Bobbie's Wedding - The Reception free porn video

A Sissy Wedding Day Part 2: The Reception Chapter 1: Meeting the guests 'Ladies and Gentlemen. Please be welcome Mr. & Mrs. Thomas Ragan.' The assembled guests, the men, handsome and virile, resplendent in their tuxedos, their escorts, shimmering in flowing gowns, paused their conversations and turned towards the far end of the banquet room. As the large oak doors swung open, the three piece string orchestra broke into the wedding march. The groom, tall, well built, full of confidence, paused in the doorway for affect, his bride on his arm. Perfectly groomed, expensively dressed in a custom tailored tuxedo, he made an impressive sight, all the more so because his specially cut trousers revealed an awesome flaccid 8 inch, heavily veined and thick uncircumcised cock. This was a man his organ proclaimed, and proud of it. A murmur went through the guests. The rumour was confirmed, the women impressed. Several shuddered at the thought of the manoeuvres needed to accommodate such a monster. Most of the men felt a little inadequate, knowing their companions would from now on compare them to Regan and find them wanting. But then all eyes turned to the bride. It is said that a women is never as beautiful as on her wedding day, and this bride would have to go some to improve on the image she presented as the spotlight picked up the couple. Hand in hand with her husband she moved into the circle of guests to accept their congratulations. The jewelled headpiece clasped into her pansy dressed upswept corn silk hair, flashing in the spotlight. Her large brown eyes were like a does, the skilfully applied eye makeup serving to draw you into their dark limpid depths. Alas she avoided eye contact, keeping her gaze directed to the floor as she moved slowly and gracefully beside her lord and master. At the church, women had talked of her childlike innocence; of her heart shaped face, while the men had silently noted the sensuousness of her full pouty lips, their natural pinkness highlighted by a touch of coral pink lipstick. Now with her veil lifted, the full power of her child/women sensuality was projected. The blush on her high cheeks confirmed she was aware of the guest's carnal thoughts as they looked from her face to her husband's monster prick, and back. Her bare shoulders were uncovered against the chill of the air-conditioning, her long ballerina neck accentuated by the four strand pearl chocker. Male and female guests' eyes drifted downwards over the bare milky skin of her shoulders to her heavily embroidered pearl and brocade satin bustier top. The bustier took her emerging curves and formed them into a perfect line, breasts suggested, not flaunted, waist trim and feminine, arms as milky white as her shoulders. But the lower part of her dress was the cause of the collective sharp intake of breath; the surprised look on the guest's faces. In the chapel the bride's skirt had been a cloud of shimmering diaphanous silk, a classic billowing Cinderella skirt, decorated with tiny pale pink bows. Now the purpose of the bows became obvious, holding the skirt apart so that from front and back the bride's underwear and what it contained was exposed from the waist down. The effect was even more revealing as she moved, her long coltish legs sheathed in lace top bridal white sheer stockings, the length of her legs accentuated by the rouched ribbon garters of her impossibly delicate silk and lace garterbelt. A number of the women turned to one another and agreed, with more than just a hint of envy in their tone, that the bride was wearing Aubade's latest lingerie collection, as they took in the sensationally dainty, but decidedly sexy, shell pink silk panties with the clever lace overlay that managed to conceal nothing and enhance everything. From the rear the unadorned transparent silk of the panties framed the bride's perfectly formed, blemish free, bubble bottom. The effect was sensational. There was not a woman in the crowd that didn't want to be in the brides place, even if the Versace satin pumps with four inch stiletto heels looked like killers. There wasn't a male that wouldn't give a testicle to plunge his cock into any of the bride's available openings. Once again Ragan's costume designers and makeup artists had excelled themselves, especially considering that six months earlier the bride had been male. Regan accepted the first of hundreds of congratulations from his friends and associates with his usual cool aplomb. 'Congratulations Thomas, you are indeed a lucky man.' 'Yes,' he would reply, little variation in his response to the predicable salutation. 'He did turn out quite nicely, didn't he?' The guest and the groom would then look the bride over, the guest using the opportunity to drink in every detail, usually of the lower body, then depending on the guest Regan would move on or the discussion would proceed. 'When can we expect to see more of her?' 