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Message-ID: <61945asstr$1333635002@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: Uther Pendragon <nogardneprethu@gmail.com>
Subject: {ASSM} "Wedding Bells - M" -- Uther -- MF wl
Lines: 1108
Date: Thu, 05 Apr 2012 10:10:02 -0400
Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail
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Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d


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 - M
by Uther Pendragon
nogardneprethu@gmail.com

MF wl


"Well," Andy Trainor told some of the people at Urbana First while they
were waiting to shake the preacher's hand, "you'll never see Marilyn Grant
again." They smiled politely at the joke, but nobody was fooled. He would
see Marilyn Grant again, and soon -- but not soon enough. He kissed her
hungrily on the porch of Zeta house. They were going to spend finals week
apart.

Aside from her absence, finals weren't much of a headache. There were no
great surprises on the exams; he had taken no distribution courses and been
assigned no papers; he'd gone into the week with solid A s in each of the
four classes. Andy knew that confidence before you get the grades was
always a mistake, but he would have bet money on an A in any of the exams
if there had been anyone to bet against him. When he got out of the last
one, he showered, changed his clothes from the skin out, and shaved with a
blade. Then he called Marilyn. Her last final had been scheduled two hours
ahead of his last one.

"Zeta Tau Gamma. Joyce speaking."

"Hi Joyce. Could you ask your Grand Big Sister to come to the phone?"

"Hi Andy. I'll tell her it's you." A pause and then: "Marilyn. It's Andy on
the phone," in the distance. A longer pause.

"Marilyn Grant speaking."

"I love you. Your chariot awaits your command."

"Great! I'll get the stuff and be downstairs when you are." And she was.
There were two suitcases, one remarkably light, but there was loads of room
in the trunk, and there could be more in the back seat, if they needed it.
They would be driving north rather than take the train. They had a mild
kiss on the stairway, a longer kiss in the car before starting, and a
longer and wetter kiss in the apartment.

"Have you had lunch?" she asked.

"Lunch can wait."

"You're insatiable." He'd gone from Sunday morning to Friday afternoon
without her. Wanting her now wasn't being insatiable.

"I put clean sheets on the bed. Don't you want to try them out?" She
laughed, but she didn't push him away. When he had lifted her t-shirt off,
she started on his. They'd learned to get their own shoes, but when they
were both naked, he opened the closet door and lifted her in his arms. When
she put her arms around his neck, he got his left arm under her butt. This
way, her breasts were in reach of his mouth.  He kissed them and stroked
between her labia.

They both watched until she writhed. She hugged him closely, but he still
brought his right hand up to hold her between the shoulder blades.

He carried her to the bed while she recovered, then laid her gently on the
sheets. He kissed her breasts again, concentrating on one nipple until it
was hard between his lips. She stroked her hands down his sides.

"Andy," she said. She grasped his cock. When he knelt between her legs, she
used one hand to spread her labia while the other one guided him between
them. He entered her warm slickness slowly, feeling it slide along his
shaft until she was hugging all of his cock.

"Darling," he said. He kissed her hairline.

"Yes," she said when he began to stroke in and out. He tried, but failed,
to hold back. When he pounded into her for the last time and erupted, her
climax followed his. He managed to fall to his left, and they lay like that
looking into each others' eyes. Too soon, she got up and donned a robe and
apron. Lunch, though, was delicious.

The rest of the weekend was delightful. He got dressed only to do the
laundry Saturday. Although she wore the robe often, she didn't get fully
dressed until it was time for them to leave Monday.

She'd stuffed some celery with peanut butter to eat on the drive north.
They talked about the next year when they'd sleep in the same bed every
night.

"But first," Marilyn said, "there's a wedding. Mom's planning it, but what
do you want from the wedding?"

"You!"

"Really. What do you want to be in the ceremony?"

"I haven't been thinking about the wedding. I've been thinking about the
marriage. The wedding is just a means to an end. You say that you'll be my
wife until death do us part. The rest of the ceremony doesn't matter."
Well, it didn't matter to him. It mattered to Marilyn, and that meant that
it mattered. "Most of it is on your family. If you really want something,
tell me. I'll insist on it."

"You're sweet. What does your father want?"

"I dunno. He wants it to be in '78, and I already said he can't have that.
He offered us a month honeymoon anywhere we wanted. I told him no. Should I
have asked you first?"

"Well, my answer would have been no."

"That's what I thought. It seemed to me that I already got in Dutch by
relaying one of his questions when I knew the answer."

"And does he want anything else?"

"If he does, he hasn't told me."

She told him of the wedding customs she was going to keep, including that
he couldn't see the wedding dress until she walked down the aisle towards
him.

Unfortunately, all good things come to an end. Just as their pre-honeymoon
in the apartment had come to an end, so did the trip. He backed into her
driveway, carried her bags into her house, and gave her a goodbye kiss.
Then he went alone to his own house.

Mrs. Bryant gave him a warm welcome and a little snack. He got his stuff
upstairs and unpacked before Dad got home.

"Well, how do you feel?" Dad asked.

