Siss the Bride Ch. 02

Anyone who tells you that married life is hard must be part of a straight couple that survives on vanilla sex once every two months or so. I love being married, I get to live out all my wildest fantasies and adventures with the man I love; just over a year ago I married my brother (I could explain why right now but that's a whole other story), but because I was a man when the plan was hatched, I had to become his sissy bitch bride in order for it to work - and boy does it work. On our wedding night he got me immediately hooked to his gorgeous cock and it's governed my life ever since, with my brother always telling me what I should and shouldn't do. It's an easy life when you've got that kind of guidance and reward!

Patrick, my brother, says I have to stay dressed up as a girl all the time, even in public; when we went on our honeymoon in Paris I thought I would die of embarrassment - I loved being dressed up as his girly wife in the cutest and most elaborate clothes of course. He bought me all sorts of outfits before we flew out, like nurse uniforms and maid dresses, but it's the corsets and mini-skirts that his best friend and ex-girlfriend Katherine gave me; she's the only other person in on the secret and loves seeing me forced deeper into it. Along with the high leather boots, those kind of clothes have become my every day wear; luckily my figure means I actually pass, but the punk-rock slut aesthetic drew a lot of attention. It wasn't even the attention that bothered me, I knew my sissy ass belonged totally to my brother, it was the slight worry that if I did get caught I'd have no way to explain it! The only thing I can say in the 'language of love' is "j'aime bite" and that really would not help me out of a sticky situation... it may help me into one, but I belong to Patrick so I wouldn't. Our first night in Paris he took me to our hotel room on the third highest floor of our hotel, right in the middle of the building, and fucked me senseless. I'm sure the entire building could hear me screaming "j'aime bite" on repeat, but Patrick told me I should never be ashamed of the truth.

On the second day, I went out, all dressed up. I wore a simple black bra, the straps framing the curve of my collar bones, and matching panties, both cotton and pretty plain and cute - they always had to match. Matching meant sex-ready, and I always had to be sex-ready. I also had a suspender, pulling up some torn, striped, black and purple stockings and knee high boots with floral laces. This was all covered up in the minimum by a black and dark red corset, and a tartan mini skirt. So my clothes were definitely fucking sexy, as for my body? Perfectly clean shaven and moisturised, soft skin where the only hair on my body was my pixie cut, which had grown slightly longer, with more volume. I had purple lipstick on (it matched my socks, Patrick says it's cute) and winged eyeliner. As for my average little cock? It was safely tucked away properly. My husband never used a cage with me, he says he likes to see my dick get hard and flop about, knowing I'm not allowed to touch it; he is my brother after all, he likes to tease me.

Paris is a beautiful city should you ever have the fortune to go, and it has a very liberal air about it. The sky is bright even when it rains, the people are all so different and varied; they also tend to live within themselves so they don't really care what other people do. There were gay couples everywhere, and even a handful of other crossdressers (they didn't pass, no-one cared. They were having fun!) so really, it's almost like there is nothing you can do that is truly outrageous there! Almost.

Patrick took me on a tour boat, the Bateau Mouche, which goes up and down the Seine showing the sights to tourists and making out Paris to be even more romantic than it already is. It is, in fact, a really romantic trip and a lot of couples were there, getting pictures of them kissing with things like the Notre Dame in the background (Patrick got one for posting on the internet, we have a lot of fans...). Naturally, all this lovey stuff got my brother desperately horny, and he grabbed me by the bra strap and took my downstairs to the toilet. Without even checking who may see, he shoved me into the boys bathroom and into a cubicle where he promptly unzipped his trousers and pulled out his gorgeous cock, 9 inches of pure cocksuckers heaven. Obviously I'd seen it just the night before, but if I was honest, I was starting to miss it and seeing it made me drop immediately to my knees. He slapped my face with it and commanded me with no shame or humility in his voice:

"Suck." I looked up at him as I licked my lips and wrapped them around his head. I worked the head for a little while, rubbing the bump of the ridge between my lips, and licking the very tip, but then I started moving further down his shaft until my mouth was at his base. IT was only at this point that I realised the situation - this far in I was basically stuck (I was hooked anyway), but I was in public! Someone could walk in at any moment, any tourist, or worse any local, and see me in this position! Would this be public indecency? I don't think I could last a night in jail...