'She is appearing as the centerfold in Sissy Spread in a couple of months. That will be the before series. We expect the after series and the deflowering pictures to be in the spring issue next year.' 'Can we expect your usual attention to detail and graphic detail?' another inquired. 'Absolutely,' Regan assured the man and his equally interested female companion. 'One of my personal favourites was taken just after Bobbie had been injected with the sissy gene. As you know it causes the testicles to swell up to twice their normal size and become incredibly sensitive as the gene destroys the tissue. The poor dear couldn't walk for a week and we had to have a special satin g-string made to hold them and reduce the pain to manageable levels.' The assembled listeners laughed dutifully, although a number of the men visible blanched at the thought 'there but for the grace?,' and glanced over at the ultra feminine bride, who was visibly embarrassed at the frank discussion of the misery that had brought her to today. For a moment one of the men tried to imagine what it must feel like to wear the skimpy constricting clothes, so foreign to a man, and to be a doll on display. The thought proved so upsetting he discarded it and went in search of another drink. 'Your bride is a buxom lass,' an older letch remarked, trying to peer over the top of the bride's bodice at the bounty inside. 'Yes,' her husband responded, 'Bobbie's breasts have grown in very nicely, 34b. Not large, but beautifully pear shaped. As you know I'm not one for double d tits. The genes were programmed for 36C, which is just right in my view. We tried a new technique with Bobbie to get quick tits. In addition to the gene therapy, we used injections of a special hormone regimen on his chest. Apparently the sensitivity is so intense it causes them to spontaneously ejaculate. Bobbie had a particularly rough time until we got the dose right. He was changing his panty-liner every couple of hours.' 'Wasn't that cruel?' One of the women listening with rapt attention asked. 'How often do you change your panty-liner when you're menstruating?' Regan replied rhetorically. He looked from women to women, making sure his point was made. The couple circulated further into the crowd so that all could offer their congratulations and of course try to sneak a peek at the bride's intimate areas. Then the bride's mother appeared at her side, and addressed herself to her new son-in-law. She asked, and received, permission to borrow the bride for a few minutes. 'Where are we going mum?' 'Thomas will be annoyed; he wanted to show me off to his backers' 'Its just a little while dear, your aunt and uncle are with daddy and they're dying to see you.' The bride protested. 'I'm so embarrassed by all of this and I didn't want the relatives to see me. You promised daddy was so upset with me he wasn't coming to the wedding.' 'Well dear,' her mother placated, urging her forward as they talked, 'Everybody has heard about you in the altogether in that very naughty Sissy Spread. At least here you have some clothes on.' Also there was no way I would let your father miss your big day. 'Oh God,' the bride protested, looking around anxiously, 'you don't understand do you? I'm in a dress for god's sake. They're going to see their nephew in a dress.' 'Don't forget that very sexy underwear,' his mother joked. 'Helen is going to be jealous and Mark, well you know how sixteen year old boys are about girls showing their underwear. The bride was almost in tears at the thought that not only would she have to ordeal of meeting her Aunt and Uncle for the first time since her sex change, but her snotty, big mouthed, cousins as well. Before she could protest further she found himself face to face with her relatives, being hugged by her aunt and uncle, enduring the quick feel of her uncle's hand on her bottom as he crushed her in a bear hug that she was sure also gave him the thrill of feeling her breasts crushed against the awful blue lounge suit he must have got from goodwill. The bride's father stood to one side, stony faced, as her aunt rescued her from the uncles groping, holding her at arms length. 'Let me take a look at you,' she shrieked, in a loud falsetto voice. 'You're gorgeous, you know. Who would have ever suspected that my nephew would be such a beautiful bride? Especially after you were dating that absolutely beautiful girl that took his clothes off for money. And now your doing the same.' A blush seemed the only possible response. It also covered the discomfort she felt at the way her uncle was staring at her bottom, not to mention the visible hard-on she appeared to be causing her cousin Mark as he stood silently beside his father undressing her with his eyes. Her mother came to the rescue, filling the embarrassed silence that had come over the small group. 'It was Kaitlyn who recommended Bob to the gender committee.' 'Why did she do that I wonder,' her aunt mused. 'Well,' her sister replied. 'She told me in confidence that she thought Bob was more interested in her underwear than her. Apparently he was always asking her to wear something sexy when they were in bed, to keep her heels and stockings on, that sort of thing.' 