The New Bride
By Cate.
" Do it yourself," I said when my aunt asked me to re-pin the flowers in
the buttonhole of her jacket. I could see my mother's startled look.
Though she disliked my aunt and knew I was difficult to control at times,
she had thought that on Aunt Kitty's wedding day, which at last looked like
passing off without too many recriminations, I might have behaved myself.
But I had been awkward at the church, difficult at the meal and had refused
to dance with the groom's afterwards. The groom was in his
sixties, pale and ill-looking after my aunt had nearly danced him off his
feet to the guitar, bass guitar and saxophone trio hired for the evening.
My had originally refused to accept the idea of this marriage,
because of the groom's advanced age. Only relentless pestering by my
mother had caused him to submit and turn up to give his away. As
her eighteen-year-old bridesmaid, I was being much too obvious about being
angry with my aunt Kitty and the funny thing was that I wasn't quite sure
why I was angry now.
I had been sent down from Dublin a couple of days early to help my aunt
get ready. It was hot Indian Summer weather nearing the end of August and
we were sitting on deck-chairs in the garden of her cottage just two days
before the wedding. I was wearing shorts and a light top and Kitty had on
the print dress she used for working in the garden. She was a short,
stocky woman with a rather masculine face, a square jaw and strong,
straw-coloured hair. She must have been nearly forty and I didn't see her
as particularly feminine or attractive. I had never stayed with her on my
own before and normally my Jennifer would be there too, and Kitty
ruled us strictly and made us mind our manners. I felt maybe in the last
few days she and I were a bit closer that we had been before. That
particular day we had been to Dublin in her car, visiting an expensive
lingerie shop called "Madame Claire's" although I had been made wait
outside while Kitty made her purchases. "You've never been a bridesmaid
before," she said now, "but I'm sure you know the procedure." I nodded
wisely. "The bridesmaid has to do everything the bride wants. It's not
lucky otherwise." "Of course," I said. "That's what I'm here for." "Good,"
Kitty said, smiling and patting my knee. She had strong but quite pretty
hands with short, square-cut nails. The sun was still high enough and she
took up her straw hat from the grass and put it on, casting her face in
heavy shadow. "I'll want you to help me dress, of course, on the big day,"
she said. "I'd love to do that, Kitty," I said. I was dying to see her
new outfit. Because of her age she wasn't having a white wedding and would
be getting in a jacket and skirt she had already shown me in her
bedroom wardrobe. "I never showed you the stuff I got today," she
remarked. " Some of it's for the honeymoon, of course, but I need to check
nothing shows through the suit." "Yes, I know," I said, pretending I had a
certain amount of experience in these matters.
In her bedroom she opened the expensive blue and purple bags from the
lingerie shop, pouring out on the bed four stunningly beautiful white bras,
two black ones and a couple more that were still in their boxes. She then
produced half a dozen packets of expensive and a blue silk
garter. There were also a dozen pairs of panties, both plain and lace and a
sort of light corset or basque in an exquisite black lace. "I put on a
couple of pounds since I bought my suit," she said, "that's why I think I'm
going to need this." She held up the garment by the narrow shoulder-straps.
It had high-cut legs and four dainty elastic and lace garter straps with
delicate pink lace roses where the garters snapped shut. "It's called a
merry widow," she said and laughed, "Maybe that's what I'll be soon - he'll
probably have a heart attack when he sees it."" I couldn't imagine Aunt
Kitty in these pretty things, but I said, "They're so,...adorable." "I knew
you'd love them," she said,"Mmmmmm" bending down and kissing me on the
cheek. She'd never done that before and, without thinking, I gave her an
answering peck on the side of her rough, tanned face. "Before I try
everything on," she said. "I'm going to get in the bath for a good soak."
"Okay," I said. " Like to give me a hand?" "What?" I gulped. "Help to
soap me?" "No, Aunt Kitty, I couldn't," I said. "You ARE my bridesmaid,"
she said. "wouldn't you like to wash me completely from head to toe?" I
was stunned. "Please, Aunt Kitty," I said, "I'm VERY grateful to you for
asking me, really I am..." She reached out to me, smiling. "Come on then."
"No," I said, panicking, "I mean, grateful to be your bridesmaid, but..."
Call it my background, if you like. Nuns had educated me. I had never
seen a naked adult before, and I hoped I wasn't going to start now. I
sometimes had fantasies about my and had spied on him a few times
and he didn't know I'd seen him masturbating naked once. Sometimes, in my
most secret thoughts, I'd thought I'd like to see my friend Edna naked, or
Siobhan, the Head we'd all had a pash on at school, but NOT Kitty.
