After the Wedding

Goddam, it hurt!

Roger had slipped and twisted while stepping off his ladder at work. The pain in his lower spine was sharp and sudden. Damn! The best he could do was stand tilted to one side – it eased the pain some, but not much. On the scale from 0 to 10, this pain was 8 or 9, for sure.

'Shit!'

His girlfriend's brother was getting married in a few hours. Roger wasn't excited about going, but he had promised.

He walked toward the pickup, listing at an angle, wincing with every step. Getting up onto the seat was agony. He sat still for several seconds, focusing his attention over and above the pain, before starting it up and driving toward his apartment. Once there, he carefully and slowly got out of the truck, still unable to stand up straight.

He lived with his girlfriend in a second floor apartment, and climbing the stairs was slow and painful. He grimaced in pain with every step.

When he entered the apartment, his girlfriend, Connie, was standing in front of the mirror brushing her hair.

"What the hell happened to you?"

"Ahhh, I missed the last step of a ladder, and twisted my back. It really hurts bad. I don't know how I'll make it through the wedding. It hurts to move and it hurts to sit in the pickup," Roger said with a wince.

"You're going to the wedding with me – even if I have to carry you!" came the stern reply. "I bought this new dress, and got my nails done, and I am not going to miss it! And I am not going by myself!"

"Geez, thanks for the sympathy," Roger answered, groaning as he cautiously tried to sit down. "Can't you go without me? I don't think I can sit through the ceremony. Standing is no better."

"Look, I know you don't want to go. You're just using this as an excuse. We are going, and that's final!" Connie's voice was stern and shrill.

She stomped to the bathroom, and came back with two pills and a glass of water. "Here, take these - it's what's left over from when the dentist pulled my tooth last month. Take them and get in the shower, we have to leave in half an hour."

Connie was not a sympathetic woman. No one would describe her as being thoughtful, either. She was, in fact, quite selfish. But, she was damned good in the sack. She was horny most of the time, and she was willing to try anything - whenever it was her idea, and suited her.

Roger swallowed the two pills, and moaned as he stood up. His lower back was killing him, and he held onto the furniture as he made his way to the kitchen, and popped open a beer. OK, he could do this, he thought. He hadn't eaten since breakfast, and the pain pills would start to kick in within just a few minutes. He swigged the beer, leaning against the door-frame, and watched Connie get dressed. She had bought a strapless, low-cut gown for the wedding. Off came her bra, and she stepped into the gown. Roger smiled as he admired her pointy, small-sized breasts. Connie was a redhead, and Roger admired the pink of her nipples. "Nice tits," he said with a smile.

"You'd better get your ass in gear if you ever expect to see these tits again," she said, struggling with the gown.

Connie's were the second set of breasts Roger had ever seen - well, other than in Playboy magazines. Connie's were pointy, with puffy, swollen pink nipples. Not like the full-breasted girls in Playboy, but, tits were tits, right?

Getting his shirt off was easy. Work boots and jeans and socks were a different matter, though. Pain grabbed him hard as he moved slowly and carefully getting them off. Eventually, he was fully undressed. His body was toned - the result of the manual labor he did - but he felt like a geriatric at the moment.

It didn't take Roger long to shave, shampoo and shower. By the time he was rinsing off, the pain medicine had begun to work its magic. As he toweled off, he was able to stand a little straighter. Putting on socks and slacks and shoes wasn't so bad. He slipped on a new shirt and tie that Connie had picked out for him [to match her gown], and they were out the door right on time.

Going down the stairs aggravated his back, and he felt sharp stabs of pain with every step. They got into Connie's Ford station wagon, with Roger as comfortable as he could manage behind the wheel. He grimaced when he extended his legs, but Connie really didn't care.

They had to drive across town and pick up her younger sister and two younger brothers, then drive 20 miles to the wedding. All went smoothly, except for Roger's pain. He didn't get out of the car at Connie's parents house, nor did he turn around to notice what anyone was wearing, hoping to avoid aggravating his back. When they got to the church, he had to slowly exit the car, while everyone else piled out quickly and practically ran into the building.

"Come on!" Connie ordered impatiently.

The medication had helped ease the pain by at least half, but Roger still moved slowly. Changing positions aggravated the pain.

Connie did look very pretty and sexy in her gown. It was green, and went well with her red hair.

