The bride, Bonnie, is losing her virginity, but not to the groom.

A Bride, a Groom, a hung Bellhop, compliments of the house.

NOTE: This work contains material not suitable for anyone under eighteen (18) or those of a delicate nature. This is a story and contains descriptive scenes of a graphic sexual nature. This book is purely a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously—any resemblance to actual persons, whether living, deceased, actual events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.

They were young; Bonnie and Lewis Hansen married a year out of high school. Virgins who’d saved themselves for marriage. After the wedding, the couple went to the Grand Place hotel. Her father had champagne and bourbon waiting for them in their room, with a note, “To oil the exploration of your first communication.”

When they entered the room, the twenty-something black bellboy showed them the special gifts, lingerie, various lubricants, a gourmet dinner, and the booze the bride’s father provided. The attendant acted as server, toaster, and servant to the nervous newlyweds.

The couple ate as the black man gave the bride champagne and the groom shots of bourbon. Giving them a different toast each time, they ate some, drank more, and fell under the bellman’s control.

The bride, a tall, pasty, pale blonde-haired, blue-eyed stunner, and her new husband, a short, smallish fellow with brown hair and green eyes, had been an item since fifth grade. Having wanted no one but her, Lewis saved himself for has as she saved herself for him.

“What’s your name?” Lewis asked in a slow-motion, slurred sentence.

“Orlando.”

“You’re all right, Orlando.” Lewis held his glass of bourbon high in the air. “To Orlando, our friend.”

“To Orlando.”

The couple stood, clicked their glasses, and repeated in unison, “To Orlando.”

Slumping into his chair, Lewis rubbed his head. “I think I’m a li-li-little inobreated.”

“Inebriated,” she corrected him.

“Yeah, that too, I rec...,” he stopped, drank his glass dry, and sat it down. “Nother one, Orlando, if you doesn’t mind.”

“Yes, sir, I don’t mind one iota.” Orlando fills a glass to within a quarter inch of the brim. Walking over, he takes the rocks glass away and gives Lewis the tumbler. “Drink up, Mr. Hansen, and I’m gonna give your bride a whirl.”

“A whirl?”

As Orlando turned on some music, “Dance, Mr. Hansen, sir. Mind if the little lady and I dance?”

“Go a-a-ahead, Orlando, and steal a k-ki-kiss while you’re dan-dan-dancing.”

“Sure ‘nuff will, sir. Might turn intimate for her and me.” Holding his hand to Bonnie, “Mrs. Bonnie, will you honor me with this dance?”

“I will,” she said, a devilish twinkle in her eyes. While she had a light buzz, Bonnie Hansen wasn’t drunk or even close to it. She put her pale hand in his, noticing the pale pink of his palm and the jet-blackish blue of the back of his hand.

At first, they danced apart, but with each step, he drew her closer to him. Soon, their bodies were touching. Standing five feet ten and a half inches in her stocking feet and sporting six inches heels, she still could not look him in the eye. A swell of relief washed over her as they danced together.

Her head fell sideways; her head rested on his chest, as if she was laying her head down to sleep. She gazed up at him, looking into his dark brown eyes like two topaz gems placed in an ebony marble statue.

Her heart burned in turmoil; pulled between two worlds. On one hand, the promises of love she had made to her husband, years of denying their unchecked attraction, pulled her one way. Yet the passion she now experienced for this mysterious man was undeniable. She had vowed to save herself for her wedding night. And yet here she was, torn between her morals and a yearning lust. What should she do? Follow her desire, or stay true to the one who had been by her side all along?

How could she be so devoted to one person, yet make love with another on her wedding night?

“Kiss her,” Lewis insisted. Lewis didn’t know it, but this invitation was a mistake.

They stopped, and he lowered his head to her, lips touched, soft, brushing together.

“Yeah, Orlando, make it a hot one.”

As the couple pressed their lips together, her pent-up emotions and lust erupted inside Bonnie. Tongues met in the warm wet orifices, twirling and exploring as an iniquitous desire grew. Her heart raced, her mind swam, and craving deep in her, harassed her as she moistened.

The kiss went on and on as though it had no end. He tasted of bourbon and mint, with a hint of something else she could not place. His arms were firm around her waist and his body was a furnace that radiated heat like a raging fire in winter’s darkness.

Finally, he pulled away, leaving Bonnie gasping with pleasure and the pain of the abrupt end. But when she looked into his eyes, all she saw was kindness. His lips were still wet from their kiss, but he said nothing. And she pressed herself back to him.

Once again, he kissed her. Pulling her tighter to himself.

While Lewis was naïve, he was also thick-headed. He whistled and hooted his approval.

The embrace continued, and the kiss turned to kisses while their hands explored one another’s bodies. Turning her back toward her husband, Orlando unbuttoned the back of her wedding dress, twisting one button after another down the back until he’d unbuttoned all of them.

Breaking the hug, he took her shoulders, guiding her to kneel. He looked over at her husband, then down to Bonnie.

Lewis sat there in shock. Unable to wrap his mind around his wife and Orlando’s passion. He had no idea why such passion erupted between the two. But he knew ignoring the passion between was no longer possible. The two of them were now connected in ways that he couldn’t deny.

“What do you want, for Christ’s sake?” she said. “I’m...,” he put his finger to her mouth.

“Shush, ma’am. Mr. Hansen, sir, you tell her what her man wants.”

“Oh, my god, Orlando, what? Come on, that’s not cool.” Thinking his inebriation had passed, Lewis Hansen stood up, took a step, and fell flat on his face. Crawling around the table’s corner, Lewis moved toward them like a drunken tortoise. “We, neither of us, have done anything sexual. We’ve been saving ourselves for each other.”