"Lonely."

"Patience, my lad. Patience. Rome wasn't built in a day, nor Romeo married
in one. Although, come to think of it, Romeo actually had a quick wedding.
He also, though, had a brief marriage. You want yours to last longer, don't
you?"

"Yeah. Marilyn asked what you wanted from the wedding."

"I'll give Judy Grant a list of guests. If you want any contemporaries you
should perhaps give me a list tomorrow or the next day. I'll pass it along
with mine."

"I can't think of any. I don't know many guys down there outside of class."

"Well, there are people at the bank who remember you from way back. I'll
spread the word and issue invitations when the date is set. Did you keep up
your studies while you got engaged."

"Sure. Anything can happen, but..." He knocked on the door frame that was
the nearest wood.

Dinner was the meat loaf which Mrs. Bryant knew was one of his favorite
dishes. She spoiled him at lunch and dinner for the rest of the week.
Still, it wasn't like watching Marilyn cook and eating with her. They had
phone conversations, but sometimes she sounded distracted. They made an
appointment for Thursday afternoon with Rev. Lawrence for marriage
counseling. This was a requirement for having him perform the ceremony.
Andy conveyed Dad's invitation that Marilyn eat dinner with them after the
appointment.

Going into the counseling, Andy thought that they had figured out what
their marriage would be like, but would the church, as represented by the
pastor, approve? Rev. Lawrence asked what they saw as their future.

"Well," he said, "our immediate future is set in stone. Next year we'll
both be seniors at the University of Illinois -- the downstate campus."
Down there, everybody thought that they were the <b>real</b> U of I; Circle
was something else. But he might as well be clear. "After that, we'll be
somewhere else. It depends on our job prospects, and my prospects, at
least, will depend on recruiters."

"While Andy has been generous about my interests on that subject," Marilyn
said, "realistically, his job prospects are more important. High-school
English teachers have jobs everywhere, if not necessarily openings. There
are fewer places where electrical engineers work."

"But," he said, "that is still something we have to decide when I have job
offers. It doesn't make sense to decide that I'll work for Bell Labs before
we know whether Bell Labs wants me."

"And how so you see children in your life?"

"That's a case," Marilyn said, "where my career is the deciding factor. We
both want children, but we don't want them before I'm established as a
teacher."

"And you don't mind her teaching?" This was addressed to him.

"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." Indeed,
Marilyn-who-didn't-intend-to-teach was a hypothetical person. He'd probably
still love her, but he'd never really known her.

"Are you planning on Marilyn's income for the family budget?"

Marilyn answered that one. "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." He was
glad to hear her make that commitment to staying solvent. They had
different pictures of budgeting.

He'd never had problems living within his income since he'd started
working. Of course, Dad had paid for most things, but Andy fully understood
that you couldn't have more than you could pay for. That you shouldn't have
less than you could pay for was one of the conventions of his culture that
he didn't pretend to understand, let alone accept. There were only three
magazines publishing decent SF. He wouldn't enjoy spending his time on a
fourth; so why should he spend his money buying a fourth? Clothes should
cover his skin in winter and cover his genitals in summer. He had clothes
which did that; why should he buy more? This was especially obvious since
they'd be moving next year and they'd be a pain to pack. Well, Marilyn
would handle the budget. She'd tell him how much he had available, and he'd
spend any of it that he could see a use to spend.

"Have you discussed what tasks you will each do around the house? That is
often more contentious than money is."

"Marilyn has higher standards than I do. She'll  assign my duties. Part of
her chores are supervising mine."

"And this imbalance of authority doesn't bother you?" Rev. Lawrence looked
puzzled. Damn! Was this something that would make him balk at conducting
the service?

"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." Well, yes, but he hadn't
even brought up sex. Indeed, part of the pleasure -- the longest lasting
part -- of his first having sex with Marilyn was that she wasn't the sort
of girl to have sex with a man she'd never consider marriage.

"I'm not using euphemisms. Oh, I don't deny that I enjoy sex, but I insist
on her sleeping in my arms." Rev. Lawrence looked puzzled again. Andy was
afraid that he'd plumb deeper into the sex, but he didn't.

"After all," Marilyn said, "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."

Rev. Lawrence had more questions, some of them were about the wedding. He
didn't look surprised that Marilyn fielded all of these questions.

"Well, I'm more concerned that you've thought these things through than
what your particular answers are. You two seem to have thought them
through. As a matter of curiosity, did you also think through the option of
having the wedding a year from now?"

"Yes," he said. "We decided against that."

"I know that Mom or Dad raised that question with you," Marilyn said.

"Actually, it's sort of a natural question when the bride and groom will
face one more year of college."

"Well, we had a relationship," Marilyn said, "that was evolving. My parents
didn't like it at any stage. It's now reached the place that the next stage
is marriage. I don't see the sense of spending a year in limbo just because
some people looking from outside think that the schedule would look more
acceptable if we waited. I'm sure that the old cats of the church will
think I'm pregnant. Well, I'm not, and I'm not about to get pregnant."

