Naed Wedding

[©2010 BY CLINTON09; ALL CHARACTERS ARE OVER THE AGE OF 18 WITH IDENTITIES DISGUISED; THIS STORY HAS A 'HARDER EDGE' THAN MOST; BE WARNED: HERE BE DRAGONS; FOR AGES 21 OR ABOVE]

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The ad was one he'd later regret seeing: "Come affirm your vows in Las Vegas. If you are willing to be married, have a reception and honeymoon, all on camera and IN THE NUDE, you will get all expenses paid including roundtrip airfare, transfers, hotel suite, license, $10,000 in chips and $10,000 in cash."

It would be limited to the first 20 couples that are the 'right type' who apply. The writer of the story quoted his inside source that the 1st 20 'hot couples' would be picked.

At the time, I had just turned 18 with two months to find a job and a new place to live. My father Mal was 48. He ran four Laundromats which had been part of a lucrative gift to my mother from her family upon the marriage. He had hit hard times and needed that $20,000 to pay off some debts of his own making. Worse, his lenders were not bankers and wouldn't stand for 'any more crap': they just wanted their money.

My beautiful mother, Sue, 39, was unaware of all this. She had been sort of pushed into this marriage for social reasons. Unfortunately, after a decade or two, her husband hadn't aged well. So, while she toiled managing all four Laundromats with underpaid assistants filling in, he sat at the central office and did little but oversee a disaster. The only benefit to all of this was that mom had to do so many things. It was all like a 'super gym' involving walking the properties, lifting detergent shipments, and even cleaning up. She must have been the healthiest 39 year-old in the city, with not only a dazzling figure but perfect body tone.

Besides bodybuilding contests there are things called 'fitness contests' where women would display their fantastic figures, muscle tone and overall physical conditioning. I had prevailed on mom, secretly, to enter a 'Mrs. Fitness-master over 40' contest and she won going away. Her work regimen was so hard that she didn't have to diet or lift a single barbell either. The net effect of that little contest was $1,000 prize for mom and an eternal hard-on for me in regard to her thereafter. After seeing mom come down the runway in a thong bikini, I was 'ruined' for other women. Thereafter, I would get hard if mom entered a room...or simply had her name mentioned.

Now an insane contest came along from Vegas. My father HAD to get that contest money or else some big guys he owed money to would be quite unhappy. Knowing he had to enter, but also knowing that he had to be chosen, he brought mom and me together for an announcement:

Father [Mal]: "I know I've mentioned that Vegas contest before. Well, we need the money, badly, and in a hurry. I've already used all of Sue's relatives for loans, some of which I paid back, some of which I haven't. As a result, my avenues of borrowing have really narrowed. We can have funds in three weeks with this Vegas contest thing; that's better than the banks, who told me 'never'. So what I propose is that your mother and I get a divorce here. We then go to Vegas with Jimmy as best man. If you read the general terms in the ad: 'if you provide a best man, also in the buff, and also in the honeymoon, you get double or $40,000 total.' What's really neat is that we just have to send in a picture of the couple to be married. So, I will send a picture of you two as if you were the ones. We are much more likely to be picked that way. Later, we can claim a simple mistake in picture selection."

Well, it seemed to my mother and me to be the craziest, most hare-brained idea since New Coke or the AMC Pacer. But, we both knew him so we weren't surprised. He had already filed for divorce (just needing mom's signature) and had his digital camera at the ready for that entry picture of the two of us. It was a subtle point but I carefully checked the box where 'maiden name restored?' was asked; I marked yes for my mom to get her maiden name back.

That was how the blessed divorce was filed and accepted. Mom was now single and free from him (due to his absurd idea). The digital confirmation by e-mail gave me my first real erection ever, a huge ten inch edifice that shocked even me. Gazing upon that tool which could do some 'powerful persuading' to a woman unsure of whom to sleep with, I vowed that Mr. Johnson would rest within the warm, tight, comforting walls of my mother's wondrous secret place. I knew that such a place would have a garden attached, with fertile ground. I could think of nothing better than to plant my copious supply of seed upon the fertile ground and watch something grow. The idea of getting my own mother pregnant with my baby...to fill those perfect breasts with warm, sweet mother's milk...to have her belly swollen with my child...was never a dream of mine. I realized it was an impossible fantasy, so I avoided the thought. Now, however, somehow the impossible was becoming possible, with dream becoming reality.

