What if she really did it?

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I told her about it right before the wedding

Warning: 18+ only. Very sexy NSFW content!

He told his fiance about his nasty plans for their honeymoon, with shocking results.


“So it’s like a threesome?”

We were due to get married in less than two weeks and my fiance was on the phone trying to figure out why I wanted her to have sex with another man.

“It’s like that,” I told her, “except that I won’t do much. I’ll be on the bed with you kissing you and touching you. He’ll be having sex with you.”

He. The mysterious other man. The stunt-cock.

“Oh.”

She wasn’t sounding enthusiastic about the idea, to say the least.

Understandable, I guess.

She’s quiet for awhile before she says anything back.

“I think that’s pretty twisted,” she said.

At that point I’m wondering if I haven’t fucked up badly.

“I’m not talking about doing anything at the wedding babe. I’m thinking after.”

“You want me to fuck another guy on our honeymoon?”

“No, it’s not… look, I don’t want you to do anything. It’s just that I’ve had these thoughts about you… you know. And I felt like you should know about that, is all.”

“I see.”

The conversation wasn’t going as I’d planned.

Thanks to our jobs, Terry and I lived apart for months at a time in the year before we got married. You can imagine how hard that is on a relationship.

It’s hard on a man’s sex life, too. I was so horny I couldn’t think straight. One night on our good-night call, Terry mentioned something to me about a co-worker flirting with her.

She’s a professional dancer with a traveling company. Which means she’s on the road a lot. And her company’s got several nice-looking athletically conditioned men who, I’m told have their choice of female ‘talent’ while they’re on tour.

Men who Terry stays in close contact with, in every sense of the term.

I trust Terry and I know that she’s a professional with her co-workers.

But when you haven’t been intimate with your wife-to-be for a few months, your mind starts to wonder.

Your mind starts to build fantasies.

I didn’t mean to bring it up to her on that call but I was tired and lusty and it came out.

My fear was that she’d go through with it. I didn’t expect her to get ice-cold about the idea. That surprised me.

“You okay?” I asked her.

“Yeah. I don’t know. I need to think about this,” she said. “Hey, babe, I hate to cut it short tonight but we’ve got an early start. Talk to you tomorrow?”

“Sure, babe. Love you,” I told her.

“Love you,” she said. The sound of her voice was like ice crystals running down my spine.

She hung up and I could feel the temperature drop in the room.

I didn’t sleep well that night.

Had I screwed it all up, right before the big day?


The next day was painfully slow. I was a nervous wreck and my blue balls only made matters worse.

My thoughts were all over the place. I was bouncing between

What if Terry went out and did it?

and

What if she got so upset she called off the wedding?

My phone buzzed about 30 minutes before our usual good-night call time. The text read:

Need to skip tonight hon. Catch you tomorrow?

My heart raced. She never skipped our calls. Never.

Is everything ok? I sent back.

Fine. Talk 2 u tomorrow.

The next 24 hours were even more painful. I couldn’t concentrate on work so I cut out at lunch and picked up a six pack on the way back to the hotel room.

I waited for her to call with a healthy buzz, racing heart and a raging boner.

What was going to happen now?

The phone rang and, after I nearly dropped it, I couldn’t hold myself back.

“So what happened last night?”

She went silent for a moment.

“I went out for a drink.”

Terry didn’t normally drink. Shit.

“I missed our call.”

“Missed you too.”

“Is… are you… about everything… I mean…”

I couldn’t get the words out. Alcohol plus intense excitement… and fear.

She sighed.

“I thought about it, and it was kinda weird. I mean if it gets you off, that’s okay I guess. I just couldn’t imagine myself doing it.”

Phew.

I felt my whole body deflate. What a relief.

“Thank fuck. I was worried that you’d…”

“Gone off and fucked a guy for your dirty pervert fantasy?” She says it playfully and I know she’s having fun with it now.

“Yeah. That.”

Silence again.

“Well,” she begins, hesitant. “…there is something I should let you know, I guess.”

So much for that relaxed posture. “Yeah?”

“When we were out last night. There was this guy at the restaurant. We started talking and…”

I felt dizzy all over. Good thing I was sitting down.

“And? Did… did you…?”

“Nothing happened babe. We’re getting married, remember?”

“Right. Yes. That. Married.”

“But he… I can’t believe I’m telling you this. He was very attractive to me. He gave me his number. I wanted… are you sure you want to hear this?”

Between my racing heart and the stiffness in my pants, how could I not?

“Yes,” I panted, “I want to know. Tell me everything.”

She did. She told me how the man approached her at the bar. How she wasn’t interested at first. How they started talking and she found herself feeling attracted to him.

“When I told him I was a dancer, he dared me I couldn’t show him how to dance.”

How they ended up at the dance club until the early morning hours.

“I promise we didn’t do anything. It was just… intense. I would have done something with him if it weren’t for you, love.”

We were both hot and bothered now. What the hell, I figured, let’s see where this goes.

“You could have, if you wanted.”

“Noooo, baby. I’m not a slut.”

“Maybe I’d like that.”

“Really? You want to marry a slut?”

“It’s been awhile. You’ve got needs.”

“So do you. You want me getting with other guys when you haven’t had any in months?”

I felt like moose in mating season when she said that. I was in a trance.

“…that might be kinda hot,” I said.

“Oh. Wow. You really are a dirty pervert.”

“If I can’t enjoy that ass of yours, somebody may as well get to.”

“You’re serious. You’re serious?”

Right then, I was as serious as stage 4 melanoma.

“Yeah, I think I am. If you want a last night of freedom before getting hitched, you can have it. Seriously.”

“Oh, wow… okay. Okay. Umm.”

“You got the guy’s number from last night?”

“No… but he’s staying here, so…”

“It’s up to you. You have my blessing. I… I want you to do it, if you want to.”

Silence. Then a quiet “Okay”.

“There’s just one thing. It’s got to be just sex. I don’t want you getting interested in the guy, texting him, that kind of thing.”

“I can’t help that can I? I’m not going to let him get in my pants if I’m not interested in him.”

“That’s part of the deal.”

“I guess you’ll have to see what happens, won’t you?”


Two weeks later, the wedding goes off perfectly.

Terry’s a gorgeous bride, her dancer’s body lovely and slender in her white dress.

We both had a secret laugh knowing that there was no way the dress should be white.

Certainly not now.

We see the special wedding guest in the audience and we share a knowing look and a smile.

After the ceremony, after the reception, we’re tired, a little tipsy, on the elevator up to our suite.

A few floors below our floor, the bell dings. The doors slide open and a handsome, muscular olive-skinned man steps on.

The doors close and Terry, still in her wedding dress, puts her arms around his neck while they kiss.

He grabs my new bride’s ass.

We decided to have an extra-special wedding night.

Why not? He already got to enjoy her body before the wedding.

“It’s like a threesome, but he won’t do anything,” she told him as the elevator began to move again. “Only you get to fuck me.”

“Seriously?” he says. “Nice one, bro.”

On that elevator, on the way to our bridal suite, I high fived with the man about to be first one to have sex with my new bride on her wedding night.

She’d come around after all.


Terry sounds like a wonderful hotwife convert. I wonder what made her change her mind so quickly? Are long-distance relationships positives for cuckolding?

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