A Perfect Month of June

Music filled the air. It better, my parents decided there would be live music at their son's wedding, and since the bride's parents were both resting in a quiet cemetery in another town, someone was going have to pay for the elaborate goings on at my folks' place in upstate West Virginia.

A six-piece ensemble played, even the birds were singing in tune. You just couldn't have a more beautiful setting, or a better choreographed event for joining of the Clampets and the Drysdales.

No, don't be ridicules, we're not really the, Clampets and the Drysdales. We will be, in just about an hour, the Smith's. Well, we actually already are. My soon to be wife is Mary Jane Smith from Boston, and I am Lucas Roger Smith, from right in the middle the heaven on earth, the Canaan Valley of West Virginia. I graduated from WVU, where I met my future wife. I finished my degree as a Rhodes Scholar, at Cambridge University in the Great State of England, UK.

My father was second generation Scottish, so when I said I was going finish my schooling in the UK, he gave me a history lesson I promised I would never forget.

Wow, and I thought it was just the Irish that hated the English.

Anyway, back to the story. When I left for the UK, I proposed to my girlfriend, and I think she said yes. It was hard to tell with all the screaming and jumping around. All of her girlfriends wanting to tear her hand off to see the ring. I must admit, it was then, and still is, a very impressive piece of jewelry. The day I returned from a lifetime away from the love of my life, I knew I had not made a mistake. We slipped away to a cabin the woods behind my folks' house, and sucked, licked and fucked all night.

It was about noon when I was awakened by my fiancé sticking my cock down her throat. Man, what a way to say good morning. After some twisting and turning, I was face to face with one fine pussy. It was shaved clean as an egg, and tasted like honey, (from her douche, I was later informed).

The months went by, and the sex got better and better. Then one fine evening two nights before our wedding, I came home just as the sun was setting. There in my bed was my soon to be wife, with an electronic toy buzzing away. Two heartbeats later, I was hard as a rock. I don't mean hard, hard; I mean so hard I felt the blood leave my brain to fill my cock. One more second of the Mary Jane Smith show, and I would have passed out like a man hit in the head with a hammer.

She stopped.

"What the hell are you stopping for?"

She looked at me like her life was coming to an end. "Oh, baby I'm sorry, I just got so horny waiting for you, I thought I would speed things along."

My pants were around my knees, my cock was in my hand, and I demanded ... "Don't you dare stop. That is the sexiest thing I have ever seen."

I started to join her in bed, but I was all tangled up in clothes half on and half off.

Once the shoes were thrown into the corner, my pants slid under the bed, and shirt, tie, and jacket were somewhere in the room, I was caught up in a lip-lock with my fiancé. "Well, are you going to finish?"

The change in expression on her face was classic. She had no idea what to do. Then I heard the buzzing sound return. Her expression went from, What the fuck, to OH, FUCK!

With her free hand she grabbed my cock and squeezed it and then began stroking. Her eyes closed and I went to work on her breasts. First, kissing and then licking, then sucking and biting. She was completely enthralled in what was happening. Her attempt to hide her face in a pillow failed and the sound of her orgasm was like a choir singing the praises of the Queen of the night, Her Highness, the Queen of lighting bugs, (and batteries).

Her hands were covered with cum, after she cleaned her fingers with her mouth, she buried her face in my shoulder. "My God that was incredible." She whispered. "I don't ever remember anything feeling that wild."

I licked her juices from my hand and was soon licking up the remainder from between her legs. Minutes later I was pounding her pussy as hard as ever. "Ugh," was repeated so many times, "don't stop, I'm going to cum, oh God, fuck me,"

We changed positions so many times, but there always seem to be the drive and desire to continue. I vaguely heard a rapping on the door, but the person on the outside of the small cabin, knew without a doubt what was going on inside. They went away.

The day and the night before the ceremony we were kept busy with mundane crap that took us away from seeing each other or even getting a glimpse of our beloved.

The morning was quick. I took two pills the night before and slept like a mummy. It would have taken an army of girl scouts to drag my ass out of that bed.