"Well, nobody has suggested to me that you are."

Mrs. Bryant was still there when they got home. She too was as fond as
Marilyn. Everybody was, though not as fond as he was, of course. After she
left, he and Marilyn made out in the kitchen. Dad gave the bell the family
two short rings when he came home. Andy went out to greet him, and Marilyn
was neatly dressed by the time the two men got to the kitchen.

With Marilyn for guest, Mrs. Bryant had set the dining room table, and the
meal was boeuf bourguignonne. He got to enjoy the taste and enjoy Marilyn's
enjoyment of it. She asked what Dad wanted for the ceremony.

"The girls will definitely want to be at the wedding," Dad 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." Andy
was in favor of that.

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

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

"But they are a reality, sir. I wouldn't want Andy to deny any part of his
family."

"Look," Dad said. "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?"

He hadn't heard of that idea before, but they should have a honeymoon. He
looked at Marilyn. "It's all your choice," he said. "My imagination hadn't
stretched to the room around the bed." She blushed, and he knew he'd
stepped in it. Dad was careful not to actually mention that he and Marilyn
had sex, although he'd asked whether she would share the apartment. But he
was talking about <b>after they were married</b> for God's sake. Why was
that a taboo? She hadn't minded Rev. Lawrence talking about their sex life.

"It would certainly be a gift," Marilyn said. "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?" He looked at Marilyn. It was her decision, as even Dad
saw. He'd been addressing the question to her.

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

After dinner, Dad went upstairs. Marilyn insisted on helping clear the
table, but afterwards they had a nice cuddle. She repaired her clothes in
the downstairs bath. Then they walked back to her place hand in hand.

"I tried to read your face," she asked on that walk. "Did I speak out of
turn?" He figured she was talking about their living in his room while the
girls were there. All that was her decision, anyway.

"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."
That was great to hear. They had one more kiss with her standing on her
porch and him on a lower step. Then she went in and he went back.

"Sorry about leaving the dishes," Dad said from the living room. He was
watching the news. "I figured that you would rather clear the table later."

"Well, yes. But Marilyn insisted on helping."

"She was a guest, but she insisted on clearing the table? Well, this will
be her home soon enough." He didn't think it could be soon enough, but he
didn't argue with Dad. Indeed, the time until the wedding was not only
stretching subjectively, every detail Marilyn and her mom decided seemed to
add another day or another week to the preparation time.

"Look, Andy," Dad continued. "Talking with your father about sex is
certainly acceptable. Indeed, it's mandatory at one stage. I did a bad job
with that." Yes, he had. They'd both been terribly embarrassed, and the
same conversation had covered masturbation two years late and intercourse
many years early. "Talking about sex with your wife is necessary and with
your fiancee is acceptable. Talking about sex when both your father and
your fiancee or wife are present is socially unacceptable. The same thing
is true about nudity. As long as the two of us are alone in the house, my
seeing you naked is no big deal. Your wife seeing you naked is almost
unavoidable. Our both seeing you naked at the same time, or almost the same
time, is deeply embarrassing. When you're back here after the wedding, even
when the girls are gone, keep yourself covered when you're out of your
room." Actually, he tried to keep himself covered when Dad could see him.
Dad tried with him, too, and more successfully.

"That doesn't make a hell of a lot of sense."

"Son, if it made sense, you'd figure it out without my help. You have a
huge blind spot on social conventions."

"Yeah. Do you think the things that Marilyn insists on are social
conventions?" That was fairly likely. Well, plates were a social
convention; at least everybody used plates when people could see them. No
sex during her periods might be, but, if it was, how did Marilyn know? Did
somebody tell her? Who? Damn those anthropologists for ducking the hard
parts.

"Does it really matter? Do you care about what society thinks? Do you care
about what your fiancee thinks?"

"Some days, you understand my priorities."

"Son, nobody understands your priorities. I might know them. In that
matter, your priorities are dead right. Anyway..." Dad abruptly changed the
subject.

"I think it would be better if you called your mother. It's your day, and
there are still unresolved issues between us that could interfere with the
simple question of her attendance. Look, suggest that she and the girls
come early. I'll pay her air fare as well as theirs. And, my son..."

"Yes?"

"You're about to get a promise from a woman that her life will be your
life. Don't belittle that promise from another woman to another man. If
Margaret wants her husband along, then you'll welcome him."

"Are you offering his air fare, too?"

"Well, I won't go that far, but you're not offering any air fares, and you
can't afford to."

Wouldn't you know it, Elliot answered the phone. In a house with two
teenage girls, he got to the phone first.

"This is Andy. May I speak with my mother, please." The last time he'd got
Elliot on the phone, he'd asked for 'Mrs. Margaret Brewster,' but he didn't
want a fight this time.

"Hello, Andrew, long time no see. How's your life going?"

"Well, Mom will have told you the big news. I don't have my grades from
last semester, yet. The semester before was straight A."

"You're good at that book stuff, Andrew."

"Look, if Mom's not there, could I speak to Molly or April?"

