And The Bride Wore White

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SadieRose
SadieRose
425 Followers

"What did you say?" she asked, wide-eyed and breathless.

"I told him the truth, we 'aven't got a phone." Rayne laughed weakly. "Then he asked where I lived and could he come round and see me? So I said my Dad probably wouldn't be too happy and he asked how old I was. I think that freaked him out a bit, he told me he had two daughters, one a year older and one a year younger than me, and a son who was fourteen. I asked how he'd feel if someone his age was meeting up with one of them for a fuck. He was a bit quiet after that."

He was kneeling over her, shaking a little, his head down and his breath coming in short, rapid bursts. Skye tried to reach towards him, wanting to hold him for a little while. She felt loose and wet inside and he was visibly exhausted.

"Are you okay?" she whispered.

"Mmhh..." he nodded, then shook his head a little. "I feel sick. I need some water."

"Fetch my razor and some shaving gel if you're going to the bathroom!" she called as he rolled weakly off the bed and stumbled to the door, clutching his head in one hand. "And don't puke on the carpets, we've just had them cleaned!"

***

He doubled up over the toilet bowl in the main bathroom and vomited until his guts were aching. His head was thumping uncontrollably now and he just wanted to lie down on the bathroom floor and die. How could Skye be marrying that useless tosser, Jack? She had already complained, when she told her little brother in intimate detail about the night he got her pregnant, that he wasn't in her for more than a handful of minutes. Skye was going to get so bored with him. He sank to his knees and wrapped his arms around the bowl, resting his brow across the backs of his forearms and retching violently.

Fucking champagne! He was such an idiot for drinking so much of that crap last night. At this rate he would still be puking in the bushes when Skye walked up the aisle.

When his gag reflex slowed at last, he managed to stagger to the basin and put his face under the cold tap for a few minutes. The water he gulped down helped and he felt less dizzy as he slumped onto the floor and sat for a while with his pants undone and his knees drawn up, his head resting in his arms once more. Cold water dripped from his collar and the ragged ends of his shoulder length, black hair. He concentrated on breathing slowly, until his head stopped spinning. Only then did he force himself back onto his feet. Methodically he flushed the loo and splashed his face again, then borrowed a toothbrush and scrubbed his teeth until his gums bled.

His reflection stared back at him out of the mirror, ashen and gaunt. His eyes were red-rimmed, icy piss-holes in the snow and he too needed a shave. Long, lank hair hung around his drawn, colourless face. The shadows beneath his eyes almost swallowed them in until they were lost.

There was a twist of cocaine in his left, front pants pocket. He knew it was there but he was trying to keep from thinking about it. Jeli had given it to him the night before last when he told her that he was going home for the weekend. She had given him more than that, too. His cock still ached at the memory of her tight, hairless snatch slamming down hard on him as she pushed herself to climax after climax, straddling him on the rumpled bed. Then she had moved onto her hands and knees for him, moaning eagerly as he pulsed into her arsehole from behind, pumping his long, clever fingers deep into her well fucked pussy, bringing his dirty girl to orgasm again as he emptied his balls into her.

Rayne undid the tiny foil twist and dipped the tip of his little finger into it, rubbing the residue around his gums vigorously, then tucking the remainder back into his pocket for later. He clung to the edge of the basin as the coke kicked in, straightening his head in just a few minutes. Then he had another drink and hunted out the shaving things and a couple of towels.

***

Skye wriggled appreciatively on one of the towels, naked now, and blooming beautifully. He stroked her tummy with one hand then carefully applied the foaming gel to her slender legs and shamelessly exposed pussy. Carefully, her little brother stroked the blades over her soft skin, taking his time, shaving her legs very slowly and wiping the razor on the other towel after each stroke.

"Oh... that feels good," Skye cooed at him. "Such a relief."

He deliberately left her arse and pussy until last, making her crouch on the towel before him with her bottom raised and her legs spread. Carefully he applied more gel until her crack and mound were wreathed in white foam, then let the razor glide in light, short touches all down her exposed pelvis and between her cheeks, delicately tickling the puffy lips of her sweet wet cunt with the sharp blades. He kept his thumb over her clit whilst he shaved around the head of her sex, then pushed it into her slit as he slowly exfoliated her mound, lying beneath her like a mechanic under a car, watching intently as he removed every last tuft of hair. Finally, he washed her gently between her legs with a wet towel and pulled her smooth, warm, wetness down onto his face. Skye panted as he licked her out; a devotee, worshipping at the silky altar of her pale, hairless cunt.