'Bob, you sly dog,' the aunt chided the bride. 'I suppose you were dying to slip into her panties?' 'I never did, aunty,' the sissy protested. 'You were always trying to get a look up my skirt at my panties,' her cousin Helen accused, joining the group and offering the bride a sip from her champagne flute. 'Were you the one that stole my panties from the dirty clothes hamper,' she asked as the bride took the glass and drained its contents. The bride shook her head, wishing somebody would rescue her from this ordeal. 'Well anyway, you now have a collection of your own, and pretty fancy, dancy ones from what I hear. Although from what I hear about that magazine spread you have trouble keeping them on. You've turned into a real show off slut.' 'Helen,' her mother protested, 'that's no way to talk to your cousin. See you've made her cry.' she handed the bride a lace edged hanky, trying without success to shush her daughter from further outbursts. 'I can just imagine you and daddy if I were to do what Bob, Bobbie, what ever you call him/her has done. I can see daddy now if I put on a striptease, spread my legs to show the world everything I had, and then topped it off by blowing a group of guys, and the pictures appeared in a raunchy magazine.' In a rare show of defiance, still wiping the tears from her eyes, Bobbie shot back. 'It's not as easy as it looks to keep five cocks stiff and get them to come over you at the same time. I don't think you have the talent.' The bride turned and stepped over to her father to get away from these hateful people. Looking back over her shoulder, catching them taking in the spectacular view of her bottom and legs framed in silk, she fired a last salvo, 'Or the looks.' Her father offered no greeting or congratulation, only that stony, half embarrassed look the bride had grown used to of late. Bobbie leaned forward slightly to give him a kiss on the cheek as she had been taught in femininity classes, but pulled back as she felt his disapproval. 'What's wrong daddy?' 'Look at you, you're dressed like a whore, parading around showing everyone your underwear.' 'But I am a whore daddy,' she answered with honesty and pain in every word, fresh tears forming in her doe eyes. 'You and Mummy signed the papers agreeing to everything they have done to me.' 'We did that because we were told that was what you wanted. It broke my heart that my only son wanted to wear women's clothes. Your mother told me she thought you had been wearing her panties, taking them from the dirty clothes basket.' 'Imagine, he said, the bitterness dripping from every word, 'what sort of a pervert wants to put on his own mother's used panties? I can't understand why you would want to wear them after they've touched her most intimate places.' 'I didn't ever wear mommies panties daddy,' the bride said, stamping his foot in frustration. 'The first time I put on a pair of panties was after you, mommy and the committee sold me at auction to Reagan. Naked I might add. And the only reason I put them on then was because my testicles were like footballs after the sissyfying injections that you approved.' 'What about your girlfriend,' Bobbie's father shot back, 'she testified you were fascinated with her underwear, always wanting her to leave on this or that when you were in bed' 'She's a model Daddy.' I saw her every day in provocative clothing. It was exciting seeing her in lingerie. Never once did it cross my mind to put on any of her clothes.' 'Well you've certainly gone her one better now, haven't you?' Bobbie's father parried, although from the tone of his voice the certainty of his position was eroding as he heard for the first time his new daughters side of the story. 'You've danced naked in a striptease club, there is that disgusting photo shoot with the men and now I hear you're to appear in a series of dirty movies.' 'You have a beautiful daughter daddy that you sold off to the number one porno movie producer in the country; what else can you expect. Every one wants to get into my panties. Anyway it's making you and mummy rich, isn't it?' What do you mean? Although from the look on his face she knew he understood. 'For your approval to have me sissified you got half of the proceeds from auctioning me off to Thomas and then you guys share my income equally with my husband, right?' Her Father at least had the decency to hang his head. Emboldened by her own words she continued. 'You know what I get out of the deal daddy? Pain and humiliation as I am changed into a Barbie doll. Forced to parade myself around in the most humiliating costumes. Always having to look my best, ready to offer my bottom or my mouth to total strangers at the whim of my husband. And you're right, I am on the way to becoming the most popular porno sissy in the world. That means more cum in my hair, on my face or dripping down my legs.' 'I'm sorry darling,' he said, enveloping the bride in his arms. 