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From: "Phil Phantom" <PP@PhilPhantom.Com>
Subject: {ASSM} High Stakes Honeymoon
Date: Tue, 26 Dec 2000 18:10:03 -0500
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<1st attachment, "high-stakes-honeymoon-pp.txt" begin>

                       High Stakes Honeymoon
                        By: Phil Phantom
                      HTTP://PhilPhantom.Com

I married my high school sweetheart several years after graduation,
shortly after we were both twenty-one. I don't know how we did it, but
we managed to save the primary virginity for a honeymoon in Las Vegas
that we had been saving three years for. Fortunately, we both enjoy
anal and oral sex, so we didn't suffer. In fact, we lived in sin for
most of those three years.

We plan everything and we worked hard to realize our goals. We set the
honeymoon and wedding goals while we were still in high school. We
talked often about the wedding, the honeymoon, a virgin fuck, the wild
sex we would have, and of being in a position to start a family with a
wild bang in a wild town where we could both let our hair down and get
wild, get drunk, and crawl to a room to fuck drunk with no cares - cum
anywhere - cum in hair - wear no underwear - and return broke, knocked
up, and go from there with a good nest-egg set aside that we would not
gamble with.

To do what we wanted to do, we figured ten grand for the wedding and
expenses for a week in Vegas - hotel, travel, food, entertainment -
ten grand to gamble (piss away) - ten grand in our hometown bank
awaiting our drag-ass return - and the timing had to be just right. We
both needed to be twenty-one, and she needed to be fertile and virgin
so that her cherry got popped right when her ovulation cycle began. We
couldn't set a firm departure date until we had a better idea of how
her cycles were running.

We loved our goal and we loved going over the plans to bring about our
goal. We loved fantasizing about the wild sex we'd have, and being
crazy in Vegas. My fantasies were mostly about winning a small
fortune. Hers were mostly sexual. She wanted a week of sexual
adventures that she could never have anywhere near our small community
just outside Nowhere Nebraska. I understood perfectly, and wasn't too
concerned; plus, I knew that if she spent her time chasing sexual
adventures, I would get most of that ten grand to try hitting it big.

 From early on, I encouraged her to think about safe sex sexual
adventures. I assured her that I would suspend every jealous and
possessive bone in my body for one week. She found that difficult to
believe, because I am rather possessive and hate seeing her out
looking too sexy or showing too much skin. I assured her that I am
that way only in a place where image is everything and reputations
stick and ruin. She understood that.

The fact was, my lovely bride-to-be was already ruined in our
community, and was ruined before I began dating her when we were
sophomores. As a freshman, she had a reputation for being easy to ass
fuck or get blowjobs from. She also loved getting naked and posing for
groups of guys, even groups of men. Her dirt poor parents with eight
hungry mouths to feed encouraged her, but she loved helping out that
way and took her dirty business to school where her ill-fame and small
fortunes grew rather rapidly. She was well known as either Butt-fuck
Brenda or Blowjob Brenda or The Kneeling Wallenda.

I got Brenda Wallenda to stop kneeling, though she never totally
stopped, and she never would turn her parents down even after we moved
in together. She became much more discrete about it, but could not
refuse to help when asked. She did clean her act up at school. For her
junior and senior year as my steady, and later as my fiancee, most
thought she went straight. Rumors persisted that she could still be
had, and I kept getting reports that so and so would get this or that,
but I knew that no one was getting any pussy. I could see the hymen
and could check any time I felt like checking. I learned not to make
an issue of rumors so long as she saved the cherry for me. I also
learned not to ask questions when she had to remain over night with
her folks. We both knew what that meant - showbiz.

I didn't ask, and she didn't want to tell me anything. As long as her
shows were discrete and she held onto my cherry, I saw no reason to
kill her family enterprise. I was just thankful that she cleaned up
her act and her image at school. When I befriended her, she was headed
for total ruination. I headed that off, and to her credit, she saw me
as a savior. She needed me, treasured me, and she grew to love, semi-
honor, and respect me.

I grew to love and treasure her, and respect her for her willingness
to help her family that way. I can't say I ever respected her family
when hard work and thrift could have accomplished the same thing, and
Planned Parenthood could have made thrift unnecessary. I can respect
pissing away excess funds, but I can not respect anyone who isn't
willing to work hard to get the things they need - like food for
growing children.