If you're wondering why we weren't having the traditional parties, the night before the wedding. The answer was simple. All her friends were in New York, and all my Friends were in Cambridge. So that is where we got pissed and probably fucked. I remembered little about my party, and I expect Mary Jane had the same problem.

There was no way on earth I was going to ask about what happened with the hens, because then I would have to tell her how many times, I got my dick sucked at my drunk fest.

If we had waited till we got home, we could have invited the lightning- bugs and had a real swinging fun time. (Don't sell these lanterns of the night short, they keep kids busy for hours and hours).

When the guy at the front of the room, with all the fancy duds on said, "You may kiss the bride." We had a surprise planned for the gathered onlookers. May Jane stepped back and said in a very loud voice. "You're not going to kiss me with that filthy mouth." If you were looking for shocked faces, we had a lot of them to choose from.

I grabbed my new wife and said, "Come here woman!" the kiss lasted a lot longer than permissible. Mary Jane swooned, and everyone knew it was our little play. Laughter got louder when we did a 1950s jitterbug up the aisle.

Thanks to the lodging situation. The reception was not as long as my folks wanted. Mary Jane and I were off on a two-week trip to Tahiti, and the isles of the South Pacific.

We joined the 'at least' five-mile-high club somewhere over the pacific. Plus, we decided to try to get each other off manually under the cover of blankets that are never large enough. We did it, and with her head resting on mine, she whispered "We got to do that more often ... that was a big turn-on."

I agreed and went right off to sleep.

When we landed It was night after night, and day after day of some of the most outrageous sex anyone could want. We did things to each other that would make the guy who wrote the Kama Sutra blush.

But, sorry to admit, all good things must come to an end, and life waits for no one. Back on the plane, back to where people bumped into you just because they couldn't squeeze their fat asses through a crowded shop on every corner to get their Frappuccino. God, I was going to miss Oxford. Mary Jane had already informed me that she was going to be a stay-at-home housekeeper watcher.

Unfortunately, it didn't take long for us to fall into a routine that would bore the pants off the Pope. Mary Jane (now known as MJ) was running here and there doing absolutely nothing, or so I thought.

On one of those nights, a Friday, I was reading my book, and MJ was reading hers. I put my book down and ask. "Why aren't we fucking like we used to?"

She put her book down and responded with a very simple, "because you don't want to."

Under the purple down blanket, my hand touched flesh I hadn't touched in days. MJ began to grin, and it was on. We turned the lights out and began masturbating each other. It was thrilling. The kissing, the just holding each other. When the main event began, we were lost in a world of unconscious lust.

MJ opened the drawer to her bedside table and brought out the heavy stuff, the edibles.

"You don't qualify for a medical marijuana card." I announced as I put the first of two or three in my mouth (you have a tendency to lose track of your intake).

"Didn't you notice I'm keeping my Glaucoma under control?"

"You're sure a horny little bitch," I said it with love and my cock in her mouth and the juices from her pussy running into mine.

Oh, what a night. I know and I came very, very hard at least twice. I lost count of how many times MJ said she was Cumming.

At about two in the morning, we were still high and still feeling sexy. We laid side by side laughing at what had just occurred. A feeling of love and freedom seldom realized.

After a quiet moment, MJ laughed at her reminiscing. "Do you remember your bachelor party?"

"I remember a little bit." Trying to see if she was about to let out some great secret from her past.

"Now I know we weren't married yet, but did you get laid that night?" She paused just a second. "I mean you were in Oxford."

Not knowing where this was going, I thought, "what the fuck."

Evidently, I paused just long enough to get a grin from my wife. "No recriminations, right?"

"Right."

"I was pretty drunk, but yes, I was fucked a couple of times that night."

MJ just smiled. "I was too, and I got fucked a lot more than a couple times."

I was lying next to MJ with my hand propping up my head. My cock was squeezed between us. The second she said she got fucked a lot more than a couple times, my cock was hard as stone.

"Do you want me to take care of that, or do you want to hear more." With that she clutched my cock in her delicate fingers and began stroking. The sensation was incredible.

