Cheating on my Fiancé

The Queen of Hearts cheats on her hen night.

It was the night of my hen party, and I was buzzing with excitement, and maybe a bit too much prosecco.

My fiancé, Jason, had been so sweet about it all, kissing me goodbye and telling me to have fun with the girls. We’d been together for five years, engaged for two, and our wedding was just weeks away. I loved him, truly, but there’s something about that pre-wedding freedom that makes you feel alive in a way you haven’t in ages.

I was twenty-eight, a curvaceous brunette with long hair and big boobs, dressed as the Queen of Hearts. Red and black corset top with glittering heart appliqués, a short black tutu skirt that barely covered my ass, thigh-high white stockings dotted with tiny red hearts, and black heels that made my legs look endless.

The crown on my head and the veil trailing down my back screamed “bride-to-be,” and the girls had gone all out dressing as the other characters from Alice in Wonderland.

We started at my friend Amy’s house, pre-drinking and giggling over penis-shaped straws. My best friend, and maid-of-honour, Becky, had organised everything. A limo to take us club-hopping in the city centre. By the time we piled in, I was already tipsy, the Prosecco fizzing through my veins.

The limo dropped us at the first club, a trendy spot with thumping bass and strobe lights that made everything feel electric. We danced, we screamed lyrics, we took selfies with my crown tilted jauntily. But as the night wore on, the group started to splinter. Some girls headed outside to smoke, others to the bar, and I found myself alone on the dance floor, swaying to the rhythm, feeling the eyes on me.

That’s when I noticed them. Two guys, both tall and built like they spent their days in the gym. One was dark-haired with a sharp jawline and a cocky grin. David. The other was blond, with piercing blue eyes and a sleeve of tattoos peeking out from his shirt. Mark, I think. They were dancing nearby, not too pushy, but their gazes kept flicking my way. I smiled back, because why not? It was my hen night; a little flirting was harmless.

David approached first, leaning in close enough that I could smell his fragrance, something spicy and masculine. “Queen of Hearts, huh? Does that mean you’re stealing hearts tonight?” he joked, his voice low and teasing over the music.

I laughed, tossing my veil back. “Only the ones worth taking.”

Mark sidled up beside him, handing me a drink. “For the queen,” he said with a wink. It was a bright red cocktail, fitting the theme. I took a sip, sweet and strong, and felt that familiar warmth spread through me.

We danced together, the three of us in a loose circle. Their hands brushed my waist, my hips, nothing overt, but enough to send sparks. Jason crossed my mind briefly. Solid, dependable Jason, probably at home watching sports with his friends. But the alcohol dulled the guilt, and the attention felt intoxicating.

As the club heated up, sweat glistened on my skin, making the glitter on my costume sparkle. David pulled me closer during a slow grind of a song, his body pressing against mine. I could feel his hardness through his jeans, and a thrill shot through me.

“You’re fucking gorgeous,” he murmured in my ear. Mark was behind me, his hands on my shoulders, thumbs tracing circles. It was like being sandwiched between two walls of muscle, and my body responded without my brain’s permission, nipples hardening under the thin corset, a dampness starting between my legs.

We ended up in a quieter corner booth, the girls nowhere in sight. Maybe they’d gone to the next club; texts were buzzing on my phone, but I ignored them. David and Mark were charming, funny even, telling stories about their jobs. David in finance, Mark a personal trainer. They complimented my outfit, my smile, my everything.

“That costume’s driving me wild,” Mark said, his eyes dipping to my cleavage, where the hearts on my top framed my full breasts perfectly. I have heavy tits, 36E. They filled out the corset without a bra, and I knew they were staring.

The conversation turned flirty, then downright dirty. “Ever had a threesome?” David asked casually, like he was inquiring about the weather.

I blushed but played it cool. “Not telling.”

Mark leaned in. “Bet you’d be amazing at it.”

The nights alcohol had me bold. “Maybe I would.”

Before I knew it, David’s hand was on my thigh under the table, sliding up under the tutu. His fingers brushed the edge of my lace panties, and I didn’t stop him. Mark watched, his own hand grazing my arm. The club was dark, crowded; no one would notice. David’s finger slipped inside my panties, finding me wet already. He stroked my clit lightly, making me gasp.

“Fuck, you’re soaked,” he whispered.

I should have stopped it there. Jason’s face flashed in my mind, our shared house, our plans for a family. But the forbidden rush was too much.

“Let’s get out of here,” I said, my voice husky.

They didn’t need telling twice. We slipped out a side door, into the cool night air. David’s apartment was nearby, convenient, or maybe planned. We stumbled in, laughing, the door barely closed before David had me against the wall, kissing me hard. His lips were demanding, tongue invading my mouth. Mark was behind me again, unzipping my corset top slowly, exposing my breasts.

