The Wedding Party - Chapt.4 - Family Matters free porn video

The Wedding Party - Chapt 4 - Family Matters I stared at the panties that Natasha was handing me. "What are these for?" I said. They weren't the flashy bridal panties that she'd picked out for me previously. These were a simple pair of pink hipsters. "I think you should wear then when we're at your mom's house." I stared out the window. We were at 25,000 feet somewhere over Illinois. It was a cloudless day and I could see the fields laid out like a patchwork quilt. Natasha and I were the only passengers in the private jet she'd chartered to fly us to Dubuque. "That would be difficult," I said. "It's exactly the kind of thing I don't want my mom or Rachel to find out about. I don't need a distraction while I'm trying to talk my mom down off the ledge." "Your sexuality isn't defined by your clothes, sweetheart. You asked me to wear a skirt and blouse and here I am, Miss Girl Next Door, cute as a button, every mother-in-law's dream. Besides, I bet you tried on a few panties in your time at home. You had three sisters. Am I right?" I tried to hide the way my cheeks reddened. "That's got nothing to do with it. I'll know that I'm wearing them and I'll be uncomfortable." "You won't. Panties, jockeys, it's all the same." "It's not all the same. That's a female perspective. Men have equipment that women don't. Men's underwear has space for that. Panties don't. The gusset in a panty pushes a man's testicles up tight against his body. It feels like a satin hand has grabbed you and is gently squeezing. It's a little disconcerting. Panties are always reminding you that you have them on. Why are you smiling?" "I'm impressed that you know what a gusset is," she said. "You're terrible," I told her. She took me by the hand. "You need to do this for yourself. If we're going to be together, you have to come to terms with the nature of our relationship. You're under stress. I feel for you, babe. But that's exactly when you need to take a stand. Who we are and how we find happiness is none of your mom's business. We make our own happiness. Wearing panties is a statement of your independence." "I'm...it's a growing up thing. I was always scared to death of my mom. She's not someone that puts up with defiance. You'll see once you meet her." I held up the panties. "My mom is devout. This is a sin in her book. And Rachel was the enforcer when we were kids. They'll gang up on me. And you won't escape the inquisition, either." "I can handle whatever they throw at me," she said. "I'll just be myself." I sighed "That's not as comforting as you think it might be." "Babe, I came on this trip because I care for you. I'll support you 100%. You don't have to be afraid. Fear is something we do to ourselves. I want you to be brave. I understand why you decided to take out your earrings. You can't hide forever. Go put those panties on and face this like the man I know you can be. Please." I sighed. Of course, Natasha was right. I should be focused on the now, not the then. They'd never see the panties if I wore them and it demonstrated a commitment to our relationship. "All right," I said. "I trust your judgement." As I headed towards the bathroom at the back of the cabin, Natasha called out to me. "The offer to initiate you into the mile-high club still stands. We've got time and it'll take your mind off your troubles." For a brief moment I considered her offer. I shook my head and kept walking. I was too nervous to have sex right now. Besides, I was sure there was a camera in the cabin for security purposes. The crew would love watching us. All I wanted was for her to hold me and comfort me. I should have known that Natasha wouldn't take no for an answer. Cuddling turned to caressing, caressing to exploring, exploring to teasing, and before I knew it, she produced a travel-sized bottle of lotion and was stroking my cock with two hands as I settled deeper into the thick leather seats of the private jet. It was our first handjob. Natasha was laughing, a rich hearty sound and I kept telling her to be quiet. She was having fun, and so was I. She'd stroke me almost to orgasm, then pull her hands away. "If he wants me to continue, he should convince me," she'd say. I'd come up with reasons why she shouldn't stop and she'd start again. I was practically drowning in frustration and desire. She brought me to the edge several times. She was right about taking my mind off my troubles. The only thing in the world was the feeling I was feeling and the place where I was feeling it. When she finally let me climax, I had to put my hands over my mouth in order not to cry out. She'd drained me of more than just my cum. All the tension was gone, too. I sat with my eyes closed