Brenda was the eldest child of eight with little likelihood that any
had the same father or that Chuck Wallenda fathered any. Gwen
Wallenda, Brenda's mother, was the most used woman in our community. I
knew about Gwen before I knew that Brenda was her daughter. In early
elementary school, I heard that Gwen fucked hogs and dogs and used
logs to fuck herself with. I doubted the logs, but a fat pig would
fuck a hog and be honored to serve a dog, or serve one as a meal to
her brood of in-bred bastards.

I was shocked to learn that such a lovely young lady was the eldest
bitch of the dog-eating Wallenda bastards. I thought she was gorgeous
even as she tried to get the five of us to cough up five bucks apiece
to watch her strip naked and masturbate. She wanted twenty-five. We
got her down to twenty. Cost me four bucks to see how lovely she
really was, and to finally see how girls do IT. She did it real well.
I fell in love - WITH A FUCKING WALLENDA BASTARD!

I resisted that love - for a whole year - but in the middle of our
sophomore year, and for the remainder of that year, we shared a
science lab table and dissected amphibians together. I had the steady
hand. She had the iron stomach. Together, we got through and managed a
B+ in a tough course. I had also spent a small fortune watching her
masturbate. I was easily her best customer before we drew a class and
a table together. I lucked out and drew the class, but the table
assignment cost me a hundred bucks.

She found it very odd that I stopped being her customer after becoming
her labmate. A month into the semester, she had to know, tracked me
down, spun me, and demanded to know why. We were all alone, just
outside the school building after the final bell. She stood looking up
to me in bright sunlight. She never looked lovelier. I simply blurted
out, "Brenda, I spent all my money to bribe my way into being your lab
partner. To be perfectly honest, that was the best hundred bucks I
ever borrowed and then spent."

She could not understand that, since I was the guy who enjoyed getting
in on the circle jerks that she found so degrading and messy. I
preferred creaming her upper body, especially her pretty face when
most guys liked creaming her masturbating beavers or shoving spewing
or pissing cocks up her ass. Toward the end, I got off on jacking off
into her sucking mouth and pissing in her mouth and in her face. After
much thought, she said, "Why would you do that?"

After no thought, I said, "I have seen enough of you and done enough
to you to know that my money would be better spent getting to know
you. I have always liked what I saw and loved what I did, now I like
what I know. With or without clothes, you never disappoint."

That made her smile. She slipped her arm through mine and we walked
while she clung to my arm. After a while, she laid her head on my
shoulder. We just kept on walking. I suppose we walked about a mile
with no place special to go before we stopped to decide on a direction
and a purpose. She didn't care. She told me she would walk with me
anywhere. I held her as she looked up. I smiled and said, "Would you
walk down an aisle with me?"

She had never entertained any idea of marriage, not at her age, not in
that town, but she thought about that and said, "Would you want me to?
"

"Not here, but I fantasize about an aisle in Las Vegas. After gutting
a frog together, I can't stop thinking about you beside me at a Vegas
wedding chapel, all dressed in white, looking so beautiful, looking up
at me the way you are looking up at me now, hearing you say I do and
knowing that you mean it. Yes, I do, Brenda. I think I love you. No, I
know I love you. I think I would love being married to you. I know you
will make some lucky guy a great wife. I think you'd be a great mom. I
think you are a great person. I think I know you as well as I need to
know you to know that I want you and only you. Yeah, I want you to. I
want you to think about it."

She wiped tears from her eyes and said she couldn't help but think
about it after hearing all that. We found a quiet place where she gave
me a hundred buck's worth of Brenda Wallenda without having to use her
pussy. That was what I was hoping would happen. That did turn out to
be the best hundred I ever borrowed and spent. That was not the last
time she gave me a hundred buck's worth of Brenda Wallenda. Before the
semester was over, I probably got five thousand buck's worth - still
no pussy.

We fell in love and began going steady over that summer between our
sophomore and junior year, and we began dreaming about Vegas -
dreaming and planning. She became a good girl on her way to being a
good wife and mother. We didn't talk much about her being a good
daughter, because she was more a wife to Chuck than a daughter, and
more a whore than a wife. I had to accept that hard reality though she
was free to marry and keep her cherry.

We didn't talk about it after talking about it did no good. I had to
accept that she could not stop, when the unspoken reality was that she
did not want to stop. I knew and she knew that I knew. She didn't want
to be forced to admit it. She wanted me to accept that she couldn't
stop being her father's whore wife. Living together as man and wife
didn't change that, nor would marriage. By then, I knew it wouldn't
change a thing, and might add a fuck hole, with any luck a pregnant
one with my legitimate child growing in it. That, I could live with
and we had a plan.