"What makes you think your mother's not here?"

"Well, I asked to speak to her, and you didn't put her on."

The Turd yelled with his face away from the phone, "Peggy! Andrew's
calling, and he's snotty as ever."

"Andrew," Mom asked when she got on the phone, "what did you do to annoy
your stepfather?"

"Breathed, apparently. Look, I said I would send you a formal invitation
when we got the date. Really they haven't got the date <b>yet</b>, but I do
have more details. Apparently, the mother of the groom has some small part
in a formal wedding. It's much less than the father of the bride has, but
it's something. Anyway, you're the mother of the groom. When they get the
date finally nailed down, and I'm getting anxious about that, I'd like you
here for that. Apparently, that means you come a little before the ceremony
begins. Don't ask me why; I've never been married before."

"Well, you should have noticed when your friends were getting married." Mom
was certain that he had loads of friends -- now, just like Dad had a hectic
social life -- now. Neither had been true when she was there, and neither
had been true since.

"Well, I've been to maybe three weddings, and they were all church
acquaintances of Dad's. Business friends' weddings, he attends alone. I
couldn't have picked the mother of the groom out of a crowd before the
wedding, and I'm not certain how many of them I even saw during the
service."

"Well, you would have seen more if your father hadn't taken you away from
your old high school. You knew the older kids there." Right, he'd known
them so intimately that they bullied him unmercifully. He doubted that this
was a reason for them to invite him to their weddings. He certainly
wouldn't have attended if they had.

"Anyway, Dad figures that the girls will be here for two weeks this summer
anyway. If they come for the wedding, he's willing to take the two weeks
after as his visit. He's offered to pay your air fare here as well as
theirs."

"I don't know, Andrew. He gets two weeks in July, but I get to choose the
weeks. This is the last visit for Molly, you know. He cut off your
Christmases; I'm going to cut off his summers. Anyway, I think the decree
specifies two weeks in <b>July</b>." Dad hadn't cut off his Christmas
visits; Andy had cut them off himself because of The Turd. What Mom didn't
see is that parental custody ends at age eighteen. She couldn't cut Molly's
visits off; Molly decided, and Dad paid for them, anyway.

"Well, if he accepts two weeks in June, and you accept two weeks in June,
the court doesn't have anything to say. If you want to send the matter to
court, I'm sure you can, but it will only enrich a lawyer."

"Well, I'm going to insist on the words of the decree. If someone wants to
enrich a lawyer, it can be your father." Dad sometimes said 'your mother,'
especially when he was emphasizing the relationship and the duty Andy had.
He often said 'Margaret.' He hadn't heard Mom once say 'Jim' since the
divorce.

"Mom, get serious. The girls love Marilyn. Are you really going to keep
them from my wedding with her -- their brother's wedding? You're still
fighting the custody thing, but ask Molly what she thinks of missing
Marilyn's wedding. Her eighteenth birthday isn't when you can keep her from
contact with Dad; it's when she gets to choose. Do you really want to be
needlessly cruel to her just before that time?"

"Well, she's registered at college. She still depends on me."

"I thought Dad was required to pay her college expenses."

"But he pays them through me." Andy didn't know the law, but he couldn't
imagine a court requiring that the college expenses be paid to a parent who
withheld them from the child.

Well, Mom had been known to change her mind. He wouldn't bring this worry
to Marilyn until he had to. She, at least, was making progress in the
planning.

After church Sunday, she spoke to Diane. Apparently Marilyn had chosen her
maid of honor years before she'd got around to thinking of choosing a
groom. When the important matters were settled, Diane and he actually got
acquainted. She'd been in MYF, and they'd spoken, but they hadn't spoken
often, much less deeply.

"Honestly," a woman said from the door of the church, "you two were
supposed to have grown up in the past seven years. Are you still gossiping?"

"Honestly, Mom," Diane said, "this is important. Marilyn's getting married,
and I have to check out the groom."

"Well, Marilyn will have to do her own checking out. The car's leaving in
one minute." Diane hurried out the door.

"Well," he told Marilyn, "I'm safe. You haven't found my deep-buried faults
yet, and she can't help you."

"Silly! I know all your faults. None of them is buried all that deep. It's
just that I love you despite them." It being good weather, he walked her
home. They held hands and took a round-about route.

"Give me the addresses of your sisters, will you?" Marilyn asked. "I want
them to be bridesmaids." That was tremendously generous of her.

"Both? The Moppet will love you for that." He got out the pen she'd given
him to write the address on the church bulletin. He always pocketed the
church bulletins and threw them away at home rather than leaving them in
the pew as litter.

"You know," she said when she'd put that address in her handbag, "you need
attendants, too. Who will you get for best man?" She took his hand again.
He hadn't thought about a best man. Actually, the only reason that he'd
thought of a fancy wedding at all was that it seemed to be important to
Marilyn.

"Well," he said, stalling for time, "if you have April and Molly, maybe I
should choose your brother." That sounded like a good idea, now that he'd
said it. Pete would, after all, be there.