Well, the entry went in digitally and was accepted within 24 hours. We got our tickets and were on our way. During the flight I read the downloaded details of the offer, something that neither of my parents had done. The terms clearly stated that if the best man was to be included, increasing the prize money, then he would HAVE to be included in all aspects, INCLUDING the honeymoon. [The sponsoring company managers weren't fools; if they were shelling out more, then they wanted something spicier on film.] I did not point out this 'technicality' to my parents, which might have 'burst their bubble' and ended the whole thing. Another fine point would definitely have turned them off: if at any point the bride wanted to switch to the best man, she could with complete impunity, and the prize money would remain with her.

During the flight, the three of us were separated. It was pure kismet, but he was kept in coach while we were forced by overbooking to go to First class. Once we sat down I made my first move: I took my mother's hand and held it. She looked at our hands, then me, then our hands, puzzled. Well, I was claiming his possession (mom). A 1,000 mile journey begins with one step.

By the end of the flight, I was perfectly timing the front cabin stewardess' movements. I snuck in some languid caresses of my mother's perfect breasts, plus some hands up the skirt, and of course, some lingering kisses. My blessed mother was not shy either. Her demure hand was on top of my manhood. She outlined and squeezed it; to her thrill, it started growing. She continued her outlining and squeezing, finally feeling its full manly ten inch length. Mom whispered to me that she was so fucking horny. That's why she never once said 'stop' to any of my rude advances. I cannot say that we joined 'the mile high club' (an impossibility in a normal jet), but we sure had fun when mom had to pass in front of me to use the lavatory. There was no one in front of us, and she must've taken three minutes just to cross in front of my seat, effectively giving me a lap dance. Umm, papa likes.

We got to the Wynn's hotel and checked in. The suite was fabulous, with a grand bedroom for the newlyweds (Mal and Sue?) and an adjoining very nice but much smaller room for the best man. We were given a schedule. To get the prize money, we had to follow everything to the letter with few alterations or comments. I noted one thing which would change our collective world forever: there was time set aside for the marriage ceremony and the honeymoon consummation. Both of them were interchangeable two hour slots; we did have the choice of which one was first. I saw an opening there.

First up was the reception. Remember now, we were pretty much in the nude from here on. Seeing the wedding party, with two incredibly fit people (myself and mom) and the balance 'normal' or 'sub-normal' (like dad, who was like 'flab city' material)--I can see why they have that sign outside the city limits: 'No fat chicks!'

The filmed wedding reception was pretty wild and damn sexy. Father and I wore those phony Chippendale formal man's shirt and bowtie combination, plus nice black leather shoes. As you may imagine, as a strapping 18 year old former athlete, I actually DID look like a Chippendale dancer (well, a little.) I'm afraid father (mom's old man) looked more like a Chipwich cookie.

Mom wore only a bride's lace and high white strappy sandals. Mom's 36D-25-37 figure was on display and I had a hell of a time keeping myself down. Mom's 'old man' did allow himself to get excited and his normal 2 ½ inch joke was now 3 ¾ inches. The director taping all of this joked with mom about how her son couldn't control himself and how her husband could. She didn't know, BUT MY MOTHER DID, that the truth was just the opposite. My five inches at rest 'outmanned' his excited 3 ¾ inch little toy. After the director pointed this out, mom developed a problem; her nipples popped as she gazed upon the one who was her son. Now she had the same problem as me; whenever I entered a room, she would get sopping wet, her nipples popping. It was like an aphrodisiac and that 'itch' had to be scratched sometime...soon.

Okay, they did the boring wedding reception in the big conference room attached. It was bloody weird moving around undressed guests that I didn't even know as I tried to get to the shrimp before they were all gone. Alas, I wasn't fast enough.

We then checked with the director who agreed the reception had gone on long enough; it was now time to get to the 'main show'. The four of us went to the suite, as I had taken the lead and opted to have the honeymoon BEFORE the marriage ceremony.

Boy, the sh-t hit the fan when the director started instructing them as to how I would fit into the mix. My father was furious, stating that 'the best man' never does that in weddings. She whipped out the fine print of the ad (which I had read too, off the internet, but kept to myself.) He had to allow me in, as an EQUAL partner in the 'action', or we could stay the night and fly home, with no money. He instantly relented.

