'k' on that little
number. Shot most of it right here in these offices."
"Well, Phil, I'm an admirer of your work and I'd like to hire you to
make a video for me."
Phil leaned forward. "What kind of video?"
I ignored his question. "Can you provide, uhm, actors, too?"
"Sure, I've got a big stable. You want to do a porno?"
I reached in my pocket and put a stack of hundred dollar bills on the
desk. "That's a thousand dollars. You know I have plenty more where that
came from. Yes, I want you to make a 'porno.' But if anyone sees it but
you and whoever else in your company needs to, do you believe I have the
power, the wealth, to crush your balls like wadding up a soiled napkin?"
He nodded. "Only me and my editor will see it."
"Okay," I said. "I'll pay all your costs plus ten grand for your time
and trouble. If I like the result, I'll kick in up to five more big ones.
All for one Saturday afternoon's work." I didn't exactly know why I was
talking like a bad movie but it seemed to work on Phil.
"What's the job?"
I explained it. He seemed to like the idea (and didn't seem all that
shocked). "I'll have to put off production of 'The Boner Collector' but I
can get you what you need," he said. "Let me handle it."
"Can you do high-definition work?"
Phil nodded. "I can rent the cameras and the editing equipment. It'll
cost you more."
"I knew you were the man to see," I laughed. "Here's a down payment." I
put fifty $100 bills on his desk. "St Mark's Church, downtown, Saturday
morning at 11:00 am. Don't be late; the wedding's at two. You'll have to
sneak in and out. There's a service door on Third Avenue. I'll see to it
it's unlocked." I gave him instructions on where to go once inside the
church.
Phil grinned stupidly.
"And Phil," I said, trying to sound menacing, "Don't fuck up."
"Yeah, right, don't worry about it."
The big day arrived. The weather was beautiful. I bribed a janitor at
the church to unlock the door in question so I didn't have to worry about
it. I showed up at the church about an hour before the ceremony. The
wedding consultant came up to me. She was a short, plump middle-aged lady
and always looked like she'd eaten a lemon recently.
"Carly kicked me out of her dressing room and won't let me back in. I
have to check her dress and make-up . . ."
I raised a hand. "This is her day," I said. "Let her be alone. I'm
sure she'll let you in when she's ready.
"But her Maid of Honor is with her. I have no idea what they are
doing."
I looked at my Rolex. It was one o'clock; I was pretty sure I knew what
she was doing but I wondered why her Maid of Honor, an old high school
friend of hers, was in there, too.
I patted the woman's arm. "Don't worry. It'll be fine." I decided I
had to keep her away from Carly's dressing room. "Meanwhile, run to the
hotel and make sure everything's ready."
"But I made sure . . ."
I cut her off. "I just heard that hotel ruined a friend's event. I
want you to personally double-check everything. Any additional expenses,
just put it on my bill."
She smiled and said, "As you wish, sir."
Carly was about a half hour late coming out of her dressing room. I
forbad anyone from bothering her until "she is ready to come out." Finally,
she emerged and the ceremony started . . .
.. . . I sat down next to her on the couch, pointed the remote at the
player, and pressed, "Play."
The first thing to show on the screen was a door. It was the door to
the room she was dressing in. The door opened slowly as if the intruder
was trying to be quiet. As the portal opened I saw Carly in her wedding
dress in the arms of her Maid of Honor (her name was Cheryl) and they were
kissing. Not a quick girlfriend-to-girlfriend peck but a passionate,
spit-swapping kiss. (And if you've never seen HDTV it's amazing. It truly
looks like a "moving picture." The scene couldn't have been clearer if they
were standing in front of me.)
I hit the "pause" button and looked at Carly.
She shrugged her shoulders. "Cheryl took my cherry when I was sixteen.
She introduced me to being a slut. In high school the boys called us 'C &
C.' You weren't considered cool in that school if you hadn't gotten a 'C &
C.' And a lot of them did. It's because of her I am what I am today."
"So you're bi?" I asked.
"I guess. I have had sex with women occasionally. Mostly with Cheryl."
Okay, I thought, I have a bi, slut wife. What other surprises I had
coming I could only guess at.
