My Cuckold Wedding

 

Chapter Six – My Cuckold Wedding

Honeymoon? Consummation? I hadn't given such matters any thought. 

So what do I want at my wedding? And do I want to honeymoon with Mark, our now fully subservient cuckold whose sole desire was to serve me and Master, and who seems to relish the humiliation of being the lesser man.

I looked over at my fiancée, in his newly bought lingerie, staring back at me in his ‘puppy-dog’ way and decided to ask him a question that would determine my plans for the wedding, the honeymoon, and our life afterwards. I knew that he had masochist tendencies, but had to be sure.

“Mark Dear,” I said, as I reached out to cup his chin with my hand and draw his head towards me, “I humiliate you almost every day now, and everybody in this town knows I am cuckolding you . So be honest with me, do you like it?”

His lips quivered in emotion as he took in the importance of my question and knew what was coming next.

“No Mistress,” he replied.

“Oh?” It wasn't the reply I had been expecting.

“No Mistress, I love it. All of it!”

I heard the sigh of relief from Gregg as I leaned forward to kiss Mark on the forehead, and said, “Then we shall make it the best day of your life my sweet cuckold.”

“Thank you Mistress.”

“I want Gregg to give me away.”

“Yes Mistress!”

“But when I stand beside you at the altar, I want you to know that less than ten minutes before Gregg and I will have had a ‘quickie'.”

“A quickie Mistress?”

Mark knew exactly what a quickie was so I continued with my humiliation assault, “So when I walk up the aisle to marry you, you will know that I come to you from his bed with our Master's seed is inside me.”

“Or maybe not so quick,” Gregg interjected with a wicked grin on his face.

“Or maybe not so quick,”

“I understand!” Mark said. “As is your right Master.”

My fiancée was clearly becoming fully committed to his role in my life and I was now fully certain that he was enjoying his subservience. ‘Just how far can I go with this degradation of his manliness?’ I asked myself. The future years together would prove to me just how far Mark would go to prove his commitment to our way of life – his devotion never wavered.

“I have told you that I will not vow to be faithful to you Mark, but your vows will contain that undertaking. How do you feel about that?”

“No more than a cuckold should expect Mistress,” was his response. But I needed a more positive answer than that.

“Yes, but do YOU accept it cuckold?”

“Yes Mistress!”

“Are you are prepared to acknowledge and sign the polyamorous agreement?”

“Do you mean the Cuckold’s Contract Mistress?”

“The very same!”

His answer came without hesitation; he had clearly thought this aspect of our wedding through. “Happily, Mistress,” he confirmed in an overly cheerful manner; and I was suddenly suspicious.

‘Is he playing games ?’ I immediately thought to myself. ‘And is he mocking Gregg and me?’

“Why?” The tone in my voice reflected my scepticism.

Gregg looked up startled and Mark’s face took on a shade that was the colour of strawberry.

“Mistress?”

“Why ‘Happily’? Have you got an agenda? Are you being genuine Mark - because if you are not ....”

Mark looked trapped and alarmed. “You ask me this now Mistress. I am committed to our new life. I swear! Please do not doubt me.”

I took one look at his stricken expression and realised that I had gone too far. But I needed to be certain, so I pushed my fiancée a little further. “Yours will be a life of total subjugation to Gregg and me. Completely submissive to us and our needs ..”

“Like a slave Mistress?”

“A sexual slave to us both,” I replied. “A normal man outside of the house - emasculated at home. How does that sound?”

“I want it Mistress. I want all of it!” He sounded desperate; it was if someone had just pulled a rug away from under his feet. “You have known this since we were kids together Mary ... Please don't take my dream away. I'll do anything to prove it.”

I was satisfied. His response had been genuine but I pushed the discussion on. “I want Gregg to consummate our marriage, and we should honeymoon as a trio. What do you think?”

“You're asking your slave Mistress?”

“I'm asking my future husband - cuckold.”

“Consummation by your Lover is only to be expected by a cuckold, Mistress,” Mark said after just a second’s consideration, “but are you sure you want me on your honeymoon?”