Kitty looked a bit annoyed as if I was stupid or something, but she made a
face and just grinned. "All right, come back to me in half an hour," she
said, pulling a towelling robe from the wardrobe. "I want you to check my
seams for me and also that my hem is right at the back." She collected some
cream and a shampoo from her dressing-table and went out to check the water
was hot enough in the tank in the airing cupboard.
For a few moments I fingered the exquisite undergarments, feeling a
surge of envy that Kitty, normally a wearer of dowdy dresses and the cotton
Aertex "unmentionables" I'd seen on the washing line, would wear these next
to her skin. For half an hour I dozed in the armchair, watching the wisps
of steam flick out thorough the half-open bathroom window. Last time I had
been here on a day like this was in May and the Mayfly had been hatching on
the lake half a mile away. They only lived for one day, mated and died,
Kitty told me - the males anyway. That day they'd clung to the walls of
the house in a black mass of wings and spidery legs and sometimes they lay
in the yard where we crushed them accidentally underfoot. I remembered the
strong, fishy smell they gave off, particularly because Kitty had said it
was like the smell of sex. Kitty generally maintained the prudish
demeanour of women of our culture, but I had begun to guess there was a
more earthly side to her. I could hear her singing now in the bathroom.
She had a good, rather masculine voice.
"Whiskey you're the divil, You're leadin me astray, Over hills and
mountains And to Americay"
Then I heard her calling me.
She was in the bedroom when I stepped into the dark kitchen, almost
blinded after the sun.
"You're stronger, sweeter decenter, You're spunkier than tay.....
Suddenly I was feeling happier than I had for months. I fancied myself
as having a sweet voice and I joined in, an octave above Kitty's rough
contralto.
"Oh, Whiskey you're my darlin'...." We warbled together and I walked
into the bedroom.
"Drunk or so...oo.. ber," I faltered. Her stocky white body, in the
blinding sunlight through the window, was stark naked except for a tiny
pair of black lace panties. I bolted.
"Kitty, please," I begged, my voice trembling as I stood leaning against
the dining-room table. I was shocked and could hardly catch my breath.
But it was not simply at having seen her almost naked. I now knew beyond a
doubt that I would have given anything to have been able to stare
unashamedly at her, but I knew I would only dare to do so in anonymity or
from a place of hiding. I felt I could not face the frank, challenging
eyes of a naked woman, and I knew that Kitty's look WOULD be frank and
challenging. I could only dare to ogle her in secret and desperately hoped
I could retain the vision of magnificence I had seen.. All beautiful
bodies were slender and tall, I had thought. I had a promising figure
myself and had often studied it for ages in my mirror at home. I was
slender, with tiny and long straight limbs. But compared to Kitty
I was a completely anonymous stick figure. She had stocky, short legs and
I thought of de Maupassant's description of one of his solidly-built
Normandy prostitutes, lifting up her skirt to show her "sturdy Norman
legs." Kitty's waist was uncompromisingly with a gourd-like swelling
of the belly and a heavily indented muscular area around the navel. I was
aching to enter the room again and gaze on the extraordinary sweetness and
heavenly femininity of her large white with their swollen nipples
and dimpled, purple-pink surrounding areas and her heavy thighs, solid as a
man's but with those matchless feminine curves. In retrospect I was
furiously angry with myself. I had been invited to pamper and minister to
that magnificent body and had declined. "This thing is murder" I heard her
cursing from the bedroom and then the sound of her staggering against the
rickety wardrobe. Then things got calmer and I heard the crackle of a
stocking packet being opened. "Can I come in now, Auntie?" I called, in an
agony of frustration. I heard the creak of the bedsprings as she sat down
and the clatter of her new shoes as she dropped them on the floor and I
could imagine her pulling on and gartering her stockings. "Auntie," I
called, "please!" She didn't answer me, kept me waiting. Was she punishing
me? Kitty had a vindictive side, I knew that. I was ready to cry with
frustration. "I'm decent," Kitty sang out.
Perhaps it had been an illusion, I thought. Mind you, for a short,
stocky woman, she still looked wonderful in the suit, with black and those expensive Italian shoes. She usually wore heavy, masculine
footwear, but these black T-strapped shoes with four inch heels set off to
perfection her long, narrow, elegant feet which in turn made her legs look
voluptuously longer. But, still, now that the white, fleshly vision had
gone, was she not just a small expensively-dressed woman in a black suit?
