Kendra & Sam Set Boundaries Pt. 02

(Note to Readers: This nine-part story follows a young, straight, American couple from dating to marriage and parenthood, and from exclusive sex to separate side action, swinging, and group sex. All characters are at least 18 years old. Some of the sex is interracial. A little of Part 1 is recapped here, but to follow the story better you should read Part 1 first. If you click on my author name above, you'll be linked to my profile, and links to stories. All nine parts have been written, and will be posted [I hope] every few days.)

***

June 2012:

Kendra barged into the apartment and yelled, "The dress fits!"

"Great!" came Sam's voice. She drew a bead on it and tracked him down. As he stepped out of the bedroom she threw her arms around him, and grabbed the hair on the back of his head.

"I knew it would," said Sam. "You're unstoppable." She treated him a bit rough when she was wildly happy. He reckoned that his husband training was complete, because he felt good about the yanking of his hair.

She stepped back, flushed face grinning, and spread her arms. "Nail me, damnit! Tear this shit off! Feast your eyes on my slut body and fuck it into some other galaxy!" She ripped the top of her old cotton shirt to show she meant it literally.

First he took her in his arms, lifted her, and spun them around. "I'll fuck it right here, so I can keep fucking it!" he growled, getting into their dirty talk. "In nine days your pussy will be mine!"

Her heart drummed as she squealed in delight. She threw her feet back as they twirled. "You better keep up its care and feeding!"

He set her feet on the floor and ripped away her shirt.

"In that fucking dress," she said, starting to pant, "I'll be the sweetest piece of ass any man ever saw! Damn thing fits like body paint, lacy peekaboos all over. You and your groomsmen better keep your hands outta your pants!"

"My hands will be all over you!" Sam said, groping her torso, imagining her in the dress. He'd seen it often, online and on a mannequin, but not yet on her. The fitting session was only for women in the wedding party. The dress was light blue, armless, strapless, built around a bustier, with gauzy skirt layers that would let backlight through.

With a quick squat he yanked at her old yoga pants, which fought harder but split at the butt. "When they say do you take this woman, I'll do it right then!"

"That's what a husband does!" She reached down and ripped Sam's faded old t-shirt. "Show all the bitches the man they can't have!" Then she laughed. "Unless I approve!"

He rose up, shaking loose the shreds of the Ron Jon Surf Shop logo. He too had made goal weight, working out and dieting so she wouldn't suffer alone. His body was now at a peak he'd never imagined, but that wasn't as important as what Kendra went through for that damn dress. Sam hoped that on the honeymoon she'd agree to burn it.

"You want these tits?" she hissed, hands lifting them as she leaned the sports bra at him. "How ya gonna get 'em?" This went way past their usual taunting and trashing, and she was surprised that she kept ramping it up.

He spread both hands on her breasts, clutched fingers inward to pull away the fabric, and yanked. A zipper seam gave way enough for him to haul the purple uniboob holder over her head. She whooped, then crouched to drag down his cargo shorts. "Commando!" she yelled, seeing his prick flip at her. "That's what I'm talkin' about!"

He crouched again and chomped on her panties, dog-snarling as he worried them away from her crotch. The less he said, on impulse, about her exposed boobs, the better. In getting to goal, she reduced some of the curves that attracted him when they met. But since then Sam had discovered much more to love about Kendra, and he sure as hell should be able to live with her as a C-cup. And her own body happiness was sky high, wobbles gone from her thighs and gut, even her arms toned and sleek, so she could show them off at the wedding.

She dashed to a window and snatched up the blind. "Show the world how you'll keep me!" She looked over her shoulder and twerked at him. The window faced the heat exchangers on the building's setback, so she flashed her goal body only to HVAC equipment.

Sam swept her up and bride-carried her into the bedroom. He dropped her to the bedspread on her back, and set his knees between her legs. Her big eyes got bigger as they gazed at him. "God, I'm soaking!" She wrapped fingers around his cock. "To hell with foreplay! Jeez, I really meant it about being a slut!"

He was still gradual on entry, fingering her labia apart to get his knobby glans past them. Then he pushed in to drenching warmth. He'd definitely remember that clothes-ripping starter. Maybe with the wedding dress, and sacrificing his rented tux.