“Our honeymoon, Mark,” I said to correct him.

“I thought we could go to Cancun for a week,” said Gregg to us both, “the three of us in a hotel suite. My treat. A few days in the sun. Stuffing ourselves with enchilada, guacamole, and tacos. Do you like Mariachi bands Mark?”

Mark looked interested at this proposal and replied, “I have been to Mexico before Master. Liked the weather! Liked the food! The music - not so much.”

We laughed at his highly specific reply and continued to talk and laugh together like the three friends we had become. There was still that hierarchy of Master, Mistress, and cuckold in our relationships but we were now very comfortable in each other's company; so much so that Mark was happy to lay face up on the big comfortable bed to welcome my bare pussy down onto his face while Gregg eased his thick and heavy penis deep into me.

It was a delightful afternoon I spent looking down at Mark's pretty little cage which I could discern the gentle wobbling of his engorged penis in time to Gregg's hard thrusts into my welcoming vagina. In those moments the sensations of coitus caused so much pleasure and happiness within me, I knew that my fiancée's tongue would be working overtime on Gregg's heavy testicles and hot hard manhood, as well as my own clitoris and labia - and was not wrong. The moment that I could sense my Lover's imminent release of his seed into me, I could feel Mark’s tongue increase in its speed and attention to both of our sensitive parts.

Gregg's ejaculation was loud, prolonged, and prolific; spurt after spurt erupted from his manly member deep into my vagina as I climaxed again and again from the sexual thrill of penetration and Mark’s frenetic tongue.

I lay on Mark in that post coital state of collapse that all well-loved Women feel after her Lover’s completion inside her. I could not see, but I was aware that my fiancée's tongue was sweeping up and down Gregg’s long manhood just by the movement of his head against my thighs, which, I had brought together so as to trap him in what I considered to be his first ‘cuckold’s embrace’. After receiving due homage from our cuckold, Gregg moved away from behind me and, stretching out on the bed beside me, looked over at me still breathing heavily onto Mark's penis restraint.

“Finish the job Mary,” Gregg said.

I didn't understand what he was saying immediately, but when he gestured for me to sit up I knew that he had Mark's wellbeing in mind; and the groan of pleasure from beneath me as my sticky labia settled down over his mouth told me that my little cuckold was having a really, perverted, depraved, and very nice time as Gregg’s seed oozed down his throat.

“Grind him!”

I now fully understood the sexual inclinations of my future husband and knew what to do, even before Gregg’s suggestion. I was a young nubile woman with a flexible waist and rounded bottom that I immediately rotated, thus sweeping my labia, clitoris, and vaginal opening onto Mark's face. With each rotation more of my Lover's sticky seed was rubbed into our cuckold’s face while at the same time I increased my pressure downwards.

After a minute or so of my humiliating use of my fiancée face as an instrument of pleasure and demeaning I thought it would be a good idea to check on Mark. “Are you okay down there Mark? Shall I continue?”

“Please don't stop Mistress,” he replied – his voice shaking with passion, “I'm loving this.”

"I'm loving this."

But Mark was not the only one ‘loving this'. My clitoris was ‘loving’ the attentions of his tongue, while the end of his nose served as a soft, warm stimulant as I swept my pussy backwards and forwards across his face. After every two or three sweeps I would bring my groin down hard onto his face to remind him who was boss; not that he needed reminding because after a few minutes of my happy gyrations on my fiancée's face, Gregg raised himself and knelt astride Mark's thighs and started to kiss me again.

I looked down to make sure that Mark was okay and all I could see of my happy little cuckold was my Lover's thick member lying across his stocking tops and alongside his caged penis that was now leaking his own seminal fluid into his panties. And Mark could feel the presence of Gregg's manhood resting on his most sensitive and intimate part of his body.

I felt Mark's arms, that hitherto had remained trapped and unmoving, move against my legs as he eased his hands up towards his groin. I relaxed my grip on his arms immediately so he could explore the pleasurable sensations that remained out of his vision (my pussy being hard down on his face at the time). Instinctively his hands found Gregg's member, and with tenderness born of affection he caressed the long tube of flesh with what could only be described as a form of homage to the better man. And Gregg kissed me more deeply and harder because of it.

