Sandy Bennett: Jackies family lessons

«What are you doing?» she asked, crooning her words. «My goodness, what is happening in this house. Mmmmmmm, it's awfully nice, here comes the bride, big fat and wide, is that you Jackie?» I didn't answer. My mouth was full of cunt, succulent, fleshy, fragrant cunt. It was suffocating and enveloping me, I didn't care what else happened as long as I could keep on eating her out. Her passiveness made it all the nicer because I didn't have to concern myself with her well-being, only my own. As I ate her my hands found her big tits and massaged them vigorously. Her flesh was so soft that it seemed to squelch between my fingers, but I found it could only be squeezed so far before it resisted. Then it was like smooth, firm rubber, possessed of a squeezability that set my teeth on edge and made me want to squeeze so hard that her tits would drop off. I parked my pussy over her shin bone and rode along that slowly as if to keep it on the back burner. The sensations her body provided me with were more than enough to keep the rest of me burning brightly.

Time passed on fleet feet. I lost all awareness of where I was, what I was doing, and what lay in the future. In a way it was like being back in the womb, lost in fluid, surrounded by flesh. My mother snored softly. Not even sex could pull her out of her drunken stupor. All the more for me. I made love to her beautifully and at length, had orgasms by the bunch, and experienced something very few girls ever get to know: true intimacy with one's mother.

I fell asleep huddled up beside her, the taste of her cunt in my mouth, the resilience of her flesh echoing in the palms of my hands. The curtain went down on the beautiful experiment initiated by my cousin Veronica. Tomorrow was the wedding day, Frank would be mine, I would be his, etc.. I snuggled up closer to my mother at the thought of that drastic separation. How could Frank replace all these people? What if he couldn't make love at all? Or what if I was really a dyke. Many such fatuous questions haunted my mind even after I'd fallen asleep to cause bad dreams and a nervous night.

In the morning I felt fresh and clean. My mother woke up soon after me and she informed me that she felt old and ragged. Her hangover had her crawling out of bed to go into the bathroom and run the tap over her head. Other relatives were sitting in the kitchen, hunched over cups of black coffee and eating aspirins. They told me I had missed a great party and I said I'd take their word for that. Somehow this motley, seedy bunch managed to transform itself into smartly dressed men and women before it was time to go to the church. The caterers were setting up shop on the lawn, the limousine was waiting, I was in my special dress, Veronica in hers as befitted the bridesmaid, and the party left the house in a stately manner. At the church it got a little sticky when I had to walk along the aisle toward Frank, seeing on either side of me the people whom I'd fucked so recently, but I managed to keep a straight face. My father gave me away a little reluctantly, I thought, and Tim was cool toward Frank, but my husband didn't notice a thing. He kept looking at me with shining eyes. Was he happy that we were man and wife or did he just want to get into my pants?

The reception went smoothly enough, but far too quickly. I wasn't sure if I could face Frank alone in the wedding suite that had been booked for us. I was afraid I'd break down and tell him everything. No marriage should start on that foot. During the reception I looked at all my former lovers wistfully, yet already there seemed to be some distance between us. I noticed a tendency in myself to stick closer to Frank, to prefer his company to Veronica's or my father's. A gold band on my finger served as a constant reminder of my commitment but that wasn't the reason I stuck with him. It was more psychological.

He looked very handsome in his new suit, self-assured and strong, looking much more like his father than the boy who came begging at my door a few days ago. He showed no signs of eagerness or anxiety, he was charming with my relatives, witty with his friends, and considerate toward me. I didn't know what to make of this but I was glad of it. The reception drew to a close, people gathered at the end of the driveway to wave us goodbye as the limousine took us to the hotel. One night there and in the morning we would leave for Europe. I felt like crying when I looked at all those familiar faces. Why had I given them up for Frank? They could give me everything he could give, and more! Too late. We waved at the receding cluster of people, the limousine turned a corner, and we were alone.

«Well, that wasn't so bad,» he breathed, undoing his tie a little and lighting cigarettes for the both of us. «How do you feel, honey?»

«Okay, I guess.» I couldn't look him in the eye. What if he turned back into that whimpering boy once we were in the hotel suite? I couldn't live with that. Either he demanded or he didn't ask. We made some small talk about the wedding and the guests but I had to force the words out. I was so nervous that I could hardly breathe! He remarked how pale I was and tried to set me at ease by holding my hand. His hand was big, strong, and dry, not a sign of nervousness. We were ushered through the hotel, into the elevator, and from there into the bridal suite. The door closed behind us and the dreaded moment had arrived.

«Champagne?» he said. A trolley stood near the bed, laden with snacks centered about an ice bucket holding a large bottle of champagne. I accepted gratefully, thinking that this would make me worry less. I couldn't believe Frank's poise. He had taken off his tie and shoes and sat on the edge of the bed wiggling his toes and sipping at his glass. «Ah, lovely. Do you want to eat something? They laid this on so we could stay in bed as long as we felt like it, I think,» he grinned.

«No thank you.» I took in the decor and wondered what to do with myself. In the end I went over to the bed and sat beside him but there was enough space between us to drive a bus through. «Could I have another champagne, please?»

«Sure. But first you have to take off all your clothes.»

«What? Why should I do that?»

«Because I said so.» There was an edge to his voice that told me I had better not try to be cute with him. I got up and waited until he'd undone the buttons at the back, then stepped out of the dress and took off the slip, the bra, panties, hose, and whatever else was on my body. Frank nodded approvingly and handed me a refill. I sat down again, so tense now that I spilled half of it right away. If he noticed he gave no sign of it. He downed his glass, set it down, and took off his clothes. But he didn't attack me. He just sat down, poured himself another, and said how lucky it was that the sun had shone on our wedding. I agreed.

«Boy, it makes you tired, though,» he said, lying back on the bed and resting his head on the pillows. «I know you expect the honeymoon to begin right away but I'm not sure I'm up to it. Still, we have all the time in the world now, don't we?»

«Er … yes, I guess so,» I said lamely. I just couldn't work it out. Was this Frank or an identical twin he'd had hidden away for years? His cock was limp, he looked totally relaxed, so much so that I was afraid he'd fall asleep! I lay down beside him, a bit closer now, and tried to figure it out. He was no help.

Minutes ticked by. He might be dozing, I thought as I surveyed his face. That should have made me feel more at ease but somehow it was much worse this way. He ignored me! He took me for granted on the first night! I would never live this down. Still, if he thought I would try to change his mind he was crazy. I could hold out as well as he could, I would show him. But how did he get to be so calm? What had happened to his hornyness?