"Fuck! Fuck yeah!" she said, spreading her legs further. "This is why all brides are crazed lunatics! Doesn't matter how much sex you had before."

She grabbed Sam's head, this time yanking the ears, and pulled it onto her left breast. "It's the wedding," she rolled on, staring through strands of her skewed black hair. "It's what everybody knows, all the guests are thinking about it, dozens of people looking at this serene vision of womanhood, and all of them thinking, she's going to get fucked!" Her hips bucked up, slamming their pubic bones together. "Yeahhhh like that oh damn I'm cumming I'm cumming on your weird doorknob dick! I love it so much!"

He sucked hard on her thick, lush boob, lambasting himself for thinking it was anything other than perfect, so warm and thick, soft outside and firm beneath. He started cumming, but kept driving into her sweet soggy depths, and sucking, and getting a hand on her neglected right breast, squeezing it lovingly.

She yelped twice, then moaned, again grabbing his hair.

"And the bride and everybody else knows it's okay now," said Kendra, dizzy from lingering ecstasy. "It doesn't matter what she did before, and who she did, and how many times, we've all agreed that once that bozo puts the ring on her, she can fuck, shit she's supposed to fuck now. Oh damn, bite that nip, my tits are gonna cum!"

He did, pinching the other one. And they did, and she imitated a screech owl.

Her flexures kept him hard. Damn, he thought, she drained me and I want more! Maybe we'll be okay exclusive. Living together had given them so many, and frequent, sex opportunities that they not only improved as partners (learning not just the other's arousal and fulfillment, but continuation, and relaxation), but as individual sexual beings. He could now continue erect long after his first orgasm, and recover quickly, and often get to three erections per session. Kendra could now get prolonged orgasms, and what seemed to be multiples, seldom with soreness requiring her to stop.

Sam's satyr-like performance headed him towards a train of thought with a potential downside, but he was able to stifle that with the sensation of her pussy throttling his wang.

Sweat from both of them dripped into her mouth. Lassitude swept over her as Sam heaved, pumped and grunted. "Can you cum again Baby?" she murmured. "I'm your cumbucket, squeeze in everything you've got. That slime is mine, and when I go off the pill it'll make miracles." She had fantasies of group sex, being pleasured by Sam with other men, and an upcoming event had her thinking far too often about that.

Sam groaned, threw back his head, and gyrated like a beached whale. A thrill spread through her. She couldn't tell if this was her third orgasm, or more of the second, or one relentless mega-cum. That knob had done amazing things to what she thought might be her A spot, but she was relieved as their genitals finally seemed to calm down.

"Grooms should be even crazier than brides," she said, gently stroking his back with a hand that was nearly limp. "Are you crazy, Sam? Feeling the weight of expectations? Does your family want you to knock me up right away?"

"I only care what you want," he mumbled into a pillow.

"I want us to afford a house first," she said. Then, "Did I really say that? What happened to the goal-weight slut?" They had lived in this apartment, bigger than their flats as singles, for four months. She found that she wanted even more space, without yet needing it. Her cat, Nuggins, had adjusted to new digs, but not to the more frequent rutting of his human.

"You probably sweated off another pound," said Sam, propping on an elbow and finding a weary smile for her.

"And you dumped in two pounds of creampie. Fortunately, that goes straight to the toilet."

"Be ready to tighten up, then," he said, moving his trunk. "The stopper's coming out."

She drew a couple of deep breaths, both relishing and regretting his departure. Then she got out, "I'm, okay, with Saturday." Tension showed on her face. "Are you?"

"We could call it off," he said quickly.

"No!" she said at once. "I know you love me, really love me. And I love you, so much, I mean what I feel for you is like nothing I've ever felt before. And, and if, we stay within our boundaries, we'll be okay, right? It's not like these are people we know."

"But we do," he said. "You'll be with the bridesmaids. Me with the groomsmen."

"We won't know the people we fuck, and they'll forget us when it's over. Strippers, they do this all the time."

"I've been to bachelor parties," he said, trying not to sound impatient.

"Isn't it time everybody was upfront about them?" she said. "Just skip the stupid pranks, so nobody gets pass-out drunk and stranded naked in the middle of nowhere. It's the last fling, and everybody knows that, too." She needed a second before she added, "And why just slap and tickle? Let it be the last sex before the marital kind. Real sex, but with a latex chaperone."