and she stroked my chin. "You've got the cutest little orgasm face," she said. That made my eyes open. "What's that mean?" I said. "I just like watching you when you climax. You have the happiest orgasm face I've ever seen. It makes me feel good, like I'm giving you the greatest gift one person can give another." "Why wouldn't I look happy? It's wonderful." Natasha shook her head. "I've seen my share of orgasms, and most people look like they're in terrible pain. You'd think you were hurting them, except you know you're not. You're different. You have this Mona Lisa smile the whole time. One hand touches the side of your face, combs through your hair, trails down and runs across your chest, lightly brushing your nipples. You trace the outline of your lips with a finger. It's like every part of your body wants to share in the joy. Your head arches back. You make little mewing sounds, your mouth becomes a perfect O. You breathe in tiny little gasps. And when you're done, and your eyes open just a sliver, they're unfocussed like you're coming back from a special place and the world is a surprise and it takes a minute to figure out where you are. You see my face, and you smile, and then your eyes roll a little back into your head again as your body remembers what just happened to it. It makes me want to be there for every orgasm you have for the rest of your life." "I'd sign up for it," I said. "And if you think we're finished, little Miss Sunshine, you're sadly mistaken. You need to take me for a trip to paradise. I want to share in the happiness, too." So I did. I slid between her legs and it was panties off and skirt up and her legs over my shoulders. I paid careful attention to her face when she came, but I didn't tell her what I'd observed. That was my little secret. She relaxed into her chair, every bone in her body turned to liquid. She took my hand, kissed it. "That was nice. I'm going to say something, but I don't want it to go to your head." "Alright," I answered. "You have the most beautiful eyes I've ever seen. When you're down there, watching me, all I can see are your eyes. It's like looking into the well of souls. And when you're wearing mascara and eyeliner, your eyebrows two perfectly manicured arches, a splash of subdued eyeshadow and those black upturned curves that are drawn at the ends of each eye, the whole universe is there looking at me. Don't get me wrong, you have very nice eyes the way you are right now, but when you're made up, you're a piece of art, the thing every great painter wished he'd painted. You've got that precious Irish Princess skin, pale as milk. The contrast is startling when you're wearing your makeup. Somehow, for you, it casts a special kind of magic. I'm not alone in noticing. At the wedding several of my friends commented on how hypnotic your eyes were." The cabin speaker crackled to life. "We're beginning our descent into Dubuque. We should be on the ground in ten minutes. Please buckle up." "You know," I whispered to her, "they probably made a recording of our little performance." "I hope so," she said. "I'll ask them for a copy." # "So, you must be Natasha." My mom put her arms around her and gave her a little hug. "We're all excited to meet Seany's girlfriend. We were surprised when he said he was bringing a young lady home with him. I didn't know he'd met someone. Can I call you Natty? It's almost like you're part of the family already." If insincerity were paint, mom was slapping on a third coat. "Good afternoon, Mrs. Kelly," Natasha replied. "You can't imagine how excited I am to be here." "Oh please, Natty. You can call me Ellen." Mom frowned and gave me a distinctly less enthusiastic embrace. "Welcome home, Seany." My sister stepped forward. "Hi, I'm Rachel, Seany's big sister. If you ever want to know any secrets about him, call me. I practically raised him." Natasha and she embraced. She gave me a little peck on the cheek. "Hello to you, too. It's been a while." Mom led us into the parlor. Little had changed. Still the same photographs on the wall, the same red velour couch - a little more worn than the day I'd moved out. Two overstuffed chairs guarded the fireplace. A curio cabinet filled with tchotchkes kept solitary vigil in one corner. I might as well have been 18 again. "Can I get you some tea, Natty? And you, Seany?" my mom said. Natasha smiled. "Sure, Ellen, that would be nice. Herbal if you have it." I shook my head. As soon as mom left to go into the Kitchen, Rachel came over and sat next to Natasha on the couch. "You're dressed as a man in one of the photos on the internet, aren't you?" "I make a good Mr. Darcy, don't you think?" "Seany told me it was a just a costume party where the men and women had to change roles. Nothing