Even as this ran through my head, the same head just kept bobbing up and down the glorious cock. The noise I made was not panic, it was a deep moaning that sent vibrations up my throat and around my brother's member as he thrust into my painted face. It took him hardly any time to cum, and he forced my head down (as if he needed to) and made me catch every drop.

"Good girl, Ophelia, drink up your husband's every last drop or I won't help you cum for a week" he cooed as I licked the underside of his shrinking dick, gulping furiously. It was the first time ever I'd taken my brothers cum straight from his cock during a blowjob, and the force with which it hit the back of my throat nearly took me by surprise. I luckily managed to still get every drop, and came up with my mouth open and still looking a little white.

"Patrick!" I whined as I looked up at him "that was recklessly, stupidly, hot. We could have been caught!"

"Sorry, little sis," he replied as he petted my head "but it's your fault for picking such a hot outfit." It's true, I had picked it out. I was getting good at that, and only got better as the honeymoon continued.

By the time we got back I had become ten times the slutty wife I was before, and I'd had a pretty good head start, it was like I was an entirely new person. In fact, a couple of days later we got a letter from old what's-his-face, Patrick's little brother. It said he had found a new life in Tibet and was staying there in a secluded and holy life - I may have gone a bit overboard with the irony - and that he left everything to his beloved big brother and his pretty little wife Ophelia. It was signed and everything, and we showed it to everyone we could so that people knew that this was the case.

So after our honeymoon, married life continued just as married life does, or at least how it should. Every morning I woke my husband up with a blowjob, either completely gagging on a rock-solid morning wood, or coaxing his dick to full attention, then letting it down gently again - sometimes he would make me lie along his body in the 69 position, so he could either suck my dick or eat my ass. The former, he passed the cum along to me in a snowball, the latter he sticks a butt plug in my ass for the day and I'm not allowed to cum until he gets home from work. While he's busy at his job, I generally keep tidy around the house just to feel like I'm doing something, and so everything will be just so for when he gets back. The chores often involve costume changes. If I'm dusting or hoovering its always the French Maid dress, I do the dishes and clothes wash in my normal lingerie, and by ritual use my wedding lingerie for preparing dinner and waiting for him to come home and fuck me; sometimes I'll go out to the shops, or just for a walk, growing ever more confident in my girly wardrobe, and sometimes I'll go swimming in our pool in my favourite white bikini, with little triangle scraps of fabric that passes for coverage. Of course, I keep this routine up on the weekends as well so that Patrick has an opportunity to fuck me in every single one of those outfits; and when I'm at home he likes me keep my little dick free in case he ever wants it, even when there are guests over. Then, at night, I throw on something sexy, and if he's feeling kinky, the PVC and schoolgirl outfit comes out. Sometimes, the PVC schoolgirl outfit. There's something about these little rituals of everyday life that, far from making it mundane, make me so incredibly aroused at the exciting notion that I have slipped permanently into the wonderfully easy marriage of a trophy wife.

Though obviously, a trophy wife is nothing if you can't show her off. If you ever knew me before the marriage, when I was just Patrick's little brother and not his fag slut of a wife (though still a bit of a notorious fag slut in his own right), you probably would have heard me talking at some point about Malcolm. I preferred my guys lean like my big brother, but there was something perfectly charming about Malcolm: his broad Australian accent and broader Australian smile - and even broader shoulders which gave him that muscular triangle body that wasn't too ridiculous, and especially worked on him. I wouldn't pause to breathe in one of my friends got me on to the subject of Malcolm before, heck even a stranger walking in the park may not have been safe. But now of course, I only ever thought of my brother, my brother's cock, my brother's cum. That's why, when Malcolm came to visit, I was barely even phased. I was for my brother's pleasure, I didn't even give him a glance when I arrived.

"Paddy!" He roared, his eyes lighting up with glee as he entered the room. It's not like they hadn't seen each other in a long long time, Malcolm lived maybe a few blocks over, but 'Paddy' was usually so busy with one thing or another (I was another) that he rarely saw Malcolm, and not for very long. So, Malcolm was excited to be over, and my brother was just as happy.