I hit "Play" again. Carly and Cheryl noticed the open door and broke
their embrace. The scene shifted to another camera's view and we could see
the first cameraman (a thin kid) run into the room to get reverse angle on
the scene. The women watched him with amazement.
"What is this?" Carly asked angrily.
The scene shifted again so we could see Phil in the doorway holding a
camera. "Excuse me, your husband-to-be hired us to shoot a video of the
ceremony and we'd just like to get some shots of you before hand if you
don't mind. It's your wedding present." I had told Phil to use that
phrase.
Carly smiled coyly. "Oh, of course, come on in."
Phil said, "We have quite a bit of equipment to bring in, miss, if you
don't mind."
Carly nodded. The camera inside the room showed Phil walking in and
following him were more men. Some carried lights, some boxes for
equipment. All were black and all worked for Phil but not as "grips" but as
performers. It was just an excuse to get them into the room. I counted
them as they entered. I had no idea how many Phil could get on short
notice. But they kept coming in. Finally, when the seventh black man
entered the room he closed the door behind him and locked it. Phil told
the men where to place the lights and to stack the boxes in a corner out of
the way.
Once the preparations were made, Phil said, "Okay, ladies, you just
stand there and do what comes naturally while we tape."
C & C looked at each other and giggled. Then they started kissing
again. It was very erotic to see my bride and her Maid of Honor making out.
They ran their hands over each other's bodies, stopping at breasts, asses,
and trying to feel each other's cunts through their dresses. There was a
chaise lounge in the room and Cheryl lead Carly to it and had her lay down
on her back. Cheryl pushed up the skirt of the wedding dress and the
petticoats. Finally, like unwrapping a present, she found her treat.
Carly was wearing white stockings and there were garter straps holding them
up. She had on white panties, the same ones I was holding as I watched the
scene. Cheryl pushed them aside and started licking up and down Carly's
vulva. Carly leaned back and moaned. This went on for a few minutes and
Phil and his other cameraman were doing a great job of capturing it going
from a close-up of Cheryl's mouth on my wife's pussy to Carly's face
showing her pleasure.
One of the camera's panned around the room to show that all of the black
men were naked and stroking their cocks. Some of them had very large
cocks. When Cheryl started licking Carly's clit my bride gasped and opened
her eyes. Then she suddenly seemed to notice the profusion of ready cocks
for her.
"Come 'ere," she said huskily to one of the men. "I need that cock in
my mouth."
The man, with a medium-sized boner grinned and walked over. Carly
sucked down his meat with zeal. I'd heard Carly talk about having sex with
other men but this was the first empirical evidence I had of it actually
happening. I was fascinated to watch my beautiful bride, still in white,
suck on a black cock while her maid of honor licked her clit.
This scene went on for a few minutes. The Carly started to come on her
girlfriend's face. Cheryl licked with abandon as Carly bucked her pussy
against her mouth.
Then another of the men walked over and started lifing up Cheryl's
dress.
"No!" she said, stopping licking Carly's pussy long enough to talk.
"This is her wedding. She gets all the cock." Cheryl came out from between
Carly's thighs and said, "If you want a cunt, this one's ready for you."
Carly stopped sucking on the black cock in her mouth. "Wait, let me get
out of this dress; it has to look good for the wedding." She stood up and
Cheryl unzipped the dress. Carly stepped out of it. Then she removed her
white petticoats and camisole. She was then wearing white silk panties, a
white garter belt holding up white stockings, and a white, lacy bra. With
her veil still on she looked hot and innocent at the same time. She
slipped off her panties, laid back down on the chaise, spread her legs, and
said, "Come on, boys, there's enough holes here for all of you." I about
came right then to hear my fianc e talk like that.
The man who had tried to lift Cheryl's dress dove in and replaced her
licking Carly's cunt.
Carly looked at her girlfriend and said, "Cheryl, make sure they stay
hard for me but I get all the cum."
Cheryl giggled. "I always wanted to be a fluffer."
I hit the pause button. "A what?" I asked my wife.