No, she would never be entirely dressed for me again - the stunning sight
of her nakedness, the sheer arrogance with which she stood there, waiting
for me, would never leave me. But what a surprise she was either way! She
sat down at her dressing table and touched up her lips. I had never seen
her wearing lipstick before. Then she stood up and turned to face me. My
heart nearly turned over when she extended one knee daintily, so that I
could see her kneecap glow faintly through the dark nylon, then she flipped
up the hem of her skirt and began to adjust her garter strap and stocking,
her hands turned demurely under the hem so that there was no vulgar display
of thigh above the stocking-top "It doesn't matter now," she said, "but, on
the big day you'll have to check my seams for me." "I'll do it now,
Auntie," I said desperately. "No need," she said dismissively, "Well, just
a quick look." She turned and I admired her shapely calves and the
incredibly seductive shadows at the creases at the backs of her knees. I
thought I was going mad. I had never felt this way before. What was she
doing to me? "Well?" she demanded. "What?" I asked stupidly. "Have you
gone asleep. My seams - are they straight.?" "They...they're both a little
to...towards the outside of your..your" I faltered. I felt I couldn't
mention anything to do with her body - that my voice would betray me. "My
what?" she snapped "Your...your legs," I stammered "Damned garters," she
grumbled, bending down and massaging her seams inwards over her calves
"I'll be helping you to dress, won't I, auntie?" I said. "Hmmm," she said,
looking at me quizzically and, no doubt, seeing the confusion in my eyes.
She stood, one foot in front of her, elegantly, hands on hips. "Do you
think it fits all right here." "Y..yes, beautifully, Auntie." "At the
waist?" "Yes, Auntie." "Say it." "It fits ...beautifully at the waist."
"And the other places?" "Where, Auntie?" I prevaricated. "Where else is
there?" she snapped, irritated. "Well?" "The b...bust and the hips,
Auntie," I stammered. I was in agony. What did I want to do? What the
hell WERE the bridesmaid's duties anyway? Maybe dressing the bride WAS
acceptable behaviour? I guessed I'd have to ask Edna later.
We were climbing at dusk through the larches and pines. Edna was than me and a Protestant. With her I had visited her little church under
the rook-infested trees at the edge of the village and gazed at the brass
eagle on the lectern, the tattered regimental flags on the wall and the
ancient pews, some reserved for the members of long dead gentry families.
It seemed empty and desolate, lacking the welcoming sanctuary lamp I
was accustomed to. In those days we Catholics weren't supposed to visit
Protestant churches but I was rebellious and listened to nobody. This was
the last day of the moon, the Lugnasa festival. In our church they had
condemned it again last week at the mass in Gaelic "Se an scleap sin obair
an deabhail." But Edna had sworn I should see it, the Pagan Celtic
Festival that still survived in isolated pockets of the country.
In the last shaving of the moon the sparks were rising from the fire.
Some of the dancers were masked. A fiddle and an accordeon were playing,
the squeeze-box making an eerie sound, gulping and gasping for air. The
straw woman ran and jumped over the fire, landing in a shower of sparks. I
had seen the straw with the wren-boys that visited homes with a dead
wren hanging from a branch, singing
"The wren, the wren the king of all birds"
on the day after Christmas. Edna told me that, in the few places where
the Festival of Lugnasa was still celebrated, there was a straw man, but
here it was still the original straw woman. There were bottles being
passed around and Edna told me it was poteen, a colourless spirit made
illegally that could blind you. Many of the people around the fire,
cavorting, were beyond middle age, but in the ditches and under the trees
young couples were entwined and even in the open I saw a woman in the
flickering light, lying on top of a having intercourse with him. The
straw woman jumped the fire again and the fire whooshed and sparked
skywards. "A few years ago," Edna said, "the straw woman went on fire.
Two other women had to on her to put her out. Luckily they'd had
plenty to drink." Edna's church took no position on this festival. Our
church had always either take pagan festivals over for their own, like
Saturnalia for Christmas, or else condemned them like they did this one.
The work of the Devil, they called it. "Your Aunt Kitty was the straw
woman once," Edna said . Somehow this didn't surprise me. Someone gave me
a drink. It was cold and clear and a bit like vodka. Then we linked arms
and danced around the fire. I saw a called Peter I'd seen at the
Protestant dances I went to with Edna. He'd never taken any notice of me,
but tonight he came up to me and said hello and smiled and put his hand on
my cheek. He looked beautiful. I'd never been happier. I don't know what
came over me, but I stepped forward and put my arms around his waist. We
kissed and I began to feel aroused. Twenty minutes later I was being
pressed against a hollowed out oak tree, you could smell the charred
interior where lightning had struck it, and, though I still had my on, my dress was up around my waist and I could feel his erect penis
pressing between my legs. The music was louder, the fiddle faster and the
fire reached higher shooting its sparks towards the night sky. This was
the first time I'd ever let a go this far with me and I told myself
that if I managed to keep my on I'd be all right but suddenly he
shuddered and I could feel the wetness between my legs and I knew it wasn't
only me that had made it wet there. His tongue filled my mouth and my head
was pressing painfully against the bark of the tree and, on the backs of my
hands, grasped around him, I could feel, faintly, the heat of the fire. My
womb stirred and melted and I knew I would have given myself completely.
