" Do it yourself," I said when my aunt asked me to re-pin the flowers in the buttonhole
of her jacket. I could see my mother's startled look. Though she disliked my aunt and
knew I was difficult to control at times, she had thought that on Aunt Kitty's wedding day,
I might have behaved myself. But I had been awkward at the church, difficult at the meal
and had refused to dance with the groom's brother afterwards. The groom was in his
sixties, pale and ill-looking after my aunt had nearly danced him off his feet to the
guitar, bass guitar and saxophone trio hired for the evening. As Aunt Kitty's
eighteen-year-old bridesmaid, I was being much too obvious about being angry with
her and the funny thing was that I wasn't quite sure why I was angry now.
I had been sent down from Dublin a couple of days early to help my aunt get ready.
It was hot Indian Summer weather nearing the end of August and we were sitting on
deck-chairs in the garden of her cottage just two days before the wedding. I was
wearing shorts and a light top and Kitty had on the old print dress she used for
working in the garden.She was a short, stocky woman with a rather masculine
face, a square jaw and strong, straw-coloured hair. She must have been nearly
forty and I didn't see her as particularly feminine or attractive. I had never stayed
with her on my own before and normally my sister Jennifer would be there too, and
Kitty ruled us strictly and made us mind our manners. I felt maybe in the last few
days she and I were a bit closer that we had been before. That particular day we
had been to Dublin in her car, visiting an expensive lingerie shop called "Madame
Claire's" although I had been made wait outside while Kitty made her purchases.
"You've never been a bridesmaid before," she said now, "but I'm sure you know
the procedure."
I nodded wisely.
"The bridesmaid has to do everything the bride wants. It's not lucky otherwise."
"Of course," I said. "That's what I'm here for."
"Good," Kitty said, smiling and patting my knee.
She had strong but quite pretty hands with short, square-cut nails.The sun was
still high enough and she took up her straw hat from the grass and put it on, casting
her face in heavy shadow.
"I'll want you to help me dress, of course, on the big day," she said.
"I'd love to do that, Kitty," I said.
I was dying to see her new outfit. Because of her age she wasn't having a white
wedding and would be getting married in a jacket and skirt she had already shown me
in her bedroom wardrobe.
"I never showed you the stuff I got today," she remarked. " Some of it's for the
honeymoon, of course, but I need to check nothing shows through the suit."
"Yes, I know," I said, pretending I had a certain amount of experience in these matters.
In her bedroom she opened the expensive blue and purple bags from the lingerie
shop, pouring out on the bed four stunningly beautiful white bras, two black ones
and a couple more that were still in their boxes. She then produced half a dozen
packets of expensive stockings and a blue silk garter. There were also a dozen pairs
of panties, both plain and lace and a sort of light corset or basque in an exquisite black
lace.
"I put on a couple of pounds since I bought my suit," she said, "that's why I think I'm
going to need this."
She held up the garment by the narrow shoulder-straps. It was very high-cut in the leg
and had four dainty elastic and lace garter straps with delicate pink lace roses where the
garters snapped shut.
"It's called a merry widow," she said and laughed, "Maybe that's what I'll be soon -
he'll probably have a heart attack when he sees it."
I couldn't imagine Aunt Kitty in these pretty things, but I said, "They're so, uh, adorable!!"
"I knew you'd love them," she said,"Mmmmmm" bending down and kissing me on the
cheek. She'd never done that before and, without thinking, I gave her an answering
peck on the side of her rough, tanned face.
"Before I try everything on," she said. "I'm going to get in the bath for a good soak."
"Okay," I said.
" Like to give me a hand?"
"What?" I gulped.
"Help to soap me?"
"No, Aunt Kitty, I couldn't," I said.
"You ARE my bridesmaid," she said. "wouldn't you like to wash me completely from
head to toe?"
I was stunned.
"Please, Aunt Kitty," I said, "I'm VERY grateful to you for asking me, really I am."
She reached out to me, smiling.
"Come on then."
"No," I said, panicking, "I mean, grateful to be your bridesmaid, but..."
Call it my background, if you like. Nuns had educated me. I had never seen a naked
adult before, and I hoped I wasn't going to start now. I sometimes had fantasies
about my brother and had spied on him a few times and he didn't know I'd seen him
masturbating naked once. Sometimes, in my most secret thoughts, I'd thought I'd
like to see my friend Edna naked, or Siobhan, the Head Girl we'd all had a pash on
at school, but NOT Kitty. Kitty looked a bit annoyed as if I was stupid or something, but
she made a face and just grinned.
"All right, come back to me in half an hour," she said, pulling a towelling robe from the
wardrobe. "I want you to check my seams for me and also that my hem is right at the
back."
She collected some cream and a shampoo from her dressing-tableand went out to
check the water was hot enough in the tank in the airing cupboard.
