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Message-ID: <61933asstr$1333440602@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: Uther Pendragon <nogardneprethu@gmail.com>
Subject: {ASSM} Wedding Bells - F" -- Uther -- MF wl
Lines: 735
Date: Tue, 03 Apr 2012 04:10:02 -0400
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Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
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If you are under the age of 18, or otherwise forbidden by law to read
electronically transmitted erotic material, please go do something else.

This material is copyright, 2011, Uther Pendragon. All rights reserved. I
specifically grant the right of downloading and keeping one electronic copy
for your personal reading so long as this notice is included. Reposting
requires previous permission.

If you have any comments or requests, please e-mail them to me at
nogardneprethu@gmail.com.

All persons here depicted, except public figures depicted as public figures
in the background, are figments of my imagination and any resemblance to
persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.


Wedding Bells - F
by Uther Pendragon
nogardneprethu@gmail.com

MF wl


"Look," Marilyn Grant told the members of Zeta as Sunday dinner was winding
down, "Andy and I would be pleased to have you at our wedding, but the date
hasn't even been set yet. It will be well after school breaks for the
summer. Leave me your home address if you want an invitation. Right now,
eloping is looking better and better."

She wasn't serious. She was only going to have one wedding, and she wanted
the whole nine yards. The problem was that Mom, who had opposed the
marriage, now had the bit in her teeth. And it wasn't Mom's wedding; it was
Marilyn's.

She and Andy took an extra weekend at his apartment before they drove up to
Evanston on Monday. The bliss was sweet, and the threat of coming
abstinence made it sweeter. Well, if they couldn't find a time to enjoy
each other between now and the wedding, the time afterwards would be that
much sweeter. Andy drove her home, carrying her luggage into the house
before a good-bye kiss. Although Mom was in the kitchen, she left them
alone for the kiss.

"Well, dear, did you enjoy the drive up?" Mom asked after Andy had gone.

"It was great. Andy says that he doesn't think he and his dad will have
much to add to our plans." What he'd really said was that he wanted the
marriage; he didn't care about the wedding. His only input on the wedding
would be if she needed his support for her positions.

"If you brought home the usual amount of dirty clothes, you should probably
unpack down here to save yourself the trip up and down."

"Only a little underwear." Andy had washed everything else on Saturday.

"Now that you'll be a married woman, you've decided to do the laundry
yourself?"

"Now that we're going to be a married couple, Andy does the laundry."

"Really, Marilyn, I'm not sure that I think..."

"I'm not sure that you do, either, but it's one household chore that he
does quite well. And we won't have a washer in the apartment. Somehow, he
thinks of himself as doing the heavy lifting and carrying jobs. Maybe you
think I should do the hauling of the laundry and he should do the dusting,
but that's not how we're going to do it."

"Honestly, Marilyn!" So Mom thought she was being sarcastic. Well, Mom's
comments had deserved sarcasm. "Anyway, dinner will be a little more than
an hour. Do you need something to tide you over?"

"No, I'm fine. We packed a snack for the trip." There had been a little
celery left -- her purchase, Andy ate it but didn't buy any salads but
lettuce and cabbage -- and she'd stuffed it with peanut butter. They'd left
nothing in the 'fridge but the ice cubes in the freezer.

Andy and she went in for premarital counseling on Thursday afternoon. Most
of Rev. Lawrence's questions were easy to answer. Their next year was set
in stone. After that, they'd look at what jobs Andy had on offer. Children
were possible in the future, but not in their immediate plans. Andy was
accepting of her working.

"You have to see that, in nearly the first serious conversation I had with
Marilyn, she said that she planned to be a teacher. I fell in love with a
woman who was going to teach. That might not be what attracted me, but it
was always a part of the woman who attracted me."

Did they depend on her income in their plans? She answered.

"We have a budget, and a tight budget, for next year. We don't have the
beginnings of a budget for later years, except that we need at least *one*
salary. But we won't pay out more than we take in, nor promise to pay more
from my salary than we know we'll get from it."

On household chores.

"Marilyn has higher standards than I do." Which was an understatement.
Attila's ravaging hordes had had higher standards for housekeeping than
Andy did. "She'll  assign my duties. Part of her chores are supervising
mine."

"And this imbalance of authority doesn't bother you?"

