Our Adventure Wedding and Honeymoon
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Chapter 7, Wedding Bells Peal And Honeymoon free porn video
Things after Alviso’s train passage went as scheduled with one minor change, the wedding’s week delay to avoid it occurring while on my period. The reschedule also provided one last Desoto “girl’s night out”, a bachelor party of sorts. It was uneventful, except the girls made me hide in the trunk when we went to the drive-in movie.
On Saturday, June 15, 1968, a bright summer morning, my fiancée and I were joined in marriage, on the cheap. The groom was a twenty-three-year-old college graduate, with the good job promised. The bride was an eighteen-year-old high school graduate, the virgin the groom ensured. Everyone except us thought the bride too young with the groom kidded about robbing the cradle. I had no qualms of being too young even though I still thought of myself as a girl, not a woman. My fiancé was the responsible ones in our households. I would be the good wife and he the good husband.
We married "In the church", meaning a Catholic wedding and a happy mother. This required my’ non-Catholic fiancé, to take Catholic dogma lessons and sign papers raise our offspring in the faith. The civil paperwork was simple, just birth certificates and signatures.
The parish priest initially was more difficult. He thought of me as a poor, young, Catholic girl taken advantage of by an older protestant. After the priest knew more about us and our families, he became less critical but admonished us in his pre-nuptial consulting not to use birth control. He explained, in detail, how it interfered with God's plan for marriage, the birth of children. He omitted mention of how medicine interfered with God's other plan, death.
I kept my dogma heresies to myself and used the confessional to manipulate him. My confessions, untruthful since the first soapy shower, let me confess lies. The sanctity of confession meant he was gullible to what I said. In the dark confessional booth, I kneeled before his little screen door and turned him, convinced him my fiancé was good.
I concocted whoppers of hating school, jealousy of rich people, confessed truthfully to everyday venial sins and fessed up to kissing longer than three seconds, all to establish veracity. Tossing in the failure to observe the Catholic orthodox arbitrary kissing time limit of three seconds was needed plausibility as a priest is not that naïve. In confessionals, they’ve heard it all. Fessing to it, allowed him to think he was monitoring my sex life, a sex life limited to kissing, excluding "petting" and Vixen's pleasures, lies of omission.
I "befriended" him by seeking his advice. In the confessional, I explained I had confusion over how to be a good wife. He loved providing guidance on being married and being a wife even though he never was either. Summed up, his curator's advice was; obey my husband, sex is good if for procreation, never divorce and ensure the children are raised as good Catholics. He admonished me to control my protestant fiancé’s sex urges until the wedding vows were exchanged. Once they were, I was to submit to them but not use birth control.
With my veracity established, the admonishment was my cue to put my fiancé’ into the priest’s good graces. While I admitted my fiancé liked kissing, I confessed truthfully, it was he, not me who drew the sex limitation line before marriage. With the marriage date confirmed, I was okay with his sexual urges but my fiancé’ insisted I remain a virgin until we met on the altar.
The priest gobbled it up. He was convinced, I was a good Catholic girl; my fiancé did love me and we were “behaving” before marriage. He respected my fiancé, ’even though Protestant by my telling the truth in confession after establishing veracity with lies.
I figured if I didn’t give him a few mortal sins, the questions would start but more importantly I wanted him to authorize my marriage to a non-Catholic. My confessions assisted him to do so, to even approve of my fiancé.
My fiancé put his time in but never changed his agnostic beliefs. His parents, initially upset about his marrying a Catholic and taking Catholic tenet lessons, relaxed when told it was all a charade to keep Mom happy. In the know, they became co-conspirators. Dad didn't care but did tell me to take the rabbit's foot on my trip to the altar. He always liked a backup.
We exchanged vows at the Most Holy Trinity Church, which had been recently built to serve Tropicana Village. Its name was appropriate for my First Communion experience. Just immediate family attended plus a friend each for bridesmaid and best man. My bridesmaid was my sole, true friend, Julie, one who knew more about who I truly was than anyone at the wedding. Dads wore ties, the only time I ever saw my father-in-law do so. I made my gown, white, including veil, reflecting my virginity.
Jane
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Carole s Story 12 Our Son s Wedding and Honeymoon
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