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Subject: {ASSM} HONEYMOON HICCUP (part one) by Largo Scuro
Date: Wed, 30 Aug 2000 08:10:04 -0400
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This story features IR sex, cuckoldry, cock worship, scat, creampie eating
and slutwifery.
HONEYMOON HICCUP
I lurched over the toilet and began to vomit. My bride's excrement tasted
just as horrible coming back up as it did going down. Standing behind me, my
new wife Sindi and her new lover, Clyde, were locked in a passionate embrace.
I was certain they were utterly oblivious to me. I was about to stand
corrected.
"Tom is throwing up my last bowel movement," Sindi said softly to her black
studmeat, in that little girl voice, "And I've got a belly full of your
sperm. I never thought a man could have such power over one person, let alone
two."
I could almost hear her squeezing Clyde's biceps. "I know what people need,"
Clyde responded. "And I know how give it to them. You needed this big black
dick -- your husband, the taste of regurgitated shit."
My body convulsed as I wharfed up the next round of brown puke.
"Mm-hmm-hmmrhrraaAAGGHHLCCHHHAAAGG!!" More of my lovely Sindi's turds flew
out of my helpless mouth and nose, splattering into the bowl. This had to be
the single worst night of my life, hands down, no contest.
I was almost done now. I looked briefly at the toilet's contents. Sniffed its
sickening stench. It was like I had a bout of diarrhea from the wrong end.
Tiny chunks of stool mixed with some undigested portions of my reception
dinner swam on a surface of a murky, tinted water. I was quivering. Never had
I felt so completely humiliated, so emotionally devastated. My abdomen gave
my stomach a final violent squeeze, unleashing one last spurt of shit/vomit.
Bile burned the back of my throat and nostrils as it came rushing out. Then --
I was done. I sighed a little. Or was it Sindi sighing at the sight of
Clyde's growing cock again -- oh, who the hell knows?
I hung onto the cool toilet rim, spitting absently into that dirty water,
dizzy. When I was finally as composed as someone in my shape can be, I
flushed and looked up at the mirrored wall behind the toilet. Through the
dried streaks of Clyde's smeared piss and cum I could see myself. One eye was
nearly swollen shut. Blood stained everything from my left nostril down to my
tuxedo shirt, and further down onto my pants I gazed beyond myself -- at Sindi --
--who kissing Clyde deeply, accepting his tongue. My bride may not have had
her panties on anymore, but she was still wearing her white stockings, her
white "Honeymoon Shelf Bra", which cupped the bottoms of her bountiful
breasts yet exposed her big pink nipples and-irony of ironies-her white
wedding veil! Clyde was still in his black turtleneck, though he'd been out
of his pants within moments of his arrival. How long had it been anyway? It
seemed like days I'd been trapped in this bathroom watching Sindi give her
supple body to this horse-cocked bastard like some trailer trash whore. I
looked at my watch. 11 o'clock! Jeez, it had only been three hours since
Clyde knocked on our door, precipitating the end of a marriage that had
barely begun --
The day couldn't have been more perfect. The church. The reception. Sindi.
Me. Everything went so smoothly, so wonderfully. It was like a fantasy come
true. Sindi and I had had a very long engagement, almost two years. So we
were able to get very meticulous about how our wedding day would unfold. We
hired a band instead of a DJ but made sure to record a tape of our favorite
songs, which would be piped in while the band was on break. We put a couple
of little bride-and-groom trolls on top of the wedding cake. We're big fans
of line dancing, so we handed out cowboy hats to all our guests and line
danced to "Crazy Little Thing Called Love." These little touches made our
wedding day so memorable.
The wedding night would be even more memorable but for touches (both big and
little) that I'd rather forget.
We left the banquet hall while the reception was still in full-swing and
snuck a drink in the hotel bar, accepting myriad congratulatory handshakes
and hugs from the bar's patrons. The bartender even took care of our drinks.
Every guy in the place was staring at Sindi. That wedding dress was very
classy and elegant but nothing ever designed could restrain the curves of my
wife's voluptuous body.
I was sitting on top of the world. I was the guy who was going to get some of
what these men were all lusting after. At this point I hadn't noticed the
handsome black man sitting in a booth behind us, though I would learn later
Clyde had been back there, eye planted firmly on my bountiful young bride.
After we finished our drinks we went up to the room, kissing each other the
whole ride up on the elevator. I carried her across the threshold into our
beautiful eleventh story honeymoon suite. I plopped her down on the bed, got
on top of her kissed her some more.
"That has been the best day of my life," I told her.
"It's only going to get better, baby," she cooed, "Wait till you see what
I've got under this dress --"
Oh I'd see what she was wearing eventually. But that's all I'd be able to do.
Look.
I started patiently unhooking the back of her dress. She reached down and
felt the tiny bump in my pants. Yep, I was hard and yep, I'm so poorly
endowed that tiny is as big as I get. A good one-point-five inches as a
matter of fact. But that didn't matter right now. It would later on, but for
now I was giddy with the anticipation of making love to my wife. Mrs. Me! It
was truly intoxicating. Then the moment was lost. Forever. When --
--Sindi started hiccuping. The first time she did it made us laugh. Then she
hiccuped again. We both paused now and waited. Sure enough she hiccuped a
third time. "Maybe some (hic!) water'd do the (hic!) trick, dear (hic!)," she
said shyly.