For a few moments I fingered her exquisite undergarments, feeling a surge of envy
that Kitty, normally a wearer of dowdy dresses and the cotton Aertex "unmentionables"
I'd seen on the washing line, would wear these next to her skin. For half an hour I
dozed in the deckhair, watching the wisps of steam flick out thorough the half-open
bathroom window. Last time I had been here on a day like this was in May and the
Mayfly had been hatching on the lake half a mile away. They only lived for one
day, mated and died, Kitty told me - the males anyway. That day they'd clung to the
walls of the house in a black mass of wings and spidery legs and sometimes they
lay in the yard where we crushed them accidentally underfoot. I remembered the
strong, fishy smell they gave off, particularly because Kitty had said it was like the
smell of sex. Kitty generally maintained the prudish demeanour of women of our
culture, but I had begun to guess there was a more earthly side to her. I could hear
her singing now in the bathroom. She had a good, rather masculine voice.
"Whiskey you're the divil,
You're leadin me astray,
Over hills and mountains
And to Americay"
Then I heard her calling me.She was in the bedroom when I stepped into the dark
kitchen, almost blinded after
the sunlight.
"You're stronger, sweeter decenter,
You're spunkier than tay...
Suddenly I was feeling happier than I had for months. I fancied myself as having
a sweet soprano voice and I joined in, an octave above Kitty's rough contralto.
"Oh, Whiskey you're my darlin'…."
we warbled together and I walked into the bedroom.
"Drunk or soo.. ber," I faltered.
Her stocky white body, in the blinding sunlight coming through through the window,
was stark naked except for a tiny pair of black lace panties. I bolted.
"Kitty, please," I begged, my voice trembling as I stood leaning against the
dining-room table. I was shocked and could hardly catch my breath. But it was
not simply at having seen her almost naked. I now knew beyond any doubt that I
would have given anything to have been able to stare unashamedly at her, but I
knew I would only dare to do so in anonymity, from a place of hiding. I felt I could
not face the frank, challenging eyes of a totally unashamed and naked Kitty. I knew
that Kitty's look WOULD be frank and challenging. I could only dare to ogle her in
secret and desperately hoped I could retain the vision of magnificence I had seen.. All
beautiful bodies were slender and tall, I had thought. I had a promising figure
myself and had often studied it for ages in my mirror at home. I was slender, with
tiny breasts and long straight limbs. But compared to Kitty I was a completely
anonymous stick figure. She had stocky, short legs and I thought of de Maupassant's
description of one of his solidly-built Normandy prostitutes, lifting up her skirt to
show off her "sturdy Norman legs." Kitty's waist was uncompromisingly thick with a
gourd-like swelling of the belly and a heavily indented muscular area around the navel.
I was aching to enter the room again and gaze on the extraordinary sweetness and
heavenly femininity of her large white breasts with their swollen nipples and dimpled,
purple-pink surrounding areas and her heavy thighs, solid as a man's but with those
matchless feminine curves. In retrospect I was furiously angry with myself. I had
been invited to pamper nd minister to that magnificent body and had declined.
"This thing is murder" I heard her cursing from the bedroom and then the sound of her
staggering against the rickety old wardrobe. Then things got calmer and I heard the
crackle of a stocking packet being opened.
"Can I come in now, Auntie?" I called, in an agony of frustration.I heard the creak of the
bedsprings as she sat down and the clatter of her new shoes as she dropped them on
the floor and I could imagine her pulling on and gartering her stockings.
"Auntie," I called, "please!"
She didn't answer me, kept me waiting. Was she punishing me?
Kitty had a vindictive side, I knew that. I was ready to cry with frustration.
"I'm decent," Kitty sang out.
Perhaps it had been an illusion, I thought. Mind you, for a short,stocky woman, she
still looked wonderful in the suit, with black stockings and those expensive Italian
shoes. She usually wore heavy, masculine footwear, but these black T-strapped
shoes withthree inch heels set off to perfection her long, narrow, elegant feet which
in turn made her legs look voluptuously longer. But,still, now that the white, fleshly
vision had gone, was she not just a small expensively-dressed woman in a black
suit? No, she would never be entirely dressed for me again - the stunning sight
of her nakedness, the sheer arrogance with which she stood there, waiting for me,
would never leave me. But what a surprise she was either way! She sat down at her
dressing table and touched up her lips. I had never seen her wearing lipstick before.
Then she stood up and turned to face me. My heart nearly turned over when she
extended one knee daintily, so that I could see her kneecap glow faintly through the
dark nylon, then she flipped up the hem of her skirt and began to adjust her garter
strap and stocking, her hands turned demurely under the hem so that there was no
vulgar display of thigh above the stocking-top.
"It doesn't matter now," she said, "but, on the big day you'll have to check my seams
for me."
"I'll do it now, Auntie," I said desperately.
"No need," she said dismissively, "Well, just a quick look."
