5 comments/ 201762 views/ 32 favorites Honeymoon Cuckold By: HerLittlePiggy I awoke blurry eyed. My naked body was pressed tightly against my new bride's warm clothless form. It was the first morning of our honeymoon at a Sandals Resort in Jamaica. I pried my eyes open and looked around the room. Carole's wedding dress was draped over the love seat and two champagne bottles sat, empty, on the coffee table. My head ached, my mouth was dry, my jaw was sore and I was still drunk from the night before. I ran my fingers along my pretty new wife's soft skin up from her full hips and across her soft tummy to her nice firm 36c breasts. Her soft supple skin held the dried evidence of the previous night and my alcohol clouded mind fought to fill in the details. My cock grew hard as I filled in the blanks. I remembered stumbling back to our room. We had been out drinking and dancing. I never danced sober and Carole wasn't much of a dancer either. We had been drinking steadily from the moment we first boarded the plane at 11am. It was a direct flight from DC to Jamaica and we flew first class because it was our Honeymoon. We were both three sheets to the wind by the time we got to the resort. We quickly changed into our bathing suits and headed down to the main pool where we continued to drink at the swim up bar. We changed back into our casual clothes for dinner. Carole wore tan shorts and a tight blue halter top. I was in khaki cargo shorts and a dark blue polo shirt. We ate at one of the many restaurants during which we continued to drink. We met Robert and Byron at the dance club. Like Carole and I, they were at Sandals for their Honeymoon. They had been married on Cape Cod and arrived in Jamaica the previous day. Robert was a slightly built white guy with a friendly outgoing but effeminate personality. Byron was a big muscular black man with a deep resounding voice but a quiet laid back personality. Robert hit it off with my wife and they chatted like long lost girlfriends as Byron and I talked sports. Like me, Byron was a big Red Sox fan and we wondered how the upcoming season would be. The four of us chatted and danced long into the night. Carole and I had slowed our drinking at the club but we were still drunk when the club closed for the night. It was only 2am and we were still wide awake. I was looking forward to some hot sex and I thought Carole was too so I was surprised when she invited Robert and Byron back to our room to continue the party. To my dismay they accepted and ten minutes later we were toasting our marriages in our honeymoon suite. "Let me see your dress," Robert said and Carole quickly pulled it from the closet. "Oh my god it's gorgeous," Robert exclaimed as he touched the soft silky gown. "Put it on." I watched in stunned silence as my wife stripped down to her panties and pulled her wedding gown on. Carole had always been very self conscious about her body so her willingness to get naked in a room full of people was very out of character. "I love it," Robert said, "you are stunning." Byron and I both agreed. Carole started to dance around the room and Robert began to hum a striptease song. "Take it off," Byron said playfully as Carole swung her hips in front of our new friend. She turned around, hiked the dress up and pulled her panties off as she wriggled her ass in his smiling face. The look on Byron' face betrayed him and I suspected that he was not completely gay. Carole turned to face Byron. She rubbed her excited pussy through her wedding gown then sank to her knees between his spread thighs. My sexy drunk wife draped her shoulder length brown hair over Byron's crotch and pretended to give him a blow job. She was inches away from his dick but she wasn't touching it. She slowly raised her head and looked into his dark brown eyes. Byron gave my wife an encouraging smile as she knelt between his legs and Carole accepted his silent invitation. She ran her fingers slowly up his leg as his husband Robert and I looked on. Her fingers reached his groin and a look of shock spread across my wife's pretty face as she touched Byron's engorged rod. "I know honey," Robert laughed as he watched my wife's reaction to his husband's giant dick. "It's the biggest I've ever had." Carole paused for a moment. Her hand subconsciously stroked Byron's dick through his shorts as she pondered the situation. It was less than 48 hours since our wedding ceremony and she was on her knees between the spread legs of a recently married gay black man as both her new husband and his watched. She slowly, reluctantly, moved away from Byron's dick and turned around as she continued to sway to unheard music. Her hips gyrated and she lifted her dress giving Byron a close up view of her shaved wet pussy. Byron reached out and stroked my wife's swollen pussy lips. Carole's eyes were closed tight and she moaned softly. Her moan was for him and he knew it. He rubbed her clit fast as he plunged two thick black fingers inside her. She responded by pushing back against him. Byron knew his way around a woman and in minutes my wife cried out as she came. Her body shook and quivered as her pussy spasmed around his fingers. Carole didn't miss a beat. She dropped her dress and