Dutiful new husband I was I jumped up and raced to the wetbar where I found
some bottled water in the fridge. I cracked the seal and handed it to my
bride. She sat up in bed drinking. I sat beside her, stroking her back. She'd
be done with the water in a minute and we'd get back to business. For now she
was drinking from the water bottle, lipstick'd mouth wrapped around its tip,
dainty hand holding the cylindrical container. My teeny weenie was doing
cartwheels in my pants. Her eyes rolled toward me and smiled as she drank.
She knew what was on my mind. She stopped drinking and waited, then HICCUP!
"You know what (hic!) might help," Sindi said huskily, leaning forward on the
bed, rubbing her upper chest, "If I breathed (hic!) into a paper bag (hic!)."
"Paper bag, paper bag --" I said to myself as I began to think. Nope, they
don't usually stock hotel rooms with a supply of paper bags in case someone
gets the hiccups. "Shit, I might have to go get one at the gift shop --"
"Fiddlesticks," Sindi chuckled, hiccuped, then took a big gulp out of the
bottle, swallowing deeply, "Call room service. This (hic!) water'll do me
fine till they (hic!) get here --"
Whatever suited my beautiful new wife. No sooner had I picked up the phone
than there was a knock at the door.
"Ooo, honey," Sindi waved, "That's (hic!) probably somebody who (hic!) works
here, go tell them (hic!)."
I hung up the phone and ran over to the door. I quickly looked through the
peephole, seeing a young African American man in a black turtleneck through
the fish eye glass. I cautiously opened the door, making sure to be ready to
close it quickly just in case. I mean, you watch enough news programs on
stuff like this happening, you get wary of strangers knocking on hotel doors.
Clyde was a strapping young man. Big shouldered, tiny waisted, long legged.
And blacker than black. He smiled courteously at me and shuffled a little.
"Sorry to interrupt things", he said with a wink. Off my intentionally blank
expression, he continued, "You were down in the bar a few minutes ago, right?
Happy couple, just married --?"
"Yes," I said, skepticism brewing, arm poised to slam the door in his face.
"I think the bride dropped this," he said and held up in one of his large
meaty hands a tiny silver ring, just like the one I gave Sindi on her
birthday back in our courting days. I looked closely at it. It bore a piece
of amethyst, Sindi's birthstone.
"You don't work here," I said firmly, "How did you get our room number?"
"Oh, hey, it's cool," he said, taken aback, "I just overheard you guys,
everybody down at the bar heard there was gonna be a 'fireworks show up in
1106', remember?"
I nodded, trying to hide my embarrassment. I was the one who yelled that
"fireworks" line mere moments ago.
"Who is it (hic!) dear?" came Sindi's voice from behind me.
I could see Clyde crane his neck, straining to get a glimpse of her. He
wouldn't yet as she was on the bed. It was around the corner from the
bathroom, which blocked the view. Ahh yes, the bathroom. Where the last
shreds of decency I possessed would be ripped away from me faster than my
wife's wedding gown. But I digress.
"Sin, are you wearing your birthday ring?" I asked.
Pause. "(hic!) Hey --" was Sindi's confused reply.
She came around the corner now, hiccuping, looking at her right hand. Clyde
drank in her body. Sindi stopped when she saw Clyde over my shoulder.
"Oh hi --" she said eyes cascading up and down Clyde's physique. That
turtleneck was a little snug. I started realizing Clyde could be considered
what women call "a specimen." Without looking at me Sindi said, "Oh! There it
is --" She smiled at the sight of the ring, then looked up at Clyde's handsome
face. That was the end of her hiccups.
"Here you go," Clyde said handing it past me to her. "It was under one of the
bar stools downstairs."
"Thank you," Sindi said, absently putting it back on, "I deliberately lost a
few pounds for the big day. I guess some came off my fingers!"
"There are worse places for a woman like yourself to lose weight from," Clyde
quipped, eyes dropping to the rest of her body then back up to her blushing
face. She'd taken this lascivious compliment like a box of candy! "I'm Clyde
by the way."
"Sindi," my new bride said in a faraway voice.
"Thanks a lot, Clyde, nice meeting ya," I remarked, then slammed the door in
Clyde's face. I was about to get back to business with Sindi but noticed she
had undergone some kind of metamorphosis in the last thirty seconds.
"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" the blushing bride said shouldering past me, throwing the
door open again, "Could you be any ruder, Tom?" she snapped in a voice that
was more customary for a wife of seven years than seven hours. Clyde was
still on the other side of the threshold, amused at Sindi's behavior.
"What?" I said utterly puzzled.
"This gentleman returns your birthday present to me, which could have been
lost forever, and you slam the door in his face?" Giving me a searing look,
she turned to Clyde, features softening. "Would you like something? A drink,
something to eat? We'll call room service --"
Clyde looked a little unsure, "Oh I don't know, that sounds like an awful
imposition on your wedding night."
"Oh it's no imposition at all, here --" Sindi pushed me aside, begging the
young man entry into our honeymoon suite.
"Dear --" I said, stopping when she glared at me.
MORE TO COME
--
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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