She turned and I admired her shapely calves and the incredibly seductive shadows
at the creases at the backs of her knees. I thought I was going mad. I had never felt
this way before.
What was she doing to me?
"Well?" she demanded.
"What?" I asked stupidly.
"Have you gone asleep? My seams - are they straight.?"
"They...they're both a little to…towards the outside of your..your"
I faltered.
I felt I couldn't mention anything to do with her body - that my voice would betray me.
"My what?" she snapped.
"Your...your legs," I stammered.
"Damned garters," she grumbled, bending down and massaging her seams inwards
over her calves.
"I'll be helping you to dress, won't I, auntie?" I said.
"Hmmm," she said, looking at me quizzically and, no doubt, seeing the confusion in
my eyes. She stood, one foot in front of her, elegantly, hands on hips.
"Do you think it fits all right here."
"Y..yes, beautifully, Auntie."
"At the waist?"
"Yes, Auntie."
"Say it."
"It fits beautifully at the waist."
"And the other places?"
"Where, Auntie?" I prevaricated.
"Where else is there?" she snapped, irritated. "Well?"
"The b...bust and the hips, Auntie," I stammered.
I was in agony. What did I want to do? What the hell WERE the bridesmaid's duties
anyway? Maybe dressing the bride WAS acceptable behaviour? I guessed I'd have
to ask Edna later.
We were climbing at dusk through the larches and pines. Edna was older than me
and a Protestant. With her I had visited her little church under the rook-infested trees
at the edge of the village and gazed at the brass eagle on the lectern, the tattered
regimental flags on the wall and the ancient pews, some reserved for the members of
long dead gentry families. It seemed empty and desolate, lacking the warmth of the
welcoming red sanctuary lamp I was accustomed to. In those days we Catholics
weren't supposed to visit Protestant churches but I was rebellious and listened to
nobody. This was the last day of the August moon, the Lugnasa festival. In our church
they had condemned it again last week at the mass in Gaelic. "Se an scleap sin obair
an deabhail." But Edna had sworn I should see it, the old Pagan Celtic Festival that
still survived in isolated pockets of the country.
In the last shaving of the moon the sparks were rising from the fire. Some of the
dancers were masked. A fiddle and an accordeon were playing, the squeeze-box
making an eerie sound, gulping and gasping for air. The Straw Woman ran and jumped
over the fire, landing in a shower of sparks. She was dressed completely in harvest straw.
At Christmas, I had seen a Straw Man with the wren-boys that visited homes on
St. Stephen's Day with a dead wren hanging from a branch, singing
"The wren, the wren
the king of all birds"
Edna told me that, in most of the places where the Festival of Lugnasa was still celebrated,
there was a Straw Man, but here it was still the original Straw Woman. There were bottles
being passed around and Edna told me it was poteen, a colourless spirit made illegally
that could blind you. Many of the people around the fire, cavorting, were beyond
middle age, but in the ditches and under the trees young couples were entwined and
even in the open I saw a woman in the flickering light, straddling a man and having
shameless intercourse with him. The Straw Woman jumped the fire again and the fire
whooshed and sparked skywards.
"A few years ago," Edna said, "the Straw Woman went on fire. Two other women had to
piss on her to put her out. Luckily they'd had plenty to drink."
Edna's church took no position on this festival. Our church had always either take pagan
festivals over for their own, like Saturnalia for Christmas, or else condemned them like
they did this one. The work of the Devil, they called it. Now the straw woman, naked
below the waist, was rolling on the ground with a man in an Elvis mask. For a mad
moment I thought it was Elvis.
"Did you know your Aunt Kitty was the Straw Goddess once," Edna said .
Somehow this no longer surprised me. Someone gave me a drink. It was cold and clear
and a bit like vodka. Then we linked arms and danced around the fire. I saw a boy
called Peter I'd seen at the Protestant dances I went to with Edna. He'd never taken much
notice of me, but tonight he came up to me and said hello and smiled and put his hand on
my cheek. He looked beautiful. I'd never been happier. I don't know what came over
me, but I stepped forward and put my arms around his waist. We kissed and I began
to feel aroused. Twenty minutes later I was being pressed against a hollowed out oak
tree, you could smell the charred interior where lightning had struck it, and, though I still
had my panties on, my dress was up around my waist and I could feel his erect penis
pressing between my legs. The music was louder, the fiddle faster and the fire reached
higher shooting its sparks towards the night sky. This was the first time I'd ever let a
boy go this far with me and I told myself that if I managed to keep my panties on I'd be
all right but suddenly he shuddered and I could feel the wetness between my legs and I
knew it wasn't only me that had made it wet there. His tongue filled my mouth and
my head was pressing painfully against the bark of the tree and, on the backs of my
hands, grasped around him, I could feel, faintly, the heat of the fire. My womb stirred
and melted and I knew I was ready to give myself completely.
