This is a cuckold story. If you don't like this genre, feel free to not read it. I don't read stories that don't appeal to me, I don't know why anyone else would.
If you read this story, and then comment complain that it is a cuckold story, then you sir, are a dumb ass.
For erotic purposes, the term Muslim is used to describe many of the characters. It is meant to be part of the degradation of the protagonist. It is NOT meant in any way to denigrate Muslims.
Discovering one is a cuckold is actually quite a clear process. Instead of being jealous when others look at your girl, you become excited. When others flirt with her, you get horny. When they touch her, your erection is harder than steel. Some girls won't understand, others will catch on. And the one who will make your fantasy come true is your dream girl.
-------------------------------------------
Of course everything was late. I stood with my groomsmen at the alter. The pastor looked a bit miffed but tried to keep a cheery face on. In my pocket my smart phone vibrated. Now normally, you are thinking, I would not think of looking at it. But the ceremony was already 5 minutes late, and I was hoping to get some kind of update on the situation. My wife to be was actually upstairs. She was donning her wedding regalia here in the Church complex. There was a room for this, and it simplified what is otherwise a complicated day.
It was a text from the bridesmaid. Armie (my fiancé) had ushered all her attendants from the dressing room as soon as her gown was on and she was fully dressed, made up, hair done , and ready for marriage. With a nimble finger, I tapped out a reply, trying to keep my phone as inconspicuous as possible. She probably wanted to pray a moment, I said. But foreboding rippled through me, surely, she would do nothing here? In the church? On her wedding day? Technically the wedding ceremony had already begun I think.
The next buzz of my phone was from Armie. I opened the conversation, which turned out to be video. Armie stood before me in the sexiest wedding dress imaginable. Bright white satin. It rose up past mid thigh, with white stockings covering the shapely athletic legs down to gleaming white platform high heels. I mean those heels were maybe 9 inches or more. The top of the dress was a quarter cup, barely holding the colossal breasts that plumped up and out of the top. This dress put stripper outfits to shame. But everyone knew my Armie, she was hot, spicy, fiery, and soon to be Mrs. Armie Field. With the heels she would be several inches taller than me at the alter, but she would be happy and have it no other way for "her" day.
Quickly I glanced about. The pastor noticed me looking at my phone, and gave me a hopeful smile, asking with his eyes "Are we about ready to go?" The groomsmen, if they noticed me with my phone, surely put it down to some last minute cajoling to get the bride down here. Although they stood near me in a line, they were looking about amiably, whispering a short comment to one another every once in a while. The church was packed. Many I am sure attending only to get a good eyeful of my bride in her dress, which she had been bragging about. You'd think she was going to sell tickets to the ceremony, the way she built it up these last few weeks on her facebook.
I know, it's bad luck to see the bride before the ceremony. But my eyes soaked her in, and my penis snapped to attention. Or tried. Sharp pain from my poor cock as the cock cage did it's job, unyielding for these past three months. I tried to stifle my grimace, and tried not to bend at the waist from the painful spikes digging into my meat. Unable to avert my gaze from Armie in her hot dress, bolts of electricity continuously shot into my penis, commanding an erection. Torturing the sensitive glands against the sharp spikes built to punish such activity.
Armie mouthed "Hi baby." to me and waved. She was probably speaking, but my volume was off. Then she angled her phone so I got a slow pan of her from heels, up her legs, finally to her massive bolted on tits and her amazingly beautiful face. "How is little Mr. Dinky doing?" I read her lips. She knew my cage was only constricting to the point of bearable discomfort under normal circumstances, but became excruciating sharp and piercing in the event of the slightest swelling. And she knew exactly the effect her dress had had on me. The pain was on my face, and she could read it so clearly from the countless teases over the last three months.
Holding her phone, she walked across her dressing room. I saw that it was empty, she had shooed everyone out. To the back door (opposite the one to the stairwell, where doubtlessly her maidens waited, completely befuddled) she traipsed. I could see the bounce of her tits. How did they stay in that dress? Beyond this back door stood seven men. They had wolfish faces. I recognized them immediately. They were from the Muslim rights group that I had heckled and spit at during their assembly last week. A pit formed in my stomach.
What was Armie doing? The two of us had had a row about the vows. I insisted the phrase about her obeying me remained in her oath. I agreed to the cock cage, but once married, I was going to be the one in charge.
