Life At Islands Estates Ch. 17

I smelled the coffee. I wondered who had made the delivery today. I opened my eyes and saw that the light was on in my bathroom. Neither Rita nor Camille was still in the bed. I rose up and peered across the room toward the bathroom but couldn't see if anyone was in there. Nature was calling at a great rate, so I dragged myself into the bathroom and found Louise polishing the long wall mirror above the sink. Louise was humming the Star Spangled Banner.

"Hi, Lulu," I said, on my way through to the head.

Louise smiled at me in the mirror. "Virgil," I heard as I closed the door to the cubical that housed the john.

As I was having my morning constitutional, the fog lifted over my sleepy brain and I realized that something must have gone terribly awry for Louise to call me Virgil. I hastened to finish my chore and have a word with her. She was still rubbing on the spotless mirror as I reentered the dressing room.

"Louise Alice Jackson, you turn your black butt around and look me in the eye," I commanded.

Louise stopped rubbing and turned to me. Her eyes were all welled up with tears and bloodshot. She looked like she was about to bawl all over me.

"So, give already!" I yelped.

"My baby's getting married," she wailed as the damn broke on the pent up tears.

"What are you talking about Louise?" I asked.

"You, Fathead! You're the first one," she wailed even louder.

"Oh, for heavens sake, Old Woman. I thought something drastic had happened. Of coarse I'm getting married. It was your idea. Remember?" I asked.

Louise stamped her foot and howled some more. "I know. But I can't believe it's really happening. I'm so happy for you and Rita, I could bust."

"Let's don't forget about Camille and Caroline," I threw in for good measure.

Another volley of tears and wailing followed.

"Lulu, I'm gonna beat your butt if you don't stop that infernal racket this instant," I said sternly, stepping up close to Louise.

Her howling subsided and she turned her tear streaked face up to mine, "Really, you'd do that?" she asked.

I kissed her, full on the mouth. "I would."

"I'm being a big pain in the ass, huh?" she whispered.

"A royal one," I answered.

"But," she started.

"No buts. One damn more minute of that blubbering and it's off with your britches and across my knee," I said smiling.

Louise bent at the waist, reached under her skirt, peeled her panties off and handed them to me. Pervert that I am, I held them to my nose and smelled them.

"Wah!" she said, grinning broadly.

I took Louise by the hand and walked her to the bed. Sitting on the edge of the bed, I pulled her across my lap and flipped the hem of her skirt up exposing her big black buns. I swatted her five or six times firmly on each cheek with my open hand. If she had been a white woman, her taillights would have surely been turned on.

She wiggled off my lap and stood facing me. My thigh, that had been under her naked pussy was, wet from her orgasm. She pushed me back on the bed and pulled my pants off. Kneeling between my knees, she sucked my cock into her mouth. Growing hard in her mouth, my cock reached its full proportions in seconds. Louise went to work in earnest, taking me down her gullet and using her throat muscles to massage my blood-engorged dick. She soon had me flooding her insides with sperm. The blowjob had lasted about three minutes. My heart rate would be ten minutes returning to normal.

Louise stood up straight, smoothed her skirt, and walked to the door. Turning she said, "I'm glad we could have this little talk." And she was gone.

I'm getting married in about five hours. I wondered what else weird could possibly happen between now and then. I walked outside onto the patio and stood looking down at the river. I was a beautiful day. Gerald was standing on the bulkhead with his fishing rod. Susan was sitting in a lawn chair, not far from Gerald in a very scanty bikini, sunning her self. Dennis and Waylon were perched on the end of the pier having a beer. It was 8:45 in the morning. A cold beer made sense to me.

I found a can in a cooler full of melting ice, still sitting on the patio from last night. I pulled the little ring and jerked the tab from the top of the can. The beer was very cold and tasted great. I expected I'd catch hell if I got sloshed before the ceremony, so one was my limit before breakfast. Dad showed up on the patio and had a cold one himself. We discussed the forthcoming events and agreed that we should climb into the big truck and hit the road before one o'clock rolled around. But we thought better of it. We were outnumbered about twenty to one, women against us.

I decided to catch a hot bath and try and settle down a bit. Music has the best calming affect on me, so I picked up a guitar and started to pick a few tunes. Next thing I knew, Dennis and Waylon, dressed in tuxedos walked in the room. Turns out, Old Waylon had been asked to walk Janice, Camille and Rita down the isle. I had thirty minutes to get ready. I took seven and was standing in the foyer talking to the preacher in ten.