"Andy, don't you have any friends from high school?... 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." Marilyn didn't say she was
engaged either. She just waved the ring around until people asked. "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."

"Well, think about it." He would think about it. It was too bad that Dad
would be inappropriate for a best man. He was almost his only male friend.
Maybe some of the guys from the hardware store? But he didn't even know
their last names.

They had been apart or only together like this -- in public -- for the
longest time. Their kiss on her front porch was hotter for the length of
their abstinence.

The girls called that Thursday. They were on different phones, but the same
line. They both talked at once. They were thrilled about the honor, Molly
as much as April.

"When is it?" Molly asked.

"That's still up in the air. Marilyn's aiming at the 25th now."

"Mom says we can't go before July," Molly said.

"I can't miss it," April said. "I'll run away and come there."

"Cool it, Moppet. Dad wouldn't pay your air fare, and he'd get in serious
trouble if he did. Just tell Mom how important it is to you. I'll talk to
her if you want."

Mom came on the phone.

"Mom, this isn't about Dad; it isn't really about me, any more. It's about
your keeping relationships with all three of your children."

"Your father always is trying to tear you away from me, and now he's
succeeded."

"No, Mom. Dad never tries to tear us away from you, not since the custody
hearing. That was a split decision, and he accepted that. The point is that
you're tearing the girls away from yourself. It's something they want."

"You can't tell me that this isn't his idea. Why should that girl ask them
if he hadn't bribed her?"

"Well, Marilyn asked them because she's a sweet woman and she's fond of
them. They're fond of her, too. They do have two weeks, you know. I don't
know if Marilyn would delay for that, but if she did and you made her,
you'll make more enemies than you need to. She hasn't met you, and I
haven't told her about this. Do you want this to be the first thing she
learns about you? You heard how excited the girls were. Do you really want
to stand in their way?"

"I notice that you didn't invite Elliot."

"I didn't. Of course, he's your husband. If you want him to have a wedding
invitation, I'll see that he gets one."

"He's your stepfather. He should be in the wedding party." 'Wedding party'?
Was that like the reception?

"Well, they're my blood sisters. <b>They</b> should be in the wedding
party."

"I'm not sure that sisters are part of the wedding party."

"I've extended an invitation to the three of you."

"Well, Andrew, you think about it." And he would think about it, especially
the part about the wedding party.

"Dad," he knocked at his door. The old man had gone upstairs when the call
was obviously for Andy.

"Come in."

"I keep hearing about a reception."

"Yeah, that too is the Grants' responsibility. My responsibility is the
rehearsal dinner."

"What do we rehearse?" Somehow, he could only think of one part of marriage
to rehearse, and dinner would be an inappropriate ocasion.

"Get your mind out of the gutter. You're talking to your father. Save your
salacious comments for your fiancee. Anyway, there is a rehearsal. All the
bits of the wedding ceremony except the critical ones which actually get
you married are rehearsed. Afterwards, we all go to dinner -- my dime."

"Is that the wedding party?"

"Different sort of party, like the party of the first part. The people who
eat at the rehearsal dinner are the wedding party. Why?"

"Mom said that Elliot should be in the wedding party. She's trying to keep
the girls from coming. She says that you get them for two weeks in July.
June doesn't count."

"And the wedding of her son doesn't count either?"

"She is really feeling spiteful. I cut out the Christmas visits, and she's
convinced it's all a conspiracy on your part."

"Well, I could have pressed you harder to continue them."

"Dad, I make my own decisions." If he hadn't told Mom that he could hear
her having sex with The Turd over his head, he wasn't going to tell Dad.
Now that they didn't fight every night, Dad's fond feelings for Mom had
returned.

"Anyway," Dad said, "I told you that you're in a bad position to fight over
a woman's claim on behalf of her husband."

"Can I put somebody into the wedding party?"

"Well, that's probably the privilege of the bride's family, but they aren't
going to blink at that one."

"Did I tell you that Marilyn has invited the girls to be bridesmaids?"

"No. Margaret isn't going to fight over that, is she?"

"Well, they can't be bridesmaids if they're still in California."

"She has always been her own worst enemy." Yeah, that was Mom. However this
turned out, Marilyn had invited both the girls to be bridesmaids, and Mom
had threatened to prevent it. She was still fighting the custody battle,
although she'd won 2/3 of it -- maybe more, since he was nobody's picture
of a prize. Dad had stopped fighting it when the judge decided. As a
result, he had the hearts of the girls -- his, too, if truth be told. She
was losing them. A little of that was The Turd, but not all.

"Look," he asked Dad, "wasn't it last summer that the girls were here
mostly in August?"

"Partly in August. Margaret had something she wanted to do with them in mid
July. She checked, and I had no objections."

"Well, she's now saying that you're only entitled to a visit in July. She's
not going to let the girls come before that."

He decided to tell Marilyn all of it that Sunday. It was almost the only
time they saw each other, and it was too complicated for a phone call. He
asked for a long walk home.