danced over to me as Robert slid into the now vacant place between Byron's legs. Robert quickly peeled his clothes off and freed Byron's mammoth cock. He lowered his mouth to his husband's big dick as my wife moved seductively in front of me. "I need you inside me," Carole said as she pulled her dress up and backed her ass toward me. I quickly pulled my shorts down and guided my 6" dick into my wife's pussy from behind. I grabbed Carole's hips and thrust my throbbing cock into her soaking wet pussy. In the three years we had been together I had never felt her that wet. We had never been swingers or discussed group sex, voyeurism or exhibitionism but it was clear in our actions that we were up for almost anything. I pounded my cock into my bride's wet pussy as we watched Robert give his well endowed husband a blow job for the ages. I was no homophobe but the thought of two men together had always grossed me out yet as I watched Robert service his husband's giant tool I found it incredibly erotic. Carole pushed her ass back to meet my hard thrusts and the room was filled with an odd mix of raw primal sounds. The sound of slapping flesh was drowned out by my wife's groans and moans as she approached her second climax of the night. Carole's moans, the slurps and moans of Robert mixed with the guttural noises of Byron's pleasure created a symphony of sexual pleasure. Carole came hard as I fucked her furiously from behind. Her body quivered and quaked as her pussy spasmed around my fast moving dick her eyes were glued to Byron's massive cock the entire time. She moved away from my dripping hard dick. Her wedding gown fell into place and she glided toward Byron's big black cock. "Do you want to take over," Robert asked as he offered his husband's cock to my wife. "Yes," Carole hissed as she grabbed Byron's big black cock. Her small alabaster hands were dwarfed by his giant ebony fuck stick. I felt a pang of jealousy coupled with a surge of excitement as my wife of 2 days started to lick Byron's dick. Carole noisily slurped and sucked on his big black cock as I slowly stroked my dripping wet rod. Robert walked naked across the room. His thin hairless body was toned and tan making him look like a flat chested woman. His cock was fully erect but it was only 4 inches long in striking contrast to his husband' massive member. "Let me help you with that," Robert said quietly as he slid to the floor in front of me and touched my slippery dick. Carole watched intently as I wrestled with indecision. Robert didn't wait for me to protest. He took my wet dripping dick into his hand and started to lick it. His tongue was long and talented and I closed my eyes and moaned as he wrapped his lips around my turgid member. I had never imagined another man sucking my cock. I had never given it a thought but Robert gave the best head I had ever experienced. His mouth was hot and wet and his surprisingly soft hands caressed my balls and tickled my asshole with perfect precision. I flew passed the point of no return as Robert expertly sucked and stroked my rod. "I'm cumming," I cried out as I pumped buckets of hot cream down Robert's greedy throat. I opened my eyes and saw Carole on the bed. Her wedding dress was bunched around her waist. Her breasts were out and Byron was pushing his giant black cock into her soaking wet pussy. "Fuck me," my wife panted as he pounded 9 inches of hard ebony cock into her willing hole. Robert sat next to me on the couch and we watched as his husband fucked my new wife. Carole panted, moaned, swore and praised god as Byron fucked her hard and fast. She came hard and begged him never to stop. Robert guided my hand to his small hard dick. It felt odd to touch it but he had given me the best blowjob of my life so I didn't stop him. Byron continued to fuck my wife until sweat covered both their bodies. I lost track of how many times she came as he fucked her. Robert pushed me between his legs. I knew what he wanted. I was scared but, surprisingly, I was excited as well. I knelt naked between his legs and looked at his small hard dick. I had never had a gay thought but a man had just given me an incredible blowjob and I was kneeling between his legs staring at his cock. "Suck it," Carole panted encouragingly as Byron rammed his cock into her doggy style. Her words provided the gentle push I needed and I slowly lowered my mouth to Robert's small turgid dick. It easily fit in my mouth and I sucked and slurped on his cock as he held my head to his groin. Robert's breathing was ragged as his legs started to quiver. I knew he was going to cum and I was unsure what to do. His hips bucked and he spurted a huge load of cum into my mouth. I swallowed Robert's seed as my wife groaned loudly at the lewd sight of her new husband drinking his first batch of man juice. Robert's juice was hot and salty but I swallowed it all and sucked hard on his spent cock to draw more out. It was good and I wanted more. "I'm gonna cum baby," Byron said in a deep baritone. "Where do you want it?" He asked. "Everywhere," Carole moaned as she came again. Byron pumped his huge dick into my wife as it started to spit. He painted the walls of her pussy with thick cum before pulling out and