'I didn't know, but it's too late to change now, you'll have to be a brave lad and adjust.' 'Girl daddy, she corrected, in just a few months I'll have the opening to prove it, and a new target for cocks.' Then to her complete surprise she felt something familiar pressing against her thigh, just above her stocking top. Pulling back slightly, still in her father's embrace she looked down and saw that her father was indeed pressing his very stiff hard-on into him. She leaned forward and whispered in his father's ear. 'I see you like your new daughter daddy. Want to come out the back and feel me up, or maybe I can give you a nice juicy blowjob,' she teased. 'Sorry, but its my wedding day and my bottom is reserved for the exclusive use of my husband, otherwise I'd bend over and let you pull my panties down, slip your fat cock into your beautiful daughter's perfect bottom, and let you fill me up with your man juice. Has mummy ever let you do that in HER bottom,' the bride taunted with a sob, as she pulled away and ran as fast as she could to the safety of the nearest ladies room. She made it to the safety of the ladies room just in time to throw up in the hand basin. There wasn't much to come up, she hadn't eaten since last night, but the dry retching racked her body and made the miserable bride feel even worse. But ten minutes later, face freshly sluiced with cold water, she looked in the mirror, wan features staring back, and decided she must be just about the most miserable bride ever. Time for a quick pee she decided before finding somebody to repair her makeup. Then face the remaining ordeal of her wedding day. But as soon as she manoeuvred himself and her flowing skirts into the cubicle, disaster struck again. The fine lace edging of her panties caught in the delicate roses that decorated the straps of her garterbelt. And that was the way her ex girlfriend Kaitlyn found her, struggling with her scanties, desperate to relieve herself. 'Calm down you silly bitch,' the girl warned. 'You'd think you've dropped your panties enough by now to be able to do it without this mess.' She said as she knelt down, her experienced fingers carefully extricating her ex boyfriend's panties from the tangle they were in. Hurry up Kaitlyn, I'm going to wet myself,' the bride warned. With the flimsy garment free of the equally flimsy garterbelt the bride unceremoniously sat on the toilet, directed her residual penis downward between her thighs and relaxed as her stream started. Kaitlyn remained on her knees, unabashedly interested in the anatomy of her former lover. The changes were so dramatic. Not the least of which was the fact that privately she was prepared to admit her former boyfriend was now the more feminine and beautiful of the two of them, stirring feelings she had never felt when she had laid in the same bed tolerating his touch. Spontaneously, and to their mutual embarrassment, Kaitlyn tore a strip of toilet paper off the roll, padded it up and gently wiped the bride's dripping penis dry. 'Can't have you staining your pretty panties can we? She joked to break the tension. A sudden mad thought took over; she felt the folds of her femininity swell and itch, even some lubrication start. 'Can you cum,' she asked in a husky voice. The bride looked at his former lover, first in surprise and then astonishment. 'Not that way.' 'Then how do you get relief?' Discarding the soggy paper between the bride's thighs into the water she teasingly fingering her residual penis. 'Only when I'm cocked, and even then it's hard. If the guy comes too quickly I'm left hanging.' 'Every girl's fate,' Kaitlyn remarked, 'but we still sleep on the wet spot right? The bride nodded, very embarrassed by her former girlfriend's gentle ministrations, and the admission that they now shared the same fate of being sperm receptacles. 'I thought,' Kaitlyn said seductively, still diddling the bride's penis as she stood up, hiked her dress up with her free hand and moved so she straddled the bride's thighs, that we might have one last fuck before you become a respectable married lady. They both looked down sadly at the limp organ between them. 'I'm sorry Kaitlyn, I'm afraid I'm like you now. I'm on the receiving end. I guess we're in competition for cocks now.' 'Would it help if I licked you,' she asked hopefully, the challenge making her even hornier. After all, he might be in an ultra femmy dress and sexy lingerie but the bride was still her ex boyfriend, and she suddenly found it hard to accept that a cock she had had inside her so many times couldn't rise to the occasion once more. 'Kaitlyn, get real. I have no testicles. I'm just months from having my urethra diverted and my vagina opened up. Six months from now I'll be menstruating and worrying about birth control. Look at me; I'm a girl now. My penis is useless; it's an embarrassment to me. Honestly I can't wait until it's gone. I want a slit like you because then when I take my panties off at least I will look like a girl and not a freak.' Every tortured word delivered with the frustration, embarrassment and repressed anger she felt. 