Río Sinuoso

Missy put the phone down and crawled up onto me, her legs spread to either side. She sucked my breasts, then leaned up to rub her own gently all over them.

"I wanna try lots of tits," she explained. "I wanna suck lots of cunts. I wanna do what we did at David's apartment, but with girls. Can't you let me try?"

I held Missy's tiny ass. She rolled her mound against mine. When I reached around to dab at her flaps, they were soaked.

"You're that wet again? I just finished fucking you," I sighed.

"Just the thought of a sex party with all those bodies and cunts... new girls to fist. Don't you wanna just try? Once?"

"No," I said honestly. "You go. I don't mind. Tell me what it's like."

"You'd rather be gang-fucked by a group of strange men? With cocks? Getting themselves off, laughing if they hurt you. Treating you like shit?"

"Missy, I'm sorry you had that experience."

"Girls wouldn't do that to each other."

"I know. Seriously, go. Try the group. See if it's your thing," I said, being genuine. Missy could tell.

"We've never had sex behind each other's backs before," Missy said gently, kissing my lips and face.

"It's not behind my back if I told you to do it."

"I love you Penny," Missy smiled, putting her tongue in my mouth.

"I love you too, baby. Now come sit on my face!"

"Yes ma'am."

I loved the taste and warmth of Missy's vaginal spring. That beautiful girl leaked herself into my mouth and down my throat. Her clitoris masturbated on my nose as I gripped that tiny bare ass. It was all I needed from lesbian sex. But Missy needed more.

Chapter 19

The weekend that Missy went over to spend her first night with the Wakefield girls, I put myself into a road-side bar looking for a one-night stand with a guy. I stayed until dawn in the sleeping cab of an 'articulated vehicle' as the guy described it, 'called Bessie'.

He was young and he was handsome and fit and he made the most of his windfall. We screwed like young lovers until morning, not falling asleep until sunlight filled the cabin. He dropped me near home just before lunch, keeping my panties to hang on his rearview mirror.

It was a wonderful evening. When guys fucked me, I didn't feel abused like Missy did. I felt attractive, I felt filled. I liked guys cumming in me, it seemed natural, it felt like what nature wanted.

So, Missy and I drifted out as we had drifted in. When one of the Wakefield girls came with her to church one Sunday, it was pre-planned shock. Missy came out in the most abrasive way possible, kissing that girl in the gardens outside the service, holding each other's ass, gripping each other's breasts. I did not show solidarity, I snuck quietly away, distancing myself. I felt guilty that people were feeling bad for me; that my best friend had turned out gay, I must feel deceived. Of course, the truth was the opposite. I had spent more than half a year ramping Missy's girl-fetish up. The taste of her juices lingered on my conscience. I betrayed her with my silence as Missy was vilified.

My only saving grace was I told Missy it would be that way. I would not cross over with her. I wasn't attracted to girls, just her. I would go back to using my vagina as it was designed - for being inseminated (even if I cheated, using birth control).

Chapter 20

A year later I was laying by a hotel pool in Vegas in the early morning. I was there for a hens weekend before the wedding of one of my new colleagues. I had woken up naked to find two European-looking guys asleep in my bed. They were naked, too, and I was sore - everywhere. I quietly cleared out before they woke, hoping they would be gone by the time I went back. I was wearing my tiny white sheer bikini top, but had my gym shorts on; my pussy had been shaved bare and my mound and thighs were littered with hickeys. I didn't remember any of it. They'd done a good job shaving me though, my vagina was perfectly smooth. It stung to touch my insides. I vaguely remember something painfully huge going in there, but I couldn't think what. No cock could hurt me anymore, no matter the size.

"Hello there," I heard, taking a moment to realize it was directed at me. "Good morning."

I shielded the sun from my eyes. I squinted, hardly believing who I saw. Brother Michael!

"Oh my... goodness! What are you doing here?" I squealed shuffling up to sit properly.

"I'm here for work," he smiled. "A conference in Vegas. It's cliche, right?"

Brother Michael kept trying not to stare at my tits, bare through the fine-mesh material. He blushed when I noticed.

"It's okay," I laughed. "You can look! You've seen me naked before!"

"Yes," he mumbled.

"I never said thank you for that. I'm sorry, I should have. You could have got us in lots of trouble and you didn't. I really appreciated that."

"Hey, it was none of my business. It was a private matter. It was rude for me to stick my head in."

"Nevertheless, thank you."

