Man and Punk

Douglas sat there in a pastel blue tux, waiting. And then came his ex-wife, Elizabeth, dressed in an elegant black dress like the groom's side.

"Never thought I'd be one to give you away," Elizabeth said dryly. "Couldn't find Walt I presume."

"Haven't seen him in ages," Douglas said. "Nor would he agree."

"True enough," Elizabeth agreed. "Will be odd to have you as a ... son-in-law?"

Douglas swallowed hard. "I think we're going with punk." Elizabeth chuckled.

"Punk-in-law. I stand corrected."

***

The ceremony had the groundings of a traditional marriage. Luther, tall, muscular and Black, stood beside him. The preacher kept fumbling with the wording, however.

"I now pronounce you man and --" he paused, looking at the paper. It was so much easier when it was just man and wife. "Daddy and punk. You may now kiss the punk."

Luther loomed over him menacingly, dipping his white boy back, his thick lips crushed against Douglas's, kissing him long enough and hard enough that the crowd shifted uncomfortably.

***

There was no reception. Luther was eager to start the honeymoon. Douglas was on all fours in the 'bridal' suite that they had booked, wearing a pink male thong. He was cleaned rigorously, and lubricated and prepared for his husband.

"Mmm ...my fuckin' punk," Luther said, slapping Douglas's ass hard.

"D-d-daddy," Douglas whimpered.

Luther kept his tux on, pulling his thick cock out of the zipper. He took his punk just like that, Douglas clad in pink, him in black, his huge Black cock making a bride out of his boy.