Bride-to-be Tries Other Men (First Cuckolding Book 9) Read online

  Bride-to-be

  Tries Other Men

  FIRST CUCKOLDING

  (Volume 9 Celia Shared)

  Matt Coolomon

  Adults Only

  High level erotic content

  Copyright © 2014 Matt Coolomon

  All rights reserved. No part of this eBook may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted, in any form, without the written consent of the copyright holder.

  This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to any real life person is coincidental.

  Other titles by Matt Coolomon:

  Sweet Catherine’s First Experiences

  Sweet Catherine is a Pretty Plaything

  Sweet Catherine Can’t Say No

  Sweet Catherine Really Likes Men

  Sweet Catherine’s Open Marriage

  Sweet Catherine at the Gentlemen’s Club

  Glory Hole Wife

  Party Girl Shared

  Married Couple Visit a Swinger Club

  Young Wife Gets a Sensual Massage

  Wife Shared at the Lake

  Wife Tries Oral at a Party

  Young Wife Shared on a Desert Island

  Wife Offered to the House Guest

  Wife Shared with Dirty Old Men

  Girlfriend Agrees to Sex with his Buddies

  Bride-to-be Tries Other Men

  Wife Tries Flashing and More

  Celia had zoned out completely – her mind down the street at the dance club they had passed on the way – the one with the big line of excited looking people waiting to get inside. She kind of heard her mother’s question, but it was repeated for the third time before it registered.

  “Celia, are you listening to me? Did the hotel call back with Aunt Aileen’s booking confirmation?”

  “Yes, Mother, they called back. Everything’s fine.”

  “I don’t know if it will be quite up to standard – only four stars,” Peter, queried, his face elongating as he lifted his nose.

  Celia glanced at him, watching while he stirred his martini and sniffed it. He took a sip and his nose twitched. “Oh it’s horribly dry, Mother.”

  Peter was Celia’s elder brother. He was to be best man at her wedding on the weekend. Her fiancé Phillip and Peter were best friends. The rest of the wedding party were all there at The Bay Yacht Club. It was presentation night for the spring regatta awards. They all sailed.

  Phillip was quite attractive and very wealthy. He was older than Celia – 30, while she had just turned 21. She wasn’t sure how much her wedding was her mother’s idea and how much it was her own. She had been engaged three years, since her 18th birthday. She had snuck in some time with two regular boyfriends at school before that. They had been more the types of Max and Gareth, the other two groomsmen. They sailed too, but were a bit more rugged than Phillip or Peter.

  Celia’s three bridesmaids were all there too. They were older than her. She only had one very best girlfriend. She had been seen as stuck-up during her school and college years, which she guessed was a fair enough assessment. She was from a very strict upbringing though, and she was also shy. The one friend she would have loved to be there for her right then was Gina – currently overseas at university and unable to get home for the wedding.

  “Celia! Are you listening to me?”

  “Yes, Mother.”

  “Did you pick up your shoes today? Will we need to settle for something else? We could find time to shop when we get there, I suppose.”

  “It’s fine, Mother, I picked them up this afternoon.”

  “The whole experience at Christies has been positively atrocious,” her mother explained to her sister, Celia’s Aunt Athena. Christies was the bridal boutique everyone used – everyone who was anyone, that was.

  The award ceremony thankfully ended, and after a final round of nightcaps Celia was bundled into the back of the car. She was peering up at the bright city lights when there was a jolt, and a man bounced off her car door. They hadn’t hit him. They were stationary at a traffic light behind another car.

  The man got up and began fighting with another man. They were punching each other, their fists thudding into stomachs and glancing off chins. The one who had bounced off the car was sent reeling again with his bloodied face squishing and sliding down Celia’s window. Her mother sitting beside her screamed. The other fighter had his shirt torn and his powerful upper body exposed. He wiped his bloody mouth and stood ready for more. The other man staggered to his feet and ambled away. The victorious one met Celia’s eyes and full blush. He gave her a wink and strolled away too, his rippling shoulder muscle exposed from behind as he again wiped his mouth on his hand.