"You're welcome," he smiled.

"What kind of conference does a priest go to in Vegas?" I quizzed.

"I'm not a priest."

"Okay, a Brother. That's still a bit unusual, no? Coming to the city of sin."

Brother Michael smiled. "That makes for good business, don't you think?"

"I guess," I nodded, grinning. It was good to see a familiar face.

"But, actually, I'm not a Brother either. Not anymore."

"What do you mean?" I asked, shocked.

"I left over a half year ago."

"What??" I squealed, shocked.

"You obviously didn't notice I wasn't in church anymore," he teased.

"Oh, gee, I don't really notice any of the Brothers. Sorry! I just thought you guys rotated around, like a grad program."

Brother Michael laughed. Actually, put accurately, Michael laughed.

"Ah, no. I left."

"So, what's that mean for you? What are you doing?"

"I studied IT alongside theology at college. Strange mix, I know. I took the IT path.

"Holy shit! Oh, I can say that now, I hope, now you're not..."

"You can still be polite," Michael grinned. "But, it's true, people are more relaxed around me now. Wearing the frock, it can be a barrier."

"So, I can do this," I grinned cheekily, reaching behind my back and neck to undo my bikini top. I slid it off and into my bag. I felt good the way Michael's eyes widened. My body was at its best. I was young and fit, and I knew guys liked my breasts when I took my clothes off.

"Hey, it's just the same as before," I teased him.

"Before you were in a tent, in bed. You don't care all these guys around can see you?"

"I like that guys like my body," I said lightly. "Makes me feel attractive. It's nice."

Michael sighed. "It is nice. You look nice."

"So you can touch me now?" I asked, curious.

"I left the brotherhood, not the church, not the religion. Still a good Catholic."

"So am I!" I lied. "Mostly. Perhaps not as good as you, though."

Michael took a breath. "I have a confession to make."

"Uh-oh, this sounds like trouble."

"That camp we went to. It's part of the reason I knew the brotherhood wasn't for me."

"Really? Why?" I asked with trepidation.

"When I put my head in the tent that morning... I knew what to expect."

"What do you mean?"

"I saw you. I watched you two have sex."

"How?" I asked, shocked.

"I came in to the old house to check if you were okay, just at the moment you led Missy by her hand out of the bathroom."

"Oh."

"I followed."

"Oh."

"I watched."

"Oh. Oh. Oh no!" I gasped.

"I'm so sorry," Michael told me. "I didn't mean to... I couldn't pull myself away."

"You watched us have sex, the whole thing?"

"It was wrong of me. I was spying, it was such a terrible thing. I've felt so rotten all this time. I know you might hate me, and I understand, but I feel better that you know. You know truthfully what type of person I am. I'm not the man you thought I was."

"Brother Michael. Michael," I corrected, "I don't hate you. Don't be silly."

"But I did that terrible thing, I stood all that time and just watched you girls, naked, having sex. I knew that I couldn't follow the path of the brotherhood. Not with any honesty or purity. I would always suffer from this temptation. I didn't want to inflict that on the church. They have so many problems already from priests."

"Wow," I said, taking a breath. "So... you want to have sex?"

Michael couldn't tell if I meant with me or not. I giggled at the confusion on his face.

"Not now, not like that. I'm still Catholic. It'll be in marriage. But yes, I would like to have a normal man and woman life."

"But you have to be married?"

"Yes."

"How about engaged?" I teased him.

"Ha!" he laughed. "Maybe, some sort of compromise!"

"Oral?" I checked.

"Something like that."

I could tell he was hard, and I saw him looking at the goose bumps on my breasts in the sun. My nipples were as erect as his penis.

"Shall we have lunch together?" I asked coyly.

"Certainly."

It was still too early, so we sat and talked. Michael took his top off too, he was impressive. I told him that I'd feel offended if he didn't stare at my breasts like other guys were, so he politely obliged.

I wanted to go back and shower and change for lunch but needed to delay it as late as possible, in the hope that the two men in my bed had cleared out. Michael needed to sign off on his training session to pretend that he'd been there all morning, and we booked to eat at The Laundry Room.

I stood up and walked around, picking up my things and saying goodbye without putting a t-shirt on, just to tease poor Michael. Once dressed I snuck back to my room, trying to listen for any noise within. Hearing nothing, I opened up and walked in.

Shit.

One guy was left in my bed, sitting watching golf, eating what looked like a club sandwich.