Sexual pleasure always causes a reaction, and Gregg is no different. As we kissed and held each other while Mark continued his delightful attentions, I could feel the thickening and hardening roll of meat move and grow. Mark’s gentle fondling was now full length stroking of his big pink rod as it stood vertical and ready for its penetration of me – and I couldn't wait.

I shifted my position by sliding my body down so Mark's caged penis lie between my bottom cheeks and my head was supported be Mark’s that was turned to one side – I was lying face up on top of my fiancée with my legs open ready for Gregg's welcome entrance. And Gregg, as always, did not disappoint.

Until that night, Mark had not felt the power of Gregg's muscular build, the strength of his thrusting, or the stamina of an accomplished Lover. But by the time Gregg emptied himself into my ever receptive body, he knew.

He knew just why I was passionately in love with my gorgeous Lover and why he could never match up to Gregg's manliness. And it was yet another verification of his cuckolding that would sit alongside his penis cage, his feminization, the wearing of Gregg's ring on the same finger as his engagement ring, his slave collar, attending our mating, cleaning duties, fellating Master, and last but not least – the forthcoming wedding that would establish his position in our marriage. And as Gregg's seed flowed out of me onto Mark's caged penis, testicles, and stockings he thanked me and told me that he loved me.

“I love you too,” I replied, as Gregg lifted me up to slide back and sit on Mark's face again.

The weeks that followed were the happiest that, until then, I had ever known. Gregg and I continued our love affair by working hard in the morning at work and going back to his apartment in the afternoon. We travelled too – a mid-week business meeting in Seattle and a delightful three days in Rome where the Italian passion seemed to rub off on my Lover. I shall always remember Gregg’s intense ardour, matched by my own, on our visit to the Eternal City; he was rampant and slid his lovely big cock into me again and again – taking me in every way shown in the Kama Sutra. ‘Rampant Rome’ is now seared into my mind as one of the most wonderful times of my life – they tell me that the city is quite nice too.

Rampant Rome is now
seared into my mind ...

At each return, Mark would be there waiting for us, ready to serve his Mistress and Master; eager to join us in our bedroom as little by little we cemented our loving three cornered bonding. Even then, I looked for the slightest hint of a lessening of enthusiasm for his submission, but I saw none; and when asked, Gregg found none either – if anything, his devotion to us both showed an even greater zealousness in those lovely nights when he attended to Gregg's enjoyment of his fiancée. In this happy time, his tongue cleaned me, and the head of my Lover's member passed his lips and down his throat  many times, and much did his tiny penis swell inside its little cage.

Mom was as good as her word, and had made all the arrangements for the wedding. Flowers for the church, the venue for the Reception, catering, transport, invitations, and even accommodation for guests etc.; and then there was the dress. It was a picture of white silk that shimmered in the light, while at the same time offering a discrete view of the upper cleavage of my breasts that my husband would only enjoy in a very limited way, but Gregg would whenever he wanted – because they belonged to him.

The fitting of the dress was a purely female affair with me standing on a low stool while Mom and Jenny pulled the dress about, put pins into the material, pulled pins out again, told me to turn through 180 degrees with yet more pins clamped between their teeth. It was lovely that Jenny had returned back into my life, those wild parties at her parents house were still happy memories for me. Jenny had married the year before to her long-time Boyfriend, Eric, but was now enjoying a passionate relationship with a tall, beautiful, and, according to her, well-hung Ethiopian refugee. From our conversations it appeared that Mark and Eric had a lot in common, and that Gregg had been right all along; cuckolding of husbands was far more common in our town than would be admitted in polite society. Maybe it is everywhere?

Maybe it is everywhere?

The morning of the wedding was a bright sunny day and I had stayed at my Mother's house overnight. I had risen early and, before eating a good breakfast, had rung Gregg to make sure that the arrangement we had made was still on. “I shall collect from your Mother's at twelve sharp and bring you to my apartment,” he said, “that will give us two hours to finish dressing you and get you to the church.”