"Nah! Every night, she'll sleep in my arms. What we do before bedtime
doesn't matter."

"There's more to marriage than sex, you know."

"I'm not using euphemisms. Oh, I don't deny that I enjoy sex, but I insist
on her sleeping in my arms." Reverend Lawrence looked a little nonplused.
Andy had been so permissive up to then, and was so insistent on this. But
he'd casually assumed that Andy had meant sex every night. This was a
widower and a marriage counselor with long experience. He'd assumed that
Andy was insisting on sex every night, and his objection hadn't involved
her periods. Maybe Andy's willingness to have sex during her periods wasn't
one of his oddnesses.

"After all," she pointed out, "marriage is a compromise between two people
with different priorities. If that is one of Andy's priorities, then it
isn't one I'm going to argue about. It isn't as if he insisted on his way
in everything."

After a lot more discussion, the pastor said that he was more interested in
seeing that they'd considered all those issues than what their agreements
were. After the appointment, they went to Andy's house. She was scheduled
to be his -- technically his dad's -- guest for dinner. Mrs. Bryant was
there, finishing up the dinner. They kept her company in the kitchen. She
left earlier than Andy's dad got home. They spent the time making out,
still in the kitchen. His dad rang the bell before he opened the door, and
Andy went out to greet him. That gave Marilyn time to get her clothes back
in order.

"The girls will definitely want to be at the wedding," Mr. Trainor said.
"Margaret should be, too. I'll suggest to Margaret that she and the girls
come just before the wedding, and the girls take their two weeks
afterwards."

"Yeah," Andy said, "I want Mom there. She's never met Marilyn, you know."

"Sorry, Miss Grant. Divorced parents are a complication."

"But they are a reality, sir. I wouldn't want Andy to deny any part of his
family." If she had to be 'Miss Grant,' Andy's dad could be 'sir.' He
continued without blinking an eye.

"Look, nothing is more personal than a honeymoon, and I don't want to
micro-manage yours for Christ's sake. Would a week in a Chicago hotel be a
gift or an imposition?"

Andy looked at her. "It's all your choice. My imagination hadn't stretched
to the room around the bed." She blushed. She couldn't help it. Andy looked
apologetic, Mr. Trainor didn't bat an eye.

"It would certainly be a gift. You've already been quite generous."

"The week afterwards back here with the girls in the same house would
certainly be an imposition. Would it, however, be one you could accept to
make them happy?" Again, Andy looked at her. It seemed like a minor
imposition if any. It meant having sex with others within hearing distance,
but most parents managed for decades. After all, Molly and April wouldn't
be listening at the door or mentioning what they might hear.  Pete would be
sure to do both if given the chance. And, where else could they go?

"That doesn't sound like an imposition. I like your daughters."

"I tried to read your face," she told Andy when he walked her home. "Did I
speak out of turn?"

"Hell, no. All I worried about was your reaction. I really love my sisters.
I'm even beginning to like Molly, again. And they damn-well worship you.
You're high on the Trainor hit parade."

"Well, the Trainors are high on my hit parade, too, especially the son."
And they had a long kiss on the porch steps before she went in.

"Enjoy yourself?" Mom asked when she got to the living room.

"Oh, yes."

"Not too much, I hope."

"Mr. Trainor was there. Andy and I were properly chaperoned, you may be
sure." The whole idea of chaperones was especially ridiculous for a couple
about to be married. They would be off in a room by themselves for a week
fairly soon, after all.

"Are you ready to talk bridesmaids?"

"Would six be too many?" She had her mental list, with two additions from
this evening's conversation.

"Awfully many, certainly. Could you cut that by one or two?"

"Well, I haven't spoken to any of them. The problem that I have so many
circles. One person would be easy to cut." Brittany was a connection
between her Evanston life and her campus life, a connection between her and
Andy, but she wasn't all that great a friend. "Could we go with five? The
next one would be hard to choose, and cutting two would mean cutting out
Zeta." Mom would hate for her to cut out Zeta, as would she herself, but
Mom had to hear that the others took precedence.

"Let's hear them."

"Diane for maid of honor. We promised each other years ago. Then Beverly,
my Little Sister, and Barbara, last year's roommate. They both live within
driving distance. Then Molly and April, Andy's sisters. You see how it's
past, present, and future."

