I was aware of my wife’s unusual family tradition before our marriage, but I’d always dismissed it as an eccentric story. That changed on our wedding night. Immediately after the ceremony, she led me to our suite to initiate me into what it truly meant to be part of her lineage. She was standing there, breathtakingly nude except for her delicate veil and the most provocative lingerie I had ever laid eyes on. My immediate instinct was to throw her on the bed and fuck her senseless, but she wasn’t alone. Her stepmother and her stepdaughter were present, flanking her like sensual guardians. I was informed that to fully be accepted into the family, I would have to intimately pleasure every generation, one after another.
All three women professed their devotion as they laid me back, stripped me bare, and began tracing their hands and mouths over my entire body. As they took turns deep-throating my cock and worshiping my balls with their tongues, they whispered, asking if I could feel the primal sexual energy of their ancestors coursing through me. To be completely honest, I absolutely could. I had never been harder or consumed by such raw, insatiable lust. The drive to relentlessly pound each of them was overwhelming. I respect tradition, and above all, I wanted to be her husband. So, if my duty was to thrust my dick deep into each of their waiting, wet pussies and make certain every one of them came screaming from my tongue and my cock, I was more than ready to serve.
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