Five minutes later I was being marched down the hill by a furious Aunt
Kitty. The had looked ridiculous, pushed to the ground, with his
shocked pale face, his limp penis dangling between his legs. Kitty was
shrieking at him that she'd cut it of if he went near me again. Edna ran
over and put her arms around me. I was trembling, but Kitty turned back
and pushed Edna away. "Slut," she screamed, "take your hands off her.
What did you bring her here for?" "I...I'm just trying to comfort her,"
Edna stammered. "I'll comfort her - if it's not too late for that," Kitty
cried dramatically. The music had faltered for a moment, but picked up
again. I was horrified to find my dress was still up around my waist and
hoped that, in the flickering light nobody could see the shame between my
legs. "Cover yourself up," Kitty hissed, pulling me roughly against her as
I adjusted my clothes. I had on only a light cardigan over my dress and I
was beginning to shiver, but I knew it was mainly with fright. "Oh God, I
hope there hasn't been permanent damage done tonight," Kitty moaned as she
pulled me down along the path, the lights of the village winking below, my
wrist gripped painfully in her powerful grasp, making me stumble as I
couldn't keep my balance with one arm imprisoned. Edna was scurrying
behind us, begging Kitty to listen to her. "Leave us alone," Kitty
bellowed, then growled to me, "I told you to stay away from that Protestant
bitch."
At the road, where the lane ended at a broken stone wall, a and a
woman loomed out of the darkness. "Oh, you found her, then, Kitty," the
man said and the woman piped up "I knew you were very worried there,
Kitty," her voice full of spiteful inquisitiveness. "Ah no, she only went
up to have a quick look at that ould nonsense up there," Kitty boomed in
her most domineering voice. "Queer goings on, I'll be bound," the woman
quavered excitedly. "Ah, sure it's nothing these days," Kitty said
dismissively. Edna caught up with me. "Gotta go," she said. "I love
you." She kissed me on the cheek. "And listen," she added, flicking her
red hair back, her face pale and spiteful, "if Kitty gives you a hard time,
just remember she's been ridden by half the in the parish." "You're
crazy," I said. "Then why was she never...?" Edna smiled sarcastically.
"The half," she said. "Bye..." It was incredible, to look at Kitty
in her gabardine raincoat with the greasy collar, her dress with the
fallen hem and the men's socks and shoes, the straw coloured hair all over
the place. I tried to imagine her in a context that would do her justice,
say nineteenth century Moscow, in a great house with troikas pulling up in
the snow outside, seeing her in a low cut evening dress, her hair up, her
powdered catching the ballroom lights, signalling with her fan,
glancing sideways at a lover. Because I could see her like this in my mind
I knew I had been given a tremendous gift when it was just too late, that I
was perhaps the one person that had been able to see her truly for the
goddess she was. If it was true she had had many men, had they ever really
seen her body? Or were they just sordid couplings, with Kitty on her back
with her skirt up in a field after a dance, or in a somewhere?, Surely
anyone with eyes in his head, who had possessed her with full carnal
knowledge, could not have given her up? But then my own troubles engulfed
me again. "Kitty," I said, as she dragged me up the garden path, "please
don't tell Daddy," "Supposing I don't tell him and then we discover in a
couple of months time that you're up the pole" Kitty said crudely. I went
completely hysterical in the little front porch and Kitty slapped my face
hard. "Stop it!" she said. "Stop it." She slapped me again. And again.
Then I was sobbing, and in deep shock.
In the bathroom, with the hot tap running noisily into the old-fashioned
iron bath, she roughly stripped my dress off, then grabbed the sides of the
waistband of my sodden and bobbed down, making me step out of them.