more. Is that really what it was? A simple costume ball with no subtext?" "I've never known Sean to lie," Natasha said. It was an artful dodge. "So then why did the internet say he was a transvestite?" "Those pictures have been taken down," I said. "I contacted the site and told them they were posted without my permission and I'd sue." She swiveled to face me. "Nothing on the internet ever really dies, does it? They'll pop up somewhere else, Pinterest probably. Mom is terrified somebody at her church will see them and she'll be humiliated. If somebody searches on your name, it'll be one of the hits." "There are people that are jealous of me because of Natasha," I said. "They posted those pictures and mis-represented them in order to hurt us" Rachel frowned. "That's another thing I don't get. Why is somebody like Natty interested in you? She's gorgeous. Mom's convinced this is a staged performance." Natasha laughed. "Oh, it's no performance. You should stop putting your brother down. He's a great friend and lover." "Him? I'd like to believe it. He never had a reputation as a Romeo in high school, though. Has he really changed that much?" "Let me tell you how wrong you are," Natasha said. "The first night we met I knew I had to have him. I took him home and bedded him. He made me climax five times that evening and only exhaustion, mine, prevented a sixth." I cringed. That was classic Natasha. She went for the jugular. Shock and awe. I wished I had her confidence. I couldn't tell how my sister would react. Mom would have flipped out. "The wilder the stories get, the less believable they are," Rachel said ruefully, then looked at me. "Maybe you should cover your ears for a bit. This is going to be girl talk." "Natasha's not lying," I said quietly. I could see that threw a little doubt into her. Inherently, she trusted me. I'd tried to be a good brother. Mom was always at work and Rachel had had to watch us after school and on weekends. It had really messed up her social life all through high school. I'd tried to make things as easy for her as I could. "Fine. Listen if you want. Natty, I'm married, so I know what I'm talking about. Wisdom gotten the hard way - through experience. Pardon me if I'm blunt, but you opened with it and I'm just following suit. No man has the interest or skills to do what you say Seany did. Not that many times. I have to work hard just to get my husband to bring me to climax even once. He's a good man, but men aren't built that way. We can wish it weren't so. Or we can accept it. Life on a farm is hard, but you learn to be practical. You take your happiness wherever you can find it." I felt the strongest sense of d?j? vu. That sounded so familiar. Natasha put a hand on her shoulder. "What I told you is absolutely the truth. You mentioned wisdom. Can anyone claim to have a monopoly on that?" Rachel shrugged. "I know what I know." "Let me tell you what I know. Any man can to educated in techniques guaranteed to please his partner. A little encouragement, a skillful guiding hand, a little carrot, a little stick, and you'd be shocked at the change in attitude and behavior. I can help you, Rachel. You can change things. No kidding, it's worth it." Rachel shook her head. "I won't mess up my marriage." I listened in amazement as they talked. Natasha led Rachel from point to point, challenged her, pushed her. Built a new place for her to stand and helped her stand there. Natasha was shockingly good at this. I'd not have thought my sister was this flexible. Being around mom wasn't the recipe for that, and Rachel had stayed behind while the rest of us had fled. I could see the wheels turning in her head. "Just consider it," Natasha said after they'd wrestled with things for several minutes. "And call me. I'm there for you if you want me to be. You deserve happiness." At that moment. Mom came back into the room, three cups of tea on a serving tray. She handed them out and took a seat in the other stuffed chair. "What did I miss? Who's deserving happiness?" "Why didn't you ever remarry, Mom?" I said. "Oh, I wanted to, believe me. A woman needs a man to build a life around. It just didn't happen. There aren't enough good men, I guess. Too few are in the Lord's graces, and those that are aren't interested in a woman with four children. It was the Lord's will, I guess." I thought she was finished, but after a short silence, she said "I talked to Pastor Jim about it years ago. Asked him if I was sinning by working outside the home, not being the homemaker I was put on the earth to be. He told me to find a husband and my sins would be forgiven. I suppose I'll have much to answer for when the Lord calls me home." I didn't know how to react. Mom wasn't the kind of person that ever