Chapter One: Wedding Night 1
I always imagined my wedding night would be something exceptional but there is no way I could ever have anticipated just how incredible it turned out to be.
I had a somewhat unusual upbringing, my Mom was what you may have called a serial monogamist.
She has been married four times herself, first to my Dad, Blake.
After that I had a string of step-dads while I was growing up, all of whom I became very close to.
Tristan, Ralph and the one she was still married to on the day of my wedding, Shane.
They’d all played such a big part in my life that I had stayed in touch with all of them and even invited each of them to the wedding, hoping it wouldn’t be too awkward.
After careful tinkering with the seating arrangements I had them all as spatially distant as possible so they wouldn’t be forced to socialise with each other if they didn’t want to.
As it turned out, I needn’t have worried about that at all.
The wedding was wonderful, I was so proud of my new husband, Marcus. I’ll never forget our first dance at the reception, I felt like I was living in some kind of fairy tale.
Unfortunately, as the night wore on I began to get anxious about how much Marcus was drinking.
He had a lot of friends at the wedding that he hadn’t seen in years, they’d flown in from overseas to make the occasion and they kept plying him with alcohol until I was practically carrying him around the dance floor.
Throughout the night I noticed my various step dads gravitating towards the same table and they appeared to strike up a friendly conversation that turned into loud laughter and clinking glasses as they occasionally looked towards my mother, who was fluttering around the room like the social butterfly she always has been.
There was little doubt in my mind the kinds of things they were talking about, but at least they were hitting it off rather than hitting each other.
I guess they just didn’t have that jealous streak in them, I wish I could say the same about myself.
Growing up I always thought my Mom was the most beautiful woman in the world and the guys she married only affirmed that perception, they were all gorgeous men.
When I became old enough to know what all the grunting and squeaking springs in their room at night meant, my jealousy only grew.
Looking back on it now, I guess deep down I wanted revenge for all those nights of interrupted sleep and wishing I was her.
We were still dancing when one of Marcus’s friends brought him a shot of tequila. The word ‘No’ was barely out of my mouth before the tequila was down his throat and he coughed and spluttered a bit and started looking slightly green.
The sickly colour passed to the cheers of his friend who invited him to the open bar for another and a quick talk to catch up on old times.
With a slurred assurance that he would be back soon my new husband left me high and dry on the dance floor on our wedding night!
I pondered what to do for a moment before Marcus’s Dad, Patrick, my new father-in-law, stepped in and asked if he could ‘have this dance’.
I happily accepted, not wanting to feel like the fifth wheel at my own wedding. It was obvious to anybody that Marcus and Patrick were closely related.
Marcus was almost the dictionary definition of tall, dark and handsome whereas his father was tall, dark with a hint of grey at the temples and equally handsome.
The reasonably fast-paced pop song that had been playing ended and a slow romantic track started.
The various couples on the dance floor got close and swayed in time with the beat so, with a mutual shrug, Patrick and I put our arms around each other and did the same.
I must admit that I lost myself in the music while I had my head resting against Patrick’s chest, imagining that the song was about me as we slowly swayed around the dance floor.
As the first slow song melted into the next I swore I began to feel a distinct hardness pressing into my belly as we moved around.
It was impossible to say, the material of my wedding dress wasn’t especially thin so I tried to dismiss it as a figment of my imagination.
I couldn’t seem to shake the idea though, was that really my Father-in-Law’s hard dick poking into me?
Perhaps the fact that Patrick and Marcus were so similar, practically identical twins a generation apart, played a part in what I did next.
Perhaps I had also had too much to drink that night. Either way, I’d been anticipating my wedding night for as long as I could remember and I was ravenously horny from the moment I woke up anyway.
I let myself slip into a fantasy that Patrick was Marcus and began subtly rubbing my body up and down against him as we danced.
My boobs squashed against him and his cock, there was no more mistaking it, became even harder against my stomach.
I slowly raised my eyes to look into his. He was looking down on me with unconcealed lust, his speech from earlier about having gained a daughter obviously a distant memory.
I licked my lips and I probably would have given him an inappropriate kiss right there if my Mom hadn’t interrupted to tell me she was going to bed and give me one last hug and congratulations before leaving for her room.
There was some accommodation available in the same building that we were holding the reception at, so I’d made sure my Mom had the room next to where Marcus and I would be ‘sleeping’.
For once I wanted her to be jealous of me, I would have moved the bed so the headboard would bang on the right wall if I had to.
I turned back to Patrick, hoping to resume my little fantasy while I waited for his son to make it a reality and glanced down at my beautiful wedding dress.
It wasn’t unsuitable for the occasion but I did get a dress that accentuated my best physical assets, my large and perky breasts, and the cleavage was a bit deeper than a typical bride would go for.
Combined with the latest and greatest in push-up bra technology, I could see by the look in Patrick’s eye that he was imagining sliding his dick between them.
Boys will be boys no matter what their age I supposed, not that I was doing anything to discourage him!
Patrick and I had barely got our arms around each other again and I’d only just registered his rock hard cock against me once more before a crashing sound had all eyes turning towards the bar.
Face down on the floor and spread out like a starfish surrounded by broken glass was my new husband, Marcus. Roaring laughter erupted from his friends, who had no doubt kept the tequila supply up while I danced with Patrick.
We rushed over and turned Marcus’s head to the side. He had a stupid grin on his face but was unresponsive aside from occasional spouts of gibberish. I looked around the gathered crowd for help to get him to our room.
His friends thought he was fine where he was but thankfully Patrick and the table of step-dads, who had come over to watch events unfold, were able to carry Marcus by a limb each out of the room and to the elevator.
I walked ahead of the paternal-husband-carrying-crew out of the elevator and down the hallway to the so-called bridal suite and opened the door to enter the room.
I had thought that they could just throw Marcus directly onto the bed but then remembered we had just dumped all our suitcases on the bed when we arrived so there was no space for him. I turned to address the group.