"Yuk," she said, tossing them into the soiled linen basket. She let me
take off my own tiny bra and I stood, ashamed, in front of her, not only
because of my conduct, but with my meagre breasts, skinny flanks and total
absence of hips, no trace of that full, fleshy magnificence that I now
regarded as the very epitome of womanhood.. Aunt Kitty sat down on the
side of the bath and tested the water, turning on the cold tap as she
turned off the hot one. She turned to look at me. "It's hard to be angry
with you," she said, "Or to blame that boy. You're so sweet." It was only
two steps into her arms. "Oh, Kitty," I sobbed, "I'm so sorry." I nuzzled
her neck, my face buried in her hair, the dense steam from the water
surrounding us "Get in the bath," she soothed me, her hands caressing me at
the waist. "As hot as you can take it." She checked my again as I
climbed over the bath and lowered myself gingerly into the water which
still felt scalding hot. "No blood anyway," she said. "Looks like you've
kept your hymen. But maybe you'd lost it already?" "What do you mean?" I
asked, settling down in the sudsy water. "Have you ever gone farther than
that?" Kitty demanded. "You haven't done any riding, have you?" " What?" I
asked, startled. "Horses," she said, laughing. "Just relax," she said,
I'll be back. She returned with her cigarettes and a bottle of wine
and glasses. She lit a cigarette and then pulled the cork from the bottle
and poured out two glasses, handing me one. There was a chair, missing its
back, beside the bath and she sat down and drew on her cigarette. The wine
was rich and delicious to my inexperienced taste and even the smell of
Kitty's cigarette was deeply comfortable in the small, cosy bathroom with
the soothing heavy steam rising from the water. "That pair tonight," Kitty
said. "There's a lot of jealousy over me getting married, you know. A lot
of people say I'm only marrying Twomey for his money." She drew again on
her cigarette and signed with satisfaction "Well, what's wrong with that? I
don't think he can get it up any more so maybe it's a nurse he's looking
for." "Is he nice?" I asked, for I had never met him. "He's all right,"
kitty said dismissively. "He thinks it's the blood-pressure pills he's
taking are causing the problem and he's talking about going off them." "Is
it safe to do that?" I asked. "It's his funeral," Kitty snorted. "His
family are raging, of course. To hell with them - it's not as if he hasn't
given them all a good education" "Are you glad to be getting married,
Kitty?" I asked. "Dunno," she said. "Mind you I like men. Always did.
Anyway, he has this nice house in Clontarf. He had a big job in the Civil
Service and has a good pension." She sighed. "He's not a bad bollocks.
And I'm not getting any younger, am I?" She lifted up the wine bottle and
poured herself another glass. "You've already been drinking tonight,
Miss," she said. "I could smell it off your breath up there. You've had
enough." There was a distant rumble of thunder. "That's the end of the
good weather," Kitty said. She stood up and opened the window. "It's
still warm out," she said, "there's a storm forecast." and with that there
was a flicker of lightening in the part of the sky I could see. "Some
people think I killed my aunt," Kitty said. "I was driving and she didn't
have a seat-belt on. But I loved her. I adored her." "You lived with her
here, didn't you?" "That's right. She was a widow, childless, so my
mother, sent me to stay with her. They used to do that sort of thing then.
I don't agree with it - it's not a good idea." She stood up. "Still, I was
happy enough in the end." She then knelt down by the side of the bath.
"Let's just check this, then," she said. She put her left hand behind my
neck to steady me and plunged her other arm underneath the water, coming
up, ticklish, between my legs. I felt two fingers probing, then gently
opening me and I in turn opened my legs to her nervously. She was very
tender with me, feeling around as if she knew her way in there better than
I did. "Okay, you're still virgo intacta," she said, bending to kiss me on
the cheek. I turned to kiss her back so she missed my cheek and her lips
brushed mine. We kept them pressed deliciously together for long moments.
I was waiting, hoping now she would open my lips with her tongue and enter
me. But she didn't.
I wasn't frightened by the storm, which had now broken in earnest with
heavy rain rattling the windowpanes and the thunder following only seconds
after the lightning flashes. But I pretended to be. When Kitty asked if I
wanted her to sleep with me I nodded, mutely. I was already in bed in my
nightdress and the room was almost in darkness, just the light from the
narrow hall through the half-opened door. I watched Kitty undress, trying
to pretend I wasn't really looking. She was only a vague white blur when
she removed her dowdy dress and then a brilliant flash of lightning lit
the room and her body glowed like fire and I was able to stare greedily at
her for two or three seconds while her head was enveloped in her dress.
There was heavy shadow below her and between her legs. She must
have been raiding her trousseau, because she was wearing a minuscule pair
of brilliant white silk which didn't even cover her pubic hair, so
stiff and golden that it made me think of the straw woman, the Goddess of
the harvest. Then she pushed in beside me and put her arm around me.
She was lying behind me and we were spooned together. She didn't touch
my or anything really private, just held me around the middle of my
tummy, her finger stroking up and down occasionally, but it was driving me
wild. "It only happened over a long enough period of time," she said. "My
aunt and me." The finger, stroking, stroking, exploring my navel, then
stroking again. Again the thunder cracked; it seemed almost directly
overhead now. It was warm in the bed and Kitty's body seemed to me to be
giving off a fierce heat. I was drowsy, but intensely alert at the same
time, acutely conscious of her naked body behind me. I longed to turn to
her, but I knew this could be only at her invitation. It would be much too
easy for me to be mistaken or to do the wrong thing. "Just kissing at
first," Kitty said. "She was starved for affection and so was I. Her
husband had been a poor lover, a cold man." Again her fingers explored my
navel. She sighed contentedly. " We kissed on the lips at first," she
continued. "It was a long before we shared a bed. And even then it was
kissing, kissing all the time. Incredibly sweet kissing, hours on end.