opened up in front of us kids. She took a sip of her tea. "Lucy Kratz was asking about you." "Who's that?" Natasha asked. "A girl from mom's church," I answered. "A couple years older than me. Mom was always trying to hook us up. She bakes really good pies. That's what you kept telling me, right?" Mom rolled her eyes. "A nice girl. Good values. Always helping Pastor Jim. If you'd taken the time to look deeper, you'd have found she has a beautiful soul. That's the most important thing. Boys only see the superficialities, am I right, Natty?" She looked at her, weighing what she saw. "Not that you're not a nice girl. You've got the baubles and the flash. Somebody like Seany can't help himself around someone like you. I just wonder if you're the kind of girl that has the important qualities." "No offense taken, Ellen. Sean's your son. You want what's best for him. So do I." Mom didn't relent. She had an agenda and was making a point. I was unsettled by where this was going. "Pastor Jim helped me look you up on the internet. He said he was surprised at how little there was. Mostly about charities. You give a lot of money. Some of the things you give to aren't good places, they're not doing the Lord's work. I think you should look up Congressman Phil Wright. People are talking about him. People are saying the White House. He has plans to clean up the internet, chase the smut out of it the way Jesus chased the moneylenders from the temple. Find those who are deep in the clutches of Satan and reeducate them. He could use your support. Congressman Wright has some speeches on the YouTube. Listen to them. You'll be astonished." "I'm sure astonishment would hardly describe my reaction, Ellen," Natasha said. "Food for the soul," mom said. "Speaking of which, I popped some things into the oven while I was in the kitchen. I made Seany's favorite meal. Fish sticks and Mac and Cheese. I've arranged the sleeping arrangements for tonight. Natty, you and Rachel will be in the girl's room. You can choose either the upper or lower bunk. I've put clean sheets in Seany's room for him. I want us to go to Church later. I've arranged for Pastor Jim to talk to Seany about his problem." Not a chance, I thought. "Sorry. Mom. We can eat, but I'm afraid I have to get back by tomorrow morning. We've got an 8 PM flight. We'll be leaving in a couple hours." The flight was actually at 10 PM, but that would give her too much time to manipulate me. I could see my words agitated her. "I have to go check on dinner," she said and left for the kitchen. I could hear her talking to somebody, but I knew she was alone. "Almost done," she said, when she returned. "Seany, could you go set the table?" Our table sits in a cramped alcove off of the kitchen, barely room for four. The dishes were still in the same place they'd been years ago. I even remembered some of the plates by the chips in them. I was laying out the mismatched silverware when there was a quiet knock on the back door. At first I thought I was hearing things, then the tapping was repeated. I opened the door and Lucy Kratz was standing there, wearing a rumpled hoodie and holding a pie. "Hello, Sean," she said. "Uh...hi. Lucy. This is a surprise." She looked at her feet. "I know. I was 'sposed to meet you at the church, but your mom called and told me to get over here right now. I didn't have to time to do my makeup or put on the dress I was going to wear. I made this for you." She thrust the pie at me. "Thanks. Ahh...You see, I'm kind of busy right now -" She sighed, a forlorn sound that pulled me up short. "I've been waiting for you for a while, Sean. I've always thought we would be together. Your mom said we would. I know I'm not the kind of girl that men look at twice, but I would be real good for you. I would do everything in my power every day of my life to make you happy. Why can't that be enough?" I hardly knew what to say. I stammered out a stock answer, the lame one with platitudes. "Gee, Lucy. I know you're a good person. I've always been fond of you. It's not that. You'll find somebody that will make you happy and -" "I'm begging, Sean." I could see she was struggling not to cry. She looked into my eyes, as sincere as rain. "You're all that I want." "I can't...I don't..." How did you reply to something like that? I hung my head. "Alright. Okay." She straightened up, wiped at her eyes with a sleeve. "I won't bother you anymore. Even somebody like me has their pride. It's apple," she said. "I know it's your favorite." I watched her retreat into the dusk, her head held high. In that instant I loved her with all my heart. I didn't have half the courage that she did. I shut the door and leaned up against the doorframe. I was shaking. I put the pie on the table. She'd