"The girls took me to a club that was rented for the evening. There was about fifteen of us, and after a few dancers came out on stage and did their thing, they started dancing with the girls. I was sitting on a throne, and all the male dancers came over to tease me first. Then they danced off to tease the others. After a while one of the dancers had a hard on and I was just drunk enough I couldn't resist. I had him in my mouth and was sucking his cock like crazy. I looked around the room, and it seemed everyone was occupied. A couple of the girls were eating out each other out. It was a regular orgy. Before the night was over, and I do mean all night, I think I fucked every one of the dancers at least twice."

When she said she was sucking this guy's cock, I emptied my balls for the third time that night. I had never done that before. It was like having the reverse of blue balls. I was sore. It was a good sore.

Both of us slept till nine-thirty. We didn't mention last night till seven o'clock as we ordered pizza and took the time to relax from the weekend chores.

"Are we going to talk about last night?" I wondered.

"What is there to talk about?"

"What do you mean? There's plenty to talk about." I responded.

"Do you want to hear more about the orgy at my hen party, or something else."

"Is there something else?"

She smiled an evil smile I had never seen before. "Lucas, I have been a bad girl. Do you want to know more about your bad girl ... do you want to punish your bad girl?"

"No", my cock was about to explode, "I want to watch my girl be a bad girl... a very bad girl."

"Are you sure ... I mean are you really sure? Once we open Pandora's box, it doesn't close. It's one of those things we live, and we learn."

I was scared to death. "What if you find someone you love more than me?"

"It could happen, I doubt it very much, but do 'you' think you can still love me, knowing what might happen or maybe has already happened?"

"The only thing I'm sure of, if we don't do something like open up our lives, we're going to die alone and unhappy. I don't want to live a life like my parents. That valley is beautiful, but I can't live, just watching trees change color."

"Let's go to the bedroom, I want to tell you a naughty story that you need to hear."

I followed her down the hall, relishing the sway of her ass each step she took. When I noticed she was taking off her blouse, I took it as a signal. I stared getting out of my clothes as quickly as I could.

We laid on the top of the fluffy white bedspread. We were naked and holding each other close. She had my cock in her hand and I slipped a first one finger inside her smoothly shaved pussy and then another. We kissed and continued to masturbate each other.

The only sound in the room was the occasional noise she would murmur, or the "oh yeah," from me.

We were kissing deeply for the longest time, then she pulled away, and with a stone-cold look on her face, "do you really want to hear what I've done?"

She grinned. "Your cock tells me you do." There was a pause followed by a quick kiss. "Do you remember the night I bought you a ticket to the Nick's game?

"Yeah, I remember because you said you could only get one ticket, but the seat next to me was empty."

"Those seats belonged to the couple that used to live in this building. His name was Richard. Do you remember him?

I tried to remember, then it came to me. "He's that giant of a guy that had a heart attacked and died in his bed."

Well, I guess you could also say he died with a smile on his face."

"How's that?"

"His cock was in my mouth."

"What?"

"His wife was out of town, and I ran into him in the elevator. We got a little friendly. I was horny, he offered the tickets. You got in one elevator; I waited till I knew you were out of the building. That's when I went up to his apartment, and before you had your first beer, I had cum at least twice."

"You're shitting me?"

I had sprayed cum all over my wife's hip. My cock was still hard as a rock. I don't understand why but I loved the how.

"I don't think you believe that." She said, scooping up my cum with her finger and putting it into her mouth. 'Hum mm good! Do you think you can fuck mama now?"

I licked on my wife's pussy and finger fucked her till she squirted in my mouth. She rode my cock, changing positions for her to get more and more pleasure. I fucked her from behind, laying her on her side, pressed against the wall, and finished with me looking directly into her eyes.

When I begged for her to tell me another adventure, she refused. "You don't want me to tell you everything the first night, do you?"

Somehow, we found ourselves with a normal life. I worked every day, and she flited here and there. In the back of my mind, I was wondering every day when I left the apartment, what was she going to do today. More important, who was she going to do today.

Whenever it seemed she wasn't getting what she wanted from our nightly doings, she would come up with a sexual event in her life that made my gut ache, but the coupling was incredible.

I had been living this cuckold life now for over two years, when I got home from the office one Friday evening, there was a note on the dining room table.