She was so gentle." Kitty lifted up on one elbow and kissed my shoulder.
"My God," I thought," this is it!" "You've a sweet little body," Kitty
said. "Did you know, when you walk you lift your legs very high? It's
lovely. Like a filly does." She lay down again, pulling me tighter
to her. I could feel the points of her against my back and her
thighs cupping my bottom. "We became very passionate," Kitty said
sleepily. "She turned out to be a very passionate woman. And she'd never
known it." She yawned. "I adored her."
I slept very badly, even when the storm had passed over. I had a
confused dream that I was in a bedroom with Kitty and she was at the open
window, displaying something to a cheering crowd outside. She was dressed
as a straw woman, but her were bare. As she turned back into the
room I woke up. Kitty was turned away from me, breathing gently. I waited
another twenty minutes before I dared to masturbate. I wouldn't even have
tried it, with someone else in the bed, if I thought I was going to have
any dificulty, but I knew, the way I was on fire, that just a touch would
bring me off. I had to bite my lips to stifle the desire to cry out.
Kitty turned over heavily, sleepily and her arm flopped over me again.
"Mmmm, bet that was nice, my little darling," she murmured.
The next day, the day before the wedding, we were full of affection for
each other, kissing every time we met in a doorway or passed each other at
the table or the sink. Sweet kisses. Kitty drove to Dublin in the
afternoon to get her hair done and I had to go into the village to collect
the flowers for the church and the hotel, and also to check on the cake
which was being iced by a friend of Kitty's. When Kitty came back she'd
had her hair tinted a lighter colour, with highlights and a sleek
bobbed cut. I was surprised how well it went with her square-cut
,masculine face, her lop-sided grin, but I knew I was totally in love with
her. But that night, instead of coming to bed with me as I'd hoped, Kitty
got drunk and vindictive and started cutting her neighbours to pieces,
talking about how annoyed they were that she'd finally "pulled it off" and
was getting married. "You wait," she said. "You'll hear the priest saying
he's pleased I'm getting hitched at last. I'll bet he is. And they'll all
be saying it." She lit another cigarette. "But they all think I should
never have got this place. Oh yes, they don't say it to my face...."
"Please Kitty, come to bed.." I said, taking her arm. "Piss off," she
said, shaking me off roughly. "What's wrong, Kitty?" I asked. "What's the
point?" she said. "What's the fucking...fucking point of it all?" "Can I
undress you, Kitty?" I asked. She glared at me suspiciously, then pointed
at me with two fingers, a cigarette balanced between them. "Piss off," she
slurred. An hour later, just as I was getting off to sleep she staggered
into my bedroom and collapsed across the end of the bed.
In the morning I led her, hung over, to the bathroom and, with
incredible excitement, began slowly and reverently to divest her of her
dress and then, after staring wonderingly at her nearly nude body, her bra
and panties. I tied a scarf around her head. I had the water already
running and helped her flop heavily into the bath. Reluctantly I left her
soaking there and went back to the bedroom to lay out her clothes for her.
I hung her suit on the outside of the wardrobe door and put the basque and
the black on the bed, the beside them and her shoes,
which I had given an extra polish last night, on the floor beside the bed.
When I returned she was lying back in the bath, her head resting against
the tiles, her beautiful arms spread along the sides and I lifted her head
and put a dry towel behind it to prevent her hair getting wet. Then I took
up soap and a sponge and began washing her body, taking advantage of her
somnolent state to touch her far more than was necessary, soaping her
breasts and washing her back, then her belly and legs, then between her
legs, excited, yet full of sadness that this was her wedding morning. Then
she pulled my hand away, threw the sponge into the water and pulled me to
her naked breasts, her body shaking with sobbing. "Please, Auntie, mind
your hair," I said, struggling to keep her upright. "Fuck my hair," she
bawled, finding my mouth, pushing her tongue in to capture mine. We ended
up on her bed, wrestling, kissing, frantically grappling with each other,
first me on top, then Kitty while I tried desperately to encompass her
sturdy waist with my legs. I ended up flat on my back on the counterpane,
sobbing with joy while Kitty rode me triumphantly to climax.