"Now whose whiskers tickle?" she teased him, kneeling back to wriggle her pussy in his face. "Go and shave yourself. And have a shower! And get dad up, the cars are coming at eleven thirty."

"You are 'so' ungrateful!" he told her with a little sneer.

"I'll be grateful later. Now go and get ready!" she insisted in a tone of voice that he remembered mum using. It meant, 'no arguments'.

"As my lady commands," Rayne sighed, wriggling out from between her legs and scooping up the towels and shaving equipment.

MEET THE RELATIVES:

He had just finished in the shower and managed to shave himself without cutting his face to ribbons on the unfamiliar blade, when the doorbell rang. Skye's voice echoed down the corridor from the en-suite in her own room.

"Go and get that, it'll be Madeline!"

Dressed in just a bath towel, he padded down obediently to the front hall and opened the door. Madeline Powers was his sister's neighbour-to-be and she had charged herself with the preparation of the bride in the absence of their mother. A big, enthusiastic, florid faced woman of middle years, she was still somehow less countrified than Jack's relatives. Rayne had met her briefly before last night's party and decided then that she was the lesser of two evils. This morning he was less sure.

"Come along, chop-chop!" she harried him, the moment the door was open. "Is the bride up and about yet? We've only got a couple of hours to get her ready you know!"

"She's having a bath," Rayne said with a wan smile, as she bustled past him, armed with boxes of flowers and a mobile phone like a housebrick in one plump hand.

Madeline looked him up and down, utterly unabashed.

"Not much of you, is there?" she said at last.

"It's always been enough," Rayne told her with a shrug, and shut the door, directing her up to the bedroom, although he suspected that she knew her way.

It took a superhuman effort and two pots of coffee to get dad up and moving. He debated giving the old bugger some of the coke in his pocket but his father had a dodgy heart, along with a failing liver and lungs you could dry out and use as cut-price doilies. Rayne decided against it. Besides, he might need it later.

Whilst dad was in the shower, he gelled and blow-dried his hair in Skye's room, hoping that the smell of sex was not as obvious to Madeline as it was to him. He had pulled on a black shirt with a silver pinstripe that was a size too big for him, and a pair of charcoal-grey-metallic suit pants. He had bought the double-breasted suit for five pounds on the Portobello Road Market last week. Angelica paid to get it cleaned for him and coupled with a silver coloured silk tie that had belonged to one of dad's brothers, he thought it looked quite dashing. He styled his hair into a floppy quiff and borrowed some foundation from his sister to hide the dark rings under his eyes, before running a black kohl pencil around the insides and smearing a little silvery glitter across the upper lids. Finally he painted his lips with a shimmering, translucent gloss and pulled on his best black boots, a slightly worn pair of snakeskin-effect Cubans that he had bought in Folkestone when he was fifteen and loved to death.

***

"What do you look like?" Jack's sister Catherine exclaimed when she arrived with three of the bridesmaids; Jack's niece Amy, his youngest sister Arabella and Gemma who was the groom's cousin.

Rayne smirked at her back as she struggled in with the long boxes containing the dresses. Arabella and Gemma who were both in their mid to late teens cast glances at him and giggled as they followed her in. Clearly they did not share their relative's disdain. He winked at them and closed the door.

Ten year old Amy rushed off to find Skye but the other two lurked in the front parlour for a while, swapping make-up tips and listening to music whilst Catherine tried to organise them all. Rayne wandered out for a cigarette whilst dad was still in the bathroom. He was out front when a taxi pulled up and disgorged his cousin Mickey's wife, Sharon and their two eldest children Katie and Stephen who were also to be bridesmaid and pageboy, plus four year old Louise, the daughter of his other cousin Ted.

"Are we late?" asked Sharon cheerfully, rummaging in a huge floral handbag for money to pay the cab.

"You might be cuttin' it fine, I think we've only got about two hours!" Rayne quipped sardonically.

Sharon beamed at him and shook her head.

"You getting' it in the neck this mornin', babe?" she asked as they walked back to the house together.

"Naw... Skye's fine. It's everybody else that's a pain in the arse," he grinned at her.

"Give us a pull of yer fag, I'm gaspin'," Sharon pleaded before they went in. He let her finish it.

***

"Are you Skye's brother?"