used a fork to make a heart outline in the crust, flanked on one side by and S and an L on the other. My mother looked up at me questioningly when I walked back into the parlor. "We're leaving," I said to Natasha. "Now." I felt cold and empty and sadder than I'd ever felt in my life. Natasha glanced at me and stood up and went to get her coat off the coat tree by the front door. I pointed a finger at my mother. "You're a monster," I said tonelessly. "What you did to that poor girl was unforgivable. Keep your poison to yourself and stay out of my life." "Who do you think you're fooling?" she shouted. "Did you think I wouldn't see the holes in your ears, or notice that your arms have been shaved? I'm trying to save you." I went to Rachel and hugged her when she stood up. "I'll miss you, at least," I told her. She hugged me back and whispered in my ear "Don't let mom get to you. I like your girlfriend. Good choice. One piece of advice for future excursions - your panty lines were showing. I saw them when you bent over to tie your shoes." I must have stiffened because she hugged me a little tighter. "Not a problem. I've had time to think since we talked the other day. Do what makes you happy. And just so you know, you rock a dress. Who'd have known I had three sisters?" "Thanks," I said, blushing. "Now I need to say goodbye to that lady of yours," she grinned and went to the front door. I put on my jacket and Natasha and I left without looking back. I could hear my mother calling from the front porch as we walked down the cracked concrete sidewalk to our rental car. "Why did you even come home?" she said. # A couple of the jet seats had been folded down into a bed. Satin sheets were turned back and a rose was on one of the pillows, held in place by a strip of Velcro. Two small mesh bags containing sets of slinky pajamas were peeking out from under the sheets. "Is this normal?" I said. "Special order. It's a three-hour flight back home and I thought you might want to relax." "Relax? You put Machiavelli to shame. 'Aprincemust have no other objective, no other thought, nor take up any profession but that of war,'" I said, quoting him. "The Prince. I've read it." "No surprise there," I laughed. "Let me guess. Sun Tzu, probably The Way of the Samurai?" "Right on both accounts. You're figuring me out." "But no Jane Austen. I can tell I'm going to have to see to your broader education. Do you know the other half of the that maxim I quoted?" "Huh. I didn't know there was a second part. Tell me," Natasha said. I took up my best professorial stance. "A princess must have no other objective, no other thought, nor take up any profession but that of pleasure." "Did he really say that?" "No, silly. I did." I began kissing her and after a while I let her guide me onto the bed. I made love to her with a passionate desperation. I was running away from the hurt that my mother always inflicted on me. It seemed I'd found a place of refuge. It didn't surprise me at all that half an hour later I was naked in the bed, on my knees and bent forward at the waist, arms folded for support and resting on the narrow sill that surrounded the cabin window. I lay with my chin on my arms, watching the darkness. It was the biggest window I'd ever seen in an airplane. A layer of clouds blocked the view to the earth, but the stars glittered like fragments of shattered sunlight. I could see the Milky Way smeared across the horizon. It was beautiful here. My body rocked gently forward and back, guided by Natasha's hands. "Do you like this?" she said. "Uh huh. So nice." It was. I was riding the sensations, content to surf the increasing waves of gratification. It wouldn't be much longer. No need to rush. Go with it. I leaned my face up against the coolness of the plexiglass. "Some people are afraid of a vibrator, but you seemed to welcome it. At least your body did, you naughty girl. I'm excited that you like toys." I felt the cold dab of lotion she squirted on my penis as she continued stroking me from behind. The speed of the vibrations increased and I shivered. So close. I gazed into the starlight, lost and found in ways I'd never be able to express. I thought of a line of poetry that seemed to fit. "Two little ams and over them this, aflame with dreams incredible is." "What's that from?" she said. The vibrations increased again. "E. E. Cummings." I gasped, a sudden intake of breath. "Favorite." oooohhhhh "Poet." It was suddenly hard to speak. Tears were coursing down my cheeks. I was having sex in the heavens, and the universe and I were in perfect alignment. Whatever the stars were, I was. Whatever god was, so was I. "Two little ams and over them this, aflame with dreams incredible is," she whispered slowly. I came. When