Sam decided that if he had any misgivings, he'd better unload them now. "Are we trying too hard to convince ourselves?" An alarmed look turned towards him and he quickly added, "I love you absolutely, Kendra. I'm going to marry you and be your husband. I want you to be sure of that, and I want to do whatever's necessary to put your mind at ease." He'd gone in for group fantasies of his own, but always with Kendra involved. As they watched porn together, they'd single out performers they'd want to bring to what was based on Sam and Kendra together. In two days, they'd jump right in to group sex, but without the beloved primary.

She swept strands away from her face. She had let her coal-black hair grow out for three months, so she could wear it in a piled-up style on the big day, and show off her now-slender neck. "We've been exclusive since we announced," she said. "Five months. And I can honestly say that you're the sex I want most, and not because our side pieces kicked us to the curb. Shit, you drove me nuts just now, I wasn't expecting that." She smiled. "What other surprises will you and Knobby have for me?"

He smirked. "That was just to keep Bridezilla from beating me to a pulp."

"God I hate that word," she said, looking at the ceiling. "But it fits, doesn't it?" She turned to him again. "Anyway, I honestly believe that fucking three strangers on Saturday will be nothing but fun, disposable and forgettable."

"It can be more than that," he said evenly. "It might satisfy your fantasy." He forced himself not to add, 'without me.'

She shrugged. "If I like it, it's a great memory, and if I don't, I'll forget it. Either way, you'll get to see me as a porn star."

"I never asked for that."

She leaned in with a wicked look. "Hmmm, the DVR screen is blank, but it's turned on. What were you doing before I got here, my dear commando?"

He smiled in surrender. "Something enhanced by having easy johnson access. After a hard day's work." Even while lying naked next to her naked self, still abuzz from what they'd just done, Sam thickened at the thought of seeing her fuck on video.

"I'll take the video of you on business trips," she said. "Not safe for work, but necessary, when I'm in my room working late. I'll look at you, naked and fucking, and call you up, and vibe myself."

"And I'll put on the video of you then, and tell you all about what I'm doing."

"So I certainly couldn't object to you watching porno now. I'm so glad you were ready for Bridezilla." She planted a tiny kiss on his nose. "And when I look at your video, I don't want to see any bashful aw-shucks crap. Strut that gym body, impale those bitches, and be the man you are with me."

Sam had seen the sample dance videos of the strippers who'd be at the parties. He wanted to fuck all three of the women, two of them a whole lot, one...maybe more than Kendra? He resolved to work on making this sex disposable and forgettable.

"And we'll keep what's only for us?" he asked, still uneasy.

She took his hand in hers. Her mouth tightened briefly, then relaxed. "This'll be the biggest test of our boundary rules. Whatever wild thrills we want, we only get them if we agree. If they involve other people, you and I hold something back that's only for you and me."

"I can't even remember who thought of this first," he said, squeezing her hand.

"Me neither. It was the first time I stayed over. We've talked it to death so much. But I believe in it. And Saturday there's two things. Insemination is one, that won't happen at all."

"And two is, I'm the only man who will ever see your video, and you're the only woman who will ever see mine."

"I'll be there for you while you watch, poor fellah." She nodded towards the TV and DVR. "I'll keep your schwanz happy."

Sam thought, I'm 24, she's 25, and everything we know about this lifestyle is from reading, not experience. But he said, "You always do," and gave her a slow kiss. Which led in time to slower, foreplay-heavy, romantic sex, during which even Kendra thought they might have said too often how much they loved each other.

***

The next day, Kendra looked up as her Maid of Honor threaded through the restaurant to her booth.

There were smiles, and praise for the dress, and speculation on whether it posed the danger of a boob escape. After Joan placed her lunch order, however, she made sure the waitress had moved on far enough before she dug into her briefcase.

"Here's the last bill," said Joan with a doubtful tone, handing over some papers. "You sure you're not going overboard?"

Kendra, still riding her morning-work energy, briskly got her checkbook from her purse. "I'm good for it," she said, without a blink as she transferred the number from the bill to a check. "It helps to be an only daughter, my parents just have to shell out for one wedding. Sam and I cover the honeymoon and other stuff. Including a kick-ass bitch-lorette party."