“And?” Was my response.

He laughed happily before he replied. “We give our friend what he wants.”

“You are incorrigible!”

Gregg laughed again and rung off.

In the interests of decency, I had an old coat on over my white wedding lingerie as I climbed into Gregg's Maserati. With the dress wrapped in pink tissue paper on the very small rear seat of the vehicle, we drove from my Mother's past the recently purchased new house where Mark and I would live together by the lakeside, and stopped outside my Lover's apartment.

“Nervous?” Gregg asked me, as I spread the lustrous white garment carefully on the bed.

I knew that there were many ways this important day in my and Mark’s lives could ‘go south' but I knew that Mark wanted this new life as much as I. Finally I understood what made my ‘husband to be’ tick and my answer was an honest response to the question billions of brides had been asked since the very first wedding – ever.

“No! -You?”

“A little.”

This was a surprise to me and I felt touched that the other man I loved so passionately should suddenly feel anxious; but I couldn't help having just a little fun at his expense.

“What? Are you telling me that my big strong Lover has got the jitters?” I said as I wrapped my arms around his neck and pressed my breasts, encased in a pretty white Basque, against his chest.

His lips were on my own almost immediately with a long and lingering kiss of gentleness and tenderness. With the coat I had been wearing in his car now hanging on a nearby hook I was in my thin and delicate underwear as his lips moved down to my neck to kiss me just below my left ear - one of my erogenous zones. Again, as always, I was putty in his hands as the top two hooks of the Basque were unclipped thus allowing my breasts to poke out like two eager little puppies from the top. And he wasted no time in fastening his mouth on my left nipple while kneading my right breast with his strong manly hands.

Already, I was a trembling wreck with all sense of time and modesty gone. I wanted Gregg's big hard rod inside me so I was barely conscious of falling back on his big bed alongside my wedding dress. He was still kissing my breasts as, with one hand, he roughly pulled the crotch of my panties aside to slide his finger along my slit. I knew it was me who unzipped his pants and released his hardening member but I couldn't remember doing so afterwards. But then my wish came true as he positioned himself between my legs and slid his beautiful big cock inside me – right up to the hilt.

He played me like I was a Stradivarius. A master at his craft like the finest violinist he brought the very best out of me - with each stroke I gave myself further and further to his pleasure. My legs could not have been wider for him, my lips could not have been softer and yielding to his mastery, my breasts could not have bounced more enchantingly, and his big manhood that ploughed my Womanly tunnel could not have been more welcome inside me. I was very much his pretty young Mistress on that bed, and he was very much my Master; and we both knew the purpose of our loving that wonderful afternoon, while across the other side of town, as he made himself ready to become my husband, Mark did too.

Like the accomplished Lover he was, Gregg took us to a place just below the heights of final orgasm for us both, only to draw back from the ecstatic finish and then drive us both forward again to completion. Four, maybe five times (maybe more), he took us to the edge, only to retreat back to a comfortable rhythm that had me mewling, gasping, and groaning in sexual fervour. My mind had gone – all I could see above me was Gregg's dear face - handsome but concentrated on making me the happiest bride in the whole of Canada.

Finally the moment approached to complete our physical and emotional bonding. It was clear that Gregg's sexual brinkmanship was nearing its end and the release of his seed into my body was imminent. Harder thrusting from his hips with increasing speed and length of the penetration of his cock into my enveloping vagina was driving me to an orgasm of fierceness that had me screaming for release in words that would make a dockworker blush.

“Come! ..... Come! ..... Come in me my Love,” I shouted into his ear.  “All of it! Fill me!”

And fill me he did. His lovely, long, and thick pole jumped and kicked inside me as a long drawn out groan emanated from deep within Gregg's chest. Each spasm of his manhood spurted stream after stream of semen  into me causing me to pass out momentarily because of intense euphoric physical and emotional feelings. And then Gregg collapsed on top of me.

“My God, that was wonderful. You're wonderful!” He managed to say in my ear after he had caught his breath.

“I love you,” I said in response.

