I drove home a much different man than I was four days earlier when I arrived at the house of my 315-lb. stoner cousin Megan. I arrived as a virgin who'd never revealed to her that I was in love with her, let alone that I had over 2,000 pictures of the bottom of her feet and regularly masturbated to them, or that I masturbated with her flip flops and wore her underpants. I left having had several intense sexual encounters with Megan, and being engaged to marry her.
About halfway home, while I was stopped at a gas station, I went to Facebook on my iPhone, and checked out Megan's page. Shortly after I left, she had posted a status update - her first Facebook activity since I arrived four days earlier. Her status read "I'm a huge girl, I'm 5'3" and 315 fucking lbs., and for the first time in my life, I'm fucking proud of it!" She had gotten dozens of "likes" and supportive comments in response.
I got home at 1:20 AM and my parents were already in bed. I stripped nude except for the pair of Megan's underpants that I was wearing, turned out the lights, got in bed, and texted Megan. "Buddy, I made it home. I'm so overwhelmed by the last four days. Thank you for making my dreams come true. Your cousin, BFF, weed buddy, whore, boyfriend, and soon to be husband, Buddy."
The next two weeks, Megan and I heavy gave our "flower" - our relationship - the water and sunshine we talked about. We sent each other literally hundreds of texts, ranging from gentle and loving to extremely kinky, with lots about weed also. We talked on the phone almost every night, usually for about two hours, when I went to bed. And though I was very tempted to, I didn't masturbate, as I was saving it for when she and I met in person again. I don't think either of my parents suspected that Megan and I were having sex, and she said she didn't think her parents suspected it either.
I also spent several hours a day watching Megan's sex videos, and I was completed awed by all of them. She was an extraordinary performer who gave 100% every time and never got enough black cock. She looked so satisfied and content whenever she had a black cock in her cunt or her mouth; as if she'd love having it there forever. Sometimes she softly moaned, sometimes she screamed at the top of her lungs, always she had a very filthy mouth, and usually she and the men in the video were smoking weed, or clearly had been smoking it in the last few minutes.
Some of her boyfriends also liked giving it to her up the ass, which she had no problem with. She must've been fucked up the ass hundreds if not thousands of times, as the cocks easily slid in and out, even when no lubrication was used. Megan didn't seem to enjoy that very much, but she was happy to please her boyfriends in any way she could. While she was being fucked up the ass, she often scrunched her butt cheeks, to the pleasure of her boyfriends.
I also saw Megan get spanked - sometimes playfully, sometimes very hard - with a wide variety of objects. I saw her gagged and bound and used as a sex toy. In one video, she started off in a small cage that she could barely fit into. One of her boyfriends unlocked the padlock, opened the door, pulled her out, and ordered her to hand him the paddle that was hanging on the wall. When she did, he tied her hands together, then tied her hands to a device that was hanging from the ceiling. He paddled her ass and thighs for 10 minutes as she screamed and squirmed, then untied her and locked her back in the cage.
And in a few videos, she preceded the sex with dancing for her boyfriend(s). I'd never seen her dance, and she was an amazingly sexy dancer. In particular, her ass shaking was phenomenal. I hoped she'd dance that way for me. And because some of the videos were several hours long, and she had dozens of them, there were still plenty that I hadn't watched by the time we saw each other again. I started to wonder if every sexual experience she ever had was video recorded.
My huge cousin/fiancé was now my favorite porno actress! I hoped I'd measure up to her ex-boyfriends sexually, but from watching the videos, I sensed that part of the reason that Megan wanted me as her husband is that none of those men seemed interested in romance and emotional intimacy from her, only sex.
Most of the e-mail messages that I forwarded to my address from hers were responses to her personal ads. Many of them were little more than pictures of a black cock. Megan apparently only responded to the ads in which the sender gave a lot of information about himself. It seemed that she was only very interested in a few of them. Her conversations with them generally gave information that I already knew about her, and I was very happy that whenever she gave information about her family, she always mentioned me, saying that I was her best friend/weed buddy, the only person who understood her, and was a big help in getting through her time in prison. Still, she seemed to be boastful about having spent time in prison, as if it cemented her status as a bad girl.
On a Sunday evening, two weeks since I returned from my last visit to Megan, she called me excitedly, saying that a WWE event was scheduled for Cincinnati the next Saturday, and that we should meet there, get married, attend the event, and spend the whole weekend together. Of course, I agreed.
As soon as school let out on Friday, I drove to a Motel 6 where Megan had made a reservation for us. As I pulled into the parking lot, I called and asked what our room number was, but she told me to pull up to the office. I did and she excitedly ran out, wearing a black T shirt with a huge marijuana leaf and the words "smoke weed" below, black jeans, and black flip flops. She also had a large new tattoo on the top of her right forearm, that went almost from her wrist to her elbow.
When she got in the car, she said "Hi Buddy!" and we immediately had a huge hug and a quick kiss on the lips.
"What's your new tattoo?!" I asked
She held the tattoo a few inches in front of my face and I saw that it was a wide assortment of daisies, in several colors. That seemed appropriate, as she'd always loved daisies. "I'll tell you all about it later," she said, "but we need to hurry so we can get married today!"
"Okay!" I said.
Megan already had the address of the courthouse programmed into her phone, and she guided me there. As we walked toward the building, holding hands with our fingers interlocked, she became very emotional. "Are you okay, Buddy?" I asked.
She stopped and turned to me, so I immediately stopped and looked at her in the eyes as we held our hands together. She was very tearful. "The last time I was in a courthouse, I was sentenced to five years in prison, I thought my life was basically over, and I was screaming and crying hysterically as the guards walked me out. Now I'm going into a courthouse to marry my Buddy!"
"And last time you were in a courthouse, it was for dealing weed, and now you're entering a courthouse wearing a weed shirt!"
She grinned, we had a quick kiss on the lips, and she said "Come on, let's go!"
We went inside and applied for a marriage license. The clerk was a woman who appeared to be in her 50s or 60s. I gave my information first, followed by Megan, at which point the clerk looked puzzled and asked "You have the same last name?"
Megan immediately responded "Yeah, we met on a Facebook group for people with that last name!"
"Oh, I see!" the clerk said, chuckling, and sounding relieved!
As soon as we got the license, Megan and I went to a judge who performed the ceremony. We spoke our vows to each other as we held our hands together and gazed deeply into each other's eyes. And instead of our real names, we addressed ourselves and each other as "Buddy" when reciting the vows. And Megan said that she took me "to be my lawfully wedded whore" instead of husband. The judge showed no sign that he noticed the word change. Throughout the ceremony, we were both very emotional but stayed composed. When the judge pronounced us husband and wife, Megan and embraced and I kissed, then she playfully squeezed my cheeks, as she'd often done since she first held me, an hour after I was born.
We then walked toward the exit with our fingers interlocked, and just a few seconds after we got outside, she stopped and turned to me, which I again immediately reciprocated, as we held our hands together. Her eyes were now filled with tears. "Buddy?" she said in a shaky voice.
"Yes, Buddy?" I responded.