Joan leaned in and lowered her voice. "And you and Sam are good with going all the way? The other ladies have signed the releases, and they may be up for some no-strings. But you have more at stake."

"You're right," said Kendra, handing Joan the check. "That's why I want you to provide incriminating evidence for my husband-to-be."

Joan frowned. "The Maid of Honor is on your side. I wouldn't rat you out to the groom."

Kendra brought up to the table a handheld digital camcorder. "Video me, Joan. All of the not-safe-for-work stuff. Which will prove that all of what I did was--" She made finger quotes. "--safe." She then explained what she and Sam would do with the videos.

"Wow," said Joan. Kendra could tell that Joan was intrigued.

Joan picked up the camcorder, and got used to the feel of it. "So much of the talk lately," she continued, "about women empowering themselves through sex, strikes me as bullshit. Maybe a retroactive excuse for banging a guy on impulse. But in this case..." She looked at Kendra, and murmured. "You're okay with me getting close-ups of your cooch while some stranger screws it?"

"You more than anyone else. We've spent years not judging each other. And not just my down-there, my whole body and happy face, as I play naughty with naked men." Kendra held up another sheet from the stack. "The tests they took yesterday show that my strangers are squeaky clean."

They discussed details. Kendra wanted the strippers' dances to be videoed, but nothing that incriminated the bridesmaids, as the strippers teased them. If a few seconds of that got in, Kendra pledged to edit them out. In the same spirit, Kendra wanted her nudity and sex acts to be the only ones recorded, even if the other ladies willingly stripped and fucked. Joan got more positive about this all the time, and with regret agreed not to get a copy for herself.

***

Sam and his best man, Landon, met at the strip club with its special events manager, to make the last payment for the 'Deluxe Experience.' The manager still used her workname, Lucy Luscious, although she had retired from stripping. Sam reckoned that she could still drive a roomful of men nuts with even a mild dance. She was almost doing that to Sam and Landon by sitting in a chair, fully dressed, across a table. Landon especially. True, she was wearing a dress that was center-cut past the level of the table, exposing her sternum and about half the swell of her breasts.

Several sheets of paper were passed across, signed, and passed back. "You're paying a party planning organization that is not directly connected to the operation of the club," said Lucy, without making it sound like boilerplate. "The releases signed by all parties confirm that the activity is legal, and consent exists, but can be withdrawn by the dancers for their own safety." Lucy smiled. "If your group is nice and friendly, you can have a really good time, and if you're not, you might have to make a call later to get bailed out. I've worked these parties, and I enjoyed a lot of them, but I had to bring in the cops more than once."

"I'll be the enforcer," said Landon sternly. "Nobody will get out of line." Then his veneer cracked. "I wish I'd been at one of your parties! I was such a fan. I was here for your farewell dance."

Lucy beamed. "How nice. And because I don't recognize you, I gather that you're not a stalker."

"No!" said Landon, jerking in his chair.

Alarmed, Sam said, "Have there been--"

"Not your problem," she said quickly, still smiling, seeming relaxed. "As a female employee, I'm well protected."

She then moved the discussion to more rules and details, such as bottle service, and they exchanged the test results of everyone who would be in their suite. When that was done, Lucy asked if they had any questions.

"Well," said Landon, looking worried, "If this is a problem for you, I understand, but..." He pulled a DVD out of his backpack. "This is your dance compendium. Would you please autograph it?"

"Of course!" she said, chuckling. "You bought it in the club, right?"

"Yes."

"Well then, I'll gladly make it a keepsake for you." She reached to take the jewel box, then brought over a stack of large sticky-notes. She signed one, then peeled it off and stuck it on the box. Then she brought over a metal case and opened it, to reveal a stamp pad. Then, with a flirty brow lift, she reached behind her neck, untied the dress, and let it fall.

Sam and Landon were dumbstruck. Her breasts had a few tiny vertical lines above, and a slight sag that brought them near the table, but were magnificent by any breast-obsessive's standards. Calmly, Lucy pressed the stamp pad against each breast, then gently placed a sticky-note on the inked surface, transferring off a dark red image of the nipple and areola. She placed these notes on the DVD, then opened the stack of instructions for partiers. "In case you wondered why this page was intentionally left blank," said Lucy. She brought her breasts together and pressed the nipples onto a page that was now intentionally not blank.