Five minutes later I was being marched down the hill by a furious Aunt Kitty. The boy
had looked ridiculous, pushed to the ground,with his shocked pale face, his limp penis
dangling between his legs. Kitty was shrieking at him that she'd cut it of if he went
near me again. Edna ran over and put her arms around me. I was trembling, but Kitty
turned back and pushed Edna away.
"Slut," she screamed, "take your hands off her. What did you bring her here for?"
"I'm just trying to comfort her," Edna stammered.
"I'll comfort her - if it's not too late for that," Kitty cried dramatically. The music had
seemed to falter for a few moments but picked up wildly again. I was horrified to find my
dress was still up around my waist and hoped that, in the flickering light nobody could see
the shame between my legs.
"Cover yourself up," Kitty hissed, pulling me roughly against her as I adjusted my clothes.
I had on only a light cardigan over my dress and I was beginning to shiver, but I knew it
was mainly with fright.
"Oh God, I hope there hasn't been permanent damage done tonight," Kitty moaned as she
pulled me down along the path, the lights of the village winking below, my wrist gripped
painfully in her powerful grasp, making me stumble as I couldn't keep my balance with
one arm imprisoned. Edna was scurrying behind us, begging Kitty to listen to her.
"Leave us alone," Kitty bellowed, then growled to me, "I told you to stay away from that
Protestant bitch."
At the road, where the lane ended at a broken stone wall, a man and a woman loomed
out of the darkness.
"Oh, you found her, then, Kitty," the man said and the woman piped up "I knew you were
very worried there, Kitty," her voice full of spiteful inquisitiveness.
"Ah no, she only went up to have a quick look at that ould nonsense up there," Kitty
boomed in her most domineering voice.
"Queer goings on, I'll be bound," the woman quavered excitedly.
"Ah, sure it's nothing these days," Kitty said dismissively.
Edna caught up with me.
"Gotta go," she said. "I love you." She kissed me on the cheek.
"And listen," she added, flicking her red hair back, her face pale and spiteful, "if Kitty
gives you a hard time, just remember she's been ridden by half the men in the parish."
"You're crazy," I said. "Then why was she never...?"
Edna smiled sarcastically.
"The married half," she said. "Bye-eee"
It was incredible, to look at Kitty in her old gabardine raincoat with the greasy collar,
her dress with the fallen hem and the men's socks and shoes, the straw coloured hair
all over the place. I tried to imagine her in a context that would do her justice, say
nineteenth century Moscow, in a great house with troikas pulling up in the snow outside,
seeing her in a low cut evening dress, her hair up, her powdered breasts catching the
lights of the great chandeliers of a ballroom, signalling with her fan, glancing sideways
at a lover. Because I could see her like this in my mind I knew I had been given a
tremendous gift when it was just too late, that I was perhaps the one person that had
been able to see her truly for the Goddess she was. If it was true she had had many
men, had they ever really seen her body? Or were they just sordid couplings, with
Kitty on her back with her skirt up in a field after a dance, or in a barn somewhere?
Surely nobody with eyes in his head, who had possessed her with full carnal knowledge,
and wasn't a blind eejit, could have given her up? But then my own troubles engulfed
me again.
"Kitty," I said, as she dragged me up the garden path, "please don't tell Daddy,"
"Supposing I don't tell him and then we discover in a couple of months time that
you're up the pole" Kitty said crudely.
I then went completely hysterical in the little front porch and Kitty slapped my face hard.
"Stop it!" she said. "Stop it."
She slapped me again. And again. Then I was sobbing, and in deep shock.
In the bathroom, with the hot tap running noisily into the old-fashioned iron bath, she
roughly stripped my dress off, then grabbed the sides of the waistband of my sodden
panties and bobbed down, making me step out of them. "Yuk," she said, tossing them
into the soiled linen basket. She let me take off my own tiny bra and I stood, ashamed,
in front of her, not only because of my conduct, but with my meagre breasts, skinny flanks
and total absence of hips, no trace of that full, fleshy magnificence that I now regarded as
the very epitome of womanhood.. Aunt Kitty sat down on the side of the bath and tested
the water, turning on the cold tap as she turned off the hot one. She turned to look at me.
"It's hard to be angry with you," she said, "Or to blame that boy. You're so sweet.
Christ, what a conquest you'd be"
It was only two steps into her arms.
"Oh, Kitty," I sobbed, "I'm so sorry."
I nuzzled her neck, my face buried in her hair, the dense steam from the water surrounding
us
"Get in the bath," she soothed me, her hands caressing me at the waist. "As hot as you
can take it."
She checked my panties again as I climbed over the bath and lowered myself gingerly
into the water which still felt scalding hot.
"No blood anyway," she said. "Looks like you've kept your hymen. But maybe you'd
lost it already?"
"What do you mean?" I asked, settling down in the sudsy water.
"Have you ever gone farther than that?" Kitty demanded. "You haven't done any riding,
have you?"
" What?" I asked, startled.