aiming several more shots onto her stomach and her white wedding gown. Carole climbed off the bed and pushed me onto the floor. "Have some more," she laughed as she straddled my face and lowered her cum filled cunt onto my ready mouth. I sucked Byron's cum from my wife's gaping pussy. His cum was sweeter than Robert's and I moaned into my wife's grotto as it slid down my throat. Carole climbed off my face and I looked up. Byron was standing over me. His huge cock had begun to get soft but it was still 7+ inches and covered with their combined juices. "Why don't you clean me up," Byron said playfully as he shook his glazed ebony cock at me. I could see a drop of thick white cum on the end of his thick rod. I was hungry for more. I sat up and grabbed his long black hose. I wrapped my lips around his semi erect dick and savored his essence. I noisily slurped his meat until it started to grow. "This one is for Robbie," he said as he pushed me aside. Robert bent over and offered his ass to his big black husband. Carole and I lay on the bed and watched Byron lube his cock with spit and ease it into Robert's asshole. "I want to watch him fuck you," Carole cooed as they fucked. My cock twitched at her suggestion betraying my conscious mind. "You like that idea don't you baby." "Yes," I replied tentatively. I had learned things about myself I had never dreamed and I was ready to learn more. Carole stroked my cock until I was rock hard. She mounted me and rode my dick as I watched her move gracefully over me. She still wore her wedding gown but her tits hung free and it was stained with Byron's cum. We all fucked long and hard until Byron and I came inside our spouses. Carole collapsed on the bed as our guests gathered their things. I undressed my beautiful wife and draped her wedding gown over the couch as our guests got dressed. They both kissed us goodbye. It was strange kissing another man. My tongue stayed in my mouth during the kiss but it was oddly exciting just the same. Byron and Robert said good night and left Carole and I spent and exhausted. It was after 3:00am and I was still drunk. "That was amazing baby," Carole said softly as we lay naked in the dark. "It was really hot babe. You liked Byron's huge dick didn't you?" I queried. "It felt really good," she answered, "but you know what I liked most was watching you suck his big dick and watching them fuck." "Really, I didn't know you were into guy\guy stuff." "Neither did I," Carole giggled. "Next time I want to watch Byron fuck your hot sexy ass." "Next time?" "Yup next time. I got their number." Honeymoon Cuckold The first four days of our honeymoon had been a whirlwind. Following our wedding reception we'd decamped to a honeymoon suite in the same hotel where the reception/dinner had been held. The next morning we were off to Hawaii, via San Francisco. Once on the island it had been nonstop sightseeing, swimming, eating, drinking (LOTS of drinking), sex and shopping. Shoot me over this last part but...that's what my newlywed wife Laurie wanted. And Laurie tends to get what she wants. Just ask her parents. All of this furious activity (well, aside from the sex) recorded for posterity by Laurie on her iPhone's camera, which she then uploaded to our Facebook page or sent directly to her countless address book relatives and friends. I swear, over those first four days Laurie, what with her magic flying fingers, spent more time manipulating her phone than she did interacting with me. Everything we did or saw, no matter how mundane ("Oh wait! Before you eat your shrimp lemme snap a pic!"), became subject for a photograph, which then had to be either uploaded, texted or emailed. It was exhausting, believe me. On two of the four nights I arrived back at the beachfront hotel too tired, and drunk, to even have sex. And wasn't that the whole point of a honeymoon? Sex? And lots of it? On one of those two nights I'm pretty sure, in my alcoholic haze, I heard Laurie say, as she stomped off to the bathroom: "Oh, what difference does it make? You don't satisfy me anyway..." Or did I dream she said this? At any rate, on the morning of day five I awoke way too early, and with a wicked hangover. I was vaguely aware I was alone in the king-sized bed. I was also vaguely aware someone—Laurie, obviously—had been bustling around the room for the past half hour. The shower had been running; then not. Things were being stuffed into something else. Vaguely, it sounded like someone was packing. After showering and getting dressed. Was I dreaming? Again? "My taxi's waiting," Laurie announced brightly. The sun was also bright. I shielded my eyes. My mouth was dry. "Whuh?" "My taxi. I gotta run." She bent over and pecked my stubbled cheek. "See you in, like, three days." I bolted upright. I chewed air trying to generate some saliva. But "Whuh?" was all I managed a second time. Laurie turned back. She looked bright as the sun itself. And as pretty and colorful as a plumeria lai. Her blonde hair was pulled back in a tail, which served to emphasize the blaze of her blue eyes, her high cheekbones, and red gloss on her lips. She wore a cleavage-baring buttton-down pear-green blouse that terminated just above her pierced navel, in a