"Okay. Mom's making problems. The girls are supposed to be with Dad for two
weeks in July. She's holding to that. June is out. She also wants The Turd
to be in the wedding party. I wasn't clear what that was."

"Well, that would put him in the line at the reception. I don't mind if you
don't. Would your dad mind?"

"Well I <b>would</b> mind, and he might. That might be a price worth
paying, though."

"I can understand your mom's insistence. 'If I'm invited, my husband is
invited.' I would think, though, that he'd feel uncomfortable." She didn't
know The Turd. Being where he was unwelcome never made him feel
uncomfortable.

"I don't know. I really don't know. I said we'd have no demands."

"Well, we've been making and unmaking plans right and left. It's your
wedding, too. Try for the first Saturday in July. I don't want to run any
later."

The first Saturday was July 2nd. He asked Dad.

"That would be fine with me. The girls can get here that day. Can they just
come from the airport to the wedding, though?"

He called Marilyn. That would be impossible, but the wedding could be the
9th.

"Really, Andy, that's the last possible date."

"Yeah. I'm getting anxious, too."

"What you're getting is horny."

"Getting, hah!"

"Mom," he said on the next phone call, "you get what you want. Your
husband's in the wedding party. The wedding is in July. It's the ninth, but
the girls have to be here earlier."

"Well, we can come earlier, but they can't begin their visit with your
father until the Saturday. Shall we say after the wedding?"

"That's fine."

"And tell us how much earlier. If your father wants this, he can pay for
the girls' hotel room."

He told Dad.

"Well, check with Marilyn when they have to be here. I assume Margaret will
come, too. At least, she didn't try to charge me for the room she'll share
with my successor."

Marilyn wanted them here the previous Sunday, but one of Elliot's clients
was having a party the afternoon of the 4th. They settled on Tuesday the
5th.

When they got there, he spoke with Mom on the phone. Then he talked with
the girls. They called Marilyn. The next morning, they came on the El and
Marilyn met them at the Main stop and took them to the shop.

"Apparently," he told Dad, "you're in charge of paying for the girls'
dresses, too."

"Here." Dad handed him a credit card. It had his name on it.

"What's this?"

"Well, remember when I said I'd pay for your honeymoon? Really, I figured
it would be more convenient to let American Express pay for it. Anyway,
it's in your name, but the bills come here. If you'll let me open letters
addressed to you from American Express, I'll pay the bills. A honeymoon is
more than a stay in a hotel. Though you don't think so now, you'll want to
eat, too. At least she will. She'll want to see something like a play, too.
Anyway, if they'll take credit cards, give them that one."

"Thanks. Thanks a lot."

"I figure you'll give it back to me when the honeymoon is over. You know,
Andy, I trust more than your honesty with this. You're honest, but you're
also tight. The girls are honest, but I wouldn't trust either one of them
with a credit card. Anyway, you can pay for the dresses with this. Besides,
Miss Grant would much rather have you along on her shopping expedition than
me."

So he picked up Marilyn and took her to the shop the next night. Time was
tight. He paid with the credit card.

"Since when do you have a credit card?"

"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. 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."
She accepted the explanation though it had sounded convoluted when he said
it.

Friday, there was the wedding rehearsal. He'd be in the downstairs choir
room before the real event, and they put him and Pete down there for a few
minutes before the rehearsal.

"Thanks for this," he told Pete. The girls had each thanked Marilyn for
their participation, but that was too much to expect from Pete. Of course,
their parts were much more important, too.

"Really, I'm here to see you lose at the game of men and girls."

"Oh?" This sounded like a game Pete had thought up for himself.

"The idea of the game is for the man to get pussy without the girl getting
a ring. But you're going to give her the ring. You lose."

"That's like saying that Babe Ruth was a loser because he didn't score a
touchdown. I'm getting a home run tomorrow."

"You could have got into her pussy without marrying her if you'd played
your cards right."

"Honestly, Pete. Your language is inappropriate. You should neither talk
about your sister nor about my wife -- well, my fiancee today -- that way.
And, as a matter of fact, one of the joys I felt after we first had sex was
that Marilyn wasn't the sort of woman to make love to a man unless she'd
consider marrying him. I'm going to spend the rest of my life with her, and
that's the best thing I can say about my life."

"Well, I spent my life up to now with her in the house, and that's ending.
For that, I should thank you."

But he didn't, and there was a knock at the door. They went up. Marilyn
wasn't in her wedding dress, but she looked breathtaking when her dad
walked her down the aisle towards him. He knew that this was only a
rehearsal, but he felt like asking Rev. Lawrence to just say the words and
start a day early. Marilyn had planned the next day, had dreamed of the
next day, however. For her, he could show a little patience. The
bridesmaids weren't in their special costumes, either.  Mom sat on the left
front pew between Dad and The Turd. Apparently, that was what his 'being in
the wedding party' meant.