  “Oh my Lord…. Barbarians!” Her mother cried aghast. “Get us out of here, Peter!”

  Celia turned to look back as the car sped away. They had stopped outside that same nightclub. The man with the torn shirt pulled a girl in a short lace party dress to his side and kissed her hard on the mouth, then took her inside the club.

  The warrior man’s bloody face followed Celia around that night. She saw it when Phillip hugged her and kissed her cheek goodnight. Peter was dropping him home and coming back. Celia saw the man’s face in the shower a little later, and it came back to visit her when she lay in bed with the quilt pulled up under her chin and her hand slipping down the front of her panties.

  She was being pulled to him and kissed hard like that other girl as her fingers sunk into her wetness. She was quite slick and she rubbed herself, massaging her swollen little button with her legs clamped guiltily together. She bit her lip to stifle a moan and pulled her pillow over her head with her other hand. The one between her legs was very naughty though, and it rubbed and rubbed until her belly clenched in a small orgasm.

  She was to be married in just five days’ time. What was she thinking? What was going on to make her feel this way? She had been feeling incredibly excited lately – dreamy at times and then horny beyond reason all of a sudden. And it wasn’t her fiancé she was thinking about when she masturbated. She had been having sex with him quite regularly these past three years, and he was a good lover. Why couldn’t she be excited about their wedding night instead of the idea of some torn-shirt ruffian that made her mother scream?

  She took her phone from the bedside cabinet and called Gina. The phone only rang once and Gina answered, squealing an excited greeting.

  “What are you doing, Ceil? It must be late there.”

  “It is. I’m in bed…. Guess what I saw tonight?”

  “What? You saw through Phillip finally?”

  “Umm – no. I saw two men fighting. Right next to the car. Blood on the window!”

  “Oh shit! Are you okay?”

  “No…. I wanted the winner to take me to his cave or down some alleyway and ravage me…. That’s how I am. I’m not okay at all, Gina.”

  Gina giggled.

  “Don’t laugh. I’m serious. I think I really want to do it.”

  “Oh, yeah? Do what exactly?”

  Celia squeezed her hand between her legs. “I think I want to get kissed by another man before the wedding. Before it’s too late.”

  “Now there’s a good idea,” Gina declared flatly. “That’s an excellent idea. Go and find a real man and you’ll soon see.”

  “Phillip isn’t so bad. He’s not as stuck-up as you think he is, and he’ll make a good husband and father to children.”

  “Hmm – maybe…. But I can’t imagine him giving you too much freedom. He’s going to be staying at the hotel with you isn’t he?”

  “Yes, but separate rooms. And when I told him I was shopping for a whole new wa
rdrobe of sexy clothes he said ‘fine – can’t wait to see!’” Celia blushed to herself as she added, “But the truth is, I want to dress sexy for other men too. Especially before the wedding, and even on the cruise I want other guys to notice me.”

  “Notice you? What does that mean exactly, you little tart?” Gina asked with interest. “What kind of stuff did you buy?”

  “Short skirts and dresses. Skimpy ones and tops that show everything. And no bras.”

  “Oh really! Are you going to go braless? You never do that.”

  “I never used to. But I am for the next three weeks, until we get back…. I’m going to try and tease guys for a change. All of them. All men in general. It’s going to be fun!”

  “Oh, now I’m jealous. I want to be there and do that too. It’s not fair.”

  “I know. I wish you were here, Gina.

  ****

  The following morning was tea with Mother and Aunties Aileen and Athena. Celia’s parents were born wealthy and owned real estate and businesses all over. The house was three levels and sprawling with fully gardened surrounds. Tea was in the rose garden – served by Mrs. Eastern, the maid. She lived in a bungalow down the back of the property with her son Kelvin, who assisted old Mr. Porter in the garden.