Louise pulled me aside and informed me that when the preacher asked 'Rita Camille' to take me for better or worse, I should not act surprised because she wanted Camille's name said out loud by the preacher so The Good Lord could hear it, even if it was going to be wrong. I hoped lightening didn't strike us all down for what we were about to do.

Sandra steamed into the room looking like a movie star. I stood with my mouth hanging open. "Why don't you just look so handsome," she cried, in her little girls voice.

"You look pretty good yourself, Honey," I drawled in return.

Sandra came over and took my arm, pulling me over to the side of the foyer, kind of under the curving stairs.

"Thank you for being so nice to me and Rita," she said softly. "I talked to her about you for a long time yesterday. She really loves you. She told me how you plan to keep your relationship sort of open. I told her what we did the other day too."

"She was watching us," I said. "Did she tell you that?"

"Not exactly," Sandra said. "But she did tell me that she wasn't upset about it."

"Well Sandy. May I call you Sandy?" I asked.

"Sure," she replied.

"Well, Sandy, I hope we can do it lots more times. Would you like that?" I asked.

"I can't wait," she whispered.

I kissed her on the neck and stroked her softly with my tongue. I couldn't believe I was licking my future mother in laws neck, half an hour before the wedding. She probably couldn't believe it was happening either. She groped me through my pants for good measure and was out the door. I felt my dick twitch in my britches and I willed it not to get hard. Sandra was sexy as hell.

Dad found me and pulled me out to the front lawn. We positioned ourselves on either side of the tall looping arch of white flowers. The preacher stood under the back of it. About forty chairs had been arranged in two groups, half on each side of a wide isle. Almost all the chairs were occupied. Nearly all of the guests were female. Roger Syvertson, Rita's twin brothers, Schnitzer the lawyer, and Vince Pitello from the bank, Gerald and the guys from the band, Dennis, dad, Waylon and I were the only men there.

Marie had her keyboard set up to one side softly playing background music. Promptly at one o'clock, she stepped on the volume and struck up the wedding march. The double doors on the front of the great stone mansion opened and out stepped Dianne and Helen, the bridesmaids, side-by-side dressed in pale green flowing dresses. Either of them could have been mistaken for a bride. Slowly they walked in time with the music. When they had reached a predetermined distance, Rita, and Janice stepped out on the front step, one on each arm of Waylon. Camille stood immediately at Rita's side. The four of them walked toward us in perfect unison. Karen, Gail and Chrissie brought up the rear, holding up the long trains, which trailed the brides.

The three brides all wore exactly the same dress. Gorgeous eggshell lace, off the shoulder, long sleeved and flowing. How they ever pulled that off, I have yet to discover. Long flowing trains and wispy veils and identical bouquets completed the ensembles. I had no idea in the world how many of our guests, or if the preacher, knew what was about to happen. If they did, no one said a word.

The arrival of the brides ended the music and the old fellow with the backwards collar cleared his throat and asked who it was that gave these beauties to be wed and Waylon said, "I do, Your Holiness."

Well, as you could imagine, that's where it all got interesting. Dennis almost lost his water when Waylon made that comment, and Camille sucked her breath in until I thought she would burst. I could see Louise's eyes flutter as if she were going to faint and watching the girls walk up the isle had given me a major woody that I was sure could be seen by everybody in attendance. I had been surveying the gallery and realized, that without exception; I had bedded every woman there except the photographer who was going to take the pictures and the preacher's wife. I am not sure if Louise and the girls were aware of that fact, but I found it most amusing.

The preacher looked up at Waylon, who stepped back and took his seat next to Louise. Jan and Rita stood between Dad and I, while Camille stood on the other side of me.

The preacher started with the dearly beloved part and from there I didn't hear a whole lot, because I smelled the women standing on either side of me. They were both wearing the same fragrance. I couldn't place it but I had smelled it in the past. All I can tell you is, I was getting horny. Then I heard the preacher ask about the ring and I felt the cold sweat run down between my shoulder blades. I had no idea where the rings were. I looked at Denny and he was smiling and holding the rings up. I took them and handed them to the Reverend who looked at me and raised an eyebrow a notch. Yup, fucked up again, only needed one ring to get married with. Well, seems the old boy was just as confused as me so he blessed my two rings and dad's ring and handed them back to us. Then he asked dad and Jan all those questions and they both said, "I do." Then he turned to us and asked them again and we said our "I do's." Even Camille said it, I heard her.