"Horses, you goose" she said, laughing.
"No," I said, relieved.
"Just relax," she said, I'll be back.
She returned with her cigarettes and a bottle of red wine and a couple of glasses.
She lit a cigarette and then pulled the cork from the bottle and poured out two glasses,
handing me one. There was a chair, missing its back, beside the bath and she sat
down and drew on her cigarette. The wine was rich and delicious to my inexperienced
taste and even the smell of Kitty's cigarette was deeply comfortable in the small, cosy
bathroom with the soothing heavy steam rising from the water.
"That pair tonight," Kittysaid. "There's a lot of jealousy over me getting married, you
know. A lot of people say I'm only marrying Twomey for his money."
She drew again on her cigarette and sighed with satisfaction.
"Well, what's wrong with that? I don't think he can get it up any more so maybe it's
a nurse he's looking for."
"Is he nice?" I asked, for I had never met him.
"He's all right," kitty said dismissively. "He thinks it's theblood-pressure pills he's
taking are causing the problem and he's talking about going off them."
"Is it safe to do that?" I asked.
"It's his funeral," Kitty snorted. "His family are raging, of course. To hell with them -
it's not as if he hasn't given them all a good education"
"Are you glad to be getting married, Kitty?" I asked.
"Dunno," she said. "Mind you I like men. Always did. Anyway, he has this nice house
in Clontarf. He had a big job in the Civil Service and has a good pension." She sighed.
"He's not a bad old bollocks. And I'm not getting any younger, am I?"
She lifted up the wine bottle and poured herself another glass.
"You've already been drinking tonight, Miss," she said. "I could smell it off your breath
up there. You've had enough."
There was a distant rumble of thunder.
"That's the end of the good weather," Kitty said.
She stood up and opened the window.
"It's still warm out," she said, "there's a storm forecast." and with that there was a
flicker of lightening in the part of the sky I could see.
"Some people think I killed my aunt," Kitty said. "I was driving and she didn't have a
seat-belt on. But I loved her. I adored
that woman."
She sighed.
"You lived with her here, didn't you?"
"That's right. She was a widow, childless, so my mother, sent me to stay with her.
They used to do that sort of thing then. I don't agree with it - it's not a good idea."
She stood up.
"Still, I was happy enough in the end."
She then knelt down by the side of the bath.
"Let's just check this, then," she said.
She put her left hand behind my neck to steady me and plunged her other arm
underneath the water, coming up, ticklish, between my legs. I felt two fingers probing,
then gently opening me and I in turn opened my legs to her nervously. She was very
tender with me, feeling around as if she knew her way in there better than I did. Well, of
course she did, in a general way. I knew nothing.
"Okay, you're still virgo intacta," she said, bending to kiss me on the cheek.
I turned to kiss her back so she missed my cheek and her lips brushed mine. We
kept them pressed deliciously together for long moments. I was waiting, hoping
now she would open my lips with her tongue and enter me. But she didn't.
I wasn't frightened by the storm, which had now broken in earnest with heavy rain
rattling the windowpanes and the thunder following only seconds after the lightning
flashes. But I pretended to be. When Kitty asked if I wanted her to sleep with me
I nodded, mutely. I was already in bed in my nightdress and the room was almost
in darkness, just the light from the narrow hall through the half-opened door. I
watched Kitty undress, trying to pretend I wasn't really looking. She was only a
vague white blur when she removed her dowdy old dress and then a brilliant flash
of lightning lit the room and her body glowed like fire and I was able to stare greedily
at her for two or three full seconds while her head was enveloped in her dress.
There was heavy shadow below her breasts and between her legs. She must have
been raiding her trousseau, because she was wearing a minuscule pair of stunningly
white silk panties which didn't even cover her pubic hair, so stiff and golden that it
made me think again of the Straw Woman, the Goddess of the harvest. Then she pushed in
beside me and put her arm around me.
She was lying behind me and we were spooned together. She didn't touch my breasts
or anything really private, just held me around the middle of my tummy, her finger
stroking up and down occasionally, but it was driving me wild.
"It only happened overa long enough period of time," she was saying."My aunt and me."
The finger, stroking, stroking, exploring my navel, then that slow, gentle, perfectly
regular pulsing that made my throat dry up and my tongue swell in my mouth. Again the
thunder cracked; it seemed almost directly overhead now. It was warm in the bed and
Kitty's body seemed to me to be giving off a fierce heat. I was drowsy, but intensely
alert at the same time, acutely conscious of her naked body behind me. Every instinct,
except that of rational thought, was screaming at me to turn to her, but I knew it could be
only at her invitation. It would be much too easy for me to be mistaken or to do the wrong
thing.
"Just kissing it was, at first," Kitty said. "She was starved for affection and so was I. Her
husband had been a poor lover, a cold man."
Again her fingers explored my navel. She sighed contentedly.