"Malcolm," he chuckled in response "I'd invite you in, but you seem to know that's not necessary."

"Well, I can never be sure," Malcolm grinned sheepishly "it feels like it's been so long, eh?" he added with a guffaw.

"Well you know how woman can be," he said, with a gesture to me that obviously said 'come forward'. "You remember my wife, right?"

"The ravishing Ophelia" he said, almost with full sincerity "last I saw you, you were in a big white dress and now you look like a double of Katherine! Got a type, eh Paddy?" my brother just nodded his head. "Anyway, shame about Paddy's little bro running away like that, you never met him!"

"It's in my understanding," I replied, with a fond smile "that he was always a little bitch anyway."

Greeting done, we made our way into the main living room, adjacent to the kitchen and with a sliding patio door that gave a great view of the pool, which is to say, gave my brother a great view of my ass as I climb out the pool in my wet bikini. We stood for a bit in the way people do at a gathering, anticipating, judging, expecting. But it was still comfortable, we were all friendly with each other - my brother said he had to go change because it was too hot, and left me with Malcolm.

"So Malcolm," I said, starting some casual conversation "I hope you don't hate me for 'stealing' Patrick's time."

"Only as much as I hate him for stealing you away," he chuckled, turning to me. I thought it was an odd response, but I just laughed along with him.

"Yeah, right." He seemed to take this as a signal however and started walking me backwards into the wall.

"I mean it's selfish really, claiming a lovely thing like you all for himself. I bet you should really be a free spirit, free to fuck wherever you please. I mean, you look just about ready to take a good number of men on all at once and have them trembling at your feet as you make them cum, right hottie?"

I don't know what he meant by that, I was in a simple zip-up red dress, though it did end somewhere just below the butt so it could just be seen poking out... and considering I was in just a black thong... and my suspenders were clearly on show holding up the sheer silky tights... Okay, maybe I was well equipped to take on twenty cocks at once, and the thought had actually started to cause my dick to swell, which was not good in this situation. It was then I saw my brother out the corner of my eye, smiling wickedly.

He entered into the room with a loud cough, causing Malcolm to spin away from me. He feigned ignorance and asked Malcolm what he'd been up to and all that, before turning to me with a wink, asking me to go get a drink. Now, 'go get a drink' in this marriage roughly equated to 'I am about to fuck you so hard' so I made sure to waggle my butt as I left the room - I had no idea what Patrick was planning but of course I played along. I fetched him two amaretto's on ice - his favourite - then stopped by the door to hear the two speak.

"God your wife is hot, where did she come from?" Malcolm said.

"Where did she come from? Here, she's always been here. I've known her a long time actually, though you might not have notice her... she certainly noticed you."

"Wait. What does that mean?"

"Before we were married she'd often tell me how much she wanted to get fucked by you, in the ass and everything, but that I shouldn't tell you."

"What the fuck, really? Because I'd love her ass Paddy, I really would."

"Yup, the little slut. But thing is, that ass belongs to me now... unless you'd be down to play a little game we learned in Paris - menage a trois?" and on this I entered with the drinks. The two most gorgeous men of my life clinked them together with a grin, then downed them, staring each other in the eye.

Patrick went and stood behind me, and hugged me from behind so that he pulled me into a kneeling position with my butt on his lap.

"Honey" he said calmly "me and Malcolm were talking and think we'd enjoy a little bonding session, bring us closer again, maybe stop his silly jealousy towards you?" I smiled, looked at Malcolm and replied:

"Of course, I'd love to help two men get closer."