"Well, I don't see why you have to have Andy's sisters."

"Because they've been real friendly to me. I'm going to be in the Trainor
family a long time. I want to have good relationships with all my new
in-laws."

"Well, dear, I suppose that those are possible." So she'd won one, and
she'd have to yield to Mom on another issue.

Sunday, she spoke to Diane after church.

"Remember when we promised to have the other as maid of honor way back in
tenth grade?"

"Yeah. I was wondering if you'd forgotten."

"No, but I was going to renege if we had to be married by a justice of the
peace downstate. You don't know how much is still up in the air. We don't
even have a date yet. That was one thing that I was going to ask you. I
don't want to schedule it when you're not available."

"I'm available! I'm available! I can't say Andy impressed me way long ago,
but I'm really happy for you."

The weather being warm, she would walk home. Andy, who had sat with her,
was waiting. He and Diane spoke a bit, then Diane's parents got impatient.
She lived far enough away from church that she never walked. Andy and
Marilyn walked slowly and circuitously. They got so few chances to talk now
that they were back.

"Give me the addresses of your sisters, will you?" she said. "I want them
to be bridesmaids."

"Both? The Moppet will love you for that." He dropped her hand to reach for
a pen. These days, the pen and pencil set she'd given him was always in his
pocket. He wrote the address on the bulletin. With that in her purse, she
took his hand again and walked more slowly.

"You know," she said, "you need attendants, too. Who will you get for best
man?"

"Well, if you have April and Molly, maybe I should choose your brother."
And maybe he shouldn't. His sisters were always good to her. Pete wasn't
good, or even minimally polite, to either one of them.

"Andy, don't you have any friends from high school?" After all he had two
high schools in his background. "Or college?"

"Not really. Some classmates are friends in the sense of friendly
contenders in class. I don't think I have any addresses, even so. I don't
think I told any of them that I was engaged. Most of my social life on
campus was with you. I think I'm closer to half your sisters than I am to
my classmates." And, considering how casual his relations were to even her
line, that was sad to hear.

"Well, think about it." And her kiss on the porch stairs was hotter than
usual out there because of the pity she felt for him. Andy was a great guy
and so kind. He was, though, so lonely. When she was at the table and Pete
was discussing his Saturday, she had longer to think about that. No, Andy
wasn't lonely; he was alone when he wasn't with her, but he didn't miss the
company.

Barbara called in answer to her letter. She said she'd be honored. She was
available through mid July. Marilyn had hoped to be married before mid
June, but that was fast approaching with nothing settled.

Her grades came. She'd raised French Lit in Translation to an A. All the
other courses were B s. She called Andy to tell him. He congratulated her,
but his hadn't come yet. When they did, he called. It was his second
semester with every grade an A.

There'd be toasts at the wedding. The two of them should have their own.
She wrote a draft of a series of toasts to their families and attendants.
She gave the draft to Andy for emendations, but he approved it the way
she'd written it.

"Do you think I should have included your stepfather?" She didn't want to,
after what Molly and April had told her, but she did want good relations
with his mom.

"The Turd? God no." And she'd accept that judgment.

Beverly didn't answer her letter. She finally called and got an answering
machine. She and Mom picked out a wedding dress. She really liked it. She
shivered a little when she compared the price with the budget she and Andy
had set for their year together, but -- unlike the ring -- it wasn't coming
out of the same pot. They took Diane with them to select the bridesmaids'
dress. Marilyn was determined that it would be something the girls could
wear as party dresses afterwards. She was starting to think of budgets,
even other people's budgets.

Andy reported problems with his mother. She was obliged to send Molly and
April to their father for two weeks in July. She felt authorized to choose
which weeks. She didn't feel inclined to grant any leeway.

"Not for your wedding?"

"Well, since I stopped visiting, she puts me and Dad in the same file. This
is something we're doing. And, since the girls met you when they visited
him, you're something he's springing on her. I'll try to reason with her."

Finally, that was settled. The girls, with their mother and stepfather,
would arrive in Chicago Tuesday, July 5th. They would miss the bridal
shower, but all the wedding prep which involved them could be crammed into
the next three days. The wedding would be Saturday the 9th of July. If they
couldn't have a June wedding, they could be close. She sent off the mail
invitations over the next three days, allowing enough time for delivery for
anyone who would come. Two of her sisters would be in Europe, but they
would have the invitations waiting at home for their scrap books.