We stayed locked together in that lovely post coital tranquillity that is always the reward for good and active sex, that is until I looked at the alarm clock by the bed.

Gregg rolled off me and I leaped from the bed to make my way to the dressing table to fix my hair, reapply my makeup, and put on a pair of more substantial panties than those Gregg had ripped to one side as he had entered me.

He was already dressed and looking smart by the time I had rebuilt my appearance and slid into my wedding dress that, miraculously, had escaped our thrashing and bumping on the bed.

I turned my back to Gregg, who then slid the zipper up and secured the little clasp. He turned me around, kissed me on the cheek, told me he loved me, and we made our way down the stairs of his apartment block to the waiting Rolls Royce. We sat together in silence and I was touched that Gregg was playing the part of the ‘male benefactor’  - he even asked me if I wanted to change my mind.

“No way!” I responded – laughing, “I couldn't do that to my Mark.”

We were fashionably late at the church, but only by two minutes. As Gregg and I walked up the aisle to where Mark stood waiting I saw my family, friends, and some of my closer work colleagues. Jenny was there, with Eric to one side of her, and her tall Ethiopian the other; even in that fleeting moment of view I could tell that my old friend was ‘accompanied' by her husband, but by her body language it was obvious to all that she was ‘with’ her Black Lover in every way.

Mark looked at me and smiled as I arrived at the altar beside him. He raised his eyebrows in question and I nodded slightly in response; he knew that I had come to him from Gregg's bed and his seed was still in my body. Mark's face grew red, and we turned to face the Reverend Galbraith. Martin's smile was welcoming and friendly, with a hint of complicity in his kind intelligent eyes, Suzanne’s smile, on the other hand, was contented as she turned the music sheets for Ramone who played the organ – no doubt that Ramone had been gentle with her, now that his seed had started to grow inside her – their love for each other was like a golden glow that surrounded them.

... a golden glow ...

It seems so trivial now, but as I looked up at this kind churchman who was going to conduct the most important moment of my life, I suddenly felt the floor beneath me move. ‘What if Mark has been playing Gregg and me along?’ I thought, feeling a cold sweat run down my spine. ‘What if he was to denounce me as a cruel and heartless cheating fiancée in front of my family, friends, work colleagues, and Gregg. Surely, he wouldn't do that. Not my lovely Mark.’

My head was swimming with the occasion and those terrible worrisome thoughts, so I barely heard the address by Martin and the vows being read, or the question of Mark being asked by Martin. All I heard was Mark say those two little words that bind a Man to a Woman – “I do!”

After the service Gregg confirmed that the ‘forsaking all others‘ part of the vow had been retained for Mark, but at that moment I didn't care. All I knew was that Mark had committed himself to me and our new life together, and I loved him for it.

I knew that I was smiling with relief (everybody in the congregation except Mark, Gregg, and Mom thought it to be radiant happiness) as Martin spoke the amended vow to me. He, as promised, had excluded  the vow of faithfulness and as he did so he maintained a watchful eye on my fiancée to make sure that he was understanding the implications of his words. Mark, effectively, had vowed to be a faithful husband whereas I would be affirming that I would be his Wife, but free to find love outside of my marriage.

I let Martin say the words, “Do you Mary ***** , take Mark ... (etc.) ...”I do!”

Mark's brother (Jeremy) had the small delicate ring and passed it Mark who, looking down at my hand, took in the sight of Gregg's missing ring. His brow furrowed as he looked at me questioningly, he had expected to see my Lover's ring on my marriage finger, but it wasn't there – I smiled back at him, giving nothing away. His wedding ring was a thick gold band that I slid onto his own finger.

That was it. We were a couple, and I was now a married Woman – married to my cuckold fiancée Mark who within just a few hours I would transition to a cuckolded husband. But not yet awhile, because we had further business to conclude.

“I now declare you to be husband and Wife,” Martin said to us both , and loud enough for the congregation to hear. Then quietly he indicated us to move to the Registry behind the altar.

Martin, who had been ‘all business' as he had recited the marriage address and vows in front of us and the congregation was now the friendly happy man who we had learned to like immensely as he brought us into the small formal office where the administration is carried out.

