After briefly separating from the girls to reconfigure the cameras (and more importantly, replace the storage media with blank discs), I returned to the walk-in wardrobe where the girls had returned to. Despite the smorgasbord of eye candy I had already been treated to that night, nothing prepared me for what I would see when I pulled the door open.
Elizabeth was wearing a flowing white gown - to be specific, the gown Amy wore when we were married. As my wife did up her hair, the other ladies gaped at her in awestruck silence. Noticing her latest spectator, Elizabeth regarded me with a blushing smile and a demure nod.
"How's it feel?" asked Amy.
"It's just a little tight around my chest... but other than that, it feels amazing," gushed Elizabeth. "...Are you sure this is okay? Wasn't this really expensive?"
"This old thing? Nah, we had to settle for cheaper options when we did it. You'd be surprised how many dresses like these get thrown away and sold off as bargains. Too may divorces, so I'm told," Amy shrugged. "Just as well for us, because setting up the company cost us a lot to begin with. And the good news is, cheap clothes means that you get to buy all of them when you can't decide!"
Peals and exclamations rang out as Amy pulled out a few more boxes from a high shelf. The choice for a faux storyline had been made obvious.
Half an hour later we were assembled in the living room. While the girls hadn't bothered with make-up, making the dresses look marginally decent after putting them on still took some time. The one exception to the rule was Amy, who insisted on playing the role of minister. "This is your moment," she pointed out, after Stephanie reminded us that she was the best actress.
So it was that my wife stood facing the rest of us, dressed in one of my business shirts and ties, holding a handyman's manual in place of a sacred tome. The other girls, dressed in a variety of topless gowns, flanked me in a line while trying to look their best; a tricky combination of happy and solemn, despite the surreal inevitability of the ceremony.
It was made all the harder by the fact that the zipper to my pants had been pulled down, revealing my throbbing cock - a stark contrast to the tuxedo ensemble I was wearing.
"Ahem," Amy coughed, looking towards me. "Ian. Will you have these women to be your lifelong loves? Do you promise to love them in stiffness and in length, with great fervor and intensity, and honor your bonds for the rest of your days?"
It was almost completely mesmerizing listening to my wife ad-lib, and I half expected the girls to burst into tears or laughter. Talia gave off a small squeak, either to bite back a sniff or a snort.
"I do," I managed to ****, as a reflexive jolt of pleasure shot along my exposed lengths.
"Girls," continued Amy, without so much as a beat. "Will you have this man's cock to be your lifelong toy? Do you promise to lavish your affection in solitude and in multitude, by tongue or by tunnel, and treasure him for the rest of your days?"
"We do," they chorused.
"Well, then," my wife grinned. "By the powers vested in me as this stud's wife, I now pronounce you all lovers. ...You may now kiss the groom."
As one the four "brides" descended upon me. One hand went for my buckle, another yanked down my pants, and all at once my cock was blessed by a frenzy of tongues, eagerly gliding and flicking along its length.
"Holy fuck," I breathed, rolling my eyes at the ceiling. Having had its bounty delayed to this point, it was all I could do to maintain balance and keep myself from exploding under the touch of our friends. I glanced downward at the mess of bobbing heads as they switched places seamlessly - coating my girth, kissing my head, licking my thighs, sucking my ballsack in a fluid operation.
Sorely tempting as it was to shower our friends with my seed, I needed to bury myself in one of them.
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