Beverly returned her phone call Sunday, the 3rd. She'd been on vacation.
She was thrilled to be an attendant at her Big Sister's wedding. She'd get
into Evanston Tuesday to visit the shop with the bridesmaid's dress. Maybe
there was a source closer to her, but she wanted to see Marilyn, anyway.
She got her dress fitted on Tuesday, and Marilyn picked it up Wednesday
when Molly and April were fitted. April looked like a woman in it, and
Marilyn was happy for her choice. When Andy and she picked up the girls'
dresses on Thursday, he paid with a credit card.

"Since when do you have a credit card?" She'd never seen it before, and it
hadn't been mentioned in the budget discussion.

"Remember when Dad said he'd spring for the honeymoon? Well he figured we'd
want to do lots of things besides just staying in the hotel. He was
thinking of you, rather than me." Andy leered at her. He could leer away.
He might like to imagine spending a week in bed with her. When he actually
had several days with her, he got out of bed. "This card is in my name, but
the bill will come to the house. He'll pay it. It was only for the
honeymoon, but he figured I should use it for the dresses, 'cause he'll pay
for them anyway."

Friday, she had the bridesmaids together for lunch before the rehearsal.
They didn't need the time, but they needed the talk.

"Who is the man with you two?" Beverly asked Molly. "I know that Andy must
be an Andrew, but I've never heard him called that before." Beverly had
picked the girls up from the downtown hotel where they were staying -- on
Jim Trainor's dime -- with their mother and stepfather until the two weeks
of visitation officially began after the wedding.

"That's Mom's husband," Molly answered. "Mom calls him Andrew, and nobody
else does, not even Dad. Elliot took it up. Andy says that he can't control
what Elliot says, but he can control what he answers. Usually he doesn't
answer Elliot."

"You call your stepfather 'Elliot?'"

"In polite company," April said. "You should hear the way we talk about him
among ourselves." Marilyn chose not to disclose that the participation of
'The Turd' in the wedding party was the price that Andy's mom had extracted
for the girls' participation. The conversation went on to other things.

The rehearsal went smoothly, despite her butterflies. Margaret Trainor
Brewster sat between her husband and her ex on the groom's side of the
front pew. As Andy's dad had pointed out, there wasn't much for the groom's
family to do. Dad, on the other hand, marched her down the aisle
magnificently. She wore her old heels. The pair that matched the wedding
dress were something that Andy shouldn't see yet.

Andy's dad had taken a back room in a local restaurant for the rehearsal
dinner. Andy's dad, April, Andy's mom, and her current husband sat at one
table. Pete sat with Molly, and he looked like he was trying to make time
with her.

"Andrew," Elliot Brewster asked in a loud voice, "how do you expect to
support a wife when you're still a student?" Andy ignored him. Aside from
using that name, The Turd clearly wasn't going to contribute anything
towards their expenses. Why should he be briefed on their budget.

"Are you his mother?" Barbara asked in a saccharin tone. "I thought only
his mother called him Andrew." The Turd gasped and looked around. He was
not among friends. Rev. Lawrence looked like he didn't understand. Molly,
and then Pete, laughed. Andy's expression could only be called a smirk. Dad
looked concerned that ill feelings might be expressed. Mom was torn between
that and instinctive support for another Zate.

"I must say, Marilyn," Andy's mom said, "that your choice of bridesmaids'
dresses showed great judgment. So many of them can't ever be worn again.
The girls will wear theirs, if never both at the same time." Not to change
the subject, or anything.

"Really, Mom," April said. "It's one thing for you to try to dress us
alike. It's another to both have the same dress. This was from Marilyn's
wedding, and it's perfectly stylish."

Some others joined in the compliments on the dresses. And the rest of the
evening passed quietly. She went home with her parents, though, and so
didn't get to say goodnight to Andy. Well, the next night, she'd spend with
Andy. They'd spend all the nights thereafter together.