  Celia sipped tea and listened to her aunties natter about the wedding mostly. They had planned and arranged everything, giving Celia token tasks to offer some involvement. Aunty Aileen tsk, tsked. “Oh I hope the weather is fine over on the cape. It was positively dreadful when Marvin and I vacationed there last spring.”

  The wedding was up the coast where the family church was. It was where Celia’s parents and both of their grandparents had been married. There was no question she would be married there too, with Phillip’s family agreeable to anything in order to secure the union of their son into Celia’s family.

  “And what have you planned for your honeymoon, Celia dear?”

  “Oh, I don’t know, Aunt Athena. I think we’re going to be spending the two weeks sunbathing and sleeping in, I expect. I think the ship visits some interesting smaller islands, so shopping too.”

  “Though you must be careful, darling,” Aileen warned. “You never know with those low class island types. Be awfully careful of any food…. Perhaps best to make a policy of eating only aboard the boat.”

  Celia giggled. “Yes, Aunt Aileen.” The cruise actually included several nights on two of the islands, and Celia fully intended to get lost amongst the locals, but there was no point scarring her aunties with such details – better to let them imagine what they wished. Perhaps, once away from the influence of their families, she could get Phillip to take her somewhere exciting like one of those dance clubs – they would have them in the tourist areas of the small tropical islands they were to be visiting. Although what if she became separated from her new husband and was taken by one of the islander men? What if he took her into a seedy alleyway and had his way with her?

  That thought stirred deep within Celia’s wild imagination as she sat half-listening to the silly old women talk. She was eventually released from the final tea tradition and left to finish her packing. They were all flying out that evening and would be arriving at the cape in time for supper. That would be a meeting of all the wedding party and both families. They had a huge function room booked at their hotel. That would be the last formal function before the wedding, which would give Celia three full days to relax on the beach and work on her tan. Phillip would be staying at the same hotel but in a different room. They had not slept together in over a month – abstaining by mutual agreement to make the wedding night special in that way too.

  Celia stood hands on hips looking at her open suit cases and the array of clothing she had to pack. She had decided a month ago when taking the abstinence vow with Phillip that her time under her mother’s thumb needed to end. She wasn’t taking a single item from her pre-marital wardrobe – the one her mother had hand-picked for her. No. She was no longer the little-rich-girl daughter of the house. She was to come out from that and become the woman she wanted to be. And that meant fun and excitement for as long as she had before babies would be expected of her. She had a window of maybe 3 or 4 years to enjoy being young, and a little bit sexy for a change.

  For her pre-wedding days of freedom and for her honeymoon on a summer cruise, she had shopped for a completely new wardrobe, right down to her underwear. She had bought lots of little skirts and dresses, some short shorts that would be fun to wear, an array of tank tops and bikinis, some pretty negligées and short pyjamas, and lots of new panties and a few new bras. She only bought three bras, and they were to go with the more formal dresses and tops she bought to wear to dinner on the cruise. For anything less than a Captain’s table dinner invitation she intended to remain braless – effective from the moment she closed those suitcases.

  This was going to shock her parents, but that was exactly the point. She needed to shock them. They were so incredibly set in their ways and so completely domineering and overbearing, that the only hope she thought she had for a normal adult life was to kick clear immediately and distinctly. Celia was small breasted – just a perky little A-cup. She didn’t need to wear a bra, but she had been forced to do so every day since she was twelve years old. This was the way to make her statement. She would be walking downstairs to join her mother and aunties for the trip to the airport in a form fitting yellow dress and no bra, and with her nipples being as sensitive as they were, she expected they would notice immediately.

  Celia finished packing her suitcases. She left her yellow dress and white lace panties out and closed the zips and buckles, placing the bags next to the door for the driver to collect. She removed her former-life clothing and stuffed it into the wash basket in her bathroom and addressed the mirror nude. She had straight blond hair past her shoulders. She was average height for a girl and was quite slender. She liked her body. She kept a tiny landing strip of pubic hair but shaved her lips. Her bottom was smallish and her hips were not very womanly yet. They would develop soon if she was anything like her mother.