"I'm coming, I'm coming," he answered with a controlled smile. Connie took his arm, and they managed to make an entrance together. Everyone was admiring his girlfriend, and that, combined with his best efforts to act as if everything was normal, resulted in no one noticing he was angled off a little to one side.

Thankfully, the church pews were padded. The service was too long, but Roger managed to find a position that was pretty comfortable for him to sit. The medicine eased the pain more completely, and he almost forgot about it - until it was time to stand up at the end of the ceremony. Roger had to use the back of the pew in front of him to pull himself to his feet. Still, it was much easier than it had been a few hours ago.

When the family were all lined up for pictures, Roger noticed that Connie's little sister was dressed in an identical gown. The color was blue, but the cut was identical. But Cathy definitely filled it out more amply than Connie did hers, even though Cathy was a few years younger.

Cathy was just a little chubby - she still had some 'baby fat' on her. Her breasts were probably twice as big as Connie's. The tops of her breasts seemed to overflow the bodice of the gown. Everytime she inhaled, they pushed upward. Roger [and probably every other guy in the room] couldn't help but notice the swells of her breasts jiggle as she moved. Cathy usually wore T-shirts or sweatshirts, and Roger hadn't really noticed her that much before. But it was impossible not to notice her this evening.

Cathy was still in the awkward late teen stage. Goofy. Clumsy. Kind of dopey. Tom-boyish. Usually in the shadow of her older sister. But in that gown, she was quite the sultry young lady.

The whole group piled into cars, and drove the few miles from the church to the VFW reception hall. There must have been 150 people there. A couple of people slapped Roger on the back when he was introduced as Connie's boyfriend. The jarring sent jolts of pain down his back, but he tried not to let on.

"Let's get something to drink," Connie insisted. Roger had never been to a reception where there was drinking or dancing, and was trying to take in the sights and sounds. He got a Scotch and water, and practically gulped the first one. Maybe that would make the pain more tolerable.

He tried one dance with Connie, but it aggravated the pain. "Listen, honey," he said. "I really can't do this." He was apologetic, but Connie didn't particularly care. She had had two drinks, and was determined to dance and show off her gown. She got lots of compliments on her appearance, and was determined to have fun.

Roger made his way to a wall, and leaned up against it. It relieved his back. He could watch people dance, and he could be somewhat comfortable. He didn't really care that Connie was out on the dance floor without him.

An hour went by, and Roger slowly sipped a second and third Scotch. Cathy came over to him, a little wobbly on her feet, and stood next to him against the wall. She asked him to dance.

"That's real nice of you, Cathy, but I can't dance very well - especially the fast dances. I hurt my back at work today."

"Awwww, you did? How awful! Is that why you haven't been dancing with Connie?"

"'Yeah," Roger answered. "Thanks for asking, though", he said with a smile.

"Would you dance with me if it we take it real easy?"Cathy asked. She turned toward him, and pressed her breasts against his arm. Roger looked down at her cleavage, and said "Sure we can give it a try."

After a few more fast songs, the band slowed the tempo, and Roger and Cathy stepped a few feet away from the wall, and danced slowly. It was mostly just holding one another and swaying side to side. It wasn't too bad. Roger hurt when he tilted a little too far, but he was managing.

Each of them noticed Connie was dancing with a big blonde guy, doing some kind of ballroom step. The guy managed to slip one hand down from the small of Connie's back to the upper part of her butt. Cathy noticed too. "He's an old boyfriend," she said, apologetically.

"Oh, well, everybody's had a few drinks, and I'm in no shape to dance out there with her, so I guess it's OK," Roger said solemnly.

"You can grab my butt if you want to," Cathy said sincerely.

"What? No!" Roger answered. "You've had too much to drink! Besides, how come you're drinking, anyway? You're not old enough."

Cathy smiled, and said, 'It's a wedding. Everybody can drink. Besides, I'm only drinking beer, not whiskey."

When the music stopped, they went back toward the wall.

"You want to try sitting down?" Cathy asked.

"Um, sure, I can try."

Cathy steadied him, aware that he still hurt. "OK, I'll go get us another round."

In a few minutes, she returned with another Scotch for Roger, a beer for herself, and a little paper cup filled with nuts. They had a nice time talking about nothing, and each of them became more intoxicated. Cathy went and got them another drink. On her way back, she was wobbly to the point that she accidentally stepped out of one of her high heeled shoes. She limped back, one shoe on, and kicking the other ahead of her.