The Trainors hadn't added much to the invitation list. "Aside from the
church, and I assume you'd want them, too," said Mr. Trainor, "there's Mrs.
Bryant, her husband, and two of her kids. There are also 9 people from
Albany Bank." Dad had more of his business associates to invite than that,
and Mom had a bunch of friends from her activities, especially those from
the Zeta state board that lived in the Chicago-area. She had 17 acceptances
from Zeta actives who weren't in the wedding party, and Barbara's parents
were coming. They'd dithered between a large reception at the church, or a
smaller -- more expensive -- one at a downtown hotel. Seeing that most of
the people coming were ones that she wanted to impress, Mom had decided on
the hotel. The ceremony itself was "y'all come" for church members, but
anyone who wanted to be at the reception had to give prior notice. They had
to book a certain number of seats for the dinner.

"Besides," Mom said practically, "many people in the church won't make up
their minds in time to notify us. That will cut down the number."

Everything was arranged by Saturday, she'd only have to walk through a set
of paces she'd rehearsed the night before. Rev. Lawrence would even read
her her lines. She'd really wanted this. She'd fought Mom to have it at
all, fought Andy to have it this year. Just before the wedding, she had her
friends around her in the church office, supporting her. It was totally
ridiculous to get cold feet, ridiculous and embarrassing, and she didn't
like embarrassment. But, suddenly, she couldn't go through with it.

"What's wrong?" Diane asked.

"He loves me so much!"

"So, he loves you. That's a reason for not marrying him?"

"But I don't love him that much." She wasn't going through with this;  she
wasn't going out there, whatever they said. Beverly and Molly left to
report the problem. A few minutes later, there was a knock on the door.

"May I speak to her," Mr. Trainor asked from outside. Diane looked at her,
and she shrugged. Maybe he could explain it to Andy. "Now, Miss Grant," he
said when he'd come in, "what seems to be the problem?"

"Andy loves me so much."

"Yes, I think he does. But, if that's a problem, I doubt if he'll stop
loving you even if you refuse to marry him."

"But I don't love him as much."

"I think he knows that. I think most of us do. The question is whether you
love him at all."

"You know that I do. But..."

"Well, loving someone is looking after their best interests. There is no
doubt in my mind that Andy not only will be happier married to you but will
be better off. We talk about equal partnerships, but that's only possible
in economic terms. One dollar is equal to another. One person, one person's
feelings, is never equal to another's. In terms of emotional dependence,
you'll be entering an unequal partnership. In many other terms, like your
understanding of him, you'll be contributing more. Besides, if you're
married, I can't call you 'Miss Grant' any more." That was so ridiculous
she almost laughed through her tears.

"You're saying that you'll call me Marilyn if I marry Andy?"

"If you wish."

"That's a ridiculous pay off."

"It's not intended as an incentive. Do you love him? More than any other
person you could potentially marry?"

"Yes!" He was making the distinctions of kinds of love.

"Is he eager, desperately eager, to marry you?"

"Yes."

"The conclusion of the syllogism is left to the student." She actually
laughed.

"Okay, I will."

He handed her a handkerchief. "Wipe your eyes and let me get back to my
seat, will you?" Well, it took longer than that to repair her face. Nobody
looked at their watches when Dad led her down the aisle. The ceremony
proceeded, but the story would be all over Zeta house that fall.

When Andy lifted her veil and nudged her under the chin, she looked into
the face of her husband. As they kissed, she was glad that he was her
husband.

The reception was at the Palmer House in the Loop. There was a reception
line and a then dinner.  When the dinner was over and all the toasts to
them, some extraordinarily long-winded, had been said, Andy got up.

"Mr. and Mrs. Trainor have some toasts of their own. Pardon me for the
expression, but I'm blissfully happy that this is what we are." That hadn't
been in the script she'd prepared, but Andy returned to the agreed plan.
"To Mrs. Judith Grant and Margaret Trainor Brewster, without whom there
would have been no wedding, and -- indeed -- no couple to be wed." She
rose, sipped from her glass, and then said the next lines.

"And to James Trainor and Richard Grant. They had something to do with it,
too." They alternated the next speeches, both sipping after each toast.

"And to Diane Quinlan, Barbara MacGregor, and Beverly Guerin. They've
helped Marilyn over the years and helped make this occasion what it is."

"And to Molly and April Trainor, always Andy's sisters, and now mine."

"And to Peter Grant," Andy finished up, "who stood with me through the
service." He emptied his glass, she emptied hers, and they sat down.