"Sorry madam," he smiled without being sorry, "I hope you don't mind, I had some breakfast."

"You need to go."

The guy nodded, and kept eating, not moving. He was smiling at me as if I had been on the menu alongside his sandwich.

"Go. Out," I pointed. Instead, he lifted the sheets to show he'd become hard at seeing me.

"Okay. But first...," he said.

I breathed a deep sigh. "A quick one. Then out," I told him as sternly as I could.

He wasn't quick, and frankly I didn't want him to be - but I had a lunch to go to, so I was constantly checking the time as he pounded my naked body.

"You're so tiny," he said, gripping my ass, jack-hammering. I didn't think I was that small. Maybe compared to Euro girls? The guy took such a long time to cum I had to rush to get to the restaurant. I felt awful at lunch as air and sperm belched out of me when I moved. I prayed that Michael hadn't heard, though I suspect that god would hardly choose me over him.

So it was fate. I bedeviled Michael, and he purified me. It was a good balance for both of us. My family approved wholeheartedly, and it stopped my previously inevitable march into the dark. Instead, Michael and I had tremendous fun. I did all I could to tempt him; it was hilarious to watch the torture that poor man went through. He so obviously wanted to fuck me, but held firm. I'm glad he did, it was so much more fun that way.

Maybe because of the half-nude way we first hooked up in Vegas, Michael never got upset or jealous when I showed other guys my body. He knew it was for fun, that it wasn't a threat to us. Lifting my dress on the escalator so he and other guys could see I was panty-less, it was part of the preview for when we got married. I went topless at beaches with him, I'd walk into the bathroom to watch him when he showered, I'd dip carrot sticks into my vagina and feed them to him for snacks. I had such a great time teasing Michael. I know he wanted badly to jump me. His resistance was admirable and caused me endless fun. It was like I was the guy in the relationship. I told him that once we married, I would fuck his cock so much I would wear it off.

"You are going to marry me, right?" I asked him threateningly, my hand gripping his collar.

"How could I not, after such a charming proposal?"

"So you agree. We are officially engaged?"

"Yes, Penny, I accept."

"Good," I smiled reaching for his jeans button and zip. "Because I want to suck your cock."

Chapter 21

First weddings are usually unimaginative. They follow a routine. A script, a playbook. As the first of my generation to have my first wedding, it was even more normal to have it as a normal event. Innovation is borne from discontent and boredom, and my generation hadn't experienced enough mundane weddings to determine to do differently.

"No," said Brother Michael. I had taken to calling him that again, to tease him. He hated it; it was perfect. "We will not do this. I've been to dozens. They all think it's a special day, and it's not. None of them are. They all blur into one. It's completely cheesy."

"So, you want your first wedding to be on a nude beach? Isn't that normally a second wedding thing, Brother Michael?"

I was grinning from ear to ear. He hated me calling him Brother. He hated me calling it 'my first wedding', and of course he would be the last guy to have a nude wedding.

"Elope. No one but us two. Our families can do whatever they want after, a delayed reception as kitsch as they like. Plastic glass towers of champagne, seven-tier Plaster-of-Paris wedding cake on wheels, photographer in a scruffy brown coat and sneakers. Naff band. Slurring speeches full of sexual innuendo. Fat relatives trying to dance. Bridesmaids that..."

"Okay, I get it. You are a jaded wedding-goer," I smiled.

"I want mine to be different."

"It's not just yours, you know."

"I know. I'm sorry," he sighed.

As much as I teased Michael, I knew how lucky I was to have him. He was a good man. In many ways he saved me. Not just away from a life of uncontrolled debauchery, but Michael delivered me into a world of love. Michael knew how to love selflessly; it had brought him to the edge of priesthood. And it was contagious. I was a better person when Michael was around.

So, we married in Tuscany, just the two of us. It was unique and romantic and extraordinary. It was my first trip overseas, my first time in a place without English, and the first time I went to bed (knowingly) with someone's husband. (Those two guys I met that took me camping, they took off their rings, I had no idea they had families!).

We arrived on a Wednesday, and married on a Thursday. Separate rooms for one night - but that was okay for me, couples shouldn't be together the eve before a wedding. But after the late morning ceremony and a long wine-filled lunch on the large private balcony of our hotel room, at last I got my man.