This "back" room to the changing room actually abutted the main hall. In fact, part of it was in fact a balcony overlooking the stage and assemblage below. She wandered over and pointed the phone so that I could see myself waiting below. Everyone was waiting. She angled the phone so her smiling face was looking back at me on the phone, with me in the distance down by the alter also in the shot.
Then she handed her phone to someone else, one of the seven guys I guess. I looked up from my phone to the balcony. The lights were out and it was dark up there, but if I tried I could make out some shapes. Looking back to my phone, I watched Armie kneel before, what was his name, Ahmad? He was younger than me, built strong, and all around a much tougher seeming individual.
I watched her unzip Ahmad's trousers and reached in for cock. It was double my length and thicker than my wrist. As her face fell upon it, the phone holder clicked on the light. I watched the cock slide in her mouth. She began bobbing, struggling with the size. Again I glanced to the balcony. The light from my bride's phone increased the back illumination slightly. Ahmad was even recognizable. My soon to be wife's head was seen bobbing hungrily, again very dim. No one else seemed to notice, or would unless they very deliberately stared and knew what they were looking for.
"Look, the organ player has another commitment, and I myself am due for a home visit to a parishioner." The pastor had leaned close.
"Okay, let me see what I can do." I whispered back. I fished out my earpiece and put it in my ear that faced away from the filled pews.
Immediately the loud sucking filled my senses. Now I was watching Armie push her face deeper and deeper onto his hard rod, and listened clearly to her slurping, and gagging. My cock tried to surge harder, and was rewarded by spikes. Ahmad weaved his hand into her hair and used his arm to push on the back of her head. He also thrust his pelvis, fucking her face the way he wanted to.
Armie tried to keep the right angle, but often the cock head would strike the back of her throat during thrusts. She would "Ughhh!", wetly gag, than adjust so that the head would plunge down her neck. The bulge below her chin, would become a bulge all the way down her throat, disappearing between her collarbones. In time with Ahmad's fuck thrusts, her slender, sweet, sexy throat convulsed and bulged over and over as the colossal meat repeatedly speared all the way into her. Ahmad would often pause, fully inside her, using his hand to grind her face and lips into his pelvic bone. Deprived of air, my love's eyes would widen after a few moments. The young virile Muslim teased her, let the thought of suffocation fill her mind, before resuming his pleasurable face fucking.
The pleasure on Ahmad's face was immeasurable. I resolved to one day do this to my wife. Of course my dick would not gag her, or prevent her breathing for that matter. But maybe do it just for the sensation of being in her mouth? If she ever let me. Never mind.
Ahmad's ejaculation was like a fire hose. Shot after shot of thick cum blasted her face. Gobs splashed into her hair. Perhaps thinking of her dress, Armie quickly took the erupting cock head back in her mouth. The shaft shook and trembled with never ending bursts. Ahmad stepped away and sat happily into a seat. The phone zoomed in on my bride's face. Armie's face was covered in clumpy cream. The look on her face was something else though. She was trying to keep the hot cum down. She licked her lips (cleaning cum with her tongue) and was using her swallowing muscles, trying not to throw up. How much cum had that been? He had unloaded for over a minute point blank firing down her throat. She opened her mouth, cum coated the insides of her mouth. With the camera pointing in her mouth, cum could been seen in her throat. Rising up? She was going to throw up.
Another, Moham his name? Stepped forward and jammed his cock (were they ALL so much bigger than me? Was I really small?) into her mouth and punched into her neck. Blocking her from throwing up. Moham pushed all the way in and held it there. Armie convulsed, her stomach heaving, but could not vomit all the cum. She twitched, jerked, but could not throw up. After a couple minutes she seemed to calm down. Moham began face fucking her, the wet sounds reaching my ear.
"It's just going to be a few minutes more." I whispered to the Pastor. "Maybe another prayer or song or something?" As if my torment was not on enough levels already, my soon to be mother in law took the stage and began a boring speech in her screeching voice.
-------------------------------------------
Four speeches later, each more nerve wracking than the previous. The sixth massive Muslim cock withdrew from Armie's mouth. Her sucking had been loud and wet, those on the balcony had not had to endure the orations. Despite her efforts, her hair was glazed with spurts of six different flavors of cum. The wells of thick clumpy semen all over her face could not be accurately attributed to specific donors. It all seemed to mosh together in a goo soup.