“If you would care to sign the open register as witnesses please? Your names are already in the columns,” he said to Gregg and Jeremy. “And then we can address the next matter on our agenda.”

Although Jeremy had been told of our three cornered relationship, he would not be included in the next ceremony, he therefore smiled, shook Mark and Gregg's hand, kissed me on the cheek, and then left the Registry.

Martin, still with his vestments on, reached for a thick pamphlet from the nearby book shelf and asked us to stand before him – with me in the, middle.

“My Dear and lovely new friends,” he said, “you will recall our talk just a few weeks ago. Please recall that our Church does not recognize the Polyamorous relationship in law, but are sympathetic to that arrangement should the local clergy consider the love of all three, or more, to be genuine. As I have some experience of such a relationship, I was, and still are, convinced that you truly care for each other. So we shall continue with the loving dedication.”

I reached out to hold the hand of my new husband and my Lover as Martin continued while referring to the printed sheet in his hand.

“We are here today to celebrate the love that Gregg, Mary, and Mark have for each other, and to recognize their decision to journey forward in their lives together. While you are separate individuals, you walk along one path together. Your every gesture, word, expression, and action, and those you withhold or omit, will determine the quality of your experience together. It is through loving, kindness, caring, and sharing that a successful bond is created. A good relationship takes patience, dedication, humour, and forgiveness. You keep your love alive through the choices you make moment by moment, day after day, and year after year. Through practice, you learn how to love yourselves and each other with devotion and freedom.”

The three of us were struck breathless by the beauty and formality of the words. Although non-religious they felt equal to that solemn undertaking Mark and I had just made in front of the altar, but Martin wasn't finished.

Turning to Gregg, he said “Gregg, do you take Mary and Mark to be your lifelong partners, to cherish them always, to honour and sustain them, in sickness and in health, in poverty and in wealth, until death alone shall part you?”

It was clear to me that Gregg had been ready for the question, and his response was immediate. “I do,” he said confidently.

The same words were repeated to Mark who also seemed ready for the question, and his “I do!” was as assured as Gregg's had been.

“Now Mary,” he said, smiling over his glasses to look into my eyes that were now vet wet with emotion, “do you take ....”

“I do!”

All three men in that room laughed at my interruption of the polyamorous vow, but Martin was kind in his response. “I need to finish Mary, and then you can respond.”

“Sorry!”

“That's alright Mary. Now let's start again.”

He said the words and I replied, “I do!” And my men and I were now a ..... what?

A Triple? – No!

A Trio? – No!

A Threesome? – Erh, probably not!

A Throuple? – Definitely not!

“So what are we now Martin?” I asked.

Our intelligent and kindly Reverend knew exactly what I was asking and said, “Don't bother with ‘Trio’ or any other such clumsy definitions Mary. But how does ‘Our loving family’ sound?”

“Perfect!” we all exclaimed in unison.

The Reverend put hands together as if in prayer and, turning to Mark, said, “Now for your declaration Mark.”

Mark nodded.

“For the last time young man, I am going to ask you if this life of a subordinate and chaste husband is the one you desire. Like marriage itself, it is not a life that should be entered lightly and requires the highest degree of devotion, not only to your new Wife, but also to the man who she has chosen as her mating partner. Do you understand?”

“I understand,” Mark responded confidently.

“And Mark, you do know that this little ceremony has no legal standing but it does serve as a solemn moment of commitment by you to Mary and Gregg. It is a voluntary statement, in front of witnesses, and attested to in this special ledger that records all such departures from the customary marriage,” Martin said; and then, with a wry smile. “Whatever that may be.”

His little aside broke the heavy solemness from the moment and we all began to relax.

“Oh! And one more thing,” Martin said, “we never, ever refer to this vow as the ‘Cuckold’s Contract’, or any other such epithets.”

I hid the grin on my face with a light cough into my white gloved hand; likewise Gregg found the large brass orb hanging from the ceiling of sudden immense interest. Whereas Mark had his serious, almost devout, face - staring unblinking into Martin's benign expression. The Reverend, satisfied that Mark was genuine, flicked the pages of the pamphlet until he reached the section relating to Polyamory, and sub section ‘Acquiescent Partner – Affirmation’.