Connie noticed, and came over to scold her sister. She noticed that Roger was noticeably tipsy. "What is wrong with you two? You're both getting drunk!"

The pair simply smiled at Connie, but each of them wanted to tell her to get lost.

"We've got to be leaving in a few. Mom said I have to take the little kids home by 9. You guys go get into the wagon, and I'll find the boys."

Neither Roger nor Cathy could walk a straight line without concentrating. As Connie followed them, with boys in tow, she noticed their impaired gait.

"I'll drive, Roger," she instructed. "The rest of you pile into the back." All did as they were told, with lots of giggles and silliness.

"Mom and dad will be absolutely furious if the find out that Cathy is drunk!" Connie hissed to herself.

The drive back to Roger's apartment was filled with foolishness. The boys farted and burped loudly, laughing hysterically - each having had one beer. Roger was more quiet, watching the road as Connie drove. Cathy was also quiet, struggling to stay awake...and not to puke.

When the car stopped, Roger got out, and Cathy opened the door and vomited. Ewwww, ewwww, ewww! Connie was disgusted.

"Dammit, Cathy! What the hell's wrong with you? Can't you hold a few beers?" No sympathy; only criticism. After a few moments of silence, she said, "OK, you're spending the night here. Mom and dad will be SO pissed if I take you home like this. Look! You got some of your puke on the gown. God dammit, Cathy! Get your ass upstairs, and get cleaned up!"

Roger sympathetically took Cathy's arm, and started toward the stairs.

"Fucking bitch", Cathy muttered. "I don't know how you put up with her."

"Yeah, sometimes I wonder," Roger sighed.

"She must have a velvet-lined pussy," Cathy said just before heaving once more at the base of the steps. Roger shook his head in disbelief that Cathy said that. "Something like that," he muttered.

Connie churned up gravel as she backed into the alley, and hastily headed toward her parents' home with the boys.

Roger and Cathy helped each other up the wooden steps to the apartment. Both were unsteady on their feet, and Roger still hurt - though not nearly as intensely as earlier in the day. Roger managed to fit the key into the lock, and they entered the apartment and turned on the light.

"Guess you'd better shower," he told Cathy. "Maybe we can clean off the couple of spots on the gown so no one will notice. I'm gonna have a drink while you shower off," he said, walking unsteadily through the dark living room toward the tiny kitchen.

Cathy stood in front of the mirror over the dresser. She was definitely tipsy, but felt better for having vomited. There were a couple wet spots on the bodice of the gown, but nothing serious. She reached back to unzip, but couldn't quite muster the coordination necessary. After struggling for what seemed like an hour, she called, "Roger, would you come help me please?"

Oh, God. What did she want? He hadn't heard a sound like her falling down. Roger went into the bedroom to check on Cathy.

"Would you unzip me, please?" she asked.

Roger sighed. "Sure, I don't mind."

He grasped the zipper tab, and pulled it downward. As the back of the dress separated, he was reminded that Cathy wasn't wearing a bra. "There you go, Cath. Now get into the shower."

Cathy pulled down the top of the dress, and Roger could see her exposed breasts reflected in the mirror. Oh, good Lord, he thought. They were huge in comparison with Connie's!

"OK, listen, you get into the shower and get cleaned up. Your sister will want you to be all tidy when she gets back," Roger said as he left the room.

The combination of pain medicine and alcohol amplified his inebriation. Roger was drunk, though still functioning. Cathy had had only a couple beers, but was unaccustomed to drinking, so she, too, was wobbly.

Cathy did as she was told, stripped off the rest of the way, and stepped into the shower. It was an old metal shower enclosure built for one person. When Roger moved into the apartment it had patches of peeling and peeled paint. He had scraped it down to the bare metal, and painted it with Rust-Oleum. Bright red. Seemed like a good idea at the time.

She turned on the water, adjusted the temperature, and stepped in.

Roger sipped a little more Scotch on the rocks. He hoped it would eradicate the pain, but it seemed only to inebriate him further. Connie would come back within an hour, and he could be asleep by then, he hoped. Passed out, probably.

"Roger...?" Cathy called from the bathroom.

Roger sighed, and went toward the beckoning voice.

Standing at the door of the bathroom, he asked, "What is it Cathy?"

"Would you help me? I dropped the soap, and I'm afraid I'll fall if I bend over to pick it up."

"What?! You're showering. Can't you manage?" was his reply.

