Renewing Vows

This story was inspired by one of my filthy muses. It's romantic.

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"FUCK YOU, ASSHOLE!"

Lisa Baker threw the glass against the closed door. It struck and shattered with a satisfying crash. But she was still angry.

It was February 14th--Valentine's Day. Lisa and her husband Alan were supposed to renew their vows that afternoon. When they had gotten married, him an up-and-coming executive in his daddy's business, her a young aspiring actress fresh out of college, they had been in love. Or at least there had been a spark between them, which they hoped to fan into a bright flame. Sadly that hadn't happened, and over the years things had grown cold.

Alan ran his daddy's company now. Lisa's acting career never got off the ground; she had let it go by the wayside while Alan worked his way up the corporate ladder. Daddy never believed in nepotism—Lisa hadn't liked her father-in-law much, but the old man had principles. Alan was always working, and while he regularly took Lisa out it was always to further his climb to the top. Lisa had come to realize that she was little more than an accessory for Alan. She wasn't even a trophy wife or a status symbol.

Lisa hired personal trainers and sculpted her body into something as close to perfection as could be achieved on Earth. He didn't bat an eyelash. went back to school, earning an MBA in the hopes that would make her husband take her more seriously. It didn't work. But somewhere during this process she found out that she had a knack for business and finance. When she asked Alan for a bit of money to invest, he had laughed. So she took her monthly allowance and did it anyway, and soon she was making plenty of money on her own.

When Alan stepped into his father's shoes and took over the company, she thought things might change. And indeed for a while they did—Alan started sleeping with her again (something he was never particularly good at) and made it a point to go down on her every day (something he was very good at).

But at the same time, Alan seemed to lose his drive. Having accomplished his goals, he started to drift. Alan stopped working out and started delegating more work to his underlings. Lisa saw an opportunity, and starting buying up company stock using the money Alan gave her every month (she could have used her own money, but doing it this way appealed to her sense of irony). Alan didn't seem to notice as she accumulated more and more power. And when their renewal ceremony rolled around, she was, in fact, the majority shareholder. it gave her a little thrill to know that she could force the company to fire her husband if she wanted to.

On New Year's Eve, after a screaming public row, she gave him an ultimatum: either he would take her more seriously and treat her like a wife instead of as an accessory, or it was over. Alan promised to do just that and proposed that they renew their vows on Valentine's Day as a symbol of his new commitment to her.

Lisa was mollified by his promise, and Alan did improve over the next six weeks. They started sleeping together again (once a week on Thursdays) he made a number of little romantic gestures, like coming home with flowers or sending her loving texts and voice mails. And on the morning of the 14th, he decided to prepare for the first night of their second honeymoon. He scattered rose petals on and around the bed they shared, set aside an expensive bottle of champagne, and wrote a heartfelt note on a card, which he lay down on her pillow.

When Lisa saw all this, at around 10 in the morning, she melted a bit and decided to give Alan a treat of her own. Her own preparations took far less time to set up, and within a quarter-hour she called Alan to their bedroom to give him his gift.

What greeted Alan was something that should have made him fall on her like a rampaging beast. Lisa was always pretty, but years of effort had made her gorgeous. She stood before him, wearing only her veil and her bridal lingerie. Her brown hair hung down to the small of her back in an elaborate braid. Her aristocratic face was worthy of a portrait—her eyes wide and framed by long lush lashes, her elegant nose just so above her full red lips. Her body was worthy of a sculpture—her breasts were large and full and firm, without a hint of sag. Her waist was slender, and her hips flared out, giving her the classic hourglass figure. Her ass alone was the sort of thing that makes men write poetry, two luscious half-moons that simply begged to be kissed, bit, and spanked. And her legs were long and toned. Lisa didn't need makeup to be gorgeous, and she was wearing very little—just some lipstick, painting her lips a deep inviting crimson.

Her bridal lingerie had been chosen to enhance the effect. It was pure, pristine, virginal white, and it contrasted pleasantly with her dusky, olive skin. She was wearing a lacy half-bra that cupped her breasts like a lover's hands, pushing them up and together as if offering them up to be kissed and sucked and squeezed. Below that was an underbust corset that cinched her waist down even more, accentuating the dramatic curves of her hips and ass. Her hands and arms were covered up to the elbow in white lace gloves. A pair of thigh-high stockings and some tall stiletto heels highlighted her legs.