The rehearsal didn't include his kissing his bride. Damn! Didn't they want
to make sure that he knew how to do that? Afterwards, they all went to the
back room at Regina's. He hadn't even known that Regina's had a back room.
He and Marilyn got to sit together, at least. The Moppet sat between Dad
and Mom, with The Turd on Mom's other side. Pete sat with Molly. They were
the same age, but anyone with half a brain wouldn't have laid out what he
thought the game between the sexes was to the brother of the girl he was
trying to get to play with him. Well, Molly wasn't here that long, and he
hoped that she had better taste than to accept Pete for anything, much less
a lover.

The Turd wasn't content with being where he was unwelcome. He wanted to
make clear why he was unwelcome. "Andrew," he asked loudly, "how do you
expect to support a wife when you're still a student?" Andy ignored him.

"Are you his mother?" Barbara asked. "I thought only his mother called him
Andrew." God bless the woman. All the time Andy had spent with her on
College Algebra was now repaid. Andy tried not to grin, not too
successfully. Molly laughed, and Pete followed suit. April smiled, but she
smiled silently and turned her face away from Mom.

"I must say, Marilyn," 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." Okay, she was changing
the subject, but she had started to see another of Marilyn's good points.

"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." Apparently being dressed alike was a
bone of contention that he hadn't noticed.

Mom had succeeded in changing the subject, and several of the bridesmaids
expressed their satisfaction. Apparently, bridesmaids were often dressed in
something they couldn't wear again. Well, he was going to wear a tux which
he could never wear again. Still, it was rented.

The next day, he and Pete waited in their tuxes in the choir room. The
anticipation made the wait seem eternal, but they got out and to the front
of the church. Then they had to wait some more. It wasn't only his
impatience, either. In the midst of it, Dad got up from his pew and went to
the back of the church. Soon after he came back, though, Marilyn came down
the aisle on her father's arm. She always looked beautiful, even in jeans.
He had to admit, though, that she had taken beauty to a whole new level in
that dress. He stared at her, which was acceptable right then. They'd told
him that he was supposed to watch her come down the aisle.

The rest of the service passed as if in a dream. Sometimes, he was supposed
to face the front of the church or the minister. He could only watch
Marilyn through the corner of his eye. In one part, they were kneeling side
by side, and he could only sense her. At last, they said their vows; they
were one. He put a ring on her finger, she put a ring on his. He kissed
her. She'd warned him that it was supposed to be a mere peck on the lips.
For some reason, she'd insisted that he promise that this was all he would
do.

They walked down the aisle together. The people came out to the narthex and
said nice things to them while Marilyn thanked them for coming. Then Dad
drove them to the reception in Andy's car. Dad had their luggage in the
trunk, and took care of registration while they waited in the room where
the reception was scheduled. They got in a line, and people went down it.
Marilyn kissed the men; he'd been warned, and was only a little jealous.

Mrs. Bryant, her husband, George, and Polly had attended the wedding and
were at the reception. Mrs. Bryant had a damn-sight more right to be in the
reception line than The Turd did; she had done more raising of him than
anyone else for the last decade, but The Turd stood in the line and she
walked through. Mom called Mrs. Bryant "Clarissa." He'd almost forgotten
that she had a first name.

There was a dinner, with champagne. The "wedding Party" sat at a head
table. Marilyn had her family to the left of her, and he had his family to
the right. This put The Turd at one end of the table, and Pete at the
other. April was between Dad and Mom. He heard Dad give her one glass of
champagne with the directions that she could drink as much at any toast as
she wanted, but refills would be of ginger ale. Since Marilyn and he were
the subject of toasts, he drank almost no champagne until the end. There
was a custom, however, that the guests could rattle their silverware
against their glasses. That meant that he should kiss Marilyn. They didn't
do it often enough.

Marilyn had written some lines for the two of them, and he remembered his
part. When the meal was over and the toasts seemed to have wound down, he
got up. It suddenly seemed to him that Marilyn's toasts needed an
introduction, and he gave one on his feet.

"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. To Mrs.
Judith Grant and Margaret Trainor Brewster, without whom there would have
been no wedding, and -- indeed -- no couple to be wed."

After drinking to his -- actually written by her -- toast, Marilyn
continued. "And to James Trainor and Richard Grant. They had something to
do with it, too." Then it was his turn again. Marilyn had written the
toasts so that they alternated.

"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, who stood with me through the service." Marilyn and he
finished their glasses and sat down.

Soon, though, they were on their feet again and separated. She'd explained
to him that they had to deal with their guests one at a time. Many of them
he didn't really know, but nobody called him on that. He'd heard a lot
about George Bryant, if they had seldom seen each other. George was Mrs.
Bryant's oldest and the apple of his mother's eye.

"A couple of years ago," he told George, "I heard that you had become a
CPA."

"I still am."

"Look. Do you know my sister Molly? She was one of the bridesmaids, and is
next youngest of them all. My other sister, April, is the youngest."

"I think I know who you mean."

"Well, she's thinking of going into accounting. I'd be grateful if you
would give her the lowdown on the profession. She knows about you, at least
she did before the family split up. How much your mother told her on the
two-weeks a summer, I don't know. She kept me up to date on all your
triumphs, but we had much more time together. Your mother is very proud of
you, in case you hadn't noticed. You might need to tell Molly that you're
an accountant, but she'd be interested in the details of the profession. I
certainly would have enjoyed meeting a working EE when I was her age."