Then we all did the "With this ring" thing and Camille was loud enough for me to hear but I guessed that the preacher was hard of hearing, because he hadn't. Then, the fun began, I had one of the wedding bands in each hand, intending to slip one on Rita's finger and the other on Camille's without being too obvious but as luck would have it, I had them reversed and couldn't get the ring on over Rita's knuckle and of course, the other one was a bit large. Camille did a slick switch as I bent to hold Rita's hand with my other hand and finally I managed to get them right, much to the amusement of every one close enough to see what was happening. The cat was out of the bag and the only one still in the dark was the preacher.

"I now pronounce you husbands and wives," announced the preacher.

Marie launched back into the wedding march. Dad and Janice walked out first with Camille, Rita and I close behind. The whole place was cracking up with laughter. Rice was being hurled in every direction at once and the photographer was busily snapping pictures.

I stepped through the front door of the house and was greeted by Gail, her sister Darlene and her grandmother Irene, all of which I have known intimately. Irene held up a small silver hip flask and asked, "Scotch, right?"

"Scotch, is good," I said, taking a long pull from the proffered challis.

The pictures were to be taken on the lawn and it took forever. Before she started with us, I slipped the classy dish with the camera five one hundred dollar bills folded over once in the middle and I invited her not to ask why there would be three smiling faces in our pictures. She tucked the bills into her overstuffed bra and held up the Nikon and asked if we had any special thoughts in mind.

"Other than sex, none I can think of," I answered.

Another round of laughter and the flash started to pop. We posed for all the traditional shots and when I asked the girl if she ever did any special stuff, she asked, "How special?"

"Oh, you know, bedroom stuff," I said, lamely.

Camille jumped in at this point, putting her arm around the woman she called Fran and Rita held her hand in both of hers.

"We'd like some really high quality shots of the three of us consummating our marriage vows," Camille explained. Rita slipped her hand down Fran's back and gently squeezed her butt.

"Would there be a tip involved?" Fran queried.

"The tip would be good," Rita smiled. "And if you do a real good job, we might even let Cool give you an extra special tip."

"When would this take place?" Fran asked, little beads of sweat forming on her upper lip.

"Why don't you stick around for the reception? Later on, we'll just slip downstairs and have our own private little wedding party." I said, touching her gently on the cheek.

Fran nodded and smiled a big toothy smile. Fran was trembling.

As we walked away, Rita said to Camille, "We'll have to steal her panties for Cool's little collection. I bet anything she's soaking wet right now." How'd she find out about the collection? I wondered.

"Y'all are so bad," I said.

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The Good Reverend was camped out next to the punch bowl, calmly helping himself to a cup every few minutes. I stepped up to join him. He looked at me questioningly and asked, "Did I miss some sort of shenanigans back there?" He gestured toward the yard with his head.

"Oh, I don't think so sir," I assured him.

"It just seems like there were more brides than grooms out there," he declared.

"Well, let's just say that you only signed two licenses, so that's all that was legal, shall we?" I ventured.

"That sounds good to me," he said.

"How about a little nip of something with a little more horsepower?" I asked.

"That might help with this little tickle I have in my throat," he said.

I led him to the den, positioned him on a stool at our little bar and pulled the doors open on the back bar. Smuggler's Inn couldn't compete with our bar. We had almost everything on the market, plus some stuff that was brought from Cuba before the embargo.

"How about a Moldy Presbyterian?" I asked.

"Yummy," he replied as I set about settling the preacher's anxieties.

Dad and Waylon wandered in with Dennis. The rest of the boys had started playing out on the driveway and everybody was getting into the spirit of the day. I hadn't seen Louise lately but dad assured me that she was in good hands.

Each of the ladies present had to give me a kiss and a little grope and tell me how much they hoped I would come and see them now and then. It would be such a shame to save myself only for the one or two women that I had married. Geez, everybody was in on the deal. I have no secrets. And good grief, I was surrounded by so many women, that I had screwed it made me weak. Of coarse, dad thought it was hilarious.