She was stunning in the silky black basque although, for me, nothing
could equal Kitty in her pure unadulterated nakedness, but the "merry
widow" gave her a waist and a different glossy, sexy quality. And
for me there would always be the exquisite body beneath the clothes. I
eased her carefully up her legs, trying not to stare at her
glossy straw-coloured bush, smoothing the tops evenly, snapping them with
her garters and carefully checking her seams, then assisted her to pull on
the dainty black panties. I helped her into her blouse, which fastened
with about twenty tiny buttons at the back, then she stepped into her skirt
and I knelt at her feet to ease on her shoes. I took one of her feet in my
hands, looking at the narrow toes inside the sleek nylon covering and I was
unable to resist taking her foot and kissing it. When I straightened up my
eyes were full of tears. "Please, Auntie," I said. "Don't get married."
She didn't answer me and I sat watching her while she applied her makeup,
taking a long time to colour her lips and then she let me help brush her
hair. She took a hatbox from the bottom of the wardrobe and opened it,
lifting out the broad-brimmed black hat with black silk roses above her
head, lowering it slowly to rest on her hair. She held me to her and it
was curiously intimate there, under the broad-brimmed black hat, pressed
against her bosom. "Christ, I didn't mean it to go that far," she said.
"Not yet. I thought we'd just kiss. I only meant us to kiss for a long
time yet. Kissing can be so sweet..." "Mind your lipstick," I said, but
she planted her lips on mine and I tasted the jammy, boiled-sweet taste of
the lipstick as she forced her tongue into my mouth "Christ," she moaned
and for a moment I thought we were going to end up again, struggling on the
bed, but we broke apart, panting heavily. "Please, Auntie..." I said, "do
you mean...?" "Get dressed," she said thickly, "The car'll be here soon."
"Auntie," I pleaded "Listen, just forget this ever happened," she said,
dismissing me as she sat down crossly to repair her makeup.
Because it was such a small wedding party I was sitting beside the
groom. He tried to make conversation, telling me about his interest in
sailing. "Dinghies mostly, he said "I had an Enterprise," he said. "Then
a Dragon." He looked as though it was a long time since he had had a
sailor's tan, his face was tired and grey " "The tides in Dublin Bay can be
tricky, though." he explained, "As much as four knots in either direction."
"Yes," I said, as if I knew what he was talking about. "That's right,"
Kitty said dryly, "You wouldn't want to be caught with your spinnaker out."
She was obviously tired of these reminiscences of an salt and had been
snappy with her new husband all day. Twenty or thirty more people had
joined us for the evening part of the reception and the band was playing a
selection of jigs and reels. There was a lot of changing partners and
swinging around, but sometimes Kitty held on to me longer than she should
have, causing confusion, before swinging away with her new husband who was
doing his best to pretend he was enjoying himself.
The next afternoon, the last thing I could have expected, Kitty and I
were standing in the large front room of the big house in Clontarf
which stood well back from the busy road, facing the park and the bay
beyond.. Although it was Saturday the traffic was still heavy on the Howth
Road and sailboats were circling in the misty distance in the bay. On the
wall were paintings and black and white photographs of yachts, gaff-rigged
and Bermuda-rigged, a younger Mr Twomey at the helm of one of them, another
photograph of him with a pretty blonde-haired woman standing beside a
dinghy on the slipway of Clontarf Yacht Club, another of sailboats
on a sunlit sea at Skerries. On the huge marble mantlepiece were several
large silver sailing cups. "Even if Twomey doesn't have a second stroke
and can come home, I'll have to arrange a bedroom for him downstairs,"
Kitty said. "One thing's for sure, we won't be sharing a bedroom." It had
happened while he was watching her undress in the suite in the Gresham. As
if, I thought, the vision of the Goddess had been too much for him "They
said it was a direct result of going off those beta-blockers," Kitty said,
"so he has only himself to blame" I thought of the frenzied dancing Kitty
had made him take part in towards the end of the wedding, everyone up on
the floor, going mad like they did at country weddings. "Listen," Kitty
said, as we went into the hall and climbed the heavily carpeted stairs with
the ornate banisters, "In a couple of months you'll probably be going to
Trinity," "If I get the points, I suppose," I said. We went into the big
main bedroom, with its heavy walnut bed, dressing table and wardrobe, its
wonderful view over Dublin Bay. "This connecting room used to be a
dressing-room," Kitty said, opening another door, but it's big enough for a
bedroom and study. It'd be yours. Both rooms need doing up of course."
"Mine?" I said. "It'd be much handier for Trinity than Glenageary is. I'm
sure your Mum and Dad would agree." "You mean...?" I said delightedly.