Completing the look was a tiny white thong covering her pussy. It split in the back to reveal a diamond-studded plug in her ass. Lisa had wanted to make today special, and so she was going to let Alan take her last virgin hole before the ceremony—and after, on their second honeymoon, whenever he wanted. But when she called him, and stood before him, hands clasped in front of her, to tell him what she was offering, he didn't immediately set on her as he should have. Instead he sighed and said, "Not right now. I've got to make a few phone calls to check in at the office," before leaving the room.

Hence the screamed profanity and the flying glassware. Hence the anger.

Lisa kept yelling at him. He windows were open, so her outburst drew some attention from the guests who had arrived early and the staff setting up the pavilion outside.

It also drew the attention of Erik Keller, one of her husband's old college buddies, now wealthy, mostly retired despite his relative youth, and married to one Emily Keller (formerly Emily Larson).

No one quite knew what Erik did, but persistent rumors suggested that he had an unsavory past. Some people thought he was a banker who had made his fortune early and gotten out of the game. Others thought he was a fighter of some kind; his scarred and rough knuckles certainly suggested that he'd had a wild and exciting youth. After someone had found a mugshot online of a man who might have been a younger version of him, the rumor spread that he was an ex-con. The wildest rumors were that Erik Keller had been a porn star who invested wisely and left the business.

Lisa and Erik had never officially met, though she'd seen him before. He was at her original wedding to Alan, but vanished early in the reception along with two of the bridesmaids. Alan sometimes told outlandish stories about Erik, and some of Lisa's girlfriends knew him, but they never quite crossed paths. Alan's stories suggested that Erik had been a ladies' man in college. Somehow—Alan never said how—he had met and married Emily Larson. Emily was sweet and kind, and she had great hair and a lovely personality. But she was also dumb as a post, a bit heavy, and more than a little prudish. Lisa's friends said he was handsome, with just a bit of roguish charm, and they speculated endlessly on why a man like him would marry a woman like Emily.

Erik had arrived early for the ceremony, where Lisa and Alan were to renew their vows, with his wife Emily in tow. Emily was off somewhere getting her hair done, but Erik was at the Bakers' house early, chatting amiably with old friends and enjoying the day. When he heard the crash of the glassware against the wall, he did what any friend would do and went to find out what was the matter.

As Erik ambled into the house and up the stairs, taking his time, Lisa looked at herself in the mirror. Lisa knew she was a walking wet dream, and if her husband has too wrapped up in himself to notice her, she'd just have to find someone else who could appreciate what she had to offer. She put on her wedding dress. It was, of course, the same one she wore when she first married Alan; Lisa took care of herself. The dress had a sweetheart neckline, with a lace panel covering her bountiful cleavage. It fell from her curves like a waterfall, draping her body suggestively while revealing very little. It had been in Alan's family for years, belonging to his mother and his grandmother; he had no siblings, so there were no daughters to bequeath it to, and when Alan got married he asked Lisa to wear it.

When she was dressed, she shut the windows, realizing that the assembled guests and servants might have heard her outburst. Fuck them, she thought. She had just finished with the last window when she heard Erik's knock. She thought it was her husband, and she flung open the door, eyes flashing and cheeks flushed with anger as she planned to give him a piece of her mind. "Listen, asshole..." she started, before faltering. It wasn't her husband standing in the doorway. Instead, what confronted her was an impressive figure of a man.

Erik was tall, with thick, wavy black hair just touched with gray at the temples. His chest was broad, and the exquisitely tailored charcoal grey suit he wore couldn't hide what was clearly an athletic body. His eyes almost matched his suit; they were grey, like the sky during a storm. Everything about him said that he was a man of wealth and power, a success in every area of life.

But that wasn't all. Erik Keller wasn't just handsome; he was the sort of man who makes husbands and fathers get out their guns. Something about him—perhaps how he moved, perhaps how he carried himself, perhaps something about the set of his jaw—made him give off an air of dangerous mystery. He was like a coiled spring, taut and tense. And there was one other thing about him, something none of Lisa's girlfriends had mentioned. Oh, they had tittered and gossiped, but whenever Lisa asked what was so interesting no one told her.