One of the teenagers sidled up to him as Sharon took the kids inside. She was a little smaller than him, with reddish blonde bangs curled around her pretty face in a bob and big blue eyes framed by blue-mascaraed lashes. Her sidekick lingered just inside the door, getting in the way and pulling on her long, pale pigtails. They were both dressed in skinny-fit tee shirts and tight, diamante patterned jeans. Neither was wearing a bra although the pig-tailed girl needed to, he thought idly.

"Yeah," he said, leaning against the wall that ran up the side of the steps to the house.

"Thought so," the red-head remarked in her broad, Dorsetshire accent, blowing a chewing gum bubble at him. When it burst she swept it deftly back into her mouth with her tongue and added; "She said you were dead fit."

'Good girl, Skye-Ann!' he thought with a grin.

"Have you got a girlfriend?" she asked him boldly.

"Yeah. She's not come with me though," he revealed strategically.

"So you're all on your own?" She blew another bubble.

"Yeah." He pushed his hands into his pockets and studied the driveway as if he was waiting for someone. "What's your name?"

"Arabella," she told him. "But everybody calls me Bells. You're Rayne, aren't you? That's a pretty name. Like Skye's. Your mum and dad must have been really int'resting."

"Thanks." He eyed her perky tits again, deciding to take this odd remark as a compliment. '32 B' he decided with a little smile. "Was that your mum you came in with?"

She spat out her chewing gum in disgust.

"No-o!"

On the doorstep the blonde girl giggled again. Arabella shook her copper-coloured bangs in denial.

"Cath's my oldest sister."

Rayne did a double take. He pushed himself upright at once to hide the bulge in his pants.

"You're Jack's little sister? Fuck!"

"Yeah," she grinned at him, "That's Gemma, his cousin," she added, pointing at the blonde, who was closer to a C cup although she was quite slim-waisted. "We're Skye's bridesmaids."

"I thought you 'ad to be a virgin to be a bridesmaid," he came back, quick as a flash.

"You cheeky bugger! You saying I'm not a virgin?" Bells put both fists on her slim hips and glared at him, although there was a spark of humour in her blue eyes now.

"I bet you're not!" he teased.

"I bloody am!" She looked up boldly at him with a little smile on the cupid's bow of her painted lips. "But I tell you what, I'd let you take me upstairs after the wedding if you wanted to."

'Little hussy!' he thought appreciatively.

"Only if you let me take you the back way afterwards," he said with a grin.

"You dirty bugger!" Bells laughed at him and shook her head again.

"Come on, you know you like it," Rayne murmured, wandering around her, back towards the door.

"You're lookin' at my tits aren't you, you dirty bastard?" she exclaimed forcefully.

"That's because they're very tasty lookin' tits and you're pushin' 'em in my face, sweetheart," he commented wryly. "In fact, if you keep on bouncing them in front of me like that I'm gonna pull your top right up out here and suck those stiff little nips for you. Cop myself a nice feel, yeah!"

Her mouth fell open and she blushed furiously but there was a definite gleam in her eyes now. Rayne licked his lips. It seemed there was hope for Skye after all, frigidity certainly did not run in the family. He glanced over to the doorway; "What about you, Gems? You fancy a hot little threesome later?"

The blonde girl gasped and giggled some more, then glanced over her shoulder and fled back into the house. He was about to follow when Arabella's older sister reappeared in the doorway and gave him a very suspicious look.

"Bella, inside, now!" she snapped. "We've no time for messing around this morning!"

Bells slouched past her into the house but glanced back at Rayne once before she vanished, a smouldering look in her wide blue eyes. Catherine pointed a finger at Rayne and said; "I know your type. Keep you hands off her or there'll be trouble."

"I never touched her!" Rayne exclaimed incredulously. "She was chattin' me up!"

"I don't care who was doing what. Keep your hands to yourself. Don't talk to her, don't look at her!" The cobalt stare that fixed him was a colder, harder version of Bella's smoking gaze. Rayne met and fielded it with a scowl of his own but before he could open his mouth to retaliate she had turned back into the house.

"Tight arsed old witch!" he muttered, fishing another cigarette from the breast pocket of his jacket and lighting it up.

AN EMOTIONAL MOMENT:

Dad was out of the bath and wrestling with his cufflinks when Rayne came back up to the bedroom. His old man had managed to have a shave without drawing blood and make himself look fairly presentable for once. He was sitting in front of the big mirror on the dressing table, having combed his salt and pepper locks this way and that without persuading his hair to lie flat. There was a bewildered look on his face when his son wandered into the room and leaned in the doorway watching him working on his shirt cuffs.