'I just thought a final fuck between old friends would be nice,' the bridesmaid told the bride, standing up in frustration and defeat, smoothing her skirts. 'But I guess its true, your not man enough. Never were I suppose.' The bride, now standing, blushed at the insult, but avoided looking Kaitlyn by reaching down to carefully pull her panties back over her suspenders and smoothing them into place. Chapter 2: The Best man stood up, moved to the microphone taking a sip of his drink, while he took in the mood of the assembled guests. Judging they were relaxed and expectant as a result of the free flowing cocktails he cleared his throat into the instrument, gratified to hear its echo momentarily drown out the hubbub of talking and background of cutlery scrapping on china; then after a long moment, sure he had everybody's attention, he launched into his toast to the bride. 'When I first saw the bride she was naked, and I instantly knew she was the perfect playmate for Thomas.' This was greeted with a few laughs, but from the sudden attention and quiet that descended over the room, he knew he had their attention. 'Of course she had no tits, her hair was shorter than mine and she had a cock. But I knew she was going to be the perfect bride for Thomas.' Now, general laughter greeted his words. The bride covered her face with both hands. 'The fact that she was crying and had pee running down her legs didn't move me from the belief that she was the perfect bride for Thomas.' This brought a general roar of laughter, and some clapping. The best man warmed to the task. 'At my urging Thomas bid, warning me if I was wrong I would be taking the bride's place. Well as you can see unless I get lucky with one of the bridesmaids I will be sleeping alone, and knowing Thomas the now gorgeous bride won't be getting much sleep.' He paused to let the hoots and clapping die down. The bride, hands on her lap, at his husband's insistence, stared at the tablecloth in front of her. Her face beet red, obviously hoping the floor would open up and swallow her. 'But all is not lost. As many of you already know Thomas is planning a series of naughty movies staring his bride. The even better news for me is that I am to be one of the co-stars, and I intend to show why I am the best man.' This time the audience responded with whistles and hoots. 'But seriously folks, this is a happy time for us all. The bride like the ugly duckling has turned into a swan. It is hard to believe that the gawky boy Thomas and I saw a year and a half ago is the truly gorgeous bride filling that killer gown we are here to covert tonight. Is gene therapy great or what?' After the applause had died down the best man continued. 'We are even more blessed that Bobbie is the bride of Thomas, because in Thomas we have a great man, who has the ability to highlight women in his films in ways other directors can't even begin to appreciate. Other directors may strip their leading lady naked; Thomas will make you feel you are the one removing Bobbie's clothes. Other directors may show penetration. Thomas leaves you with the feeling it is your cock that is ravishing Bobbie. And when at the end of Thomas' film Bobbie lies there, covered in cum, it will be the men in the audience who feel drained and their women companions who feel sore and satisfied.' 'So I ask you to join me in raising your glass to Thomas and his bride. May they cum many times, and always capture it on film.' 'Thomas & Bobbie'; the guests stood, glasses raised in the traditional salute to the nuptial couple and joined the best man in his salute, Then in a far corner of the room it started and was quickly taken up, 'Kiss, kiss, kiss,' until the chant filled the room. Bobbie obediently leaned over to the groom offering a blazing cheek. Thomas leaned forward and whispered into her ear. The bride pulled back, surprised, and looked at the groom quizzically. The groom nodded. A page standing behind the couple, sensing the bride's intentions stepped in and moved her chair as she stood, looked over to the best man, and then to the groom. Again, a nod from the groom. The bride with obvious reluctance moved behind the head table, manoeuvring her rustling skirts past the chairs, over to stand in front of the groom. The chanting guests quieted down watching expectantly as the bride, accepted a steadying hand from the best man, flicked out her skirts and sank to her knees. With shaking fingers the bride unzipped the best man, reached in to his flies and extracted a rather impressive, partially erect cock. Only the guests seated nearest to the action saw the sigh of resignation escape the pouty lips of the bride. The rest watched spellbound as she grasped the cock shaft in one satin sheathed hand, the other brushing an errant strand of cornsilk hair back under her veil before lowering her head into the expectant man's groin, swallowing the purple cock head between her freshly made up lips. The best man looked down, smiling, revelling in the