This is an ongoing story, for background you may want to read the earlier chapters. The story is fiction and involves incestuous relationships.
All characters engaged in sex acts are aged eighteen or older.
Chapter 5
The wedding took place the first Saturday in December. Almost the whole village attended and quite a few folks from the larger town nearby.
It was a sunny, crisp day. Winter had arrived. There was a little snow, but not too much yet.
Sally was the bridesmaid. Despite the fact that the two girls had often been rivals they were good friends. The best man was one of Jack's remembered friends from school, he lived on a farm several miles from Jack and Carol Ann. They often saw each other in the village, or the town, so their friendship had survived. The friend, of course, knew nothing about Jack's new secret.
The two families had pooled their meager funds to buy a ring and new outfits for the happy couple. They could only afford one ring, and that a plain, thin band. There was a new white dress for Emily, and a veil. The dress was one that could be worn for church or social occasions after the wedding. Even wedding dresses had to serve more than one purpose. A new suit for Jack. His old shoes would have to do, but he polished them until they shone.
There was a reception afterward with a potluck meal. A couple of local musicians played for a few hours and the guests had a good time. The local men made the usual bawdy jokes about newlyweds and offered the same tired, and usually wrong, advice.
Jack and Emily danced. She looked lovely in the white dress and veil. She wore silk stockings and heels too. Jack danced with his mother, then with the bride's mother. Roger danced with his daughter and the two mothers. All the secret lovers remained decorous in their behavior. It would not do, after all, to display even a hint of their hidden life.
They cut the cake, one of the church ladies had baked it. The happy couple drank a couple of toasts. The punch the church ladies had made was, of course, non-alcoholic. They had left as soon as they could do so politely.
They drove home in Jack's pickup. As soon as they were out of sight of the church they were groping each other.
They had talked about their wedding day, and what they would like to do. On the way home they talked more.
"You look really beautiful in that dress," Jack told his new wife.
"I feel really beautiful, Honey. Would you like me to leave it on when we make love?"
That was a thought that had just popped into Emily's mind. She had learned that sometimes Jack liked to make love to his women while they wore dresses. She had already planned to leave her silk hosiery on, but the dress was a new idea.
Jack's already hard cock got a little harder at the thought. At the vision of himself lifting the hem of the dress to expose her lovely, succulent pussy. Of her sitting in the bedroom chair while he buried his face in her fragrant cunt. She would let her silk clad legs embrace him and drape the pure white fabric of the dress over him.
"Yes, Emily, I think I would like that very much."
More fondling ensued. Emily held back, just a little, she didn't want Jack to cum before she got him in her pussy. Fortunately they arrived at the farm in time.
Jack carried his bride over the threshold. He didn't set her down inside but carried her to the bedroom. Her arms were around his neck. She kissed him, a kiss of love. The hot kisses would come soon enough.
"I love you, Jack," she said softly. "So much."
"No more than I love you, Emily," he responded.
Love had blossomed early in the union of the families. The women had realized that they loved each other and both the men in their lives. The men had come to realize, in turn, that they loved all three of the women. There had been a genuine bonding between them all. So when Emily and Jack spoke of their love it was with real feeling.
With fumbling fingers they got his pants and shirt off. He led her to the bed. She sat gracefully on the edge. He knelt in front of her. She opened her legs to him, spread them as much as she was able to in the long dress, to mid-calf, the style then. He lifted the hem, he pushed the dress up her legs, to her waist. He grasped the waist of her panties. She lifted her butt to allow him to pull them off. He pulled them off her feet and tossed them away.
She opened her legs, not graceful now, lewd; lewd and hot, needy. He buried his face in her wet cunt, he licked her hard clit. Her hands held him close. Her silk clad legs clasped him. He pushed his tongue into her tunnel while his nose rubbed her clit. She came with a loud cry.
"Fuck me, fuck me now."
He stood, she scooted back on the bed her legs still open for him, inviting him. She pulled the dress up so it was bunched around her waist, front and back. She grabbed the towel they had left by the bed and shoved it under her butt. She was ready for him then and held her arms out to him. He pushed his hard shaft between the lips of her pussy. Her wetness eased his way, but she was tight, so tight, so virginal.
She squealed as he ruptured her maidenhead, her cherry. A squeal of pain and pleasure. She felt a sense of accomplishment. She had given up her virginity; in marriage as she had always hoped to do.
A bit delusionary you say, an unrealistic viewpoint? You say that in reality she had lost her virginity long ago, to her parents? That her supposed virginity was only a technicality, a sham?
To them it was real. Romance had transcended the faux reality of others. They had both fought against the lust that would have led them to this point before marriage. The other man in her life, her father, had respected her wishes too. She was complete now, fulfilled.
His cock spread the walls of her tight pussy, more pain, more rejoicing. She felt for the first time the thrill of a hard cock filling her belly. She exulted when she felt him ready to cum, when she felt his body tense, when the cum surged from his balls to gush into her hungry cunt. When she felt the warm slickness fill her. When she felt the smooth, creamy cum soothe her pain. When she heard his exulted cry of carnal pleasure, of triumph.
She rejoiced despite the pain his invading cock had caused her. It was a joyful pain, one she had desired. She knew it wouldn't last, that the hurt would turn to ecstasy.
No, she had not cum, not that first time. She would when he ate her pussy. When he licked and sucked and made her cum. Still in her wedding dress she wrapped her silk clad legs around him and pulled his face into her hot cunt. He drank her juices, he tasted her blood from the torn maidenhead. A taste he could only enjoy this one time. A taste he would remember, a delightful merging of their juices, the liquors of their lust. A merger of their bodies, of their spirits.
Later, as he watched, she pushed the dress from her shoulders and removed her bra. She pulled the dress back over her shoulders. She fed him her newly freed tits, outlined now by the white of the open dress. He sucked at them with relish as she held his head to her bosom. He ate her pussy again and she came with shouts of ecstasy.
He got a basin of warm water from the kitchen. He knelt in front of her as she straddled the bowl and held the hem of her dress out of the way. Somehow they had managed to avoid staining it. He cleaned the blood and cum from her thighs and the lips of her pussy. They put a clean towel on the bed, just in case, and put the bloody one in a basin of cold water to soak.