knot. Her chocolate-brown hiphugger shorts bared hipbones above and every inch of her sleek, athletic legs below. Sandals with a little flower decoration on top bared her perfect size sevens with their aqua-painted nails. Every inch of her bared flesh—and most of her was bare—glistened with cocoa oil. She was ready for the beach. She was ready for something else as well. From her right hand the handle of an overnight bag hung—the very bag I'd insisted prior to mainland departure was overkill, given all the other suitcases she'd insisted on packing. I wiped my face. In disbelief. "Whadaya men...tree days?" Laurie's smile had lost none of its luster. "I told you. Remember? Brad was flying out? And I was going to spend a few days with him? He's staying at this really cool place right on the beach on the other side of the island. I mean right on the beach. You walk out the door and you're in the water." (Tsunami for reason entered my foggy mind.) "He texted me a pic of it last night," Laurie continued. "It's awesome. Anyway, toodles," she added, folding her free hand in a little wave. "Wait!" I jumped, landing—sort of—in the same naked sitting position. "Whuh...?" "I told you," Laurie insisted, stamping a sandaled foot. "We discussed this. My cab's waiting." She sighed. "Brad's come out and I'm gonna spend a few days with him. I told you all of this, like, two weeks ago. Or were you too drunk to remember?" "I..." Another sigh. A horn sounded. "My taxi's waiting." A hand combed thick blonde hair. "Anyway, it's only a couple of days then...," smile returning, "I'll be back here and we'll still have, like, four more days together. Three anyway. Sober up. You look terrible. Bye!" "Wait!" But she was gone. Out the door. The taxi 50 meters down the road by the time you reached the jalousies, after stubbing your toe on a chair. Your first reaction: "Ow!" Your second: WHAT? Your third: Copious tears as you dropped to your knees. 3a) A throbbing erection. "What's wrong with me!" you shouted at no one in the otherwise empty honeymoon suite. Laurie may've taken her travel bag with her; but that meant she left behind six pieces of hefty designer luggage. You found panties, just in time, in the second suitcase you flung open, and it was this skimpy little emerald thong you came in, and through, into your hand, the overflow dripping to carpet—Who gives a shit!—as you, another pair of Laurie's panties a figure-eight around your ankles, ran, sort of (It reminded you of an elementary school sack-race), for the bathroom. "OH!" you cried latently, the rush of shower water washing more tears from your face. Fortunately for you the in-room mini-fridge still contained one last bottle of California bubbly. You opened it and drank—from the bottle. It was 7:45 a.m., Hawaii time. Brad. Two-time all-state quarterback for your highschool football team. Laurie: all-state cheerleader for the same. They made quite a couple. The BMOC paired with, arguably, our school's cutest girl. They dated. They broke up. They dated... They broke up. Neither, it was rumored, was particularly monogamous. Come college and the roles reversed, slightly. Laurie rose to become head cheerleader while Brad never advanced beyond second-string QB. Maybe the asshole wasn't so big afterall? Did I say big? Great, I mean. Great. I say asshole. It was Brad who'd once pointed at my genitals in the men's shower and made a joke. Another time he told me to bend over while, in front of several of his laughing teammates, he performed simulated anal sex on me. Very funny. But I can still feel that semi-limp slong of his bumping against my wet crack. He was well-hung. That part was undeniable. "Faggot!" he called me afterwards. I'll leave the psychology of this to others... So one day I'm walking across the campus quadrangle and I feel a hand tugging at my elbow. It's the most beautiful human being I've ever seen (up this close at least). Laurie, books pressed to her boobs, said: "Hey, how come you've never asked me out?" I stood there. I stared, open-mouthed. I was speechless. Was this a joke? Laurie shrugged at my silence and walked away. She turned back, sort of. "Well, if you ever change your mind, let me know. We have the same art history class. REMEMBER?" On our fourth date I kissed her, tentatively. "That's nice," she said, brushing her hair back and pulling away. Our first two "dates" had been coffee at the campus Bigbucks. Then I took her out to dinner. Afterwards she asked me to drop her off at some frat house, for a party. In parting, she kissed my cheek. "You're such a sweetheart." On our fourth date she suggested we pick up a bottle of screwcap wine at the convenience store and drive to the look-out, where the lights of our city twinkled in the valley below. It was here that Laurie, who at the time was a philosophy major, expounded her Theory of Human Relationships. "I believe," she said, as we passed the bottle back and forth, "that a woman should choose one particular type of man as a husband—someone kind and sweet and, let's face it, somewhat submissive...a great and loving father when the time comes...and another type of man—or men plural—as her lovers. She would have her husband as a life-companion, just