Mixed Marriage

Some friends and relatives suspected how their relationship had progressed, but it was never discussed. They ended it, not because they wanted to, but because they thought they should. Because of guilt, confusion, fear. Was it wrong, was it right, was it taboo, was it healthy? Or was it just a pain-killer?

--

"So, how was your week, Ella?" Elizabeth asked.

"Good."

"Good. I'm glad to hear that. How's Max?"

"He's good too. It's been a good week. I think he's going to tell me he loves me."

"And how do you feel about that?"

"I don't know. Is it too early to say 'I love you'?"

"I don't know if there are any rules about that, Ella. That's a very personal thing. I think it would come down to what is comfortable for the person. Everyone is different."

"Yeah, I guess so," Ella said. "It gets hard to separate sometimes."

"What do you mean?"

"Love and sex."

"Ah," Elizabeth said. "A universal question. Do you love Max?"

"I don't know. I think so. I know I could love him, but I don't know that I'm ready to say that yet. I feel it, I just don't know if I trust it, you know what I mean? I love talking to him. We connect on so many levels. And the sex... It's incredible. My orgasms, Oh My God. So intense! I mean, I haven't had orgasms like these, since, uh..."

"Since when?"

"Since Hannah," Ella said softly.

Elizabeth wrote some notes onto her tablet. Ella continued as she was writing.

"We had dinner at Hannah's house last weekend."

"And how did that go?"

"Very well. She liked him. She told me it's okay to marry him," Ella laughed.

"How did that make you feel?"

"Good. But I was pretty sure she'd like him. He's the real deal."

"And Max liked Hannah too, I take it."

"He did," Ella said, sipping from a bottle of water. "We kissed."

"You kissed? Who..."

"Me and Hannah. We kissed, and it wasn't a peck, either. It was hot, I'm telling you, just like the old days. It just happened out of nowhere, surprised us both, but we were into it. I got tingles."

"What did Max..."

"He didn't see it, he was in another room. I don't know if he'd understand. I'm not sure that I understand."

--

Over the next few months, Ella and Max's relationship kicked into overdrive. They spent most nights together, exchanged I-love-yous, and much of the time they spent socializing with friends. Ella's friends got to know Max, and Max's friends got to know Ella. They moved in together, into a one-story, single family home. More and more of their time was spent with Hannah and Max's sister Carly, and they all became better acquainted and very comfortable together.

--

One day Max got word that his cousin Vanessa was getting married. This surprised him a little, as Vanessa was a few years younger and had always been a wild child, and never seemed to go with one guy exclusively very often, or for very long. But evidently she'd met the right guy and had settled down some. Carly would be a bridesmaid. Max would be taking Ella to the wedding as his guest.

The wedding day came and it rained like hell. All day long. Thankfully the roofs didn't leak and the church and the reception hall weren't far apart. The wedding itself was short and sweet, maybe twenty-five minutes. Vanessa and her new hubby were skinny Goth chic, pierced and made-up and tattooed to the max, and the minister appeared anxious to expedite the proceedings. Despite the weather-a blessed, holy downpour of God's love, according to the reverend-everyone had a great time. The happy newlyweds set the tone for everyone else and the reception was a blast. Everybody danced with everybody else. Max cut a rug with Ella a number of times, slow and fast, as well as most of the bridesmaids, including Carly.

Afterward, Max and Ella talked about the wedding and reception, how much fun it had been for everyone, and the things they liked and the things they would have changed. Before long they realized they were talking about their own wedding, and how they would do things. Max found himself down on one knee and proposed. Ella accepted. He carried her up the stairs to his bedroom, over their makeshift threshold, laid her down on the bed and gave her a serious fucking. He had no ring for her, but she didn't mind, he took care of that the next week.

Friends and relatives were ecstatic when they heard the news.

--

Max and Ella were now wedding planners. They booked the same church and the same hall that Vanessa had used, and chose a date four months down the road. They had discussed it so much after Vanessa's wedding, before he proposed, that most decisions came quick and easy. They had a clear vision of what they wanted. They divvied up responsibilities and one-by-one, things got done. Church, reception hall, catering, music, photography, flowers, logistics, you name it.