cool feel of a satin-gloved hand wrapped around her shaft while the bride's tongue expertly working the sensitive underside flesh of his cockhead. It didn't take long for these ministrations to bring the groom's organ to full attention in the bride's mouth. The bride short-circuited the groom's instinct to thrust into the substitute vagina, by grasping the best man's buttocks and deep throating the impressive organ. The best man was in seventh heaven, assailed by sensations along the length of his manhood, the waxy feel of the bride's lipstick on his public hair and scrotum, and the visual pleasure of looking down and seeing nothing but the sea of tulle of the bride's veil enveloping his groin area. The bride brought her head back until the wedding guests could see the angry purple helmet pop from between her pale pink lips. Then her head plunged down gobbling the cock. Back and forth the bride repeated the stimulation, her lips glistening with saliva from the now massive straining organ in her mouth. Among the male guests there wasn't a limp cock, while many of the watching women's panties were uncomfortably moist. Several were stimulated enough to grasp their companion's groin signalling their willingness to join the bride on their knees giving sexual mouth to head resuscitation. Sensing the best man's impending climax the bride popped the organ from her mouth, grasped the shaft in a satin-gloved grip and pumped furiously, all the while pointing the angry looking organ at her face. Feeling the first contraction the bride plunged the cock completely back into her mouth, the best man grasping the bride's head through the layers of veil tightly into his groin. With a bellow of relief, mixed with male rage, the best man ejaculated deep into the bride's mouth, with each ejaculation his buttocks showing the strain as he desperately tried to penetrate further into the warm wet orifice massaging his red hot cock. Finally his sagging knees told the hushed crowd he had pulsed his last seed down the bride's throat. He released his hold of her head. The bride slowly pulled her head back, her lips tightly around the shaft, cleaning it as it withdrew until at last it popped free of her lips leaving a drool of semen down the bride's chin. The bride grasped the limp organ; the tip of her tongue snaked out between her waxed lips and delicately licked up the tiny residual drops of cum on the purple tip. Using her gloved finger she gathered up the semen drool and impishly painted her lips, leaving them shiny. Daintily the bride folded the best man's now useless prick back into its pouch, gently zipping up the man's flies before holding her hand up for assistance in rising from the floor. At first there was a hushed silence; the audience knew they had seen, up close and personal, an Oscar performance of fellatio. As the bride turned from the best man to make her way back to the groom applause started. By the time she resumed her place beside a grinning groom the applause was thunderous, mixed with shouts of bravo! And encore! The groom stood, grinning and held his hands up, asking to be heard. 'What a performance,' he opened, glancing at his blushing bride, ' and the evening has just begun. Well for me at least.' He waited for the laughter to subside, taking a sip of his wine, then continued. 'Over the last five years it has been my privilege to unveil some of the most beautiful women in this country, to reveal their intimate secrets to the world. I have been lucky to be a erotic film maker during a period of unprecedented sexual freedom, and because of this I have been able to show you these beautiful women engaged in activities that were previously only whispered about in men's clubs.' 'I am often asked if I sample the private pleasures of these women when I am casting a film. Of course, is always my reply.' He waited for the laughter and clapping to end before continuing. 'So why did I promote and marry a boy turned into a girl, you ask. How can a manufactured woman ever compare with the real thing? As a director I am always moulding my leading lady into an image, a fantasy in my mind, for that particular film. Turning Bobbie, a wimpy male, into every man's wet dream is simply put my ultimate fantasy. I was bored with the beautiful women who surround me. Each and every one of them was willing and happy to undress and spread their legs for me. By contrast when I first saw Bobbie on the auction block, hunch shouldered, whimpering, dripping pee, and looking quite ridiculous in a pink corset and stockings I saw a challenge of a lifetime.' He paused to take a sip from his champagne glass. 'But there was something there, a glimmer of femininity, a spark that captured my imagination. I sensed Bobbie was destined for great things, a poster girl for the sissy reassignment program. A living example of the truth "no pain, no gain", I sensed in this pathetic snivelling individual the ability to project the ultra femininity I was looking for from a star in my films.' The bride blushed, but this was to be expected, and the groom ignored her discomfort. 