"Used to be able to do this with me eyes shut," he remarked gruffly.

"They're fiddly," Rayne conceded in a quiet voice. "You wanna hand?"

Jimmy nodded at once and he came and sat on the edge of the bed beside his father, feeding the stem of the cufflink through the buttonholes in dad's best shirt. His father sat as still as a child warned to be on his best behaviour.

"You seen Skye this morning?" he asked at last.

"Mmmhmmm." Rayne nodded without looking up.

"She okay?"

"Yeah. She's good." He lifted his head, meeting his father's pale, china-blue eyes almost warily. He wondered how much Jimmy remembered about last night and did not want to be the one to bring the matter up.

"Shame your mother couldn't be here. She'd have loved today," Dad said wistfully. "Our little girl, all grown up, about to start a family of her own."

Rayne lowered his eyes to his father's shirt cuffs again, twisting the bar on one of the cufflinks so hard that it almost snapped. He said nothing.

"I dreamed she was here last night," Jimmy warbled happily, lost in a private reminiscence. "I reckon she's around somewhere, in spirit at least."

"Let me do somethin' with your hair," Rayne told him neutrally, rising to his feet. "Skye'll do her nut if you walk her up the aisle lookin' like a scarecrow."

His dad glanced up at him almost gratefully.

"Dunno how you get yours to stay in one place like that," he remarked with a shake of his head. "We 'ad Brylcreem in my day but you 'ardly see that now do you?"

Rayne gelled his thick, silvery hair in silence. His Dad was so grey. He couldn't remember when his father's dense, reddish black mane had begun to fade. Jimmy Wilde was only forty two; it was no age really, but he seemed like an old man all of a sudden. Rayne felt as if he had closed his eyes for a moment and when he opened them again everything had moved on. Skye was grown up and about to leave him for another man. Dad was an old geezer and Mum...

He felt the nausea well up before he was able to stop it. Rayne stumbled away, putting a hand to his mouth, his nostrils full of the sweet, sticky scent of gel and vomit. Madeline poked her head into the room as he crashed into the wardrobe's mirrored door and dry-heaved into his cupped hands.

"Oh dear," she said solemnly. "Seven years bad luck, that is! I'll fetch a bucket and some cloths."

At some point he remembered looking up and seeing Skye standing in the doorway looking like an angel. A furious, fecund angel! She was wearing a silk flapper dress in pearl white, with little strings of tiny pearls hanging down from the short skirt in an inverted V pattern. The lowest beads were hanging almost to mid-calf, the highest just above her knees. The ribbon shoulder straps were embroidered with silver thread and more tiny pearls as were the edges of the cups around her full, firm breasts. The pale material hugged her swollen tummy without pulling tight. Her black hair was pulled up at the back of her head, hanging down in little wisps, held in place with a pearl-encrusted clasp in the shape of a butterfly. Small, strappy, silver and white, open-toed sandals with a three-inch kitten heel, adorned her feet. Her finger and toenails were elegantly French manicured.

Behind her in the hallway he could hear the younger girls giggling. Skye, however was visibly not amused.

"Idiot!" she hissed. "What the fuck is wrong with you? Why can't you just be sensible for one day in your life?"

"Don't blame me! Blame fuckin' Sylvia! She got me pissed," Rayne protested. "I'll get the mirror fixed, I promise."

"Do you realise how old that thing is? It was Jack's great-grandmother's," she berated him. "How could you? How 'could' you break a fucking mirror on my wedding day?"

He heard the tears behind her voice and struggled to his feet to calm her.

"Don't cry, Skye-Ann. You'll ruin your make-up."

"Don't touch me," she snapped back at him, pushing his hands away; ignoring the hurt in his eyes. "Get cleaned up and get to the god-damned church! And so help you, when that vicar asks if anyone has just cause or impediment, if you so much as put your hand up to pick your fucking nose, I'll kill you!"

***

He locked himself in the bathroom once she had stalked back to her bedroom to finish getting ready. Dad tried to talk to him but his ears were buzzing. He felt sick and exhausted, totally furious with himself and with her and with everyone. His hands shook as he brushed his teeth again and tried to keep some water down. When that failed he unwrapped the twist of coke and snorted a little dab of powder off his fingertip into each nostril. That stopped the shaking and he was able to tidy himself up, before the cars arrived.

SadieRose
SadieRose
425 Followers