I'm Amber. I'm a 29 year old married woman looking back at the path that changed my mind about being married. At the time of this writing I am approximately one year into my marriage to husband Denny. Best husband in the world, by the way.
I guess I should describe myself. My reddish auburn hair falls well past my shoulders. My tits are smallish, but I'm told are very cute. All I know is that they don't sag in the slightest. My tummy is tight and my best features are my ass and legs (both a ten in my opinion). My face is also tenish, especially when my full lips are shining with lipstick and gloss and I'm sporting my signature come-fuck-me smile.
I should also describe my sexual outlook. If I were on the outside looking in, I would describe myself as sleazy. I feel sleazy and try to look the part with how I dress and wear my makeup. What rhymes with sleazy is easy. With my looks and reputation the opportunities to get laid abound. There are gentlemen callers a plenty.
I met Denny (I hate that name and especially when it's spelled like the restaurant) at a wedding reception. At the reception a friend shoved me into the maddened mix when the bridal bouquet was being tossed. It came right to me and I ducked and let another woman grab it. I considered it a jinx that might end up cursing me into a marriage. I was a free bird and intended to stay that way.
I noticed Denny instantly that afternoon as I'm a woman who's constantly surveying the landscape, always selecting the next guy I intend to fuck. Denny was really cute and our eyes met several times that afternoon. He looked at me like I was a bowl of ice-cream. I was wearing a scandalously short dress and showing lots of thigh. I kept catching him looking at my legs. I flashed my panties at him a couple times but in a way that wasn't obviously intentional.
We finally found ourselves side by side at the bar ordering a drink. Actually, I watched him and followed him there. "Bride or groom," I asked him.
"Excuse me?"
"Are you a friend of the bride or groom?"
"Oh, groom."
"I'm the bride's best friend, Amber. I hope your friend likes them on the wild side."
"I'm Denny, and I think he does. I think we all do," he said, and then blushed at his own comment.
"Maybe so, but most guys don't want to marry the wild ones."
"Yeah, most guys," he said, and I found something promising in that statement, at least for the sake of my newly married friend. We hung out the rest of the day. I wanted him to take me home and fuck me, though it seemed like he was either really bad at picking up vibes or he wasn't interested in sex with me. He definitely couldn't keep his eyes off me. He was attentive, considerate, and fun to talk to.
It's just that, especially if there is any alcohol involved, men were usually all over me; wanting to whisk me away to the nearest broom closet for a fuck or a blow job. In other words, most men have no problem picking up my vibe. With Denny there was no smoldering eyes before leaning in for a kiss, no comment about how sexy I looked and no come-backs for my sexual innuendos.
As the event was winding down he said he had to go. Feeling like a lioness that had failed to capture game for the cubs, I decided to move in for the kill. I was not going to let this prey go unfucked. "So, do you want my phone number," I asked, feeling unusually shy and rejected.
"Yes," he said, seeming surprised that I would ask. I had to wonder if he was a virgin. I thought about how it had been many years since I popped a man's cherry.
Nonetheless, we started dating and I found Denny to be the sweetest man I'd ever met, and he was clearly smitten. He may have been the first man I actually had a serious crush on. I was smitten too, though I'm not sure my version of smitten was the same as his.
Six months into our dating he asked me to marry him. I told him I loved him but needed a couple days to think about whether or not I was ready to be married -- to anyone. I hated how hurt he looked when he didn't get an instant yes.
I'm ashamed to say this, but his cock size was what I needed to think about it. I'm no statistical expert, but from my considerable experience he was less than average. I didn't want to rule him out for his cock size as there was no other downside to him that I could see. He had a nice income and was buying the house he lived in. A woman has to look at the big picture.
The problem is that during our six months of dating I hadn't been as exclusive as he probably thought. I soothed my conscience by reminding myself that I never pledged monogamy, nor had we discussed it. I never asked Denny if he was seeing other women. I kind of hoped he was, for the sake of my guilt, but kind of hoped he wasn't for the sake that he was my guy.
I hadn't taken on any new lovers since meeting Denny, but I had big cocked lovers that I continued to see; guys that only came around for sex but would never consider taking me home to meet the parents. They all started as one night stands and got invited back because they were well endowed and knew how to treat a lady like a slut and. They came back for more because I performed well. All of my big-dicked lovers were fairly to strongly dominant and knew I liked being a good submissive for them. I knew little about these guys and didn't care to. They left me feeling satisfied. That's all they were good for, but to me that was important. Marriage would have meant cutting them off, and even if I wanted to, I wasn't sure if I could.
In a dark corner of my mind a question lurked: could I have my cake and eat it too. I wasn't thinking about marrying Denny and then going behind his back, the way I had been while we were dating. I was wondering if I could get his permission to fuck around after we were married. I just figured that unless he was okay with me being Run Around Amber, it wouldn't work in the long term.
I'd clicked on a cuckold podcast on YouTube one day and the algorithm started sending me more video and audio recordings on the topic. My exploration probably created a misconception about how prevalent the phenomenon was. All I know is, the idea of Denny being a willing cuckold made my pussy tingle, and I needed to know if Denny could be happy as a cuckold before I consented to marrying him.
Here's where I got real crazy. I decided to fuck one of my boyfriends and then go to Denny and confess; tell him I screwed up and hoped he could forgive me. I believed his reaction would tell me all about future possibilities.
By the time he asked me to marry him I had admitted to him that I wasn't used to only dating one guy at a time. That was my way of hinting to him that I was a slut. He seemed unphased by this and didn't ask any of the questions that most guys would have. He just seemed happy as hell any time we were together.
After a couple months of dating I told him that his cock wasn't what I was used to and that I was glad his bionic tongue got me off so good. That did inspire questions from him.
"I've noticed you don't cum when I fuck you. Do you cum when a guy with a bigger cock fucks you?"