Soon, the dinner was over, and they separated to speak to their guests.
Only a few of the church members who'd attended the wedding had come to the
reception, but Mrs. Benton was one of the few. If she had any Christian
tendencies of forgiving those who had wronged her, she didn't seem to be in
a mood to forgive those whom she had wronged, even if nearly four years ago.

"Do you even know what a white wedding dress symbolizes," she asked in a
low voice.

"Yeah. In 1977 it means that the bride hasn't slept with any man except the
groom." Mrs. Benton huffed away.

"Is that the meaning in '77?" Mrs. Pierce asked from behind her. She hadn't
thought anyone would hear. "In '73, it didn't mean even that. At least, at
my wedding it didn't. So, is Andy GIB?"

"Pardon."

"My pardon. Good in bed. It's none of my damn business. Just remember,
though, that being GIB covers a multitude of faults in a husband."

"Andy doesn't have any faults." She didn't know why she'd said that; she
certainly didn't believe it.

"Well, when the honeymoon is over, remember my words. Anyway, Bill sends
his love. He's at home trying to protect the apartment from the Vandal
hordes." Well, their mother could malign them, but she thought the twins
were cute.

"They're nice boys."

"Especially at this distance. Circulate. I'll keep myself entertained."

When she and Andy left, some of the guests threw rice. BC pills might have
been more appropriate. They didn't have far to go, Mr. Trainor had made
their reservation in the same hotel when he learned where the reception
was. Andy blocked the way, When he had the door open. He picked her up in
with one arm under her back and the other under her legs instead of his
usual way. He carried her into the room and kissed her before letting her
down.

"I love you Mrs. Trainor."

"And I love you Mr. Trainor." Which was an odd thing to call him. She had
an entirely different meaning for that name. She gestured him back when he
tried to undress her. Andy meant well, but she wanted to be extra careful
with this dress. He watched while she hung it up and started on her slip.
Then he stripped. He was done before she was, and already erect. He picked
her up again, this time under her armpits, and kissed her. Then he lifted
her as his mouth ran down her neck and torso. He ended with his arms fully
extended and his lips on her upper stomach. Laying her across the bed, he
began from her ankle. He kissed a line up the inside of her left leg until
he reached her pussy, which was already streaming from the treatment.

He barely paused when lightning struck her. As soon as she'd recovered
after it struck again, she pushed his head back.

"No! This night of all nights. In the bed, under the covers." He half
lifted her as she rearranged the sheets and a light quilt. He pushed the
bedspread aside. When they were lying in bed side to side, she said, "Now,
Andy. In me." He knelt between her legs. She guided him in as he slowly
spread her and filled her. "Oh, yes," she said.

"I love you, Mrs. Trainor." He kissed her forehead. Then he moved back and
forth, in and out, in slow strokes. Her arousal spiraled upwards. Lightning
struck. He sped up, "Marilyn!" She could feel him throb within her.

Later, he got up to turn off the overhead light. When he came back to bed,
he held her against him.

"Every night," he said.

"You know, its not really in your armS. You only hug me with one arm."

"That's because you won't sleep on top."

"I love you, Andy."

"And I love you, too, Mrs. Marilyn Trainor." He really enjoyed using that
name. The hotel's air-conditioning was excellent, and they slept
comfortably wrapped together.

That morning, Andy shaved before coming back to bed. When she rejoined him,
they had a long kiss. They were fairly rested since they hadn't set any
alarm, and they didn't have anywhere to go. When they heard a noise in the
hallway, she stiffened in his embrace.

"It's the cleaning crew! Did you put out the do-not-disturb sign?"

"What's that?"

"It's hanging on the back of the door. If you put it on the front, they
won't come in to clean." Andy rushed naked to the door, stood behind it
while he opened it, and hung the sign on the outside doorknob. As he came
back with his stiff cock leading the way, she got the giggles picturing the
cleaning woman opening the door just before he got to it. She didn't tell
him the joke, but he laughed at her laughter. When he tickled her to get
more laughter, she retaliated.

He turned the tickle fight into a wrestling match, one that he won easily
with his greater weight and greater reach. He managed to hold both her
wrists above her head with one hand while holding her legs down with one of
his legs across both her knees. That left one hand free to attack her tits
and pussy.

