Gifted Grifter Ch 15

#15: The Wedding Present

Julie's choice was to get married on a gondola at the Venetian in Las Vegas. I was a little surprised she would choose to go back to Vegas after the years she spent as a working girl there, but as I thought about it I imagined she might have seen plenty of bridal parties there while she was working and felt some envy, not expecting that she might someday get married there herself. And it was about as romantic a wedding as you could imagine.

It was a very small wedding, as you might expect given Julie's past and the fact that I had spent a year living as a nomad with no name. Julie wanted her Aunt Betty to be matron of honor; Betty didn't want to accept at first, but when it was clear that that's who Julie really wanted, she agreed. Jenny (aka Kayla) also stood up. On my side I had my brother as my best man—"I didn't even know you were seeing someone," is what he said when I asked—and an old classmate from grad school. He was a good guy but not very smooth around women (like me before the mindreader, I suppose); he surely had never been near, much less touched, a woman anywhere near as hot as Jenny. He was also unlikely to pick up on subtle clues; he wouldn't figure out she was a prostitute unless she out and told him. I imagined he'd be dreaming about her for months.

Beyond the wedding party, Julie invited one of her stepbrothers and her mother, but only on the condition that she not bring her stepfather. Her mother resisted that condition for a long time, but eventually the marriage of her only daughter outweighed everything else. Just two days before the wedding we heard she was coming—her second husband was coming along to Vegas, but he would do other things while mom was with the wedding. We met them halfway and footed the bill; money was no longer an issue for us. But we put them up at the Riviera rather than the Venetian like the rest of the wedding; we wouldn't head down to that end of the strip, so there would be virtually no risk of running into him. My parents and just a handful of others comprised the entire guest list.

We flew in on Friday night; my brother had asked if there would be bachelor party. "When you see my bride," I told him, "you'll see that no bachelor party could ever hope complete. You're in Vegas, there's plenty of strip clubs and titty shows; make your own bachelor party if you want."

We met with the wedding planner the night before to work out final details. She had seen a thousand brides, but even she did a double-take at the size of the ring on Julie's dainty finger. We hosted a dinner at our favorite buffet, then let people do whatever suited their fancy for the evening. For Julie and I, that meant playing a Blackjack then going upstairs and having sex. I know some people stop having sex for a while before the wedding so that the wedding night is more "special," but Julie's feeling was there's other ways to make the wedding night special. That was fine by me. But after we made love that night, Julie went to spend the night in Aunt Betty's room; she did want to observe the old superstition about not seeing the bride the morning before the wedding. I'm pretty sure that superstition came from the days of arranged marriages, so that grooms of ugly brides wouldn't be tempted to flee until it was too late, and there was no danger of me getting cold feet. But if that's what she wanted to do, I wasn't going to stop her.

My groomsmen and I were standing at the gondola dock at 2:00. Julie and her bridesmaids came down from some hidden room to meet us. Julie was wearing an eggshell colored off-shoulder dress with a very delicate pattern, almost identical in color and thus only visible up close. It was tight-fitting and showed lovely décolletage; it then loosened at her waist and was free-flowing at its base, a couple of inches above the knee. Her hair was up, and she was wearing lovely white high-heeled sandals with the ankle straps we had bought on 5th Avenue. She was absolutely gorgeous—it was almost surreal that we were here to exchange vows with each other.

She and I got on a gondola with the gondolier/justice of the peace; the wedding party stood watching at the dock. A number of passers-by stopped to watch; it's pretty common for people to stop and watch the gondola weddings, mostly women who appreciate the romance. Once they saw my lovely Julie, I noticed that quite a few men were watching this wedding, too. There are a million gorgeous girls in Las Vegas, but even with so much beauty around Julie still stood out. We held each others' hands and looked into each other's eyes as we recited our vows of undying love to each other. When it was time to kiss the bride, we kissed so long wolf whistles started coming from the peanut gallery.

The gondolier then began singing in Italian in a trained tenor voice and began to push the boat forward. We sat down, and Julie cuddled up to me as we took our post-nuptial gondola ride. I loved the times, like this, when she felt like melted butter in my arms. "Oh honey," she said, turning her wide-eyed gaze to me, "I'm so happy. If you'd have told me when I was 22 and working these streets that I'd be coming back to marry a millionaire before I was 25, I'd have laughed in your face."

