Wedding Night_(3)

MY WEDDING NIGHT

“I LOVE YOU!” My husbands, of 9 hours, slurred, as he proceeded to drunkenly slide down the hotel sofa, and fall asleep.
My wedding day had been everything that I had ever wished for; it was my 19th birthday, the weather was warm and dry, my dress made me feel like a princess, and the flowers in the church looked absolutely wonderful.
Pete’s dad, Roger, said, “We’ll take him to bed, for you.” “Keith, grab an arm!” he shouted to his brother. They then dragged my husband through the hotel lounge, leaving me to say goodnight, and apologise, to the last few of our guests.
Pete had been drinking since breakfast, and the champagne, wine and beer had finally taken its toll. When he was this drunk, Peter would sleep like a baby, until 10 or 11 o’clock in the morning.
“Where do you want him?” Roger asked, as the four of us, entered the bridal suite. “On the bed, I suppose,” I replied.
After they had, unceremoniously, dropped him onto the bed, Keith asked, “Should I undress him?”
“I suppose so.” I replied.
Roger was divorced from Peters’ mum. Leaving Peter to be brought up by his domineering mother, Linda. Peters’ dad and uncle are both six feet tall, with rugged good looks. Peter looks more, like his mother, small, thin and very pretty.
I was sitting on the sofa, feeling very sorry for myself, when Roger said, smiling, “I’m sorry, my dear, but, you’re going to be disappointed, on your wedding night.” He handed me a glass of champagne, from our bottle, next to the bed.
“Looking at the size of this cock, she’s going to be disappointed every night!” Keith shouted, as he undressed his nephew.
“Jesus Christ! My balls are bigger than that!” Roger laughed, as he bent over the bed for a closer look, at his son’s private parts.
Keith was; now, flicking Peters cock, from side to side, with his middle finger. I chuckled at the sight.
“I hope that he’s good with his tongue, ‘cos a little thing like that won’t satisfy a beautiful girl like you.” Roger said, looking me straight in the eye, smiling.
Shrugging my shoulders, I asked, “What do you mean?”
“You know…” and he wiggled his tongue.
“Oh, my God no!” I gasped, and held my hand up to my face to hide my embarrassment. By now Roger was sitting next to me. “You mean he’s never tasted your nectar, and made you scream like a banshee?” he quizzed me.
I shook my head, as I gulped down a mouthful of champagne.
“Never?”
Again I shook my head.
“I don’t believe it,” he addressed Keith, “If he doesn’t go down, on a gorgeous young girl like this, and that’s all he has,” pointing to Peters sad little cock, “she’ll be fucking anything that moves, before Christmas.”
Turning to me, he whispered, “Next, you’ll be telling us that he’s the only man that you’ve ever been fucked by.” I couldn’t believe what I was hearing, and was beginning to feel very uncomfortable, as I took another gulp of champagne. I nodded.
“You don’t think that all men are that size, do you?” They both laughed. Beginning to relax, I shrugged my shoulders.
It was true, Peter was my first real boyfriend, I had met him four years previously, when I was 15 and he was 19. We had, had sex a few times, during the last year, which I seemed to enjoy more than Pete.
When I first met Roger, I knew that he had a reputation with women, usually with young barmaids, which had caused the breakdown of his marriage. 10 years ago, he had one, too many affairs.
Unusually, his ex-wife, Linda, still had a soft spot for him, occasionally, letting him stay at her house, for long weekends. I’d only met him four times before today, as he lived at the other end of the country, and had always found him to be very friendly, but a little bit flirtatious.
Winking at his brother, he turned to face me. Suddenly, he started to unzip his fly, and pulled out his penis, it was about 7 inches long and as thick as my wrist. My eyes nearly popped out of my head, and my jaw fell open.
Laughing, out loud, he told me, “You can touch it, if you like.”
Tentatively I stroked it with one finger. When it jerked, I pulled my hand away. As I was staring at this magnificent object, it grew larger and harder, before my very eyes, until it was about 9 inches long, perhaps twice the size of my, new husbands. “Get a proper hold,” he whispered as he placed my hand back onto it. Again, I gently stroked it. The feeling was wonderful, as I wrapped my whole hand around the shaft.
“Grip it tighter and rub it faster,” he commanded, I did as I was told.
“What do you think?” Roger asked.
I couldn’t stop myself, “It’s so big, it’s wonderful.” I continued wanking him. I was in awe of this magnificent thing.
“If you think this is big, you should see his!” Both men laughed.
When I looked up Keith had removed his trousers, and was walking towards me, his cock was jutting out like a large cigar, dark in colour, and about 10 inches long, instinctively, I put my other hand out to hold it. Keith was longer, but slimmer than his brother was, and I immediately began wanking him, too.
My head was spinning, it was my wedding night, my new husband was naked, snoring and farting on our bed, but here I was wanking my father in law and one of his uncles.
Keith moved closer, “Put you tongue out,” I did, and he rubbed the tip of his cock along it, then around my ruby red lips.