So, as mom sat on the edge of the honeymoon marital bed, the two men in her life lined up side by side for 'inspection'. The director ordered mom to 'check the goods' on the prospective partners. She did, feeling his flabby, shapeless arms, his boyish 3 ¾ inch tool (when at its best), and his shapeless butt. Mom then took four times as long to feel, then caress, squeeze, and stroke my bulging biceps, broad shoulders, firm butt, and big cock.

Mom looked at the camera, saying to be fair, she would check out each man, with the better man going first. We had to bend over so she could check our hair. My hair was still like Fabio's and her strong yank just gave me a small rush. On the other hand, his sparse hair gave sparse coverage. When she yanked on his comb-over, every hair came off in her hand, eliciting laughter from the director babe.

Mom leaped up and ran to the bathroom, washing her hands. She returned with Kleenex, using it to wrap around our respective equipment. He was appalled as she key-holed our cocks. Her delicate tiny hand was dwarfed as my cock lurched, jerked, twitched, rose up, fell, and then reached iron hardness, ten inches of solid manhood. The director ordered mom to compare them, having our dicks touch briefly. The touch was like an attack; my alpha superior male's cock outmanned his.

Since we were 'up', she suggested that mom crank the two scarecrows in front of her to see who crows best. Mom did him first, key-holing his mighty(sic) close to 4 inch little thingy. When his moment came, he closed his eyes. The camera did a close-up, and a single milky-white bubble emerged from the pinhole-sized opening on his boyish cock. The small bubble popped and disappeared like a snow flake, leaving nothing behind. Again, the female director laughed, triggering mom's derisive taunting laughter.

She turned to me and my close to ten inch monster. She didn't play fair at this point, lovingly cupping my swollen testes with one warm hand while key-holing the pole with the other. Her sparkling blue eyes looked up at me in submissive awe. When the magic moment came, my hugely overfilled balls pulled up tight. Then there was a powerful shockwave that thundered upwards. It found release at the opening of that cockhead, now expanded to the size of a bottlecap. The white geyser went over mom's head and splashed against the lampshade across the room, some 10 feet away. The heavy lamp was okay, but the shade was noticeably dented. The female director and mom could only say: 'wow!'

He saw his inferiority and his 3 ¾ inch tool returned to its childish 2 ½ inch length at rest. Mom pushed him away, forcefully. The director whispered for him to sit down, be quiet like a good little boy, and watch what a 'real' man could do.

He had to watch as they tried to re-charge my unit for the next task. That side-by-side comparison had used up my reservoir. Mom's old man looked on angrily. Just imagine: he had to watch women scurry around to re-fill my mammoth sperm reservoir just so I could unload it deep inside his former wife.

The director asked mom if she'd be offended if she received some help. She smiled and said no. The director whipped out an iPhone and hit a hotkey. One of the 'guests', in the nude of course, entered the room. She was a showgirl from one of the casino shows. I was less than thrilled (close up, they are homely giants.) I thought the director would get angry; instead, she waved bye-bye to the behemoth dancer from Belgium and hit hotkey number 2. In a few minutes, a diminutive redhead came in, also a 'guest', also nude. At the risk of getting mom jealous, I kind of liked this babe. The 'guest' spoke to the director and went to work kneeling before me, servicing my ten inch weapon. After her gentle attentions, I was not only hard but fully re-charged and 'raring to go'. She stood up and bowed to applause from myself, mom, and the film crew.

Mom fell back on the consummation bed, her legs up, and her hands framing the entrance to her garden of delights. I closed in. Suddenly, the director (who controlled both the filming and the activities) chimed in that the 'older gentleman' should be included. He stood up, smiling and relieved. Bursting his bubble, she instructed him to insert me inside this woman's blessed vagina (!)

He put his foot down, saying he would not do that. The director said that she didn't have the time for continual objections; he could leave now or make another objection, and leave then. Sullen, he came up to us and inserted my huge phallus to the slavering lips of mom's tight pussy. This was probably the ultimate humiliation for his being defeated in his crazy scheme to get rich quick. All he'd really achieved was to remove himself and insert me in his marriage.

Dad sat down and held his ears as mom moaned in ecstasy. My lengthy cock was being driven into her, slowly, inch by inch by inch, just two inches shy of a foot. When I finally bottomed out, my cock head was quite intimate with her cervical region. He held his ears and looked away, facing the camera which was a few feet to his left. To his regret, that camera had a sound indicator. As a result, even when he held his ears, he could see the shimmering lights on the camera. So, when mom cried out in orgasm, even with his ears covered, he could see that damn red light. Glowing intensely and steadily, it attested to her shrill cry of sexual pleasure brought on by her big-cocked teen son.