"Me either," I smiled. "I pinch myself every day; I can't believe that you're not just a dream—and now not only are you real, but you're actually my wife." I missed the rest of the ride, because I had my eyes closed, kissing my beautiful bride.

Our ride over, we rejoined our cheering wedding party. Julie and I led the way to the hall, where we had an open bar reception for two hours before dinner was served. Sure, some of the guests were plastered before the food got there, but hey—its Vegas. Its not like they had to drive home.

Julie and I made the rounds together, greeting and talking with all of our guests. A number of people on either side were meeting the new spouse for the first time. Servers came around with sushi and cold shrimp cocktails. After making our first rounds, we had a second to catch our breaths. I was on my second drink, but Julie had barely had a chance to sip her first. Suddenly she gave me a look and tugged on my arm; we ducked out into the service hallway and found, of all things, a linen closet. She pulled me into it and shut the door.

"What are we doing?" I asked, keeping an open mind.

She put her arms around me and kissed me. Then she said "we've been married for almost an hour and haven't had a chance to celebrate yet."

"You're right," I smiled, then kissed her, thinking she meant a chance to be alone and kiss. "I love you."

"I love you too," she answered, but then I felt a gentle breeze downstairs. In a flash, a gentle, expert hand was fondling my penis, while the other finished unencumbering it from my pants. That wasn't what she meant at all.

"What...here?" I stammered.

"Shh," she said with a sly look, then slid down the length of my body and swallowed my dick.

"Ohhh..." is all I could say. She sucked my dick lovingly, using her tongue to stroke the sensitive underside. She pulled her hands away for a second to pull her dress down a bit so her tits would pop out the top—she knew, of course, that I would enjoy looking at them while she sucked me off. And between those amazing tits and her pretty blonde head bobbing on my knob with purpose, it didn't take long before getting off is exactly what I did. Her lips pursed securely around me, not a single staining drop escaped.

She swallowed my load as she stood up, teasing "Mmm... my favorite appetizer. Now I'm ready for dinner."

"Julie," I gazed wondrously—she was even re-buttoning my pants for me! "What did I ever do to deserve you?"

"Me?" she protested. "I'm just a little 'ol girl from Oklahoma, marrying a New York millionaire. Whose the lucky one here?" We settled the argument with a win-win outcome; we kissed.

We popped back out and rejoined our party. We had been gone for maybe 15 minutes, but when you're the hosts and guests of honor both, people notice when you're missing.

"We've been looking for you," people said. Jenny, though, gave Julie a quizzical look. I don't know what the secret response was that she gave her, but suddenly Jenny had a knowing smile on her face. She alone was wise to what had just happened. Course, from what I knew of Jenny, I'm sure a quickie blow job in a closet would not have been a new experience for her.

Just before five we took our places for dinner. Usually, the best man makes the toast at the wedding, but since my brother had never met Julie until yesterday, and the fact that he wasn't great at speaking in public, we again did the unorthodox and I did the toast.

"My dear guests," I began, holding my glass aloft, "Julie and I would like to thank all of you for coming all this way to share our day of happiness with us." Eh, so what if we paid everyone's way. "As we embark on the journey of the rest of our lives together, we want to thank all of you that have accompanied us thus far. Without you, we would not be here today." I paused as the guests applauded. "And so I would like to raise a toast." I held the glass aloft, looking at my wonderful bride. "To my beloved wife Julie. You have been the author of all of the happiest times in my life. This is to us... today... tomorrow... and forever more. If the rest of our days are half as wonderful as our time together so far has been, I shall die the happiest man that ever lived. A Votre Sante!"

There was a cheer and a toast. Aunt Betty got up and said some nice words about us, too. When she put down the mike the servers took that as their cue to begin serving a feast you could only get in Las Vegas.

After dinner, we invited everyone to join us at one of the major dance clubs on the strip; I had paid admission in advance for the entire party, telling them to admit anyone that said they were with "the improbable wedding party" on me.

Julie and Jenny excused themselves for a few minutes; Aunt Betty was holding some sort of bag for them. When they came back, they were ready to dance! Julie was still all dressed in off-white, but now she was wearing a white vest-like garment; it had a straight cut right above the breasts and two inch-thick straps helping keep it on; buttons holding it closed down the front—and it ended right at the level the diaphragm. If she was going to dance the night away on her wedding night, she wanted to be free to flex those abs. She kept on the sexy heels, but now was wearing tight white miniskirt with it. She also had let her hair down, but had a white band in her hair to keep it gathered in the back and out of her way while dancing. A sexier bride there never has been.