Hard work and hooking on her part built us the warchest we needed to
carry out our plans right on schedule. She got to keep some of the
money she earned as her father's whore, roughly half. I held down two
jobs, and she was in showbiz. She also did some kneeling on the side
which was all hers and went directly into the gambling fund without
bringing attention to that fact.

We called what she did doing shows so that we could avoid calling it
what it was. Any kneeling for fun or profit was simply ignored.
Kneeling for fun or pure profit was against my wishes and her father's
rules, but we both knew she did it. Neither of us made an issue of it
as she gave me some, gave him some, and I'm sure she gave a lot away.
She also did her father for free. We called that having to take care
of her father so that we wouldn't have to call it fucking Daddy. We
lived together, but half the time she was doing shows or taking care
of her father. Many nights, she'd have to leave my bed to go get in
his. That sucked.

Through all of that sucky bullshit, our love grew stronger and went
deeper, until we arrived at that magic point when we could set a date
and do the dream. We had the money. We were both twenty-one. We were
committed to a life as husband and wife, raising a family, and putting
up with helping support the fucking Wallenda's through discrete acts
of prostitution that we tried to completely ignore in that last year.

Strangely, that got easier not harder. The shows became gigs and gigs
were a good thing. Money was a good thing. Gigs brought in money. A
good gig was a great thing that could net up to two-hundred as her
take. She did great, and I didn't want to know what she had to do to
be great, but the scratch marks on her sides looked like scratches
from clutching paws. I noticed that the marks went both ways as in
some were mounted over her ass and some over her head. Giving her a
kiss after a great gig always bothered me. She has the iron gut; I
don't.

I know this must seem very strange to you, but we felt normal and
carried on normal lives while planning a traditional marriage. We
weren't sure what we would do after the honeymoon, and we weren't sure
if we would remain in Nebraska whether we returned broke or rich.
Either way, there was ten grand waiting in untouchable funds. Brenda
was willing to give up showbiz and be a wife and mother anywhere. The
reality was that if we did return and decide to settle in where we
grew up, she may as well stay in showbiz and remain her father's whore
wife.

She was ruined there and nothing would change that. Even if she hadn't
gotten wild in her freshman and sophomore year, she was a Wallenda
bitch. Everyone knows they will do anything sexual for money. They are
approachable and anything is negotiable except for Brenda's cherry.
Reputations were a big thing and most Wallenda rumors were well
grounded.

There were pluses and minuses to returning. A great deal depended on
how well or poorly I did. Brenda had little interest in gambling. She
looked forward to sexual adventures in a place where she could freely
let her hair down, wear slinky clothes, and no underwear, which she
could not do in Nebraska. For one, I would not allow it, and the
community would not tolerate it. Rumors, they can live with, but sluts
out walking the streets they could not and would not tolerate. Not
even Gwen dared flaunt what she was.

I must say, if you didn't know the rumors about Brenda or know how she
was in early high school, you would see a very attractive young lady,
a petite young lady who used to be terribly cute but her cute evolved
into a stunningly attractive beauty. She dressed well, carried herself
well, and was modest in dress and demeanor. In no way would she be an
embarrassment in any social setting.

I like to think that deep down she is not a slut but was born into a
decadent family environment that needed a slut. I think she sank to
the occasion, but she could and would rise out of it and be the lady I
came to see at a lab table pulling guts out of a frog with tweezers.
She held her little pinky up and found the innards fascinating, awed
by all the vibrant colors found inside a dead, dull, green frog. She
remarked that beauty was only skin deep unless you peel back the skin
of a frog. I puked, but I saw her beauty as running into the marrow.

Her beauty was in her soul, and you could see the soul in her eyes,
even by looking in from the side. She would catch me admiring her
beautiful soul and simply say, "Stop staring at my soul and look at
this spleen."

I spent a lot of time studying her soul, without doubt a very
beautiful soul, but the soul of an exhibitionist who loved raunchy
sex. She loved being sexually used and placed on exhibit. She loved
being her father's whore wife. She loved that I could accept that, and
accept it more and more as time went on until that was an accepted
fact of our relationship before we even moved in together. Within a
year, we could assume that the strange relationship would continue
after the marriage. Silent acceptance sealed the assumption. The only
thing that could alter that reality was our moving out of the area,
but nothing said the Wallendas wouldn't follow. Hell, they lived in a
mobile home. They could easily follow their meal ticket.