like it says on all the dating sites, and a couple of guys on the side to pleasure her in bed. Not OUR bed necessarily," Laurie quickly added, as if we had one. "Because it's been my experience in life—and I've been sexually active for some time now, let's face it—with my looks? It's been my experience in life that the guys who are really great in bed are total assholes...Can you say Brad? While the sweet, sensitive guys who would make great husbands...provided they're not gay—and great fathers for our children—are, well, they're sort of limp dicks. No offense!" Laurie quickly added. "We haven't even slept together. I'm just making a general observation. I'm sure there are guys out there who are both great lovers...big fucking dicks and great stamina and all that...AND wonderful husbands and fathers...It's just," Laurie continued in her stream-of-consciousness fashion, "I haven't met any of them. And believe me, I've been with a lot of fucking guys. "Isn't this beautiful?" Laurie asked of the starry scene below. "Do you believe in unicorns? I do! Anyway, does this sound like a scenario you'd be comfortable with? Marriage-wise? Me and you? But me and other guys as well? On the side? I'd make them wear protection. Well, everybody but Brad. We go way back. But what I mean is when we have children they would likely be yours? Cool?" I dropped Laurie off at another frat party that night. My head was spinning. "No wife again today?" the big, grinning Hawaiian bartender observed. "Still got a migraine," I lied. "Bummer! Guess you're not getting any of this," he said, hand circling thick wrist, as he made the thrusting sign off universal fucking. "Not in, like, four days," I replied, averting my eyes. "Too bad, man. What's a honeymoon for?" "Tell me about it, man." "Bacardi 151? And Coke?" the bartender asked, turning. "Make it a double." "You got it, bro." I sat back in my Tiki bar stool. It was 11:03 a.m. When I staggered back to the hotel room I found a new email on my iPad. I jumped for joy. It was from Laurie. The first contact I'd had with my wife in two-and-a-half days. It read: "Hi sweetie! Here with Brad-o. Lots of sex. (Outside of bed he's a [sic] asshole however.) Here's a link to something we posted last night. HOT! Don't worry, no faces, no one will ever know. Be back tomorrow late. Hugs & kisses!" The link led to a website where amateurs, straight and gay, posted videos of themselves having sex. Brad and Laurie's video was titled, appropriately enough, Brad & Laurie Have Hawaiian Honeymon [sic] Sex (and Brad is not my husband). I blushed, sort of. I guess the title could've been less explicit. On the other hand what were the chances our relatives would ever visit this site? Our friends? That was a different story... I cracked open the pint of 151 I'd purchased from the bar's package store, and touched the "Play" arrow. The POV was from above. It was Laurie's tanned ass. I would've recognized it anywhere. And if not there was her unmistakable "tramp-stamp:" a trio of intertwined pink roses on a thorny green stem that ended barely an inch from the top her crack. She'd gotten the tat in college. Aside from that I could only glimpse the back of her thighs and, above the roses, the bumpy arc of her back's spinal cord. As for Brad... First and foremost there was his enormous circumcised cock which I'd jealously witnessed so many times in the shower. It glistened with lube and he held it in a fist at its base. At this point I could also view the fronts of his hairy, peach-sized balls and the fronts of his muscular quarterback thighs. Then Brad found socket with Laurie's hole, her rear one, and pushed in. "Oh!" Laurie cried. "OH! You're so big!" It was a refrain my wife would repeat continuously for the next fifteen or so minutes. I hit pause at this point. Ran to Laurie's suitcases, discarding clothing as I went. Grabbed another panty. Two in fact. Wrapped one around my hard cock (keeping one in reserve), returned to the bed and hit Play. Brad fucked my wife anally until the 15:39 point of the video. Then he pulled out with a loud sigh and declared: "I'm gonna cum!" "Cum baby!" my wife declared. "Cum in me!" "No, I..." Brad began stroking his glistening cock. Ahead of it my wife's asshole was dilated the size of a Susan B. Anthony dollar coin. He finally shot his load. Some landed in her dark hole, some up her crack, some on her vagina. He pushed into her again, driving his own pearly-white semen deep inside her. When he pulled out again his cum dripped below, to the bedspread. "Oh!" he cried. "Oh," Laurie echoed. "OH!" I screamed, cumming in Laurie's backup panty. The video ended at 19:19. Holy fuck! "The missus!" the same bartender said as we sidled up to the Tiki bar. "What can I get for you?" "A white wine for me," Laurie said. I was sitting next to one of the most beautiful, desirable women in all of Hawaii, which is saying something. And she'd just returned from her adventure with Brad. Brad. Who would remain a fixture in our lives for years to come, until that unfortunate drone attack on State Street. "I'll have a 151 and Coke," I said. Laurie threw an elbow into my ribs. "Be good." "I am!" Bartender: "How's your migraine? Better?" Laurie: "Hunh?"