Where Julie was all-white, Jenny was all-black. She wore a black halter top that showed ample cleavage and also ended well above her waistline, with almost the same skirt as Julie in black and heels so high she was almost walking a pointe. My grad school buddy wasn't much of a dancer, but when Jenny came over and sat on his lap and said "you're coming dancing right? You're my date!" he agreed. I wonder what Jenny thought of the hard-on I was he had and that she must have felt in the tight little skirt—not that feeling a hard-on was anything new to her, of course.

With that we hit the club. Both our parents left, as expected; Aunt Betty came out for a little while, as much being curious as to what a modern dance club was like, but left by about midnight. That left me and my bride, Jenny, my groomsmen and just a few others at the club. Julie and I of course danced with each other all night. Jenny took turns dancing with the men in the party, but none of them danced except when Jenny made them join her. They didn't take their eyes off her for very long, though. Eventually Jenny danced with other men at the club that were more in tune with the music.

Sometime around two AM Julie went to talk to the DJ. She came back with a big smile on her face. We were dancing on a riser above the main dance floor, a mini-floor with room for maybe four couples. I was resting on the railing, replenishing fluids, waiting for her to return. She stopped a few feet away from me and watched me with a gleam in her eye; she was up to something.

"Ladies and gentleman, I would like to introduce to you the new Mr. and Mrs. -------, just married this afternoon," came a voice over the PA system. There was scattered applause. "And now, by special request of the bride..."

Bass started thumping. Julie slithered up to me as the song began, touching my face, dancing as only she can dance. Then the words began and she started to sing them to me:

I just can't get you out of my head Boy you're loving is all I think about I just can't get you out of my head Its more than I care to think about

Every night Every day Just to be there in your arms...

I didn't know whether to dance or let her dance for me. She gave me a little nod to join her, so I did. Her show was meant for me, but we both knew a lot of other men were watching, too—there was a little section of guys congregated near the bottom of the riser, unable to keep themselves from staring at Julie and Jenny, easily the two hottest girls in the club. But knowing that Julie was mine, forever, they made me feel sympathetic rather than jealous or protective—after all, none of them would ever find a woman like Julie, because she was one of a kind. As the song ended, the DJ chimed back in "There, ladies and gentleman, is one VERY lucky man. For the rest of you guys, if you'd like to end up with like that some day, better start saving your pennies—you can buy a pretty nice house for what the lady's rock cost, from the looks of it. A good place to start is our very own Texas Hold'em tournaments, starting daily at 12 noon. Win up to $5,000—don't just stand there, start winning today and maybe you'll end up like lucky Mr.-----."

Julie didn't care, but I'll admit I was a little embarrassed by the attention we were receiving, so we came down off the riser and found a little back table to have another drink. I sat on stuffed leather seat that ran the length of the wall; Julie sat squarely in my lap, her arm around me, and my free arm touching her bare midsection. Now I was the one with the erection, and I know Julie felt it in that tight skirt because she gently rubbed her butt around to tease it. Then she swooped her face down onto mine and we tasted each others' tongues.

My groomsmen decided it was time to go, and stood around awkwardly for a few minutes while we oblivious to them, waiting for the chance to tell us they were leaving. We thanked them for coming again, and I teased my grad school buddy "You're going home? Aren't you going to stick around and dance with Jenny?" I winked.

"I can't keep up with her," he said with chagrin. I nodded. In a lot more ways than you realize, I thought to myself.

As they left, Julie turned to me and said "Well?"

"I'm ready to go back," I said. "After all, we have a marriage to consummate!" She looked at me with the eyes of the vixen. "We should tell Jenny," I said.

"I will," she volunteered, jumping up and heading back out onto the floor, where Jenny was now holding court with three starry-eyed admirers. I saw Jenny nod, then hug Julie. Jenny went back to dancing, Julie came towards me. I got up and was standing when she got there.

"She's going to stay?" I asked.

Julie nodded. "She wants to dance for a while yet before picking someone to go home with."

"I've already picked mine," I smiled, putting my arms around her.

"Me too," she said.

The casinos and the boulevard were no longer jammed; most who remained were very drunk and miserable from having lost unknown amounts of cash, digging themselves deeper trying to get some back. A few other couples returning from clubs and some Asians who had just flown in and were used to this hour being daytime, were all the remained.