Malcolm walked slowly over to me, unzipping his jeans and smiling in disbelief. He pulled them down to his ankles, and his pants with them, releasing his cock. It was a nice cock, but I was in some weird way insanely happy to see that it was smaller than my big brother's at about 7, 7 and a half inches? Bigger than mine though, so in my mind everything works out perfectly. I reached my hand out and lightly grabbed his shaft. Meanwhile, my brother started unzipping my dress from behind. I moved my soft pink lips to his head as my brother kissed me on the neck; and then I sank to the bottom of Malcolm's cock in one fluid motion. I heard him groan in pleasure, and looked up to see him closing his eyes. My brother slipped the dress off, underneath me. I started to bob my head on Malcolm's dick, sucking and salivating and getting it wetter and slippier - my brother lubed up my ass and lifted by up on to his cock. I slid down on it until I was sitting in his lap, with him holding me from behind; my wetted lips slipped up and down Malcolm's cock rapidly. I had two beautiful cocks inside of me, something I had dreamed about before the wedding, and was made all the better now that I was doing it in girly lingerie. It felt so right! I continued to bounce on my brother's beautiful monster, while trying my best to gag on Malcolm's cock, moaning and making every minute of it.

Patrick grabbed my head and drew me into a kiss from behind. The absence of my mouth on his cock gave Malcolm a brief respite to open his eyes and look down; and with my head moved out of the way as well he could get a very clear view of the third dick of the party flopping hard against my stomach.

"Umm, Paddy?" Malcolm stuttered, unsure of quite what to say. He was still incredibly hard, and seemed fixated by my dick. I was still bouncing on my brother's cock, the two of us fucking relentlessly on the floor in front of him. I just know that I was making my whore face, Patrick was fucking me so well, and I was enjoying it so much it was nearly painful. I would have my mouth open, and eyes rolling down my nose in an ecstasy, only capable of focusing on the sex. My brother spoke to Malcolm from over my shoulder.

"Look, now is obviously a really bad time to explain, cause we're not going to stop now; but if you want, I'll let you take a piece of this ass you wanted so much? Isn't she still the hottest slut you've known in a while?" He said, panting as he met his lap with my smooth ass.

When he said this, I slowly lifted myself off his cock, and positioned myself on all fours with my butt pointing straight at Malcolm. I know that my sissy hole, clean, shaven, and gaping, is perfectly inviting and impossible to resist; a fact proved when I felt Malcolm kneel behind me and slide his still-throbbing member straight in. My brother smiled, and moved round in front of me. He grabbed my hair and slapped my face with his cock - wetting me behind the ears with his precum. He was making a show of marking his territory in front of the other male, especially now the other male was preparing to use my tightest hole, the hole that defines who owns me. As if he needed to remind me! I was sticking my tongue out, desperate to get a taste of that cum, letting him easily slide in all the way to the base, and he face fucked me in the way he does best.

I was on all fours, my two holes being filled, and emptied, and filled again in perfect synchronisation. They had started to time their thrusts together, so when they thrust in I was completely loaded with their cocks, filling me with lust, and when they thrust out I was empty, which made me even more lustful. I could do nothing but stay in that slutty position, arcing my back and looking lovingly up at my brother and husband, while pushing back slightly on my old crush. Between them they were panting the most lust-swelling obscenities: hungry slut!; desperate trap; little faggy bitch! It was heaven having both my holes used like this, especially since it was my husband's idea! The two thrust in again, and I was the first to cum, I was just too excited to be used. I came up my chest, and was moaning desperately at cumming this way; this caused my brother to start unloading in my mouth. However, at exactly the same time, the orgasm made me clench my ass and buck my hips backwards; this made Malcolm cum straight up the walls of my ass. They were both cumming together, filling up my cum dump belly from both ways, all while my little dick was shooting out ropes and ropes more of cum, spots getting on my bra and the red dress which had been left under me.

Malcolm heaved a sigh and slipped out of my hole, and Patrick went and grabbed the camera from the side table: I immediately assumed our special position, ever more special by this 'bonding' event. I rolled onto my back and grabbed my legs behind the knees, lifting them up so my gaping asshole could clearly be seen. From it, Malcolm's cum was leaking; up my stomach and chest (bra included) I was covered in my own weak pale cum; and on my chin a little dribble of my brother's cum that I had left for the purpose of the photo. He took some pictures, and then I licked up the last of his cum, and relaxed, lay on the floor and closed my eyes, revelling in the feeling of being covered in all kinds of jizz.

"So that's what happened to your little brother" I heard Malcolm say, in a light hearted tone.

"So you figured it out? Welcome to the secret, buddy. But it's my sister, obviously. My desperate slut of a sister. You have no objections?"