“My Dear friend Mark,” Martin said, no longer smiling, “I have four simple questions to ask you.”

Mark nodded, with eyes still fixed on Martin.

“Do you accept the hierarchy of this polyamorous relationship between your new Wife, Mary and Gregg?”

“I do!”

“Then do you recognize Gregg Jorgensen as your Master and his right to mate with Mary?”

“I do!”

“Do you acknowledge Mary's ascendancy over you as your dominant Mistress?”

“I do! .... I always have!”

Martin raised an eyebrow at this response, but continued anyway.

“And finally, do you now renounce all claims of manliness and to live the life of a chaste , emasculated, but dutiful and caring husband to your Wife and submissive personal servant to your Master?”

“I do!”

“Then congratulations on your new lives together my dear children,” Martin said as he closed the pamphlet and shook Mark's hand. “Now go and share the good news with your friends and family.”

Mark, Gregg, and I walked down the aisle of that church so that everybody knew that it had been a cuckold wedding. My Mom of course, Mark's Mom and brother, friends of Gregg and I from work, Mark's friends from his work. All who knew us and loved us were there on the first day of my marriage to Mark and Gregg's commitment to me.

The Wedding Reception in a nearby hotel was as wonderful and as awful as most receptions can be. The meal was sumptuous, the drink flowed, the speeches were fatuous, and the two families kept themselves to themselves. We danced, we laughed and made small talk, but all the while all that we wanted was to be naked together in the privacy of Gregg's bedroom.

Eventually, we retired to a room in the hotel where my lovely new cuckold husband was allowed to carry out the duty he had been longing to do since I stood beside him that morning.

... to carry out the duty ...

Cancun was a revelation. Or more to the point, the La Hotel Poliamor was a small discrete establishment that catered for varying lifestyles, including our own. Why do I say this? Because there were other ‘three cornered' groups like us - of varying complexity staying at the hotel. In amongst the married, and not so married couples, there were two groups, that we mischievously referred to as ‘Standard Poly' (two pretty girls and a handsome middle rich aged man), there was the group that we referred to as the ‘Inter-Poly’ (big black man, another man's wife, and her hubby), and us – the ‘Polyandrics'. And nobody stood in judgement, or looked down upon, and best of all – we could all be ourselves. Mark was especially grateful that his position in our relationship was deemed as unremarkable in that remarkable hotel.

The beach was private, but long enough for sunbathers to have a large enough area to themselves without imposing on fellow guests. The suite was sumptuous with a separate bedroom for Mark where, after attending to our needs, he would spend the rest of the night asleep. Gregg and I saw a lot of our own bedroom and the large soft bed saw a lot of action between my muscular handsome Master and me.

Mom had made our new home ready for our return and, after a sarcastic comment on our lack of a suntan, Mark and I settled down to the first day of our version of a normal married life.

Monday back at work saw Gregg and I running over the business we had missed during the honeymoon in the morning, then in the afternoon with my pretty ankles locked together on his back as he powered his beautiful member deep into my young body. Mark joined us later and we carried on as a Master, Mistress, and a feminized cuckold should until the evening when my husband and I left to spend the rest of the night in our house by the lake. Weekends meant parties, friends, Gregg in our marriage bed and a wonderful increase in emotional understanding between us. This, anything but dull, routine would set the pattern of our three lives for over the next two decades, as we grew older and more and more comfortable in each other's lives.

 

Epilogue

Of Mark, I had never held any doubt of his love for me but for many years I waited for that moment when he would say ‘Stop! I want my manliness back'; but he never did. The more humiliation he took, the more he desired; his interpretation of ‘femming up’ became more and more sophisticated and had to be strenuously dissuaded from spending a large amount of money to have a symbolic surgical emasculation.

“It's not about the money,” I remember yelling at him.

“There's no need. You're perfect as you are,” Gregg had said, stifling a laugh, as Mark had stood before us in one of his best cuckold outfits.