I wanted to see Louise and thank her for all she had done to make the wedding so nice. I excused myself and went to the nursery and found her holding a sleeping child in her arms. I leaned over and kissed her on the cheek and sat next to her on the sofa.

"Thanks, Lou," I whispered.

"No, thank you," she answered, quietly. "Y'all looked so pretty. But you had a big hard pecker in your britches the whole time. Don't you ever get enough?"

"I was thinking about you," I lied.

"You are so full of shit, Virgil Ellis. You know that?" she chirped.

"Yup, and you do too," I told her.

I lifted Caroline from her arms and put her in her crib. I reached for Louise's hand and pulled her to her feet.

"Next dance is mine," I said and we walked outside.

For the next two hours, my dance card was full. All the ladies had to take a spin around the driveway with me and rub her self against me. I maintained a perpetual hard on the whole time, much to the amusement of all those present. Camille and Rita managed to sneak a couple of dances in and both of them commented on the condition of my manhood.

The preacher got a little tipsy and his wife finally ushered him to his car. She returned to thank me for a lovely afternoon and whispered in my ear, as she prepared to leave, that she wished she were forty years younger so she could find out what all the other ladies were so envious of. I think I must have turned seven shades of red about then. Again she whispered in my ear, "He's the holy man, not me." And she giggled as she walked back to her car. Go figure!

Tables were set in the dining room and at four o'clock sharp, Louise ordered everyone to find a seat. Rita's brothers were in charge of serving the exquisite meal. Steamed Maine lobster tails and filet mignon, with all the trimmings, or as we call it in the south and everywhere else, surf and turf was the fare of the day. The boys served all the guests in record time and took their places at the table. Very little conversation ensued until Dennis jumped up. Banging on his glass with a spoon.

"To the grooms!" he announced, raising his glass of champagne high.

"To hell with the grooms," dad piped in, "Here's to our beautiful brides, all of them."

We drank. All was well at Islands Estates.

Fran, our little photographer friend had been busily taking pictures all afternoon. I studied her from across the table and mentioned to Rita and Camille, seated on either side of me, that we were still scheduled for a private session with her.

"I can hardly wait," Camille cooed in my ear.

"Me either," Rita chimed in.

"I didn't think you were all that interested in getting it on with the ladies," I commented to Rita.

"I get it on with Camille all the time, besides, she's hot," Rita said. "Look at her. Her nipples are huge. They've been poking out in her shirt all day."

I looked at Fran and her nipples were in fact making huge lumps in the front of her blouse. She must have seen me staring at her tits, because a red glow grew up from her collar and flooded her face. We made eye contact and she sizzled.

"She's creaming in her undies right now," Camille whispered.

"Y'all are incorrigible," I said. Rita was right; the babe was steaming.

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Our guests began to wander off after dinner, and soon Rita, Camille and I escorted our photographer downstairs into the video room. A king sized, four-poster canopy bed had been set up on one side of the room, with gold tapestries hanging on the wall behind it. Sheer netting had been draped around the head of the bed and it was made up with white satin sheets. Soft lighting was directed at the bed and hundreds of candles were placed around the staged bedchamber, making it a very erotic setting.

Three of the big studio cameras were focused on the bed and all were ready to be activated with the touch of a button. There were also two chairs and a lounger, and a small table arranged in the scene.

As we entered the room, Rita turned to Fran and asked her if she was sure she was all right with what we were about to do.

"You mean making pornographic pictures?" Fran asked.

"Yes," Camille said. "Hard core."

"I'll teach you how to work the camera later, if you like," Fran said excitedly. "So I can have a few of myself to remember you by."

Camille kissed her hard on the mouth and turned back to Rita.

We started with the three of us still in our wedding clothes, kissing and fondling each other. Then she took pictures of each of them sucking on my hard cock while we were still clothed. Fran positioned us just how she wanted us and took several shots.

Soon the clothing started to come off and there were shots of us in various sexual acts including me tonguing Rita's, or Camille's cunt, while the other sucked on my dick. And with my cock in one of their pussies doggy style while she licked the other's pussy. We took pictures of the girls in a sixty-nine position, taking turns on top while I fucked them from behind. There were pictures taken with us in all degrees of dress until we were completely naked. My cock ached for release.