Cathy's voice softened. "Roger...pleeeease....won't you help me?" She pulled back the shower curtain, and Roger could see most of her wet, naked body. "See...it's down there." she said with a slur.

Roger stared. Cathy had quite a body. Curvy at such a young age. Busty. Only a small patch of pubic hair. Ample breasts full and round.

He sighed and rolled his eyes. This was just crazy. Wrong. Connie would murder them both.

This was his girlfriend's little sister. And she was her younger sister. God, this was just wrong at so many levels!

But...the medication and alcohol had dulled his reason as well as his pain. Roger carefully leaned forward and reached for the soap. The sleeve of his shirt was soaked instantly. He handed the soap to Cathy, and pulled the shower curtain closed.

Cathy immediately pulled the shower curtain wide open. "Don't you think I'm pretty?" she slurred.

"Well, yeah...sure I do, Cath," Roger said sincerely.

"So....don't you want to watch me?"

"Yeah, that's cool. But...Cath... you're Connie's little sister. And...you're getting water all over the floor." They weren't Roger's best thought out lines. But he was becoming erect from the show, and his 'little head' was doing the thinking...or lack of thinking.

"Then watch me, Rog," Cathy said as she began to soap her full breasts. "Do you like my tits? They're bigger than my bitch of a sister!"

She had a point. They were round and large and high on her chest. The nipples were dark brown, and erect. He stared as she washed them provocatively.

"Yeah, they are real nice, Cath," Roger said, sheepishly.

"So, don't you want to touch them?" Cathy asked with a slur.

Roger's cock twitched. "Yeah, Cath, they really are nice. But...you're Connie's sister. And...hell...you're her baby sister. And...your dad would kill me! So, yeah, I'd like to, but...I gotta pass...." He pulled the shower curtain closed once more.

Cathy opened it again. "I'm not gonna tell anybody, Roger. Hell, dad would kill me right before he killed you. He won't let me go out except on double-dates. And...what my bitch sister doesn't know, isn't going to hurt her." She tugged her nipples, and pouted her lips. "I can see you're all excited," she said, gazing at the tent in his crotch.

"Take your shirt off. It's wet", Cathy coaxed.

Roger took it off clumsily. After all, it was wet, he reasoned.

His chest and belly were well-muscled. "Ooooh, Roger...nice bod!" Cathy cooed as she moved her hands from her breasts down across her soapy-wet belly.

"Now take off your slacks so they don't get wet."

He steadied himself against the shower, and stepped out of his trousers.

"Dang, Rog! Did you smuggle a banana out of the reception in your briefs, or are you glad to see me?" Cathy asked with a giggle.

"Cathy! Look, I can't help it."

She splashed water on the front of his briefs and coaxed, "Come on Rog, take them off, they're all wet." She stepped partially out of the shower and tugged at the waistband of his underwear.

Roger tried to step back quickly, but the combination of tipsiness and a twinge of pain in his back prevented the attempted maneuver.

"Come on and shower with me. You can wash my back," Cathy urged. She grabbed his erection through the damp fabric of his briefs, gave it a squeeze, and stepped back into the shower.

Roger's rational thinking had pretty much vanished. What the hell? If Connie comes back now, we're both dead meat. He stepped out of his briefs and into the shower with his girlfriend's sister.

The shower stall was small, and each of them was a little wobbly from the alcohol.

Roger stood behind Cathy, trying not to touch her, but the shower was so tiny that it was impossible. Mental alarms were still blaring in his head. This was his girlfriend's younger sister. She would be back home shortly. They would both be in SO much trouble if Connie caught them this way.

Connie would have a screaming fit and they would break up. That was bad enough...and might not even be a bad thing. But her dad...hell, he might beat the shit out of Roger once he found out!

Cathy partially turned herself to hand the bar of soap to him. "Here, Rog, wash my back, would ya?"

He mutely took the soap and began to move it slowly across her uppermost back muscles.

"Ohhh, that feels good," Connie cooed as she rinsed shampoo from her hair.

Neither of them said a word when her butt came in contact with his erection.

Cathy felt a sense of satisfaction knowing that Roger had a hard-on.

When she had seen the outline of it in his briefs, and felt through the fabric, she was pretty sure he was bigger than her big brother. She had caught him once, stroking himself in the shower at home. That was the one and only time she had seen a guy erect, and it was for only a second or two. She really knew very little about erections or sex. She had two younger brothers, and she had seen them bare-assed before, but they didn't have boners. She had never seen any pictures of nude guys.