Max had buddies that would serve as ushers and best man. Ella chose her stepmother as her matron of honor, and Carly as one of her bridesmaids. As the date neared and they tallied up RSVPs, they realized there would be a total of 182 people, almost twice as many as they'd thought when they started. Oh, what the hell, let's party, they said.

They planned the wedding for three p.m. on a Saturday, with the reception immediately after. The wedding rehearsal and dinner would be the night before. On Sunday they would leave on their honeymoon, a week on the Riviera Maya on the east coast of Mexico.

--

Throughout the planning process, sex had become crazier and more adventurous and daring for Ella and Max, as if all the marriage talk had created a deeper bond between them and had lifted a barrier neither knew was there. They experimented with a hundred different positions. They tied each other up and got rough sometimes. They watched all kinds of porn and found new ways to get off. They often talked about the possibilities if they brought another person into bed with them, even discussed candidates, but they didn't act upon it.

Finally, the big weekend arrived. The Friday night rehearsal was nothing more than a quick run-through of what would be a fairly simple procedure, and it was over in a half-hour. Then the group was off to a nearby restaurant where Max had reserved a room for dinner. The dinner went well, there were plenty of laughs and drinks and toasts wishing Max and Ella all the best.

The bridesmaids cooked up a plan to throw a last-minute bachelorette party for Ella that night. They knew a place they could go where they could send her off to married life in style. Max had no objection. His own bachelor party had been the weekend before, and keeping with tradition, he would kiss her goodnight and they wouldn't see each other again until she walked down the aisle at the church the next day. Ella was to spend the night at Carly's place, and they all would assemble at Hannah's house on Saturday to primp and preen and dress for the wedding.

Hannah begged off going to the bachelorette party. The other girls were all roughly the same age, a good eight to ten years younger. She watched from the restaurant entrance as the girls got into their cars and pulled out of the lot. As they were driving, one of the bridesmaids made a call from her cell phone to verify an earlier conversation. Yes, we are on, yes, at my place, the address I gave you, she said. Yes, it is confirmed, she was told. He will be there in one hour.

"So, what are you doing the rest of the night, Max?" Hannah said.

"Nothing much," he said. "Rest up for tomorrow, I guess."

"That doesn't sound right. You shouldn't be all alone on the night before your wedding."

"It's no biggie."

"Look. Why don't you to come over to the house? We can have a nightcap, talk, relax."

Max was glad she had offered. The ceremony wasn't till late afternoon the next day, so he didn't have to be up at the crack of dawn or anything. Why not?

"Sure," he said. "I'd like that."

They got into their cars and Max followed her home.

Unknowingly, Max and Ella had just entered into a night that would have a profound effect on all of their married days to follow.

--

Max followed Hannah home and parked his car in the driveway while she drove hers into the garage. He walked into the garage and followed her into the house as the overhead door closed behind them.

"Have a seat on the sofa while I fix drinks," Hannah said, putting her purse and keys on a table. "Put some music on if you like."

The living room was huge, with a large leather sofa and love seat and comfortable chairs, a stone fireplace and entertainment center. The stereo was ancient, an old component system, probably from Ella's father's college days, he guessed. An audiophile. Big Marantz receiver, high-end speakers, CD player, a turntable. Max didn't feel like screwing around with records or CDs, so he found a jazzy music channel on the cable.

Max walked to the kitchen where Hannah was standing at the counter slicing lemons.

"What are you whipping up?" Max asked.

"Here, stir this," Hannah said, touching the glass pitcher on the counter.

It was full of a fizzy champagne-tinted liquid and had a long glass swizzle stick in it.

"What is it?" he asked.

"Sherry Spritzers," she said. "Light and breezy and damn good."

She squeezed several lemon and orange wedges into the pitcher as he stirred, and then tossed them into the mix. She filled two tall highball glasses with ice, put it all on a tray and carried it into the living room. She placed it on the table in front of the sofa and they sat down. She poured their drinks.

"Another toast!" Hannah said, holding up her glass. "To my handsome, new son-in-law. Or stepson-in-law, or something like that. I'm so happy for Ella. And proud to have you in the family."

They tapped glasses and drank.

"You're right," Max said. "This stuff is good."

"There's plenty more where that came from, Honey, so enjoy. Let's celebrate."