"Help! Rape!" she cried very softly. She didn't want anyone to hear; they
might stop him. By the time he moved his leg back, she could only spread
her legs to improve his access. Her wrists were still captive to his hand
when the lightning struck.

"Darling!" he exclaimed. "Love!" He wasn't about to release her, though.
His hand brought her to one climax after another. Finally, he picked her up
and rolled over on his back. He lowered her towards his groin as she
grabbed him and put him in. She found the most exciting way to move while
he held her tits and rolled her nipples with his thumbs.

"Oh!" she said as the lightning seared her. Her motions became uncontrolled
until Andy took her by the hips to press he down over his throbbing cock.
When she collapsed onto him, he held her down to his chest. They both fell
asleep again. When she woke, her stomach was telling her it was empty and
her bladder was telling her it was full. While in the bathroom, she started
her shower.

"No fair," he said stepping in the tub soon afterwards. It had been
perfectly fair to shower alone; he'd been dead asleep. They soaped each
other and rinsed themselves. He wrapped her in a glorious hotel towel. When
he dropped her on the bed, she rolled over to the other side.

"I'm hungry."

"Prioritize."

"I am prioritizing. I want breakfast now, and that later. We have all week."

"We have all week to eat, too." But he started to unpack and dress. She
was dressed and going into the bathroom to put on her face when she saw him
start to make the bed.

"Leave it. They'll do it." And, to make sure they did, she put the
do-hot-disturb sign back on the inside when they left.

They got down to the dining room -- one of the dining rooms, it was a big
hotel -- just before they stopped serving the brunch. Andy might have had
another priority, but he gorged when the food was in front of him.

They visited the Art Institute that day, and she showed him her favorite
halls. The rest of the week, they took breakfast in the hotel, but lunch
and dinner in some other restaurant. They saw movies on two afternoons, and
live theater Thursday evening. And every night, after sweet love, she slept
in his arms -- or his arm. They were tourists in their own city, walking
the streets hand in hand. Andy contented himself with one love-making
session a night, but they returned to the hotel room every afternoon to
kiss and cuddle. Some times she changed clothes then, and Andy changed into
his suit for the night they went to the live theater.

Friday night was their last time in the room. Her feeling of fondness for
it was ridiculous; hotel rooms were temporary by definition. She did,
however, feel some sadness in leaving it. They had been alone here.
Everybody else -- everything else -- they dealt with was there to serve
their needs. After this, they'd have to deal with others. She couldn't
quite express it, but Andy must have felt something similar. He was slow,
almost solemn, in stroking her. He came over her immediately when she
reached for him.

"Oh, darling," he said as he entered her. His strokes were slow and gentle
until lightning struck her. Then he thrust hard and pulsed within her
contractions. "Sweet darling -- sweet Marilyn," he said. She clasped him
around the waist, keeping him on top of her.

"Sweet Andy," she said. That night she went to sleep facing him. Their
foreheads nearly touched.

He came back to bed in the morning, and she went into the bathroom
immediately. She washed her face and put on her makeup. She began dressing
when she came out.

"Come back to bed," he said.

"Let's have breakfast." He looked displeased. "Let's have breakfast and
come back." He got up immediately.

She had a light breakfast, but Andy ate a large one. When they got back to
the room, Andy put the "do not disturb" sign on the outside of the door.
Their love making was almost ritualistic, and they lay long holding each
other afterwards.

Still, they were checked out before 11:00. They had an early lunch. She
hadn't wanted to fill her stomach at breakfast when she knew she'd have
Andy on top of her soon after. Andy seemed able to eat at any time. They
got on Lake Shore Drive to Evanston about noon. They were going back into
the world, but they were going back as a married couple.


The end
Wedding Bells - F
by Uther Pendragon
nogardneprethu@gmail.com
2012/04/04


These same events from Andy's perspective:
http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/Uther_Pendragon/www/Gjt/tra_09m.htm
Andy's experience

The first adventures of Marilyn with Andy:
http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/Uther_Pendragon/www/Gjt/tra_01f.htm
"The Meeting - F"

Another story about another couple getting married
http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/Uther_Pendragon/www/Gjt/fos_05f.htm
"Oh Canada - F"

The index to almost all my stories:
http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/Uther_Pendragon/www/index.htm
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