My wedding dress was chic, not the puffy meringue I would have worn at home. It was a long white BCBG with a deep front and even deeper back. Since no one was with us to be shocked, I felt cheeky enough to have my breasts half-out, and the top half of my ass on show. It was clear to anyone who watched us walk through those cobbled streets on that glorious sunny day that the bride was wearing only one piece of clothing on her body. The photos afterward would undo me at home, but that was a problem for later.

On the huge balcony of our room, we had a full-time waiter standing by the doorway and kitchen staff to come up and down when the courses arrived. The wedding photographer followed, his last job to take photos of us with champagne, leaning on the balcony with the plains of Tuscany down the slope behind us.

Michael grinned, unsurprised as I took my dress off my shoulders and let it fall to the ground. I wanted some risque wedding shots, who better to take them than a professional photographer, right? Once he saw Michael was okay, he did a great job. Michael stayed fully clothed, and me in just my sparkly heels. A lot of the photos were stylish and demure nudes, almost respectable, standing side-on or half-behind Michael. But some were... more physical. My hand in his pants. Michael gripping my breasts or ass. Holding me up, pussy shaved and spread, fingers up me. It got pretty dirty.

When we finished, I found a sheer white camisole to wear on top, one that came to my navel. The waiter found a soft towel for me to sit on, so my vagina didn't wet the balcony chair. He was polite and discrete. When Michael went to the bathroom, I told him to relax, he could look! I let him take some photos on his own phone, and did a little spin for a video.

When everything was done, I tried to get the waiter to film Michael and I together, but he smiled and politely declined. I took my top off and Michael took photos of me with the waiter on both our phone and his. The poor guy was so nervous holding my breasts and ass, it was too strange for him. No chance could I talk him into fingering me.

When Michael and I were finally alone, it was heaven. I made sure if it.

"Shower first," I insisted. "Come on, it's the first time we've been naked. Let's wash each other."

"You're naked all the time!" Michael laughed. "Everywhere we go you manage to take your clothes off somewhere, somehow."

"First time naked together. Completely, anyway. Come on, I'm going to wash you all over, then I want your semen in me. Down there this time, not in my stomach."

"You like drinking it," Michael accused.

"I do. But I like it better when guys cum in my pussy. It's where it's designed to go, right?"

"How many guys have cum in you, do you know?"

Michael had never asked before, not directly. He didn't look upset; he looked as he felt safe to ask, now we were husband and wife.

"It's a fair question," I smiled. I was kissing his lips and running my breasts on his bare chest as we waited for the water to get warm.

"How many?" he asked again. "I hope you don't think me rude to ask."

"You're curious?" I smiled.

"I am," Michael said, kissing my face.

"Your wife's pussy has been used a lot, baby," I purred.

"How much?"

"How much... times, or how many guys."

"How many guys have put their cock in you?" Michael clarified.

"In my cunt? Or anywhere in me?" I asked, in a mood to talk dirty

Michael laughed. "Let's start with your cunt!"

"I don't know. I don't count. Twenty-five? Thirty guys maybe? More?"

I could feel Michael's erection throb against my stomach. He was turned on by the thought of me giving it to so many guys.

"You like that your wife is used goods, baby?" I reached between us and squeezed his cock. It was rock hard.

"I always wanted to marry a... I don't know the right word. A slut? A dirty girl?" Michael confessed. "I don't want a Puritan."

"I've been a slut," I breathed into his neck as I squeezed his cock as hard. "I've taken my pants off so many times. I've been so easy to screw. I've had cock in me so much. I've been fucked in the ass. I've been passed around from sofa to sofa as guys watched football and drank beer and ate pizza and came in me..."

"And you're a lesbian," Michael jumped in.

"I can't believe you saw me. You watched me have sex with a girl. Stood there and looked," I moaned, dripping wet at the memory.

"It's my turn now, though."

"It's your turn," I confirmed, tonguing his mouth. I dragged Michael by the cock into the shower. I washed him all over, and he washed me. His cock was drawn to my vagina but I wanted the first spray of his semen into my cunt to be special. Drying off, I walked naked out to the balcony and held the railing. In glorious sunshine I stuck out my ass and opened my stance.

"We better not stay out here long. Better not let too many people see," I looked back at him and said. His erection was so upright it looked painful. "Cum in me quick. Don't take too long. I want people to see you fuck me, but don't want the police here. Cum in me quickly, okay. Don't make it a long one."

I didn't have to worry; Michael was on the edge. I reached under and helped him bring his tip to my hole. I pushed back as much as he pushed forward. His cock was big, but I had been stretched by bigger things than cock. He went in easily.