I was done, she held me in her arms, brushing away my tears. "I'm going to have to read this Cummings guy. I never realized poetry had this kind of effect." # We lay together under the sheets. She was behind me, an arm resting on a hip. "I know what I have to do about Lucy," I said. "She's not your responsibility," Natasha replied, her breath tickling my neck. "True, except maybe we're all each other's responsibility." Natasha played with my hair, making short curls with a finger. "That's why I need you. I don't think that way. You show me how to be a better human being. So, what's the plan? I know you've hatched one. You've been quiet for the last 30 minutes." "Viktor," I said. "I'm guessing that's a name." "A guy I work with," I said. I rolled over to face her. "He's Ukrainian. Always complaining about American girls. Listening to him would make you laugh." I tried to imitate his accent. "Bones, nothing but bones. What can you make of bones but broth? Give me a meaty girl, a girl to make a meal out of." Natasha chuckled. "A lot of food references. I bet he likes to eat." "A woman that cooks is his feminine ideal. Lucy has that in spades. I think they'd be perfect for each other. He's a nice guy, blustery but a caring heart. They'd fit together like pieces of a jigsaw puzzle. I'll talk to him at work tomorrow." "He'd trust you to set up a blind date?" "Internet romance at first. He thinks his accent is a turnoff, so it'd let him get comfortable. Plus he's mid-thirties and starting to doubt whether he'll ever find anyone to love. Loneliness is a curse." "Long distance romances usually don't work. I'm just saying." She slipped a leg over my thigh and pulled me closer. "And I think I'll be invited to the wedding." I was grinning. It felt right. Anything to mend the wounds my mom had inflicted. I touched Natasha's cheek, wondering at the smoothness and perfection of her skin. "Thanks for being with me. It helped a lot. It was a waste to go there, I knew it would be, but I had to try." "I didn't think it was a waste," she said. "I understand so much more about you now that I've seen where you come from. I liked Rachel." "Yeah. Funny thing. Seeing her again made me feel closer to her than I have in years." "She asked for my phone number. I can get her started on fixing her marriage." "Fixing or meddling?" She gave my rump a sharp slap, eliciting a surprised yip. "Have a little faith in me. I said I liked Rachel. I'd never do anything to hurt her. It's easy to see you're brother and sister - she has the same Irish Princess skin, the same build, the same eyes, the same smile. A pretty woman. I wonder if her nipples turn almost pink like yours do when you're climaxing?" "Hey, stop lusting after my sister, you sex maniac," I scolded. "Save your lust for me." "Babe," she said, touching the tip of my nose with an extended finger, "You're hearing me wrong. I'm just pointing out where the pretty comes from. I promise to have pure thoughts about Rachel. Besides, I have to thank her for the photo she slipped me. It's going right on the mantlepiece." "I can tell this isn't going to end well. What did she do?" She rode her leg up and down the outside of my thigh. "You look really good in your cheerleader skirt and pom poms." I swore. I knew exactly the picture she was talking about. "I was ten. My sisters needed a fourth for their little practice squad. What choice did I have?" "As the twig is bent, so is the tree inclined," she said. "No wonder you get off wearing panties, Missy." She kissed me, a long, slow, affectionate exploration. "I'm glad I met you," she said. I propped my head up on an elbow. Her profile was backlit by a sky full of stars. It was like she was wearing the evening. "I've been thinking." It was time I stopped hesitating, stopped being afraid. My stomach was suddenly doing backflips. "I want to move in with you. I think we should be a couple the way you want us to be. A thirty-day trial. You don't have to make a commitment that way." "No," she said. No hesitation, no weighing of options, just a blunt refusal. I'd thought about it in excruciating detail, tallied up the pluses and minuses, reached the same conclusion my heart had. Now it felt like that very same heart had been ripped out of my chest. "No?" She took me by the hand. "I'm a no returns kind of woman. Yes, move in with me. But there's no trial. We don't need one. We were made to be together." Words abandoned me. I nodded. The cabin speaker crackled to life. "We'll be starting our descent shortly. We should be on the ground in fifteen minutes. Take the opportunity to freshen up. Make sure there are no loose items around the cabin, then find your way to a seat and buckle in. From both of us here in cockpit, welcome home."