" We kissed on the lips at first," she continued. "It was a long time before we ever shared
a bed. And even then it was kissing, kissing all the time. Incredibly sweet kissing, hours
on end.
She was so gentle."
Kitty lifted up on one elbow and kissed my shoulder.
"My God," I thought," this is it!"
"You've a sweet little body," Kitty said. "Did you know, when you walk you lift your legs
very high? It's lovely. Like a young filly does."
She lay down again, pulling me tighter to her. I could feel the points of her breasts against
my back and her thighs cupping my bottom.
"We became very passionate," Kitty said sleepily. "She turned out to be a very passionate
woman. And she'd never known it." She yawned. "I adored her."
I slept very badly, even when the storm had passed over. I had a confused dream that
I was in a bedroom with Kitty and she was at the open window, displaying a sheet to a
cheering crowd outside. She was dressed as a Straw Woman, but her breasts were bare.
As she turned back into the room, in my dream, I woke up. Kitty was turned away, breathing
gently. I waited another twenty minutes before I dared to masturbate. I wouldn't even
have tried it, with someone else in the bed, if I thought I was going to have any dificulty,
but I knew, the way I was on fire, that just a touch would bring me off. I had to bite my
lips to stifle the desire to cry out. Kitty turned over heavily, sleepily and her arm flopped
over me again.
"Mmmm, bet that was nice, my little darling," she murmured.
The next day, the day before the wedding, we were full of affection for each other, kissing
every time we met in a doorway or passed each other at the table or the sink. Sweet
kisses. Kitty drove to Dublin in the afternoon to get her hair done and I had to go
into the village to collect the flowers for the church and the hotel, and also to check on the
cake which was being iced by a friend of Kitty's. When Kitty came back she'd had her
hair tinted a lighter colour, with blonde highlights and a sleek bobbed cut. I was surprised
how well it went with her square-cut, masculine face, her lop-sided grin, but I knew I was
totally in love with her. But that night, instead of coming to bed with me as I'd hoped, Kitty
got drunk and vindictive and started cutting her neighbours to pieces, talking about how
annoyed they were that she'd finally "pulled it off" and was getting married.
"You wait," she said. "You'll hear the priest saying he's pleased I'm getting hitched at
last. I'll bet he is. And they'll all be saying it."
She lit another cigarette.
"But they all think I should never have got this place. Oh yes, but they won't say it to my face."
"Please Kitty, come to bed.." I said, taking her arm.
"Piss off," she said, shaking me off roughly.
"What's wrong, Kitty?" I asked.
"What's the point?" she said. "What's the whole fucking point of it all?"
"Can I undress you, Kitty?" I asked.
She glared at me suspiciously, then pointed at me with two fingers, a cigarette balanced
between them.
"Piss off," she slurred.
An hour later, just as I was getting off to sleep she staggered into my bedroom and
collapsed across the end of the bed.
In the morning I led her, hung over, to the bathroom and, with incredible excitement, began
slowly and reverently to divest her of her dress and then, after staring wonderingly at her
nearly nude body, as she grudgingly let me take off her bra and panties, I tied a scarf
around her head. I had the water already running and helped her flop heavily into the bath.
Reluctantly I left her soaking there and went back to the bedroom to lay out her clothes for
her. I hung her suit on the outside of the wardrobe door and put the basque on the bed
along with tiny pair of black mesh panties and matching bra, the stockings beside them
and her shoes, which I had given an extra polish last night, on the floor beside the bed.
I felt tears start in my eyes at the sacrifice I was preparing my Goddess for.
When I returned she was lying back in the bath, her head resting against the tiles, her
beautiful arms spread along the sides and I lifted her head and put a dry towel behind it to
prevent her hair getting wet. Then I took up soap and a sponge and began washing her
body, taking advantage of her somnolent state to touch her far more intimately than was
necessary, soaping her breasts and washing her back, then her belly and legs, then
between her legs. I was excited, yet full of sadness that this was her wedding morning.
Then she pulled my hand away, threw the sponge into the water and pulled me to her
naked
breasts, her body shaking with sobbing.
"Please, Auntie, mind your hair," I pleaded, struggling to keep her upright.
"Fuck my hair," she bawled, finding my mouth, pushing her tongue in to capture mine.
She jumped up, showering water everywhere, and, still dripping from the bath, she
grabbed me and a towel.
We ended up on her bed, wrestling, kissing, frantically grappling with each other, first me
on top, then Kitty, while I tried desperately to encompass her sturdy waist with my legs. I
ended up flat on my back on the counterpane, sobbing with joy while Kitty rode me
triumphantly to climax.