Erik Keller was hung.

His dark grey pants were fairly loose, but they couldn't hide the bulge that ran down his leg to mid-thigh. It looked like he had an energy drink shoved down his pants. Lisa wasn't sure why he was already hard—she had just opened the door, and while she knew she could inspire erections in dead men it didn't generally happen before they had seen her.

Erik gave her a wicked smile. "So, you've heard of me, Mrs. Baker" he said, in a resonant baritone. He looked her up and down, slowly, making sure she notice as he inventoried her features. Lisa was instantly drawn to this man, to his confidence bordering on arrogance. He was brazenly checking her out, even though he knew who she was and even though both of them were pledged to other people.

But those other people weren't there. The only people there were Erik, the lion among men, and Lisa, the walking wet dream.

"I have, Mr. Keller," she replied. "Come in, please. I'm sorry for yelling at you." He entered the room as if he owned it, his gaze sweeping across the rich furnishings, the rose petals on the bed, the card on the pillow, before returning to Lisa's.

"Seems like you and Alan built quite the little love nest here."

Lisa laughed sardonically at that. "Alan did all this, then walked out on me when I wanted to fuck him. He said he had important phone calls to make," she said, her voice dripping with scorn.

Erik shook his head. "I wish I could say that's a surprise. Alan never did understand women. I always told him he had to learn how to recognize when a woman wants to be taken and thrown down and fucked"—the word rolled off his tongue deliciously, and Lisa felt a little thrill go through her—"and now it turns out that he falls short when someone like you explicitly tells him what she wants." As he spoke, he moved closer to her, until he was only inches away when he finished. He could smell her perfume, something light and floral. Lisa's breath quickened as he drew nearer and she backed up a step at a time, until she felt her back run up against the closed door.

"But I bet you know when a woman wants it, don't you Mr. Keller?" she asked, fluttering her thick eyelashes at him ingenuously.

"I do," he said, his voice dropping into a growl as he continued to advance.

"And do I want it?"

He closed the remaining distance between them, one hand coming up to her chest to grope for her mountainous tits. He squeezed, hard, feeling the firm flesh deform under her dress. "No," he said, "you fucking need it."

Lisa melted against him as he mauled her breast. His other hand went to her ass, cupping one luscious globe and pulling her against him. She turned her face to his automatically, and he kissed her furiously. She immediately began moaning into his mouth as they kissed. Lisa forced one leg between his, feeling the heat of his cock even through his pants and her dress.

She broke the kiss first. "God, yes, I need it. I need a man who can make me suck his cock and swallow his cum. Who'll fuck my tits and paint them with sperm. I need someone who will tear my panties off and fuck my pussy over and over." Lisa reached down to lay a hand on Erik's bulge. She expected to feel something firm and rigid under her palm. She was shocked to find instead a thick tube of meat, large and limp. It was all she could do to keep her jaw from dropping as she realized that this man—this god—standing beside her wasn't even hard, and that the bulge that had caught her eye before was merely a preview of coming attractions.

"Oh, god, Erik... this is amazing," she said, squeezing him in one small hand. Erik didn't move or speak as she began to squeeze and stroke him through his pants; he let his cock speak for him, as it started to swell and throb in her hands. Lisa kept talking. "I need a man with a huge cock"—she reached down to squeeze him with both hands—"who can just use me up and ruin me for my husband. Who can fuck me so hard and so long I could barely walk. And then..." Her voice dropped lower, into a smoky contralto. "Then he'd bend me over and fuck my virgin ass right before I walk down the aisle to renew my vows with my fucking shithead husband."

Erik's hand slid from her ass up her back to the back of her head. He grabbed her hair and pulled her down to her knees, her wedding dress rustling, silk whispering against skin. Her hands went to his belt, quickly undoing it and everything else that kept her from handling the hot, hard fuck-hose she had felt growing under her hands, through Erik's pants.

As soon as she could, she released his monster from its prison of cloth. It was, if anything, even bigger than she had thought from feeling it. Over a foot of powerful pulsating prick-meat jutted up proudly from his groin. Lisa tried to get her hand around him, and failed; he was too thick for her fingers to meet.