  She showered, washing away her childhood years, and she put on her make-up then slipped into her new panties and little yellow dress. She brushed it down in the mirror. It felt odd to be braless – strange but exciting. Her nipples were already firm and pressing visibly against the thin stretch cotton fabric. The dress was tight fitting, as if painted on.

  She opened her bedroom door and peeped out. Her mother was down in the foyer organizing things. She looked up. “Oh, there you are, dear. Are your bags ready?”

  “Yes, Mother.”

  “Well, go on, then, hurry now,” her mother said to a young dark skinned man Celia didn’t recognise. He must have been with the new transport company her father had recently employed.

  He would be the first one to see her braless. She backed into her room and waited, wringing her hands in front. She tugged her dress down and tossed her hair with a swoop of her head.

  He appeared in her doorway. “Ma’am….”

  “I’m Celia,” she offered, extending her hand. She was always friendly with the staff when her parents weren’t watching. That was another thing – they would just have to get used to it from now on.

  His eyes flashed to her breasts for an instant, thrilling her. He bent to pick up one bag and had the other handle extended. He glanced back as she picked up her small travel bag, and had another quick look at her. She blushed, and she followed him down stairs still blushing. There were two cars and a van, and another two drivers – older men. She waited until her bags had been placed in a van. She then passed her travel bag to the young guy inside the van, and his gaze lowered to her breasts again, his lips curling into a grin as she briefly met his big brown eyes.

  Her nipples were seriously hard when she walked back inside and approached her mother and aunties. Her mother’s mouth opened, her eyes bulging. “What on earth are you wearing, Celia? For goodness sake, go and get dressed. We’ll miss the flight
.”

  “I am dressed, Mother. Let’s go.”

  “But you can’t present yourself in public like that. You’re half naked. Did those men see you?” She was peering out the door. “Oh my goodness – Celia!”

  Celia looked at the three horrified women staring at her. She shrugged. “Well this is what I’m wearing. You can like it or lump it, Mother. I’ll be in the car.” She turned and left them there.

  Her heart was pounding but she felt absolutely exhilarated. She smiled brazenly at the two older men and waited for one of them to open her door. “Thank you,” she offered politely, and she slipped into the back seat and scooted across to the far side.

  Shortly her mother sat beside her and Peter got in the front passenger seat. His eyes rolled as he looked back at her. Her mother turned her head and just glared as her eyes rolled down to Celia’s folded arms. “I don’t understand what this is about, young lady. What on earth has gotten into you?”

  “I turned 21 last month, Mother, and this weekend I will be getting married… It’s time for a change.”

  “But where’s you brassiere? You’re embarrassing your brother.”

  Peter looked again. Celia lowered her arms and glared at him defiantly. “There’s nothing wrong with wearing a dress without a bra. Lots of girls do it all the time.”

  “Not girls with self-respect,” her brother retorted, looking her up and down. “Wait until Phillip sees you dressed like that.”

  “He’ll probably like it. He’s not as stuck up as you, Peter.”

  “Celia!” her mother demanded, under her breath. The driver was taking his seat.

  “Hello, I’m Celia,” Celia said, leaning forward with a smile, inviting him to look at her in spite of her mother and anally retentive older brother.

  “Ma’am,” the driver offered with a nod and smile as he turned. His eyes flashed to her chest, making her blush as she sat back and met the glare of her mother.

  Celia tugged at her dress, straightening it a little. Her nipples were easily distinguished beneath the fabric. She saw Peter watching from the corner of his eye, and that made her grin. She was looking forward to her father meeting them at the cape. He was flying in from business interstate. He had always been on her side against her mother. Together they were strict, but that was all her, tempered to be bearable by him. He spent a lot of time away from home – having affairs, Celia imagined. She saw that deep down he was a bit of a rogue, and there were stories from his younger years to prove it. She wasn’t actually sure how Phillip would react to her rebellion, but she was pretty sure her dad would be secretly supportive.