'To make him into the next Monroe, a women desired by all men, and especially me. This afternoon when I turned and saw my bride slowly, gracefully making her way down the aisle, I felt for the first time in a long time a stirring in my groin and knew that I was on the road to success. The fact that Bobbie is still reluctant to fully accept the femininity that has been thrust upon her only adds to the challenge. In her forthcoming films you will be able to see up close and very personal my fantasies come true as Bobbie takes the journey of a lifetime to become the world's masturbatory fantasy, and lives out on stage and film our wildest dreams.' The groom paused, basking in the glow of the enthusiastic clapping and whistles, some, mainly men, rising to their feet to give him a standing ovation at the pronouncement. 'Normally, we would have a procession of boring speeches, and based on what we have just seen exhaust the bride's jaw muscles.' Another pause to let the clapping and wolf whistles subside. 'So unless anybody objects I am going to move the evening forward by dispensing with the rest of the speeches, including mine.' This was greeted with vigorous clapping. 'In the same vein I am going to dispense with the bride and groom's first dance and cake cutting. But being a traditionalist at heart we will have the garter toss.' More cheers, which were cut short when Regan held up his hand. 'However.' A pregnant pause. 'With a difference.' I am going to ask the maid of honour, and Bobbie's former girlfriend, to assist the bride as she removes, and tosses, not just her garter but also all her clothes. Then it will be my pleasure, to escort her to the bridal suite where I can assure you the marriage will be well and truly consummated. From the look of shock and horror on Bobbie's face this part of the wedding reception entertainment had not been discussed with her before. Tears started rolling down her cheeks and she went to say something to Reagan, but the look on his face told her that her pleading would fall on deaf ears. As a result when Kaitlyn took her hand and guided her away from the head table the bride went with her without protest. A raised dais had been moved into the centre of the dance floor, and it was here that Kaitlyn guided the bride. They both stepped up onto the raised platform posing like a pair of cake toppers as four staff ran out and raised a translucent screen between them and the audience. As soon as it was in place they turned on a bank of bright spotlights behind the girls illuminating a very sexy silhouette. In the next fifteen minutes the audience saw everything, and nothing. Every touch, unbuttoning, unzipping, pealing, caress was projected on the opaque sheet, as the bridesmaid lovingly undressed her bride, presumably in the reverse sequence to dressing her before the wedding. The audience's imagination filled in any missing detail, as a result the striptease was more sensual that if the screen had been removed. More than one cock found itself being caressed by a gloved hand under the tables as the female audience members projected themselves into the bride's shoes, imagining her alternating stimulation and terror watching her clothing pile up at her feet and the approaching prospect of standing stark naked before a group of strangers. Dramatically all the lights were extinguished, then a drum roll in the dark covered the sounds of the screen being removed. Slowly a pair of spots illuminated the dais, the bride now alone, her veil still in place, all her other bridal finery removed so that she stood before her guests in a thigh length, loosely body hugging white silk nightie and high heels. The nightie so sheer, so plain that it covered nothing, enhanced everything. The audience grasped at the sheer sexuality of the gorgeous naked girl that was the centre of their attention. She looked straight ahead clasping her wedding posy in slightly shaking hands to her trim tummy. Her nipples on her perfect pear shaped breasts proudly erect, as was her incongruous tiny penis. As the dais slowly rotated, the audience was able to inspect her perfect bubble bottom, now unimpeded by either panties or suspenders. When the dais returned to its face position Reagan was waiting. Holding out his hand, his bride stepped down beside him and they commenced a slow ceremonial walk between the tables of their guests towards the main doors. As they moved slowly and regally, the overhead lights were turned on ensuring the guests an even better look at the bride's fabulous nudity. By now the hotel lobby was filled with eager fans, held back into a roped off area by security guards. Reagan, ever the showman, oblivious of his bride's modesty and terror at appearing naked in public steered her towards the screaming fans rewarding their patience with an extended opportunity to drink in her fabulous body in all its feminine detail before finally directing his near catatonic bride to the elevator doors, and the bridal suite.