They didn't say anything for a minute and listened to a smoky tenor solo on 'Cry Me A River'.

"Thank you for saying that," Max said.

"What?"

"That you're proud to have me in the family."

"Aw, Honey," Hannah said, and put her drink on the table. She scooted a bit closer, put her arms around him and hugged him. He hugged her back, too, smelled her hair and felt her breasts press against his chest.

"You don't have to thank me, Max," she continued. "You're a good man, and just right for Ella. The first night I met you, I knew."

"Knew what?"

Hannah picked up her glass, took a swig and put it back down on the table.

"I knew you were the one. And I told Ella that. I told her it was okay to marry you. Not that she needed my okay, she's twenty-six years old, she's an adult and can make her own decisions. But we are close and I knew she would like my approval, so I gave it. She hadn't been with a man for quite a while after her Dad died. Then she introduced me to you, I met you, and liked you immediately. You had the look and the qualities that I would want in a man. I thought if you're good enough for me, you're good enough for Ella."

--

The bachelorette party was being held at the house that one of the bridesmaids shared with a couple roommates. There was a large, open great room and the bar had been well-stocked. The roommates had invited a few other friends too, so the room was also well-stocked with boisterous, half-lit women. Most of the gals were into their second or third drink when the doorbell rang. The entertainment had arrived.

A male stripper had been hired for the occasion. In strode a good-looking, light-skinned black guy, probably no older than nineteen or twenty. He set a boom box on a table and didn't waste any time. He turned it on. A tight, funky groove kicked in and he went into his act.

"Who's getting married?" he shouted.

Everybody pointed at Ella. He shuffled over to her.

The guy was athletic. He moved with smooth precision, his knees, hips and ass locked into the pocket of the beat. He was dressed in a red silk shirt, a navy blue tie, and white jeans. Red, white and blue. His body writhed and his groin was about a foot in front of Ella's face. He moved around the room as the girls giggled and hollered.

First the necktie came off, and he swiped it through his crotch a few times, educing more whoops, before tossing it into his bag. He made the rounds and a couple of the girls unbuttoned his shirt. The shirt came off, revealing a tank top underneath. He teased them a couple more minutes before he pulled that off, and elicited more whoops and hollers and oohs and aahs when it revealed what was underneath.

The dude was ripped. His stomach was hard with well-defined abs. There was not an ounce of fat on the guy. He moved around, his muscled body contorting to the rhythms, and soon he was being unzipped by an enthusiastic bridesmaid. First the fly, and then the zippers all the way down the outsides of both legs. He stepped out of his pants in a heartbeat and was down to his skintight briefs.

His briefs were the American flag, and chock-full of meat, quite a massy bulge, and judging by their gleeful reaction, the girls noticed. When he thumbed his briefs off, there was one last obstacle: he had on the flimsiest, skimpiest thong, an even tinier American flag, and the stars and stripes were struggling to contain the bulk behind it. It looked like a poorly-wrapped pound of tenderloin at the meat market.

He sauntered over to Ella so she could take it off for him. She shook her head. The girls shouted encouragement. Take it off. Touch it. Suck it. She reached for it, felt it briefly, pulled her hand away and shook her head again.

"Go ahead!" Carly said, who was seated beside her.

He pivoted in front of Carly, and she did the honors. Everybody cheered when she sniffed the thong and then held it up to Ella's nose before tossing it to another girl. Then she touched his cock, felt its weight.

It was massive. It was limp, but hung four or five inches. His balls were loose and hung down, one slightly lower than the other. He made his way through his audience one-by-one, and one-by-one they touched it and felt it, and it grew before their eyes. Soon it was hard and long, a good nine fat inches, and the girls took turns touching it and feeling it and holding it, and finally one kissed it, then sucked it, and before you knew it they were all getting into the act. A can of whipped cream materialized and soon the girls were licking and sucking it off of his chest and his stomach, his dick and his thighs, and his balls and his ass.

Ella watched in disbelief, but was enjoying herself. The guy worked his way back toward her, whipped cream in hand. He covered the head of his cock with the sweet, white foam.

Carly didn't hold back. She bent forward with an anxious thrust and licked the cream off. Then she took the big black cock into her mouth. Ella watched in amazement as his long dark member slipped in and out from between Carly's lips. Carly was into it; her hands gripped his butt as she forced as much dick into her mouth as she could handle.