As if all of this wasn't hard enough to take, the director now insisted that mom give her old man a 'play by play' account of the action. This would really enliven the DVD and video-on-demand sales. Mom started in:

Sue: "Oh God, Mal, Jimmy is so big. He's so much more man than you. His cock is so long, so hard...oh, my God, give me the strength...oh...his cock is dragging its uncut head along my long corridor, exciting the tissues, making them raw and needful of more cock. He's relentlessly sawing that thing back and forth, back and forth. It's driving me crazy. Please Jimmy, please, stop it. Oh yes, that's better. Mal, now Jimmy, umm, there, he's pushed my legs up. Now he's rising up on his tiptoes and leaning into me, oh, heavens, so deep, so big. So much manhood. I can't hold out much longer. Oh my God, excuse me for a moment. [She gave a passionate kiss.] Na-now I can feel his, wait, there they are...I can feel his family jewels, and they are enormous, bloated with potent seed, swollen with sperm to the bursting point. All of that for me?? I feel so flattered. Now, th-there, I can feel those reservoirs the size of oversized oranges retract tightly as he...as he..." [She had to stop again as she screamed out in simultaneous orgasm. My balls had tightened up as I cut loose with ten lengthy gushes of my potent baby-making sperm. Mom finished the play-by-play, almost out of breath.] "Oh dear, I happen to be at my peak of fertility, and now my unprotected and oh so satisfied womb is as swollen with seed as Jim's wonderful testes were a moment ago. The mere thought of millions of his young, vibrant, healthy, sperm seeking out my single ovum is overwhelming. I'm just going to lie on the bed, raising my legs, to give them a head-start."

At this point, he got up, furious. He pointed to his pitiful cock, saying:

Mal: "Hey, what do I do with MY big cock? Am I just supposed to wait for that punk kid's seed to take hold before I get MY chance?"

The director focused on his little thing. Just the glare of the camera lights made his thing once again retreat to 2 ½ inch hell. She 'took sides', saying "you call that extra thumb a big cock??" She laughed, and then mom laughed from her prone position. He was furious and lurched at her. I grabbed him just in time, twisting his arm. I ordered him to apologize to my mother.

Mal: [Grimacing in pain and the humiliation of this surrender.] "I...I apologize to you for losing my temper. I will now sit down quietly over there." [He retreated to the far chair, literally shaking and cowering before me, the superior male in the room. To rub it in, both of the women applauded me. I took a showy bow and flexed my bulging biceps in triumph.]

I asked the director, "Now what?"

She said, "What else, now we have the wedding ceremony. I don't know how many such ceremonies feature the bride all covered in white, INSIDE of her. I bet the number is not zero, though. Anyway, whichever one you choose, let's get married." [Thankfully, the agent arranging the marriage license was not part of this promotion and didn't inquire as to our relationships. The fact that mom's restored maiden name and mine were different was good enough for the state.]

We all washed up and put on the pitiful clothing that we had (those collars for the guys and the lacy head cover and abbreviated train for mom.)

The conference room was cool with air conditioning. Though mom had just made love for two hours, you could not tell that just by looking. Mom's Barbie doll like figure was at the altar while I stood beside her as the winning suitor (hooray!) We held hands as a certain disgruntled bystander sat in the farthest corner, watching in horror as his wife was 'stolen from him'. But, it was already too late for him. I had already marked my territory by pumping my seed into his former wife's fertile womb—pumping it relentlessly, copiously, by the pint. An ocean of babybatter sloshed inside of her even now as she took wedding vows with the very same man who had inseminated her.

We turned to face each other for the final vows and 'I do's'. From the distance, her 'old man' could see us vowing to be together forever. He fulminated; this was the state officially sanctioning the 'theft' by me in stealing his gorgeous now ex-wife. Just look at her up there; even now her excitement at the prospect of living with her empty-headed musclebound big-cocked teen son made her bikini-waxed thighs shimmer with a dampness that was all natural. He gazed upon her physical perfection, the ultimate MILF with plump breasts and shapely legs, and wondered if it was all worth it. Well, he rationalized, he DID need that money to pay off 'those wise guys'. He really had no choice. Anyway, there was nothing done today that was permanent or would even have effects lasting more than a day. Little did he know.