"Oh, Kitty...!" "Pleased?" "Oh, Yes, YES!" "Show me how pleased." I was
instantly in her arms, and our lips collided hungrily, then became gentle
as we our sweetness from each other, our tongues exploring deeply,
finding and learning each others bodies delightedly again. Kitty gently
but forcefully pressed her thigh between mine, lifting me so that I was
riding her thigh, creating a delicious friction between my legs that made
me almost faint with pleasure as I was pulled helplessly against her
opulent and belly which cushioned me with their sweetness. We
collapsed on the bed with Kitty on her hands and knees, kissing me while I
tried to unbutton my dress and maintain the kiss at the same time,
desperately trying not to withdraw my lips from hers, to hold the kiss as
if my life depended on it. "Oh, Kitty," I said, "Kitty, please..." I
didn't know if I could release her for long enough to give her enough space
to undress. Kitty took my face between her hands and started to give me
dry pecking kisses on my lips and, in the chilly air of the bedroom, I
could already smell her arousal. "No, not here," she said. "Come on"
The bridal suite in the Gresham was the sexiest room I had ever entered.
The wallpaper was and the sofa and chairs of soft white leather. The
bedroom was filled with flowers, not just the usual ones supplied with
chocolates, fruit and champagne by the management, but the two hundred roses that Kitty had bought in O'Connell Street earlier that afternoon and
arranged at both sides of the canopied bed, in silver champagne coolers and
borrowed vases. I sat on the bed and stared in disbelief as Kitty stepped
out of her blue dress. She was wearing pure white underwear, a skimpy
push-up bra, a garterbelt with narrow lace straps supporting her shiny tan
stockings and the smallest pair of I had ever seen in my life, a
tiny triangle of white silk that barely pretended to cover her pubic area
and left her bush tantalisingly exposed above where the material was
dimpled by the elastic. She worked the down over her thighs and
tossed them to me, then busied herself with her garter straps. The were still warm from her body and I unashamedly pressed them to my nose,
inhaling a deep draught of her Goddess scent. She tossed her to
me then and reached back to unclip her bra, letting it fall to the floor as
she turned and bent over a side table to pick up a champagne bottle from
its ice bucket. I had never looked at her in glorious nakedness from a
rear view before and I could only gasp at the magnificence of her high,
muscular buttocks set on those heavy thighs, the deep sway-in towards her
solid waist and the rippling, glorious femininity of her upper back and
shoulderblades, the swelling magnificence of her shoulders.
I bent to pick up her bra from the carpet, but she caught me and began
to undress me and then sat down in one of the armchairs, pulling me onto
her lap. We kissed slowly, deeply and sweetly and then drank some
Champagne, then kissed again, sharing mouthfuls of Champagne with each
other. Kitty's lipstick was all over my face and our bodies were both
giving off a strong smell of arousal. Kitty's body was hot and she was
sweating heavily under the arms and I kept kissing her under there, her shaven armpits, licking up her sweat with my tongue. She took the ring she had always worn before she had become engaged to Mr Twomey and she
put it on my left hand, on my second finger which was the only one it would
fit, then she reached towards the table and next thing she was pulling the
blue garter up my thigh and I giggled to see it there among all the naked
flesh. We started kissing again, Kitty's tongue deep in my mouth and me
caressing her nipples, feeling the wet, sweaty, pimpled beauty under my
fingertips and then we got so worked up we couldn't make the bed and Kitty
was on top of me, trying to possess me there and then on the floor. I
couldn't believe she could find someone like me attractive but she was
nearly frantic in her overwhelming need. I felt I was almost about to pass
out with desire when I was at last free to grasp and fondle her body at
will in an almost mindless passion and at the same time possess her lips
with mine. Yet she matched me in my frantic scramble towards orgasm and we
both wailed out our cry of climax together.
Then Kitty got a towel from the bathroom and dried under her arms and
along her glistening and across her engorged nipples. I was lying
now, exhausted, on the towel and she was kneeling beside me, finger-fucking
me gently. I began to sigh as I felt a rising, gentle tide of excitement
build again in my womb and vagina. Kitty bent down and kissed me. "This
might a little bit, my sweet one," she said, "but I want to be the one
to take your virginity." I smiled and nodded. She continued to finger-fuck
me and then, just as I started to orgasm, she pressed harder, pushed two
fingers deep into me and I felt a dull, tearing pain as she deflowered me.
Kitty was lying on the bed, smoking, an ashtray balanced between her
breasts. I was smoking too, sitting astride her belly, surrounded by all
the vases of roses which reflected a warm pink in the flesh of our
naked bodies. I had my hands on her because I wanted to get her
excited again. There was a small amount of blood still oozing out between
my legs and it stained the white skin of her belly. She traced it with her
finger. "You know what this means?" she said. "I think so," I said,
staring down lovingly at the Goddess. "I've made you my bride," she said.
The end.
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