Aroused by his domineering presence and the raw power of his masculine spirit, Bonnie’s desired to learn the art of lovemaking from such a man. The fire in his eyes burned brighter than the feckless love in her doormat, weakling husband’s gaze. Shifting her stare from the love of her life, the consistently playable man-child, she married and gazed at the full-grown man standing above her.

“Listen to me, Mr. Hansen, sir, you’re a soft man. Tender and loving, that’s the ticket for a man to support his woman. But the woman needs a hard case, a tough man, for fucking. Why, Hansen, you’d have to agree. She requires a lusty man, less tender and more driven than you, for her sensual predisposition.”

“You never kissed me the way he kissed me, Lew,” she said, looking at him sternly. “When we kiss, my love, it’s like you’re afraid of hurting me.” She shifted her gaze once again to the man who towered over her. “What do you want, sir?”

“Tell her what I want her to do.”

“You tell her,” he slurred, while fighting to hold his tears.

“No, you need to give your permission. Son, a person’s life has a gazillion trials and triumphs. Some are trivial. Having no meaning. You forget ‘em in a day or less. Other things, like this one, you remember the rest of your life. Since you’re gonna be stuck remembering this forever, best decide what this memory will be for you. Accept your fate, enjoy watching what I do to her, and this will be something you’ll cherish. Maybe I’ll let you help if only, a mite.”

Never had Lewis imagined, much less seen, his wife in someone else’s arms. He rose unsteadily, walking towards the sofa, collapsed onto it. With a heavy heart, he tried to process the words Orlando had spoken. A barrage of emotions, some familiar and some unidentifiable, swirled inside.

In a drunken stupor, Lewis was confused, hurt, and excited. All the while, a deep sense of inadequacy hounded him. Fierce emotions and unknown desires stirred within him, leaving him overwhelmed. The shame ate him, he so wanted to see this man fuck his wife.

“Y-yo-you u-un-understand, Bonnie, what he w-wa-wan-wants,” Lewis said. “A blow job. Do you want to suck him off?”

“Don’t know how.”

“Y-yo-you don’t n-ne-need to know,” Lewis slurred his words, stuttering through, “He’ll t-te-teach you. Da-da-do you w-wa-wan-want to?”

“Stop that baby stuttering,” Bonnie snapped at him. “Yes, I want to do whatever he wants me to do. God, you’ve always been so weak.” Stopping herself, Bonnie ended before she said something she had always wanted to say. Contrary to her desire to hurt him, she held her tongue.

Lewis tottered up to his feet, tripping a few times on his way to the bottle of bourbon. Gazing out the window at the city’s lights, stretching to infinity, he wondered if he’d brought this on himself. Inside himself, in the place where he guarded his darkest secrets, he’d always wanted to watch her get fucked. Only at this moment had he realized the truth.

“Lewis, honey, if you aren’t going to try to stop this from happening, you need to watch it. As pathetic as you’ve always been, yielding to my desire for anything, everything, you need to watch a man use me who knows how to use a woman.”

“I can’t be like him,” he said. “The aggression, confidence, or manliness required to stop a man like him. Sweetheart, I don’t have those qualities.”

“Lewis, I told you to watch.”

Turning, he moved back toward them. “From where?”

The anger burning in her gut was almost too much to bear, and all at once, she exploded with her instructions.

“Strip, squat, drink, and watch. Lewis, I swear if you so much as think of touching yourself, I’ll make sure you regret it.”

Fuming, he ripped off his tuxedo coat and let it fall limply to the floor. He yanked off his bow tie and angrily unbuttoned his shirt, tossing it aside. His skin erupted in fine pimply bumps from the chill in the air. Then he kicked off his shoes and socks and quickly threw his pants and boxers behind him. Finally, he stood there in all his frail glory.

“Stop,” his wife said. “Put those fucking shorts back on.”

Retrieving the boxer shorts, he pulled them on and returned to the center of the room.

“When you do, jack off. You must cum inside them. Now squat.”

Dropping to his hunches, knees up, feet tucked underneath, Lewis rested his hands on his thighs, with his stiff dick forming a six-or-six-and-a-half-inch tent in his shorts. Although he wasn’t inadequate in the size department, he lacked manliness, confidence, or a desire to possess Bonnie. Preferring to be possessed by her.

Orlando gleaned all this from the conversation when Bonnie’s father set up their honeymoon package. He hadn’t intentionally purchased the cuckold experience. No, her father paid for this part of the package. But Orlando would have done this on the house.

Rubbing Orlando’s legs through his pants, she worked her way to his crotch. Her face turned to him, her eyes staring in loving adoration at his face. Without taking her eyes from his, she unzipped his pants, worked the black, semierect dick from them, opened her mouth, and hovered with the head, almost but not entirely, in her mouth.

While Orlando’s dick was only an inch longer and perhaps a tad more girth, their differences transcended more than mere inches in size. The package needed an operator, and Orlando knew how to use his on a woman.

“Go on, baby doll, fuck your own throat.”

“I don’t...,” she started.

“Figure out, little one,” Orlando turned his attention to Lewis. “Watch what a woman can do with a real man.”

Per-cum wet Lewis Hansen white boxers.

Twisting her head from side to side, Bonnie bobbed her mouth up and down the hardening cock, exploring each vein with her hot, agile tongue. Coaxing it further into her throat, she vacuumed every inch of him, never once removing her gaze from his commanding eyes. She felt herself belong to him, determined to fulfill his every need.

Bonnie’s head writhed in agonizing pleasure as the hard shaft of his cock rammed past her lips. Her tongue slithered around its veiny surface, her lips grappling with the black iron as her mouth moved up and down, devouring him balls deep. With each thrust, Bonnie quivered with electric pleasure, her pussy clenching and releasing in a maddening dance of desire. The fire in her eyes never wavered from her master’s gaze as she sucked with reckless abandon.

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