She still was at twenty-one. The four bastards that came after Brenda
were male bastards. Numbers six and seven were bitch bastards at
twelve and ten, and not looking too good when big sis never looked
better. Chuck had a babe whore wife in my fiancee, a real money maker,
and she was still happy in that role even as we got down to the final
week and were counting down the days.

Brenda grew anxious as the date grew nearer and nearer. She saw this
as a major turning point in her life. Win or lose, it could very well
be, because she was committed to remain with me, stay or go. Legal
wife took precedence over the common against-the-law arrangement she
had going with Chuck. She did make that concession, though she seemed
sure I would exercise my right to take her away - win, lose, or draw.
Frankly, I was undecided, but a big win would likely mean a big move.
Then again, a big loss, which was more likely, would make staying put
easier.

On the eve of our departure, the pressure got to her. She expressed
her fear that she could never be a faithful wife, because she could
not imagine a faithful life. She didn't think faithful was in her
soul. Leaving Nebraska wouldn't change her basic nature. She wanted me
to think about that before I took her as a wife and took her away from
the only life she knew.

I had thought a great deal about that. I didn't think she could be
faithful, either, but I knew she could be discrete and fool everyone,
especially in a place where no one knew any different. I told her I
had great confidence in her ability to be vaginally faithful and that
the children she bore me would be mine. I also told her that I had
great confidence that our children would never know her weakness. I
told her that I had no faith that she could be faithful, but I had
faith and trust that she would never bring shame on my family name or
dishonor me or embarrass our children IF we moved well away from Chuck
and company.

She smiled, laid her head on my shoulder, thought, then said, "I like
to think so, but the fact remains, you will be marrying Chuck's whore.
I know we don't discuss that subject, but we sorta have to, now. He
won't like you taking his whore away, and I can't make him stay, or
stay away, or leave me alone. I won't ever leave you, but that could
be a curse. If Chuck follows and he is pissed, you may want me to
leave you. He's nice here because you don't get in the way of his
business or his pleasure. He could get nasty."

I didn't like the sound of that, and said, "If you let him."

"When have you ever seen me stand up to my daddy. I let him do
anything, everything, and decide when, where, and how much to
charge...and how much to give me. We are lucky he is nice and
generous."

I looked to her and said, "I thought you demanded a fifty-fifty
split."

"Why would you think that?"

"Well...Christ, Brenda, why didn't you ever tell me you were bonded to
him like a sex slave?"

"You didn't want to know."

"Brenda, if this was and is the case, you were never free to enter
into any marriage."

"Yes, I am. He wants me to have a husband and a family of my own.
Remember, he is my daddy. My daddy is very happy for me...but, my
master thinks we are staying here and nothing will change. I sorta
gave him that impression so I could live with you."

"This is a hell of a time to sorta tell me that you are sorta another
man's sex slave."

"Well...at least I told you before we got on a plane."

"Not before we spent the money for a week in Vegas."

"Does this mean we're not going...not...not..."

She started balling, and I can't stand seeing a fucking sex slave
blubber, so I held her until she stopped, but she didn't stop until I
told her that the wedding was still on, that win, lose, or draw, we
would be returning, and returning to stay and raise a family under the
controlling thumb of her master.

That put the sparkle back in her big blue eyes. That put a smile on
her muzzle and a brisk wag in her tail. She did like the way I put
that, and said, "My master will be so pleased."

I thought I had been warped into a lost episode of I Dream of Jeannie.
Well, we went, got hitched, and she fucked every swinging dick at the
MGM Grand, got pregnant by somebody, and I lost all of the gambling
money, all ten grand in the first two days. After that, I had to play
the cheap slots with what my cheap slut earned in expensive hotel
rooms. And, of course, I returned to Nebraska where my wife's master
eagerly awaited her return as he had several gigs lined up.

You win some, you lose some, but in the end, at least in Las Vegas,
you'll lose it all.

                         The End
                         
Read other stories by the same author by visiting Phantom Base at
HTTP://PhilPhantom.Com

CAUTION: Exercise caution and good sense before engaging in unsafe sex
practices that involve any exchange of body fluid, even contact with
open sores or small cuts. Scenes involving large objects, tattoos,
bestial sex, body waste ingestion, bindings, devices and gadgets are
the stuff of fantasy and are offered to promote the only safe sex
there is - masturbation. Before you try anything, find out what the
risks and hazards are because they can all be deadly. Read, enjoy, and
remember - sex with minors should be left to other minors. PP

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