She was stunning in the silky black basque although, for me, nothing could equal Kitty
in her pure unadulterated nakedness. But the "merry widow" gave her a waist and breasts
a different glossy, sexy quality. And for me there would always be the exquisite body
beneath the clothes. I eased her stockings carefully up her legs, trying not to stare at her
wiry, wet, straw-coloured bush, smoothing the tops evenly, snapping them with her garters
and carefully checking her seams, then assisted her to pull on the dainty black panties. I
helped her into her blouse, which fastened with about twenty tiny buttons at the back, then
she stepped into her skirt and I knelt at her feet to ease on her shoes. I took one of her
feet in my hands, looking at the narrow toes inside the sleek nylon covering and I was
unable to resist taking her foot and kissing it. When I straightened up my eyes were full of
tears.
"Please, Auntie," I said. "Don't get married."
She didn't answer me and I sat watching her while she applied her makeup, taking a long
time to colour her lips and then she let me help her brush her hair. She took a hatbox from
the bottom of the wardrobe and opened it, lifting out the broad-brimmed black hat with black
silk roses above her head, lowering it slowly to rest on her hair. She held me to her and it
was curiously intimate to be there, under the broad-brimmed black hat, pressed against
her
bosom.
"Christ, I didn't mean it to go that far," she said. "Not yet. I thought we'd just kiss. I only
meant us to kiss for a long time yet. Kissing can be so sweet…"
"Mind your lipstick," I said, but she planted her lips on mine and I tasted the jammy, boiled-
sweet taste of the lipstick as she forced her tongue into my mouth.
"Christ," she moaned and for a moment I thought we were going to end up again, struggling
on the bed, but we broke apart, panting heavily.
"Please, Auntie…" I said, "do you mean...?"
"Get dressed," she said thickly, "The car'll be here soon."
"Auntie," I pleaded.
"Listen, just forget this ever happened," she said, dismissing me as she sat down crossly
to repair her makeup.
Because it was such a small wedding party I was sitting beside the groom. He tried to
make conversation, telling me about his interest in sailing.
"Dinghies mostly, he said "I had an Enterprise," he said. "Then a Dragon."
He looked as though it was a long time since he had had a sailor's tan, his face was
tired and grey .
"The tides in Dublin Bay can be tricky, though." he explained, "As much as four knots
in either direction."
"Yes," I said, as if I knew what he was talking about.
"That's right," Kitty said drily, "You wouldn't want to be caught with your spinnaker out."
She was obviously tired of these reminiscences of an old salt and had been snappy with
her new husband all day. Twenty or thirty more people had joined us for the evening
part of the reception and the band was playing a selection of jigs and reels. There was
a lot of changing partners and swinging around, but sometimes Kitty held on to me longer
than she should have, causing confusion, before swinging away with her new husband who
was doing his best to pretend he was enjoying himself.
The next afternoon, the last thing I could have expected, Kitty and I were standing in
the large front drawing room of the big house in Clontarf which stood well back from the
busy road, facing the park and the bay beyond.. Although it was Saturday the traffic was
still heavy on the Howth Road and sailboats were circling in the misty distance in the bay.
On the wall were paintings and black and white photographs of yachts, gaff-rigged and
Bermuda-rigged, a younger Mr Twomey at the helm of one of them, another photograph of
him with a pretty blonde-haired woman standing beside a dinghy on the slipway of Clontarf
Yacht Club, another picture of sailboats on a sunlit sea at Skerries. On the huge marble
mantlepiece were several large silver sailing trophies.
"Even if Twomey doesn't have a second stroke and can come home, I'll have to arrange a
bedroom for him downstairs," Kitty said. "One thing's for sure, we won't be sharing a
bedroom."
It had happened while he was watching her undress in the suite in the Gresham. As if, I
thought, the vision of the Goddess had been too much for him.
"They said it was a direct result of going off those beta-blockers," Kitty said, "What fucking
eejits men are! He has only himself to blame"
I thought of the frenzied dancing Kitty had made the grey-faced man take part in towards
the end of the wedding, everyone up on the floor, going mad like they did at country
weddings.
"Listen," Kitty said, as we went into the hall and climbed the heavily carpeted stairs
with the ornate banisters, "In a couple of months you'll probably be going to Trinity,"
"If I get the points, I suppose," I said.
We went into the big main bedroom, with its heavy walnut bed, dressing table and
wardrobe, its wonderful view over Dublin Bay.
"This connecting room used to be a dressing-room," Kitty said, opening another door,
but it's big enough for a bedroom and study. It'd be yours. Both rooms need doing
up of course."
"Mine?" I said.
"It'd be much handier for Trinity than Glenageary is. I'm sure your Mum and Dad would
agree."
"You mean…?" I said delightedly. "Oh, Kitty…!"
"Pleased?"
"Oh, Yes, YES!"
"Show me how pleased."
