Ty & Cinda--A Tale of Forbidden Love-Part 2 - Sex Stories

Ty & Cinda--A Tale of Forbidden Love-Part 2

... Louisiana was sixteen and we were eighteen. We completed the form and I paid the fee. We were done in a half hour and on our way to Robbins’ Men’s Wear. I had learned early on last year that many of the churches, especially the small black churches, were too small to support a full-time minister. Cinda’s pastor owned a men’s wear store in Morgan City. He greeted us in the store, shooing one of the clerks off to an actual customer. “My, my…I don’t believe my eyes. Is it really you, Ty?” I smiled as I shook Pastor Robbins’ meaty hand. “I guess I don’t have to ask why you returned, Ty. Good news travels fast; I must have received five phone calls yesterday from the boys at the park. Congratulations…you’re a very lucky young man to have the love of someone like Cinda.” “Thank you, sir. We’d like to know when you can marry us. We’d like to do it this week so we can return to Indiana before school starts next Monday. I have our license right here.” I held it out for him to see. “I need to make a copy, Ty. Let me check my calendar.” He retreated to the back of the store, returning a minute later with a worn leather book and my original of the license. “Hmmm…I could do it Wednesday at ten,” he continued after flipping through several pages. “Yes…I’ll have to get one of the clerks in to cover for me, but I’m sure he’ll be willing for such a good cause. I looked at Cinda. She grinned and nodded. “That will be great, Pastor. We’ll see you Wednesday.” He shook my hand and I led Cinda ...

... out. We went straight to the Inglewood Mall. I had a suit that would probably need a good cleaning and pressing since being packed into my suitcase, but I wanted to buy Cinda a new dress for the occasion. She absolutely forbade me buying her any kind of wedding gown claiming it would be a colossal waste of money. I found it much more difficult to ignore her than my grandfather. We agreed on a nice off-white dress and a pair of medium heels. Cinda had never worn heels before; watching her walk in them would have been funny if I wasn’t hopelessly in love with her. We made one more stop before leaving—a jewelry store where we selected matching wedding bands. We saw several we liked, but Cinda fell in love with a set with two intertwined ropes of 18-karat gold. They had two in our sizes so I paid for them with my credit card and we walked out, huge smiles on our faces. I checked the yellow pages on my phone and once we were out into the parking lot I drove us to a nearby clinic. Cinda completed the forms and we waited to be seen. It was almost an hour later that we were shown to an exam room. A nurse practitioner walked in a few minutes later. We explained what we wanted and Cinda hopped up onto the table for a quick exam. A nurse entered a few minutes later with a long-needled syringe. The contraceptive implant was under the skin in Cinda’s torso a few minutes later. I paid the bill based on a sliding income scale and we walked out ecstatic in the knowledge that we could do away ...