... Mark had stood before us ...

I have thought on Mark's sexual proclivities many times over the years, and have always felt a profound sense of ‘belonging’ with him, not only after we became a couple as young teenagers but as childhood friends. After some reading on the matter, I have concluded that he has always been a sexual masochist, albeit a harmless one, who had understood his psychological condition from a very early time in his teens. On my part, I have instinctively always known that Mark was different to other men, so I was always careful not to give him cause to feel abandoned by me; cheated upon of course, but I never gave him cause to think that I was leaving him emotionally or physically. And I never have – even when we decided that my biological clock was ticking.

I was nearly twenty five when, one night after a particularly happy afternoon with the three of us and a nice meal, Gregg had commented that I looked distracted. Just a few days earlier I had met Jenny and Eric in the town shopping mall with their two small children, both of whom it was clear had been fathered by her Ethiopian Lover. And it was just that small and delightful meeting that had me looking back at both my Lover and my husband with little tears glistening my eyes.

Mark and Gregg, by that time, were joint experts in all things ‘Mary' and guessed immediately just what was unsettling me. They glanced at each other and nodded in that unspoken rapport that two men with the same interest can have, but it was Gregg who said the words that changed our lives, again. “Do you want a child Mary?”

“Yes!”

Of course I wanted a child. But would there be a problem with Mark? But then I remembered what he had said that night as I had got out of the car. “You do know, don't you Mary, that you don't need my permission to start a family,” he had said to me – even then he had foreseen the day that I would want to grow a baby in my womb.

We waited until after my next period, during which Mark took my birth control pills and, with some ceremony, he popped each one out of its retaining bubble and flushed them all down the lavatory. And then he stood aside as Gregg took me to our bedroom to make love with a new purpose, to impregnate his Wife while he knelt by the bed to share in the moment. Suffice to say that my husband attended many such moments before I ‘missed' my period and placed the little plastic tester before him, thus confirming that another man had put a baby in his Wife.

George joined us the following year squawking and crying with the indignity of birth as both Gregg and Mark gazed at the miracle unfolding before them. Two years later Theresa Marie joined her big brother in our happy and loving family: and that was just what we had become – three people who loved each other.

Our love-life, especially in the early years of the children’s lives, continued in much the same way as before except we now had the funds to provide nursery care for them.

Gregg and I still made love regularly and Mark, even with his hair now turning grey, still delighted in my intimate grinding on his face.

... still delighted ...

It was late 2016 when Gregg, with a light but persistent cough, went to the doctors who then sent my gorgeous Lover for tests that came back positive for lung cancer. For a man who had never smoked a cigarette, pipe, or cigar in his life, this was a terrible shock. Whereupon reality decided to visit our hitherto happy household.

Gregg's health deteriorated during 2017 while Mark and I nursed him as best we could until he went into hospital for the last treatment, and stayed there. Gregg passed away in the February of 2018 and I and Mark (yes Mark) wept many bitter tears at his funeral. We missed the man we had both loved in our individual ways and supported each other in our grief, growing even closer, which I am sure Gregg would have approved of.

Unsatisfied with hurting us badly, the following year fate brought us the horror of Covid, as swathes of people in our little town succumbed to that filthy virus. Unsurprisingly, I felt little need for a Lover, or even love itself other than that given by my Son and Daughter, both of whom I profoundly love.

Happily, life has a way of resetting, and it was Mark who told me that an old friend of ours was now back in town, having recently parted from his Wife.

“I saw Scott today Mary,” he said, “and he asked after you.”

“Really?” I asked, trying hard to conceal the sudden thumping in my chest.

“He says that he still thinks about you.”

“That's nice!”

He looked for confirmation of interest in my eyes, and found it. “He says that he would like to take you out for a drink,” he said.

I knew what this meant and the preceding three years had been hard on me. I had missed the feel of a man's penetration and wanted to feel it again.

... wanted to feel it again.

“Do you mean a date?” I asked.

“Yes!”

“That would be nice.”

“I'll help you dress Dear,” Mark said, with a happy smile on his pretty cuckold’s face.