I was instantly in her arms, and our lips collided hungrily, then became gentle as we
sucked our sweetness from each other, our tongues exploring deeply, finding and learning
each others bodies delightedly again. Kitty gently but forcefully pressed her thigh between
mine, lifting me so that I was riding her thigh, creating a delicious friction between my legs
that made me almost faint with pleasure as I was pulled helplessly against her opulent
breasts and belly which cushioned me with their sweetness.We collapsed on the bed with
Kitty on her hands and knees astride me, kissing me while I tried to unbutton my dress
and maintain the kiss at the same time, desperately trying not to withdraw my lips from
hers, to hold the kiss as if my life depended on it.
"Oh, Kitty," I said, "Kitty, please..."
I didn't know if I could release her for long enough to give her enough space to undress.
Kitty took my face between her hands and started to give me dry pecking kisses on my lips
and, in the chilly air of the bedroom, I could already smell her arousal.
"No, not here," she said. "Come on"
The bridal suite in the Gresham was the sexiest room I had ever entered. The wallpaper
was red and the sofa and chairs of soft white leather. The bedroom was filled with flowers,
not just the usual ones supplied with chocolates, fruit and champagne by the management,
but the two thousand red roses that Kitty had bought in The Markets early that morning.
and arranged at both sides of the canopied bed, in silver champagne coolers and borrowed
vases. The colour of the roses just glowed and glowed in our skin. It was the most sexy
and romantic sight I had ever seen or dreamed of. I sat on the bed and stared in disbelief
as Kitty stepped out of her blue dress. She was wearing pure white underwear, a skimpy
push-up bra, a garterbelt with narrow lace straps supporting her shiny tan stockings and the
tiniest pair of panties I could have ever imagined existing in my life, a tiny triangle of white
silk that barely pretended to cover her pubic area and left her blonde bush tantalisingly
exposed above where the material was sweetly puckered by the elastic waistband. She
worked the panties down over her thighs and tossed them to me, then busied herself with
her garter straps. The panties were still warm from her body and gratifyingly damp-
stained in the sweet little crotch-pad. I unashamedly pressed them to my nose, inhaling
a deep draught of her Goddess scent.
She tossed her stockings to me then and reached back to unclip her bra, letting it fall to the
floor as she turned and bent over a side table to pick up a champagne bottle from its ice
bucket. I had never looked at her in glorious nakedness from a rear view before and I could
only gasp at the magnificence of her high, muscular buttocks set on those heavy thighs,
the deep sway-in towards her solid waist and the rippling, glorious femininity of her upper
back and shoulderblades, the swelling magnificenceof her shoulders.
I bent to pick up her bra from the carpet, but she caught me and began to undress me and
then sat down in one of the armchairs,pulling me onto her lap. We kissed slowly, deeply
and sweetly and then drank some Champagne, then kissed again, sharing mouthfuls of
Champagne with each other. Kitty's lipstick was all over my face and our bodies were both
giving off a strong smell of arousal. Kitty's body was hot and she was sweatingheavily
under the armpits and I kept kissing her under there, sucking her shaven armpits, licking
up her sweat with my tongue. She took the old Claddagh ring she had always worn before
she had become engaged to Mr Twomey and she put it on my left hand, on my second
finger which was the only one it would fit, then she reached towards the table and next
thing she was pulling the blue garter up my thigh and I giggled to see it there among all
the naked flesh. We started kissing again, Kitty's tongue deep in my mouth and me
caressing her nipples, feeling the wet, sweaty, pimpled beauty under my fingertips and
then we got so worked up we couldn't make the bed and Kitty was on top of me, trying to
possess me there and then on the floor. I couldn't believe she could find someone like
me attractive but she was nearly frantic in her overwhelming need. I felt I was almost
about to pass out with desire when I was at last free to grasp and fondle her body at will in
an almost mindless passion and at the same time possess her lips with mine. Yet she
matched me in my frantic scramble towards orgasm and we both wailed out our cry of
climax together.
Then Kitty got a towel from the bathroom and dried under her arms and along her glistening
breasts and across her engorged nipples. I was lying now, exhausted, on the towel and
she was kneeling beside me, finger-fucking me gently. I began to sigh as I felt a rising,
gentle tide of excitement build again in my womb and vagina. Kitty bent down and kissed
me.
"This might hurt a little bit, my sweet one," she said, "but I want to be the one to take your
virginity."
I smiled and nodded. My Goddess knew and I knew that I was in deep submission
to her. She continued to finger-fuck me and then, just as I started to orgasm, she pressed harder,
pushed two fingers deep into me and I felt a dull, tearing pain as she deflowered me.
Kitty was lying on the bed, smoking, an ashtray jammed between her breasts. I was
smoking too, feeling extraordinarily naughty and grown-up at the same time, sitting
astride her belly, surrounded by all the vases of red roses which reflected a warm
pink in the flesh of our naked bodies. I had my hands on her breasts because I wanted
to get her excited again. There was a small amount of blood still oozing out between
my legs and it stained the white skin of her belly. She traced it with her finger.
"You know what this means?" she said.
"I think so," I said, staring down lovingly at the Goddess.
"I've made you my bride," she said.