"You can fix your own dinner. I have an early date with a man I have been seeing for about a month. He's going to fuck me in every hole in my body. I will be home Sunday night. Don't worry. Signed; Love MJ."

Friday night, I couldn't sleep. My entire body was in turmoil.

Saturday, I called her phone. It was turned off.

Sunday, I had decided this had to stop. I couldn't breathe, I was in pain.

Sunday afternoon I called ten times and got the same answer ... none.

Monday morning my first stop was at the Police Station. With the pull my office had with the police, they jumped right in.

Thankfully my mother had passed while MJ and I were in New York, so she never knew of her son's cuckold condition. If she hadn't been so ill the revelation of what was going on would have killed her for sure.

After about three months of constant worry about MJ's safety, I was finally able to leave New York for the confines of almost heaven, West Virginia. While resting in our tiny cabin that had meant so much to my wife and I, I got the news. She was alive, but seriously hooked on hard drugs.

She had been sold to an uber-rich East European Banker, and was part of his personal, (what would you call it?) crew of whores.

When I tried to see her, the Docs keep saying it's too early. She needs more time to begin the healing process.

"Bull shit," was the only way I could express myself. I needed to see my wife. I needed desperately to hold her and tell her I forgive her for whatever she may have done. I need to tell her she is loved. I still loved her so very much and I had had enough. I decided to take matters in my own hands. I went to the biggest, meanest, take-no prisoners, motherfucker I knew, my dad.

This was the last thing in the world I wanted to do. He was in poor health since mom's passing, but you could still see the old flame burning in his eyes, all the way into his heart. He still took no bull shit from anyone, and he had more money than I could ever spend.

Forty-eight hours after I went to the old man for help, an Ambulance pulled up in front of the main house. A van was close behind and a shitload of people with names on their shirts were climbing all over the house.

The only passenger in the van was a doctor with a name I could only hope to pronounce before I died. For today and the months that followed, he was just Doc.; he was MJ's Doctor.

My father and I took him on a tour of the house and the surroundings. He kept saying, "perfect...perfect ...perfect." My dad and I had no idea what the hell was, 'perfect', but whatever it was we knew it wasn't a bad thing.

Before the weekend hit us, the Doc had moved into the house. I was still walking down the hill to share meals with my dad. It was pissing me off that I was not going to be able to visit with MJ till the Doc said she was ready. That meant I was stuck alone in that tiny little honeymoon cabin with TV dinners and a case of soft drinks.

Monday came and I never left the window. I watched the ambulance arrive with the Doc, but most important to me I saw MJ. They had her on a gurney, but I had been told she could walk on her own. The gurney was a surprise and a disappointment.

You've heard the old saying about a watched pot never boils, well this pot didn't even get warm. It was a month of sitting in the chair next to the window before I saw the Doc and MJ come out of house for the first time. Her face was perfect. She wore no makeup, was dressed in pajamas, and she was the brightest star in the sky if it were nighttime.

I cried.

For the next twenty-three days she came outside with the Doc. She never once looked up at the cabin. They came out and walked around the outside of the house to the back, but never came toward the cabin.

They never -- I said, never even looked at the cabin.

I felt pain like never before on the inside. How long could this go on?

Finally, a day when the door opened, and for the longest time no one stepped out. It was like every other day, but this was different (yes, I know it can't be the same and different at the same time). Was it electricity in the air; it had rained last night. Was it just wishful thinking?

MJ finally appeared in the doorway. She stepped onto the porch. She, for the first time, looked at the cabin. She was crying.

Behind her, still inside the house stood the Doc. She came down the steps, still looking at the cabin.

It felt like a drummer was pounding on my chest with drumsticks the size of sledgehammers. I couldn't breathe.

MJ started walking toward me and the cabin. I didn't wait. I ran out the door and jumped over the four steps that led to the porch. I tripped over an invisible wall or rope or fence, but I rolled up and was back on my feet running to her. Just as I got to her, her face, covered in tears. I grabbed her and we kissed.

We were both crying and kissing each other's face. Finally, she was begging me to forgive her. Every time she tried to speak, I stopped her with another kiss. We collapsed.