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The Best Man for the Bride



My wife is a living sex doll. She is now twenty, a petite dream girl. Her tits are not big, but they are nicely formed handfuls of drum-tight flesh capped with pointed, conical, rosy-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 large green eyes and full lips accenting her pearly-white teeth. Her seventeen-inch waist gives her that classic hour-glass figure that makes her an absolute stone fox.

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 due to her obsession for fucking adult men. She'd been with dozens of men in our first year of marriage, possibly a hundred before we married, maybe another hundred before we began seeing each other. When I say obsession, I mean obsession, one that goes way back to her first pubic hair which came in at the age of ten. Oddly, she wasn't molested. To hear her tell it, she was the molester and went after the cocks she liked like a little sexual predator, proudly boasting that she could get any straight man to fuck her.

She likes the brutally handsome, rugged type. She goes after large, manly cocks on cocky 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. We didn't date; we cruised for cock. 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 knew what she was. She'd fucked every adult cock in the family. They told her that if she 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 men's 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. Cheryl wrecked her MGB on the night I discovered her activities. She didn't need a date as much as a ride. 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 re-assurances 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 moved it to my thigh, but not quickly and it was no accident. I doubted that she was checking me out. She knew what I had, but she wanted to see if what I had was hard.

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're 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 this 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 didn't quite sink 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. She is not the only female in your life with a 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 jibs 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.

Afterward, 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. Theirs 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 fiancée, 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. Afterward, 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


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