"A 'fluffer.' It a girl who's job it is to keep the men hard while
shooting pornos while they are setting up the camera and lighting and
stuff."
"And you know this because . . .?"
Carly shrugged. "I don't know, I just do."
"Okay," I muttered and hit the play button.
Carly sucked down the cock that had been in her mouth again while the
other guy licked her pussy. Cheryl got down on her knees and went from man
to man sucking them off to supposedly keep them hard. They seemed pretty
hard to me and she just seemed to be having a good time.
The man Carly was sucking-off started moaning. I could tell he was
about to come. Carly pulled him out of her mouth and let him shoot his
come all over her face. Some landed in her hair and veil. When he was
finished, she sucked him off some and then said, "Okay, I need a cock in my
pussy and one in my mouth."
The guy eating her stopped and scooted up, positioning his cock against
her vagina. It was a large cock (not the biggest in the room but big
enough). Another man walked over with a large cock and placed it against
Carly's cheek. She turned her and sucked the large, black head into her
mouth. She had a little trouble getting the whole cock in her small mouth
but with some effort was sucking down most of his shaft.
The man between her legs shoved his cock into her. Her eyes grew wide
and she groaned around the obstruction in her mouth. The men pumped her
from both ends. I had trouble believing I was watching my wife with two
cocks inside her. Here she was a delicate, beautiful woman being ravaged
by two black rods. And apparently loving it. As she sat beside me
watching the tape she started masturbating. I almost didn't dare touch my
penis for fear I'd come at the slightly stimulation.
It didn't take long for the guy fucking her to stiffen and come. He
pumped his semen into my wife's cunt. She had an orgasm at the same time,
moaning around the cock in her mouth. Then he pulled out of her and the
camera zoomed in to see the cum leak back out. The HDTV showed ever drop
of juice in her pussy.
Almost immediately another guy got between her legs and started pumping.
The guy in Carly's mouth started coming and again Carly pulled him out and
let him come on her face. And another cock entered her mouth. I'd now
watched five men enter two of my wife's orifices.
There was one man with a huge cock. It looked like the size of my
forearm with a cock head as big as my fist. Cheryl hadn't been able to
take it into her mouth and had to settle for just licking the shaft. I
noticed this guy was hanging back.
When the man fucking Carly came (her second cum shot into her pussy) she
stopped the sixth guy from entering her. She stopped sucking on the cock
in her mouth and looked at the guy with the immense cock. "I've got to
have that cock in me; come here."
Carly stood up and directed the guy to lie on the floor. He did with
that tool sticking almost straight up. Carly straddled him and slowly
lowered herself on his cock. When it started to enter her, the camera
zoomed in tight and I could see her pussy lips move aside to allow the
thing in. The veins on it were so big they moved her lips further apart as
they slid by. Carly's mouth made an "O" and her cum-covered face showed
she was in ecstasy. It must have taken a full minute for Carly to sink all
the way down until her ass rested on his thighs. Then she used her strong
legs to rise up again. She rode up and down on that cock, her eyes closed
and her mouth letting out gasps of delight and pleasure.
Then she leaned forward onto her hands with that mammoth cock still in
her cunt. "Cheryl, who's left?" she asked.
Cheryl took the hard cock out of her mouth and said, "I got three hard
one here." Two guys had apparently gotten it back up with Cheryl's help.
"I need a cock in my ass," Carly said.
"Got one right here," Cheryl replied and pulled the last guy, who hadn't
been in her before, over to Carly's perfect white ass.
"Let me get her ready for you," Cheryl told the guy. Then she started
licking Carly's asshole. She got it nice and slobbery wet. She pulled
some of the cum leaking out of Carly's cunt, displaced by that monster
cock, and used it to lubricate Carly's anus. She put a finger in, then
two. Then she declared, "Okay, she's ready."
The black man got on all fours over Carly's back and put his cock
between her ass cheeks. Cheryl helped guide him to his tight goal. Once
there he pushed in slowly. Again the camera zoomed in to catch every
detail of this cock sodomizing my wife.
Once he was all the way in her bowels, Carly started rocking back and
forth on the two cocks in her. She did this for a few moments then said,
"I need a cock in my mouth. I want to do a three-way."
