A Wedding - Sex Stories

A Wedding

... then, only friends and family watched but yes, I’m afraid I did.” Kriska’s mom smiled at the memory, “My mother was so upset," she continued, "She said I was just like some waterfront whore or a cat on heat and it was all unnecessary, Kris, just use decorum when the congregation watch that first time” she chuckled “then afterwards you can scream the place down.” The hairdresser and makeup girl came and went and the photographer took pictures of her in the full regalia then suddenly it was time. The Limo would not fit the Garage so they had to exit through the front porch airlock and rely on the Limo’s antacid system to purify the air as they drove to church, her dad by her side, Mon and Lizzy her little sister in front and Sigal her designated bridesmaid in the left jump seat. “Sigal are you not marrying dear” Kriska's Mom asked “No Mrs Duroe," she replied “So what will do now Sigal, now you are officially a woman?” she continued. “Oh Maison Blanche evenings and weekends and stay at school until I get pregnant.” Sigal replied. “Part time,” queried Royston. “I thought whorehouse work was full time” “Oh yes they did a deal, see.” Sigal held her breasts for Royston to see, “ See they liked what they saw, but I hope to get pregnant by fall and pick a failed groom, get the messy stuff over my Mom says." “So you hope Jonathan fails?” Kriska asked mockingly. “Or Mark.” She tittered but the thought that neither Jonathan nor Mark would perform was too awful for poor Kriska to ...

... contemplate. Royston straightened her out “Don’t be impertinent.” The immaculate astro-turf of the graveyard beckoned as the Limo swept beneath the carbon fibre Palm trees and on to the fairy tale church, sweeping down into the airlock for the mandatory two minutes then on into the acidity controlled zone of the main church. “Pants, Kris” Her mother prompted and Kris slid first the ugly anti acidity leggings then the skimpy pink silk panties off and straightening her stockings and garters she announced she was ready. The music played softly as she walked down between the townsfolk, this her moment, they there by town ordnance compelling attendance at not less than one wedding day per quarter. She felt all eyes on her, she wondered what it would feel like to expose herself to these good people, then thought how much worse it must be for the boys. She felt she floated to the altar, Jonathan and his Groomsman waited, the Reverend Bryn Jones waited and finally the sounds of the organ faded. “Friends, citizens of Maitland, we are gathered together in the sight of God, his servant Mohammed and the prophet Jesus to witness the union of these fertile young people so that they may bring forth the offspring we so desperately need for the future of our race.” Bryn Jones read from the familiar text of the 2140 combined religions of the Americas prayer book. The congregation remained hushed in anticipation, most girls entered with their gown already configured, their stitching on public view but ...