Carly took his cock out of her mouth and the Reddi-Wip out of his hand. She squirted an ample white mound on that beautiful black cock and turned to Ella.

"Your turn," she said.

Ella was by now so wet she didn't care. Fluid was dripping out of her. She slurped the cream off in no time and wrapped her mouth around that hard dark meat. The girls chanted, 'Go, Go, Go, Go' as she sucked him. With the encouragement, he slung it into her harder and harder. The music pumped, the stripper humped, and the ladies jumped up and down watching. Ella heard the yells. That propelled her on for a while, but soon her achy jaws tired. This was the biggest, fattest thing she'd ever had in her mouth. She withdrew.

She had barely removed her mouth from the cock when he ejaculated his semen into the open air, onto her blouse and Carly's pants. The stripper shuffled away and his penis was soon in the hands of another willing party girl.

"Shit, what have I done?" Ella said.

"Nothing," Carly said. "Having fun. Let's get a drink"

They got up and went over to the bar. Carly fixed them a couple stiff ones.

"I can't believe we did that," Ella said.

"Forget about it. It's our secret."

"But the others..."

"They did it too."

They sat by the bar, drank their drinks and watched the action. They saw five different girls get fucked by the Black Stallion before the party broke up.

--

Back at Hannah's house, the conversation between she and Max had made its way into very personal territory. As the spritzers went down, so did their inhibitions. They were into the second pitcher and sitting closer together on the couch. There was an occasional touch on their arms and legs.

"You know a couple things that surprised me," Max said. "About you and Ella?"

"What?" she asked. She removed her earrings and put them on the table beside her glass.

"First off, was how close you two are. I've known a number of people with step-parents, but their relationships were always kind of stiff. Distant. But you two aren't. You're like best friends."

"Yeah, well, I lost a husband, and she lost a father to whom she was very close. We suffered through it together and bonded as we did. So yes, we grew very close."

"I think that's good. It certainly made it easier for us. And for me."

"How so?" she asked, taking a drink.

"It was important to us that you like me. Especially to Ella, I could tell. And with you two being so comfortable together, I could just be myself. I didn't have to try too hard. It was so natural. Did you two hit it off right away, when you first met?"

"Uh, not really. I didn't see a lot of her at first. She had her own place, her own life. Hasn't Ella told you all this?"

"Pieces here and there. She's been kind of vague." He drank.

"It was a difficult transition and can be hard to talk about sometimes."

"I'm sorry, Hannah..."

"No, it's okay. She's going to be your wife, you have a right to know." Pause. "You said there were a couple things that surprised you about us. What was the second?"

"Your age," Max said without hesitation.

"My age?"

"Yeah, your age. And your looks, your body, and everything else about you. You're not what I expected, that's for sure."

Flattered, Hannah asked, "And what did you expect?"

"Older, like her Dad. Maybe fifty. Maybe frumpy with a big butt and wide hips. I don't know. But not you. Hell, you don't look that much older than me."

Hannah refilled their glasses and they drank.

"How old do you think I am, Max?"

"Hard to say. Thirty-two or thirty-three."

"I'll be thirty-seven in three months. What do you think about that?"

Max drained his half-filled glass.

"I think you look younger. I think you look fabulous," he said, and took a deep breath. "And I think that if I had met you first, I, uh, I don't know..."

"What?"

"I think that I might be having this same conversation with Ella right about now."

There was a moment of awkward silence. Hannah looked down at her hands, then back at Max's face.

He leaned his head to kiss her but she stiffened, so he aborted the effort. What was he doing? Hannah sat still with a blank, confused look on her face. Max gripped his hand around hers but her hand stayed still. He'd gone too far, he could tell. On the eve of his wedding.

"I'm sorry, Hannah," he said with a rasp, squeezing her hand before he let go. "I've said too much. I better go." He rose from the sofa, and started toward the door. "Thanks for the drinks and a nice evening. I'll see you tomorrow. I'm sorry."

She sat trancelike, shaking her head. He let himself out.

"No!" she called, as the door latched shut.

She rose and hurried to the door and reopened it, flipping on the porch light at the same time. Max was in the driveway, almost to his car.