The guy who'd first come in her cunt walked over with his reinvigorated
cock and Carly gobbled it up.
"That's the first time I've done a triple penetration," Carly said (the
one in the room with me, live). She kissed me hard. "Thank you."
On the T.V. Carly was sandwiched between two black men with a cock each
in her cunt, asshole, and mouth. I couldn't help think of an Oreo.
Suddenly she stiffened and, somehow, rocked faster. She was obviously
having an orgasm and a massive one at that.
"It was wonderful," she said (the live one). "All I felt was pleasure
from every part of my body."
Her coming sent the guy in her ass over the edge. He pulled out and
came all over her asshole.
"Hey, she wanted that inside her," Cheryl said.
The guy muttered something apologetic and wandered away. Cheryl started
licking the cum into her mouth, and licking it out of Carly's now-gapping
asshole. When she had most of it in her mouth, she went to Carly's face
and pushed the man out of Carly's mouth. Then Cheryl kissed Carly,
transferring the cum from Carly's asshole into her mouth via Cheryl's
mouth. It was disgusting and wonderful at the same time. When Cheryl
pulled away, a long string of cum stayed between their luscious lips until
it finally snapped back onto Carly's chin.
The man under Carly had been watching this and apparently this sent him
over the edge. With a huge roar he started coming. He grabbed Carly's
shoulders and pushed her down on his colossal tool until she was sitting on
his hips. He kept pumping for what seemed minutes. Finally he let go of
my wife and she rolled off of him and laid on her back on the floor. Cum
was leaking out of her pussy and down to her asshole.
Cheryl leaned over and gently kissed her cum-covered lips. "You okay,
hon?" she asked.
Carly nodded, seeming too exhausted to go on.
"Do you want more?"
Carly hesitated a moment. Then he nodded. "Anything left?" she asked
with a weak laugh.
Cheryl looked around the room. "I've got two standing at attention and
probably three I could get up easily."
"Get my panties," Carly said. "I don't want anymore cum to leak out. I
want to save it for James."
Cheryl nodded and got the white undies. She helped Carly slip them on.
"Okay," my bride said. "I'll suck off anyone who wants it." She rose up
on her knees. For the next hour she sucked off all the black men again,
the thin cameraman, and even Phil (I decided then to cut his pay by a
couple of thousand). She had trouble with the big cock and it turned more
into a hand job with licking. She let all of them cum on her face. When
she was done she was covered in cum and it was in her hair and veil, and
her face, shoulders, and breasts were covered. It was dripping off her
chin onto her belly. The last shot of the video was a close-up on her
face. She smiled sweetly through the cum and said, "Thank you for the
wedding present, my dear."
The screen went to snow. I turned off the T.V. and looked at my wife.
My slut. My slut wife.
"Thank you," she repeated. "Now you know why I was late. After they
left I had to clean up, get all the cum off my face, re-do my make-up.
Cheryl told the wedding consultant that we'd spilled make-up on the veil
and she went out and got a new one somewhere. I put on pantyhose to be
more respectable and we came out for the ceremony"
"Did you like you wedding present?" I asked.
Carly smiled. "I can't think of anything sluttier than getting gang
banged on my wedding day, in the very church where I was to be married,
then walking down the aisle with cum leaking out of my cunt."
"So did you like it?"
In answer she kissed me. I pulled her into the bedroom and on the bed
and laid her on her back. Cum was still seeping out of her well-fucked
pussy. I got out of my clothes and shoved my cock in her cunt. There was
almost no sensation from the lube of the cum and how wide she'd been
spread. But knowing I was fucking my wife, for the first time as my wife,
after she'd taken on seven black men (and two others) and this was what
sloppy fifths I was enjoying? made me so hot I came almost immediately.
Carly orgasmed again (I don't know how, she couldn't have felt much,
either).
I gently undressed her and then we cuddled under the covers and I held
my wife. I knew that for at least one month she was mine alone. What
would happen after that, what could top what she'd just done, I didn't
know. But I suspected we'd have some interesting adventures together.
First thing I wanted to do after the honeymoon was get a "C & C."