Real Stories - July/August 2008

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On the day Olivia and I got married, we only had a few of our friends there at the Little Wedding Chapel on the Las Vegas Strip. Karl was there for Olivia. I’d never met him, nor heard of him until that evening. That was when my wife informed me that he would be the one fucking the new bride. Not only that, but Olivia had invited over a dozen people so that they could witness me getting down on all fours and fastening a gold anklet around her right ankle, which symbolized her complete freedom to have sex with other men. I was then made to kiss the toe of her white stiletto细高跟 — a very thin high heel-heeled shoe and to promise total obedience to her every command.

After the wedding was over, we had a small party at Carluccio’s on East Tropicana Avenue. We had dinner and drinks at a long rectangle table, and everyone congratulated Olivia and I on tying the knot (no pun intended). I sat on my wife’s right, while Karl sat on her left side. He showed no hesitation in reaching down beneath the tablecloth with his right hand and pulling up my wife’s white pleaded skirt above her stocking长袜 — a close-fitting covering for the leg tops. He casually placed his fingers between her thighs and stroked her pussy阴部 — the vulva through the cotton crotch of her white silk panties. She didn’t act surprised by this sudden act of intimacy. Instead, she rested her hand on top of his and quietly encouraged him to get her off while we all chatted about our lives and jobs.