We got up to the bridal suite to discover a chilled bottle of champagne waiting for us. It was a nice touch—even though it was very late, we decided to pop the cork on it anyway. I sat on the oversized couch opening the bottle while Julie fetched two champagne glasses from the sideboard. She held them while I poured. I put the bottle down, and immediately my lovely bride sat her tight-mini-skirted ass down on my lap.

"Cheers," she said in a husky voice, scanning me with naughty eyes while ostensibly clinking glasses. We both took a sip, then we closed eyes and kissed for a long, long time. For the moment she ignored the fact that my dick was trying to poke through two layers of fabric in order to reach it's favorite place on earth.

"Happy wedding day, darling," she breathed.

"Technically, that was yesterday," I commented.

"Oh," she said with a mock pout. "Does that mean I missed my chance to have a wedding night?" She per her glass down and relieved me of mine. Then she grabbed my hand and did her very best blow job moves on my index finger. Like my dick needed any more encouragement.

"I sure hope not," I said, reaching to kiss her, in part to prevent her from teasing my poor finger any further. She kissed me back, but at the same time she guided my hand to the buttons of her vest and left it there; clearly she wanted me to unbutton it. Kissing the whole while, I unbuttoned the four or so buttons holding it together and slipped my hand underneath, reaching for the young, soft but firm breasts underneath. The nipples were reaching out for me before I even got there.

She knew that by then my dick was harder than the diamond on her finger, so with a quick graceful move she swung her leg over and was straddling me. We did our best to keep kissing, but my hands were greedily groping both of her breasts, while she lifted herself up from my lap so she could free my penis. Once out in the open, she stroked it with her hands and teasingly brushed her crotch against it, the latter covered by the merest of thongs, already soaking wet.

Some nights she would tease me like this for maddeningly long stretches, but tonight was our wedding night—she wanted me inside her. She stopped for a second, pulled up her already raised skirt a bit higher, and stretching the thong out of the way guided my dick into her pussy. It felt so heavenly I let out a sigh in spite of myself. She arched her back and began to slide up and down slowly, concentrating on the sensation as every inch of me rubbed against her swollen, grasping insides.

"Oh honey..." I began.

"I'll never get tired of this," she finished for me. That's exactly what I was thinking, but I was glad she said it, and meant it—I was just an ordinary dick, while as far as I was concerned she was the best pussy in the history of earth. But her face was not acting—she was receiving intense pleasure from me, too.

"We should go to the bedroom..." I commented, distractedly, as she fucked herself on my dick.

She stopped rocking, but didn't get up. "You need to carry me over the threshold," she said, locking her arms around my neck at the same time. I knew immediately what she wanted; she wanted me to carry her to the bedroom but didn't want to let go of my dick. I wasn't sure I could get up with her still on me, but I should have known better; I used my hands to help me get up, and she nimbly assisted with her legs. As soon as it was possible she locked her legs around me, and from then on it was a piece of cake. So I did, indeed, carry my bride "over the threshold" and into the bedroom on our wedding night—only, rather than carry her just in my arms as most people do, I carried her while she was snugly, happily impaled on my rod.

I laid her down on the bed; she relaxed her grip but kept her arms reaching up towards me. But now I was a man possessed; I slammed into her at a furious pace. She was as vocal as I've ever heard her as I fucked her like a crazy man. Suddenly I felt her tighter her grip around my neck and saw her close her eyes in orgasm, but I didn't even slow down. My lovely Julie, as always, responded to my lust by trying to make it easier for me. She was spreading her legs so far apart I wonder if it didn't hurt, but she was just trying to help me dive as deeply into her box as possible. Her breasts jiggled like an unbalanced washing machine as each new thrust sent them flying before they had time to return to resting state from the last. And in the middle of it all, surrounded by the natural blonde halo, was her face—smiling. While the rest of her body was pounded by my lustful strokes, her face was calmly still and watching me. Her emotions were clearly etched on her face: she was happy, she knew that this was making me happy, and the fact that I was happy made her happier still. For a second we made eye contact and held it in spite of the tornado of activity. But then my intense thrusting, situated so as to rub her clitoris on every stroke, brought her close to orgasm again, and she closed her eyes in the face of the pleasurable sensation. My beautiful bride, even sexier with her eyes closed and in the throes of passion, overwhelmed my senses. I stiffened, then exploded into her like I was one of the goddamn fountains of Bellagio.