Story of my Wedding Night Gangbang

“I LOVE YOU!” My husband, of 9 hours, slurred, as he proceeded to drunkenly slide down the leather sofa, and fall asleep.

My wedding day had been everything that I had ever wished for; it was my 19th birthday, the weather was warm and dry, my dress made me feel like a princess, and the flowers in the church looked absolutely wonderful.

Pete’s dad, Roger, held me, and said, “we’ll take him to bed, for you.” “Keith, grab an arm!” he shouted to his brother. They then dragged my husband through the hotel lounge, leaving me to say goodnight, and apologise, to the last few of our guests.

Pete had been drinking since breakfast, and the champagne, wine and beer had finally taken its toll. When he was this drunk, Peter, would sleep like a baby, until 10 or 11 o’clock in the morning.

“Where do you want him?” Roger asked, as we entered the bridal suite. “On the bed, I suppose,” I replied.

After they had, unceremoniously, dropped him onto the bed, Keith asked, “should I undress him?” Again I replied, “I suppose so.”

Roger was divorced from Peters’ mum, leaving Peter to be brought up by his domineering mother, Linda. Peters’ dad and uncle are both six feet tall, with rugged good looks. Peter looks more, like his mother, small, thin and very pretty.

I was sitting on the sofa, feeling very sorry for myself, when Roger said, smiling, “I’m sorry, my dear, but, you’re going to be disappointed, on your wedding night.” As he handed me a glass of champagne, from our bottle, next to the bed.

“Looking at the size of his cock, she’s going to be disappointed every night!” Keith shouted, as he pulled down his nephew’s pants.

“Jesus Christ! My balls are bigger than that!” Roger laughed, as he bent over the bed for a closer look, at his son’s private parts.

Keith was; now, flicking Peters cock, from side to side, with his middle finger. I chuckled at the sight.

“I hope that he’s good with his tongue, ‘cos a little thing like that won’t satisfy a beautiful girl like you.” Roger said, looking me straight in the eye, smiling. “What do you mean?” I stammered. “You know…” and he wiggled his tongue. “Oh, my God no!” I gasped, and held my hand up to my face to hide my embarrassment. By now he was sitting next to me. “You mean he’s never tasted your nectar, and made you scream like a banshee?” he quizzed me. I shook my head. “Never?” Again I shook my head.

“I don’t believe it,” he addressed Keith, “If he doesn’t go down, on a gorgeous young girl like this, and that’s all he has,” pointing to Peters sad little cock, “, she’ll be fucking anything that moves, before Christmas, girls like this have got to be kept satisfied.” “Next, you’ll be telling us that he’s the only man that you’ve ever been fucked by.” I couldn’t believe what I was hearing, and took another gulp of champagne, and nodded. “You don’t think that all men are that size, do you?” They both laughed. I shrugged my shoulders.

It was true, Peter was my first real boyfriend, I had met him four years previously, when I was 15 and he was 19.

Roger had reputation with women, usually with young barmaids, which caused the breakdown of his marriage, 10 years ago, he had one, too many affairs. Unusually, his ex-wife still had a soft spot for him, letting him stay at her house, for long weekends. I’d only met him four times before today, as he lived at the other end of the country, and had always found him to be very friendly, but a little bit flirtatious.

Turning to face me, he started to unzip his fly, and pulled out his massive penis, it was about 7 inches long and as thick as my wrist. My eyes nearly popped out, and my jaw fell open. “You can touch it, if you like,” he said as he winked at Keith.

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