"I'd be glad to. Your family is something else." Whatever that meant.

The next person he talked to was Mrs. Pierce.

"Congratulations, Andy."

"Thank you, Mrs. Pierce. Or is it Professor Pierce?"

"Caroline, please. Who was that guy you were talking to? I don't think I've
seen him in church, and most of the others I haven't seen are women of a
certain age."

"He's George Bryant. He's Mrs. Bryant's oldest and an accountant. Neither
Mrs. Bryant nor her husband graduated from high school, but all the kids
old enough have graduated from college or nursing school. Quite a triumph."

"And you call her Mrs. Bryant."

"Dad said he'd be damned if his kids would call an adult woman by her first
name. He started calling her 'Mrs. Bryant' so we wouldn't hear any other
name. We were young kids, then, and Mrs. Bryant was definitely in charge."

"Interesting idea. We should have done that with the twins.

"I'm really glad you guys got together," she continued. "When I first saw
you, you both were clearly smitten, but too shy to say so."

"Both? I was smitten, to use your word. Marilyn hardly knew I existed. She
was going with another guy."

"Well, she knew you existed. Maybe she was looking anywhere but at you
because she was going with another guy instead of because she was shy.
Anyway, congratulations."

"I don't deserve her."

"That's always good to hear from the groom. Well, you have her. Work to
deserve her."

"I will." And, if not particularly because of Mrs. Pierce's advice, he
would.

After a good deal of time talking to the other guests, he saw Marilyn
coming towards him. He started towards her, too. They both were stopped by
guests, but they finally got back together.

"You think it's time?" she asked.

"Way past time. But you had your ceremony -- ceremonies. The reception was
a ceremony, too. Are you happy?"

"Delighted. Shall we go up to our room?"

"Yes." As they made their way to the door of the huge room the reception
had been held in, some people threw rice. There was applause.

Dad had given him both key cards for the door. Apparently, wedding dresses
don't have pockets. When he'd opened the door, he turned in the doorway. He
swept her into his arms, but then had to take a step away from the room
before he could turn around. He carried her through the door into their
room. He kissed her lips and then her hair.

"I love you Mrs. Trainor."

"And I love you Mr. Trainor." When he set her down, he started trying to
get her out of that dress. She pushed him away, but started undressing
immediately. Well, his own clothes were complicated enough. Marilyn was
very careful hanging her dress up. When she was done with the closet, he
hung the rented stuff there. He put his underwear on the dresser, and he
watched while she finished undressing. Then he lifted her for a kiss.

So much of her was available for kissing then and he'd been deprived of all
but her mouth for so long, that he kept lifting her higher and kissing her
lower. When his arms couldn't reach any higher, he set her on the bed. Then
he kissed her ankle -- she'd forbidden him her feet -- and upwards from
there in small steps.

As his face approached her vulva, he could smell her sexiness. Soon after
he could taste it, she writhed on the bed. He kept licking her, and she
writhed again. When he tried for another, she shoved his head away from her
delicious labia.

"No," she said. "This night of all nights. In the bed, under the covers."
She had a point; he had the next 50 years to see her writhe. That was more
than 18,000 nights. This was the night for them to be locked together in
the way that married couples were locked together. She was lying on the
covers that she wanted to be under. He helped her get under them, and then
he joined her there.

"Now, Andy. In me," she said. She was right; this was the time. When his
knees were between hers, she reached up and gently pulled him until his tip
was bathed in her wetness. "Oh, yes," she said as he sank into her warmth.

"I love you, Mrs. Trainor," he said before he kissed her hairline. She was
very smooth as he moved inside her, and incredibly arousing. He tried to
keep a slow, steady pace. When she contracted around him, he lost all
control. He took two more strokes racing to beat the eruption that he could
feel boiling up his cock. On the second of these, he buried himself within
her and erupted.

The overhead light was still on, but for the longest time he didn't have
enough energy to get up and turn it off. When he did, he hurried blindly
back to bed. When he was under the covers and she was curled against him,
he reminded her, "every night."

"You know, its not really in your arms." She emphasized the plural. "You
only hug me with one arm." Well, enough of them touched that he could tell
she was there all night.

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

"I love you, Andy."

"And I love you, too, Mrs. Marilyn Trainor." She was that. She was his
wife. All the waiting was over. Now, he had to keep her happy.


The End
Wedding Bells - M
by Uther Pendragon
nogardneprethu@gmail.com
2012/04/04


These same events from Marilyn's perspective, can be read in:
http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/Uther_Pendragon/www/Gjt/tra_  f.htm
Marilyn's experience

The first adventures of Andy with Marilyn:
http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/Uther_Pendragon/www/Gjt/tra_01m.htm
"The Meeting - M"

Another story about another couple getting married:
http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/Uther_Pendragon/www/Gjt/pie_05m.htm
"Oh Canada - M"

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