"Fuck God... This is what we should be worshiping," she said, her eyes wide. She reached back into his pants and cupped his balls; they were hot and heavy, and she couldn't get more than one in her palm at once. Lisa had to struggle to get them out of his pants, but she succeeded, then marveled at their size and heft. "Look how full and bloated these are, Mr. Keller. How could you let things go so long without finding a nasty slut to empty them for you?"

Then she kissed them, leaving red lip-prints on his sack. The adulterous wife opened her mouth and practically inhaled one of his lemon-sized nuts, bathing it with her spit, her tongue moving frantically to cover every inch of skin. When she was done with that one, she did the same with the other, moaning all the while.

Erik groaned as Lisa messily made out with his balls. "I couldn't find anyone up to the task of keeping those things drained. You think you're the filthy fuck-goddess to do it?" he asked. By way of an answer, Lisa nodded, Erik's balls still in her mouth, and reach up to start stroking his prodigious pussy-wrecker with her gloved hands. She worked one hand up over the tip, catching his precum as it oozed out in heavy beads of pearly white and working it into his length, leaving dark spot on the pristine white lace in the process.

Lisa let Erik's balls fall from her mouth and rose slightly. She stuck out her tongue and gave his shaft long lick from base to tip, flattening her tongue. When she got to the top, she swirled her tongue around the small slit at the tip. "Mmm, you taste so delicious, Mr. Keller." She wrapped both hands around him, interlacing her fingers, and started to stroke him quickly. "I can't wait until I'm eating your sperm. Are you going to feed me a nice big load? Or will I have to beg?"

Erik canted his hips forward, so that his cock slid against her face and leaving shimmering streaks of precum on her cheeks. "Maybe I'd rather decorate your cheating face with my cum. Send you down the aisle wearing my load on instead of a veil." Lisa's stroking sped up as she envisioned herself walking past all her friends and family, head held high, her face drenched in the sperm of this paragon of masculinity. Her pussy fluttered and quivered at the thought. She could feel a trickle of her juices start to slid down the inside of her thigh, her panties having been drenched beyond capacity.

"Oh, yes," she moaned. "And you'd be there waiting for me, and when we get to the kiss I'd drop down to my knees like I am now and do this..." She stared right at Erik's helmet, before planting a passionate kiss on it, leaving a red smear of lipstick on the end of his cock. "And then you'd cum again and I'd swallow every drop."

Lisa never stopped stroking him as she spoke, and soon the wet sounds of her gloved hands sliding up and down his length filled the room. "Oh no," she said, sticking out her lower lip in an exaggerated pout. "You've ruined these gloves," she said, letting go of Erik's cock and showing him her palms. The fragile lace was dark and wet and the skin underneath was shiny with his precum. "Did you know that these gloves belonged to Alan's grandmother? And now you've gone and got them all covered in your... delicious... goo..."

She trailed off at the end of the sentence, and with one exquisitely manicured fingernail made a small tear in the lace. She brought her hand up to her mouth and with her teeth tore it off, letting the cum-sodden garment drop to the floor. Then she did the same to the other glove. Once her hands were bare, she made a show of licking them clean, taking in every drop of his precum that she could find.

Once that was done, her hands flew back to Erik's pole, and she resumed her handjob as if it had never stopped. "We can't have you ruining the dress too, Mr. Keller," she said. "I'll have to make sure that don't make any more messes like that." She opened her mouth wide and encircled the top of his cock. Just that small portion of his cock seemed like enough to fill her mouth and force her jaws wide.

Erik looked down and saw Lisa looking back up at him, eyes wide, lips stretched in a thin red line around his cock, as she tried her best to engulf him. She kept moaning as more and more of his issue touched her tongue, as if she was sucking down the nectar of the gods. Each moan sent pleasing vibrations through his cock, which in turn made another gob of precum ooze out, making Lisa moan harder, in a vicious cycle.

Lisa started to go deeper, pushing herself as Erik forced her to open up more any other man ever had. His battering ram of a cock breached the tight ring of her throat, and he growled down at her, "You perfect whore angel! You're going to get a bellyful of my cum if you keep doing that." Lisa started to bounce on her heels at the thought. She kept sucking, swirling her tongue around Erik's shaft, her hungry moans stifled by the massive mouthful of meat.