“God, these tits are perfect,” he groaned, cupping them harshly, thumbs flicking my nipples.

I moaned into David’s mouth, my hands fumbling with his belt. This was wrong, so fucking wrong, but it felt incredible. Mark pulled the corset down, leaving me in just the tutu, stockings, heels, and veil. The crown stayed on, a ridiculous reminder of my queen status.

David broke the kiss, dropping to his knees. He pushed the tutu up, yanking my panties aside. His tongue found my pussy immediately, licking broad strokes up my slit. I cried out, grabbing his hair. Mark stood beside me, unzipping his pants, pulling out his cock. It was thick, veined, already hard.

“Suck it,” he said, guiding my head.

I hesitated for a second. Jason had never been this dominant, but then I opened my mouth, taking Mark in. He tasted salty, musky, and I swirled my tongue around the head, sucking gently at first, then deeper. David’s mouth worked magic below, his tongue flicking my aching clit while two fingers slid deep inside me, curling to hit that spot. I hummed around Mark’s throbbing cock, the vibrations making him groan.

“That’s it, slut. Take it.”

They switched after a bit. Mark knelt, eating me out with enthusiasm, his tongue delving deep while his fingers pinched my inner thighs. David fed me his cock, longer than Mark’s, hitting the back of my throat. I gagged a little, but he held my head, fucking my mouth slowly. Tears pricked my eyes, mascara running, but it only heightened the intensity. My body was on fire, building toward release. Mark sucked my clit hard, and I came, shuddering, my moans muffled by David’s dick.

“Bedroom,” David grunted, pulling me up.

We stumbled down the hall, clothes shedding. I was naked except for the stockings, heels, and veil, the tutu discarded somewhere. The apartment was modern, sparse, the double bed inviting. They pushed me onto it, on my back. David climbed between my legs, rubbing his cock against my slick entrance.

“Condom?” I managed to ask, a flicker of responsibility.

“Fuck that,” he said, then thrust in deep. I arched, gasping at the fullness. He was bigger than Jason, stretching me deliciously. Mark knelt by my head, offering his cock again. I sucked him eagerly, my hand stroking what I couldn’t fit. David pounded into me, hard and fast, his hands gripping my hips.

“Your pussy’s so tight,” he growled.

We shifted positions. Mark lay down, pulling me on top. I straddled him, sinking onto his cock, no condom. The risk thrilled me; Jason and I always used protection. Mark’s hands squeezed my ass as I rode him, grinding my clit against his base. David stood on the bed, feeding me his dick from above. I alternated sucking and stroking, my large breasts bouncing with each thrust.

“Time for that tit-job,” Mark said, grinning. He pulled out, lying back. I knelt over him, pressing my breasts together around his cock. He thrust up, the head peeking out between my cleavage. I licked it each time, tasting my own juices. David watched, stroking himself.

“Fuck her tits,” he demanded.

Mark did, groaning as the soft flesh enveloped him. My nipples were rock hard, sensitive from earlier pinching. I spat on his cock for lube, making it slick. “Cum on them,” I whispered, feeling slutty and empowered.

But they weren’t done. David pulled me off, flipping me onto all fours. He entered me from behind, doggy style, his balls slapping against me. Mark knelt in front, fucking my mouth. They spit-roasted me like that, rhythms syncing, David deep in my pussy, Mark in my throat. I came again, clenching around David, which set him off. He buried himself deep and came intensely, hot spurts filling my pussy. Jason and I had talked about having kids after the wedding, but this… this was reckless.

Mark flipped me onto my back, sliding back in bare. He fucked me missionary, deep and slow, our eyes locked. “Now it’s my turn to fill you up, slut,” he said.

His thrusts quickened, and I wrapped my legs around him, heels digging into his ass. He groaned, burying deep, and I felt it, pulse after pulse of hot cum flooding my pussy. A double cream-pie, just like that. It leaked out as he pulled away, sticky on my thighs.

We collapsed, breathing heavy. The room smelled of sex, sweat, cum, and my perfume. Guilt hit me then, hard. Jason. Our life. But mixed with it was satisfaction, a secret thrill. I cleaned up quickly, dressing in my rumpled costume. The veil was askew, crown dented. They offered me a cab, but I called one myself, slipping out before dawn.

Back home, Jason was asleep. I showered, washing away the evidence, but the ache between my legs lingered. In the morning, he’d ask about the night, and I’d smile, say it was epic. The secret was mine, our little queen’s indiscretion. Part of me regrets it, but another part… well, it made me feel alive.