Cheating, Consensual Sex, Cuckold

“Do you take Clarissa to be your lawfully wedded wife? To have and to hold, in sickness and in health, till death do you part?”

I couldn’t answer. I’d slipped into a trance. There was an image I couldn’t get out of my mind. Catching my fiance in the basement of her grandfather’s ranch, in the wedding gown she stands before me in, legs hung around another man’s shoulders as he pounded relentlessly into her. She quietly screamed her approval. Whispered for him to fuck her harder. Begged him to leave his seed in her. I was frozen in the stairwell of the basement. Far enough away that they didn’t see or hear me. I could make out her face, but the man had his back to me. I wanted to scream. To erupt in a rage, but my rage was quelled when I heard his voice.

“You want it harder baby girl?” he said. I recognized his voice in an instant, but it couldn’t be. Not the man I’d spent years trying to gain his respect and approval before marrying his daughter. But it was. Clint Halloran. My soon to be father-in-law was fucking his own daughter. My fiance. My soon to be wife. And she was letting him. Encouraging him even.

“Yes, daddy.” She cheered, “Fuck your baby girl on her wedding day.”

My mind fluttered. I couldn’t believe it. I could barely catch a breath. Clint was a rugged man. In his 60’s, he still looked like he could kill a man with his bare hands. He was a retired Marine. 6’2 and built like a brick wall. He was gruff, unshaven, and had the most intimidating jawline of any man I’d ever met. His mountainous hands gripped his daughter’s hips as he drove them into his pelvis. His prints languishing over her thighs, marking his territory. He was still dressed in his tux, absent his pants, his chiseled ass hurtling himself inside his own daughter’s wanton sex. He grunted with every stroke, each thrust going harder and deeper than the last. He fucked her like a bitch in heat. Like the last fuck before going off to war. It was aggressive, hungry, and endearing. Clearly showing this wasn’t the first time they had done this. Probably was the hundredth or more.

Their sex was very different from ours. When Clarissa and I made love, it was soft, sweet, almost playful. It wasn’t like I couldn’t fuck her like this. Hell, there were times I really wanted to, but she always seemed so innocent. Like she couldn’t handle being slapped or choked or pounded. It was that innocence that attracted me to her. She came off as a wholesome girl who loved horseback riding and dreamed of being a jockey one day. She didn’t seem like this girl. This girl who had illicit sex with her own father, and on her wedding day. It was abhorrent, crude, deeply insensitive, and lustful.

Clint picked up his pace, nearing his orgasm. My entire body froze in place as I watched how this intense fuck session between my fiance and her father was going to end. He’d pounded the life out of her, he lay on top of her now, sucking her lips and letting his cock do all the work of teasing out her orgasm. “Where do you want it baby?” he whispered huskily.

“In me, daddy.” Clarissa cooed, “Always.”

My eyes shot open in shock. Clint smirked a deep confident smirk as he drove his meaty cock into his daughter’s fuck hole repeatedly until he grunted hard and froze as he emptied his parental seed into his eldest daughter. They both let out a satisfying moan as they climaxed with great euphoria. I stood at the stairwell. Eyes ablaze, mouth agape as they kissed their way down from the heights of their lust. I couldn’t take my eyes off of Clarissa as she smiled gleefully with her father’s sperm resting inside her womb. It took a moment, but she finally made a glance towards the stairwell and saw me standing there. She jumped.

“Oh my god!”

Her father turned to see me looking, “Jesus!” he shouted as he tried to calmly pull his pants up and they both readjusted their clothing.

I turned and went back up the stairs, “Jesse!” She called to me, “Jesse, come back, it’s—it’s not…” she trailed.

I could’ve left then. I could’ve called off the whole wedding. Hell, her Dad paid for it anyway. I could’ve told the entire family their secret. I could’ve said something as soon as I left the basement. I could’ve mentioned it to my friends or family before the ceremony started. I could’ve said something before I walked down the aisle. I certainly could’ve said something when she came down the aisle on her father’s arm and no doubt his semen dripping down her leg. I could’ve said something before the reverend asked me, “Do you take Clarissa to be your lawfully wedded wife, to have and to hold, in sickness and in health, till death do you part?”

I paused. Frozen with the image in my mind as I laid eyes on my gorgeous wife to be. Her big round eyes looked at me pleading, begging me not to reveal what I knew. I turned to find Clint in the audience. He had visible signs of sweat forming on his forehead. Panicked for the first time probably in decades. I resigned my eyes to the floor. Everyone at the wedding was curious as to why I’d frozen at this point.

“Son?” asked the reverend. I didn’t respond.

“Honey?” Clarissa chimed in. I swallowed hard and clenched my fist to fight back the urge to explode.

I really should’ve said something right then, but at that moment, the only thing I could muster was, “I do.”