A Lavish Wedding

You were wearing a purple tuxedo. You were wearing pink boxers, which were now your staple underwear. Your cock was in a tiny pink cage. And you were here, the wedding bitch boy at your ex's marriage to her big black husband.

Fortunately, the crush of duties alleviated the stew of emotions swirling inside you. Bride's parents, check. Groom's parents, check. Flowers, check. You noticed, in the back of your head, that except for her family, that almost all of Carrie's guests were Black. She'd truly thrown herself into her husband's culture.

You sat in the back row for the wedding ceremony itself, the only white person in the audience except for Carrie's family. Then you drove the blushing bride and her Black groom to the reception. And then you drove them to the nicest hotel in the outskirts of town, and Carrie gave you a knowing smile as she exited with her husband, her pussy now fertile and unprotected.